Page 58 of Rude Boss 2

“I’m not hungry,” I say, following her to the kitchen where I pull out a chair at the dinette. “I had a big lunch, so I’m good.”

“Then I’ll get you something to drink.”

She opens the back door and yells for dad to come inside before she pours a glass of tea.

Dad steps into the kitchen and says, “Hey, Quin. You’re back again…checking on your mom, huh?”

He goes over to the sink to wash his hands, then comes over to the table and pats me on the shoulder.

“Hey, Dad. Yeah. I’m back.”

Mom brings their plates, then goes back to get one for me after I just told her I wasn’t hungry. Smells good though. She cooked pork tenderloins, mashed potatoes and Cajun rice. They dive in. I just sit there, staring at the plate, replaying what just happened to me.

“Is everything okay, Quin?” Dad asks.

“Um…ye-yeah. I just—I…” A rebellious tear sneaks out of my right eye. Now my parents are on high alert.

Mom says, “Go on and get it out.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Just take your time, sweetheart,” Dad says. “What’s bothering you?”

“It’s funny because we were just talking about Stewart the other day.”

“What about him?” Mom asks.

“So, it turns out he hasn’t vanished off the face of the earth. He’s been right under my nose.”

“What do you mean?” mom asks.

“He’s Essex, my boss.”

Dad leans back in his chair.

Mom says, “I’m not following you.”

“I don’t understand it myself, Mom, but I was at Essex’s house earlier for lunch and we talked and…” The tears flow. “We went for a swim. He took off his shirt, and he has the exact same mark on his chest that Stewart had. Essex is Stewart. Stewart is Essex. They are the same person. He changed his name and obviously his looks. That’s why I didn’t know who he was. There was always something about him that made me feel like we’d met before. I thought it was just a feeling. It wasn’t until I saw the scar on his chest that I realized it was much more than that. It was real.”

“You’re kidding me,” mom says, looking as shocked as I feel.

I sniffle, take one of her napkins and dab my eyes. “And he says he loves me. Says he’s always loved me.”

“Wait…let me wrap my mind around this,” Mom says. She scratches her head. “Essex DePaul—the millionaire—is your Stewart from high school?”

“Yes.”

“Ain’t no way,” Mom says. “I remember Stewart had that big birthmark on his face and he was every bit of three-hundred some pounds. Ain’t no way they are the same person.”

“It’s true,” Dad says.

I look over at my father.

“You say that with confidence, Dad. Did you know?”

“I’ve known for a few weeks now.”

“What?” I ask, distraught, feeling betrayed by my own father. “Dad?”

---