Page 65 of Crossing the Line
A Dinner from Hell
Paisley Grove
It’s the end of my workday, and I’m surprised Hercules hasn’t called to make plans for tonight, although I’m relieved, since I have agreed to face the firing squad. I’m pretty sure my parents saw one or more ofTop Rag Mag’s clips. My dad called to invite me to dinner, never asking me to answer for how I dodged his previous calls before taking his last one. That was a red flag. That means he’s saving his assault for later. That’s how my parents operate—one directed pouncing, giving it everything they got. But I’ve been wondering whether Hercules’s family saw the video that Lake showed me this morning.
I check the time on my computer screen. I’m exhausted from all the late nights and long days with Hercules, as well as the sensory overload that being with him causes within me. And Max wasn’t the only one who worked hard today—so did I. Now I have only an hour to get to my parents’ for dinner. So I pack up, leave the building, and take a cab uptown.
It’s still rush hour, which gives me some time to figure out the best approach when dealing with Xander and Heartly. They are not an easy win. My guess is that our battle will be epic. I wonder how hard I am willing to fight. I’m not in the mood to lose. My entire body feels so heavy. My head throbs. I want to run to Timbuktu just to escape them. Basically, I’m not in fighting shape.But I called it, didn’t I?I knew they were going to show up unannounced. I just knew it.
When we arrive at the same building I abandoned only yesterday, sickness rolls through my belly. Either I ask the driver to take me home, or I pay him and get ready to rumble.
After a long sigh, I pay the fare and then get ready to rumble.
* * *
I makea third attempt to open the door using my fingerprint, but it flashes red yet again. There’s no need to try it a fourth time. Passive-aggressive strike number one: wiping my access from the system.
I ring the doorbell, and Lilliana, my parents’ traveling housemaid, answers. Lilly and I greet each other with a hug and kiss. I ask her how her kids are, and she tells me they’re fine and then gives me the bullet points. Her son Rory is finishing law school at Columbia, and her daughter, Bettina, who’s now pregnant with their first child, recently moved to Chicago to be with her husband, an electrical engineer.
I smile and say, “That’s nice,” as Lilly escorts me to the dining room. I’m proud of myself for timing my arrival just right. If I’d arrived fifteen minutes earlier, I would have been shown to the den for predinner cocktails and conversation. But when my parents set a time for dinner, they never sit down to eat one minute earlier or later than that time. Heartly and Xander are very punctual and require punctuality from their children, employees, and clients.
By arriving at 8:01 p.m. when dinner starts at 8:00 p.m., perhaps I’m the one who lands the first punch. They should already be seated by now. Of course, arriving late is passive-aggressive of me, but my parents are the masters of passive-aggressive battles. I have to mind my Ps and Qs. That’s why, before turning the corner and entering the dining room, I manage a smile that’s more of a winner than anything Hercules could ever show me—because no one can make a winning smile better than he can. Despite the stress Xander and Heartly are causing within me, I really am happy to see them. It’s been a while since we’ve laid eyes on each other in the flesh, and once the hard part is over, Heartly and Xander will become the most entertaining conversationalists.
As I take my first step into the dining room, I’m ready to say those first words, “Hi, Mom and Dad,” but they get stuck in my throat when I see that I’m not tonight’s only invited guest.
* * *
I can hardly believethat I’m gazing into Clive’s light eyes, which hold a glint of amusement. After clearing my throat, I hug my mom first. “Good evening.”
Heartly and I kiss each other on the cheek. “You look…” she says, stretching my arms wide. “You look different, well.”
My dad is on his feet. “I agree,” he says, and then we hug, and I kiss him on the cheek too.
My parents never remark on my appearance first. But I’m certain they’ve never seen me in the sort of outfit I have on tonight. I’m wearing black skinny jeans with a fitted black vintage T-shirt. My outfit is very Treasure-like. I think I’m changing. I’m feeling sexier these days. Plus, I want to be dressed appropriately if and when Hercules calls and asks me to meet him somewhere. I’m banging him tonight. I’ve just made that decision. This experience has helped me to make it.
“Thanks,” I say. It’s hard to keep my eyes off Clive, who’s waiting to be formally acknowledged. “What are you doing here?”
He’s smiling as though I should be happy to see him. “When Xander and Heartly Grove invite you over for dinner, declining is not an option.”
“Oh,” my mother says, flipping her wrist, playing modest. “You could always say no. We wouldn’t hold it against it you.”
“Post Friday’s hearing, we all need to get on the same page,” my dad says.
I take my seat. I’m a lot more relaxed, figuring my parents aren’t playing matchmaker. My dad’s last comment has set the stage. This is about work. They’re ready to rumble, and so am I.
“Same page about what?” I ask.
“She’ll have the merlot,” my mom says to the server who’s pouring wine.
The server, a guy who looks as though he’s barely in his twenties, smiles at me, and I smile back. I wonder what he thinks about my mother telling him what I like.
“Sorry, I’ll have the white,” I say just to be contrary.
My mom snaps her head into a side tilt, but she doesn’t say anything as the young man pours me white wine.
“You’re on record as having direct insight into the design of TRANSPOT,” my dad says.
I frown, trying to remember exactly what I said to the arbiter.
