Page 102 of Vicious Saint
“What’s up, Daddy?” Theory beams, but he still refuses to make eye contact.
“Can you girls please go and get yourselves decent for a family dinner?”
The last thing I want is another family dinner in this place…but I owe it to my mom, Theory, even Vic to swallow my pride and at least try to be civil.
“Yeah, sure.” I swipe my phone off the table and stand, which causes Vic to take a step back and hand me a towel.
“I appreciate your willingness, kiddo. Think you girls could be ready by seven?”
In spite of my intentions to get ready quickly, a phone call from Archer delayed my plans. But I did manage to get him off the phone in time for a shower and half ass blowout of my hair.
Unsure if I was supposed to dress for some occasion, I settled on a simple pair of leggings and a halter crop top, assuming there won’t be any visitors showing up on a random Wednesday.
I’m proven right as I reach the dining room, hearing the four people I expected talking about the school fire and how it may have been started by a student.
I didn’t have the time to get into the Riverside mess with Archer during our brief call, but from what I gathered someone may have been partying a little too hard.
I have every intention of getting more info tonight, but the conversation halts the second I step through the doorway.
Vic stands to greet me, gesturing for me to sit down next to Auntie Pop.
“So much for an hour, huh?” Mom raises a brow, but there’s jest behind it.
“Sorry. Archer called and I lost track of time.”
“It’s alright, kiddo, just eat.” Auntie points to the seafood risotto on the plate in front of me. “Fish tastes like shit when it’s cold.”
Auntie’s a little too late with the temperature thing, and the way I’m struggling to chew a scallop makes it obvious.
“Darla,” Vic calls out to where she’s perched feet away from the table. “Would you please bring Hendrix a fresh dish?”
With a curt bow and an, “of course, sir,” she ambles over, takes my plate, then disappears behind the door to the kitchen. Her exit leaves everyone but Vic to stare at anything except each other.
He takes a sip of his water. “So how are you liking your new room, Hendrix?”
If the tension was thick a second ago, it’s choking us now.
Be polite, Hendrix. You swore you would.
With an unapologetic reach for the last of Auntie’s wine, I throw it back. “Very nice, thanks.”
“Hendrix!” Mom scolds, but Vic silences her with a raised hand.
“Is the decor and clothing to your liking? Your mother made sure of it.”
“Yup, awesome.”
“Well, that’s great, then.” He takes another sip. “Because I want you to be as comfortable as possible when you’re here.”
“I appreciate that.”
He nods, placing his glass down on the table to return to eating.
Auntie, in turn, retrieves her glass from me in a much less chill fashion, then glares daggers sharp enough to cut through metal.
“I see you girls had fun today,” Mom chimes in, saving me from a kick under the table. “Did you enjoy the pool?”
“You know I can’t swim.”
