Page 68 of Below the Barrel

I hear the soft click of heels descending the staircase, and when I turn, I feel a wave of nausea roll through me. A woman who looks no more than five years older than me, maybe even younger, walks over with a smile that’s just a little too perfect, placing a gentle kiss on my dad’s lips before turning to me. She’s tall, with long dark hair cascading in waves down her back, wearing a tight dress that leaves very little to the imagination.

“You must be Maliah. I’m Victoria,” she says in a soft, breathy voice, holding out her arms for an awkward air-hug. I force a smile, though my stomach twists as I oblige.

“Nice to meet you,” I manage to say, trying to be polite.

But then I notice as Victoria’s gaze shifts to Koa, her eyes lingering a little too long, like she’s sizing him up. When she hugs him, it’s not the same weird air-hug she gave me. No, she makes sure their bodies brush against each other, her hand gliding down his arm. Koa stiffens instantly, his discomfort visible as he glances at me, his face trying to mask the awkwardness. I feel my hands ball into fists.

God, why did I want to come here?

“The chefs are still preparing our food,” my dad announces with a grin, completely oblivious to what’s happening. “How about a house tour, eh? I don’t think your boy toy has ever been to a house this big.”

My stomach plummets. Mortified, I see Koa tense next to me, his jaw ticking with the effort of holding back.

“His name is Koa, Dad. You’ve met him before,” I snap, my voice sharper than intended. “And your house isn’t even that big.”

I don’t miss the way my dad’s smile tightens, the flash of annoyance in his eyes at my remark. He leans in slightly, his voice calm but icy. “It’s the biggest house on the whole coast, so I’d beg to differ. And I’m pretty sure the last time I sawKoa, you two were broken up.”

Tensions brews in the room, thick and heavy, and I can feel the heat rising in my chest. Just as I’m about to say something I’d probably regret, Victoria jumps in, smiling brightly as if to smooth things over. “Let’s start the tour, shall we?” she says, leading the way, her voice all sweetness.

We follow behind them, my dad’s arm draped possessively over Victoria’s shoulder as she chatters about the house like it’sa damn palace. I let out a long, shaky breath, trying to calm myself. The whole situation feels surreal, like a nightmare.

I reach for Koa’s hand, needing some sort of anchor. As soon as my fingers brush his, I feel a shock run through me. His hand is ice cold, and when I press my thumb into his palm, I can feel his pulse racing.

He’s furious.

I squeeze his hand, trying to pour reassurance, and maybe even an apology, into the gesture. But I’m met with silence, Koa’s gaze fixed ahead, jaw clenched so tightly I can see the muscle in his neck twitching.

After the stupidly long tour, mostly long because Victoria took every chance she got to show us each room in detail as if we were stupid; from how the lamps turn on when you clap, to how the bed raises for you so you don’t have to in the morning. By the time we make it to the dinner table, I’m starving.

Dinner feels like a bizarre spectacle with us all seated around my dad’s stupidly long table, like we’re in some medieval castle. Dad, of course, sits at the head, his little throne of power, while the rest of us line the sides. Even Victoria. No one ever gets to sit at the end, except him. His weird way of maintaining control, I guess.

Victoria can’t seem to stop talking, her voice sugary and high-pitched as she rambles on about the house tour. She’s got that same fake cheer plastered on her face, like she’s hosting a reality show.

“How’s the tour going, anyway?” she asks with a bright smile, glancing at Koa like he’s the next item on tonight’s menu. “Your dad’s been following all the headlines and live streams, you know. And I’ve been watching too. Saw the first six episodes of SurfFlix…but wow, Koa, you look way better in person than on TV.”

My hands form tight fists under the table, nails digging into my palms. I force out a laugh—fake, brittle. The kind that’s meant to avoid conflict. Beside me, Koa clears his throat. “Thanks for the compliment,” he says smoothly, trying to be polite but obviously eager for her to stop gawking at him. He picks up his fork, and we both start eating in tense silence.

A few moments later, my dad speaks up, steering the conversation into territory I’d rather avoid. “I saw your accident, Koa,” he says, casually cutting into his steak. “Watched the whole thing on a live stream. Stupid mistake to make, wasn’t it?”

My pulse quickens, anxiety blooming in my chest. My gaze shifts to Koa, praying he won’t snap at my dad. Koa pauses, clearly thinking it through before he answers. “You’re right,” he says, his tone measured. “It was a stupid mistake. But I guess that’s why it was called a mistake. I’ve learned from it.”

Dad scoffs, not quite making eye contact as he offers a half-grin. “Well, at least you learned fromthat.”

There’s something dark in his words, a hidden jab. Koa and my dad lock eyes, the tension between them tightening like a rubber band about to snap. They stare at each other for a long beat, and I can’t quite figure out what my dad’s trying to insinuate, but it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. My brow furrows as I glance between them, sensing something beneath the surface that I’m missing.

When dinner finally ends, I’m more than ready to bolt before the dessert can be served. Victoria, already halfway through her second glass of wine, slams the rest back and stands up, stretching.

“I need some air,” she announces dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Maliah, let's take a walk on the beach, hmm? Too much male testosterone in the air for me.”

I hesitate, glancing at Koa. I don’t like the idea of leaving him alone with my dad, especially after that weird exchange. But Koacatches my eye and nods, his expression calm, though I can still see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he says quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, I stand up and follow Victoria towards the patio doors.

The air is still warm, even though the sun’s starting to dip behind the horizon. I walk next to Victoria, the sand shifting under our feet. The waves crash gently in the distance.

“Phew, those two really don’t like each other, huh?” Victoria says, bending over to take off her heels, her bare feet sinking into the cool sand. “I thought someone was going to throw a steak knife for sure.”

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