Page 82 of Torrid Passion
Just when I think I’m about to fry under the August sun, a limo approaches. A brunette wearing a suit gets out. Then, a blonde with big hair and massive dangling earrings emerges.
“What the fuck is she wearing?” I say.
“Lochlan Alaric Berkshire!” Mom scolds.
“Be nice, Loki,” Dad says. “But seriously, Jordana, what the fuck is she wearing?”
“Hugh!” Mom warns. It’s dad’s turn to get it. “You’re as bad as Loki.”
Dad’s gaze slides to mine and we exchange a silent conversation.
It takes everything in me not to laugh.
Bliss is wearing a purple evening dress with a long train and a deep plunging neckline so low, you can practically see her navel. However, that’s not the shocker. It’s the surplus of puffy fabric that makes it look like two purple life jackets exploded around her neck.
I’m guessing the dress is a little too tight because she’s walking towards us as though she has a stick stuck up her ass.
“Jordana, I’m so sorry I’m late,” Bliss says. “I had a bit of a fashion nightmare.”
I’d say you still have one.
“Well, you’re here now,” Mom says. “Purple looks good on blondes.”
Note how Mom ignores the hideous design. She’s really good at reframing.
“Thank you. I think so too,” Bliss says. “That said, your dress is amazing.” Mom is wearing a long off the shoulder bronze sequined dress. Her heels and clutch are in the same metallic tone. Her long dark brown hair is twisted in an elegant updo. Since she’s five-ten, she’ll command attention tonight. I know I’m partial, but she could still command the runaway if she wanted to.
“Thank you. I’m wearing one of my favorite designers,” Mom says.
“I still can’t believe you have children,” Bliss marvels. “Where did they pop out of? I mean, look at your stomach— I guess I should say, lack of.” Bliss laughs at her own joke.
“I keep fit,” Mom says simply. “Let me introduce you to my husband—”
“Oh, my God, Dr. Berkshire, it’s an honor to be in your amazing presence,” Bliss says with a curtsy.
The move startles my father.
I look away because I’m about to explode in laughter.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Bliss,” he says.
“You are a savior who obviously has been touched by God himself,” she says solemnly.
“Err… well, that’s a tall order,” he says, running his hand through his dark brown hair. I can tell he’s a bit uncomfortable. He’s never had a groupie before. “Saving lives is my vocation and passion.”
And he’s the best at it.
“And the tall handsome man here is my son, Lochlan,” Mom says.
I step forward with a hand already extended. “Bliss, it’s a pleasure—”
“You’re Jordana’s son?”
“I am.”
“Are you serious?” Her blue eyes are as big as saucers.
“Yes,” I confirm.
