Dad’s dark eyes widened in surprise. His mouth opened then shut rapidly, finally at a loss for words.
“Stop acting like you know me, because you don’t.”
Instead of getting angry, he nodded in agreement. “You’re right, I don’t. And apparently you don’t know me that well, either. I left for both of you, not for me. I thought once I stepped out that door, your mom would be scared straight. She’d toughen up and get her life on track.”
“Well, she didn’t.”
He bowed his head apologetically. “I know that now, but you can’t fault me for wanting to be happy, Jesse.”
I guess I couldn’t.
He picked up my fork and tapped it against my plate in thought. “Cooking is a great way of getting your life back in check.”
“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?” I shook my head and sighed as he eyed me expectantly. “What? You want me to learn how to cook?”
He nodded. ‘Trust me. It’ll be well worth it.”
Chapter 11
It was worth it.
Who knew learning how to cook could change your life so dramatically? It wasn’t just the food that I loved (though getting to taste test was a highlight of the activity) but more so the ability to make something so beautiful out of scratch. It was probably the same reason Rocky loved drawing so much.
Rocky.
Not a day went by when I didn’t think of her, and though I wanted to deny Dad’s advice, he really did have a point. We truly brought out the worse in each other, at least at this point in our lives we did. As much as it pained me, I knew I had to bite the bullet. We had to give each other space. It wasn’t long before our phone calls and texts began to waste away, but it wasn’t Rocky who grew distant—it was me.
Time flew by, and before I knew it a whole year had passed since I first moved to Charleston. In this one year I found myself changing, but I wasn’t sure if it was for the better. Sure, I felt older and wiser, but I also felt complacent and empty. There was a void inside of me, but I wasn’t sure how to fill it.
“How do I look?” Dad yanked at his stupid little bow tie and blotted away a bead of sweat that threatened to spill off his forehead. He was dressed to the nines in a tailored tuxedo and newly shined shoes, but something seemed a bit off about his ensemble. It was probably his swollen face, which had broken out in nervous hives just minutes before.
“You look fine,” I lied, fidgeting in my own monkey suit. I groaned and yanked at my collar. “Why’d you have to get married on the hottest day of the year?”
Ignoring me, he smoothed out his cuffs and cocked his head in curiosity. “So, I forgot to ask…”
“What?” I sighed.
“How do you feel about finally seeing Jason today? It’s not every day you get a new brother.”
Ah, Jason—my infamous stepbrother to be. I’d heard his name spoken but never exactly met him. It wasn’t as if he were in a hurry to see me either.
I grimaced and turned away. “Whatever.”
Before he could respond, Dad suddenly spun around and grinned toward the door. “Ah, speak of the devil. How are you?”
I turned to see a blond haired, grey-eyed man walk into the room. I knew he was only a year older than me, a sophomore in college, but this was ridiculous. He looked as if he were skirting twenty-four. He was also a lot bulkier than I was, looking as if he juiced up every morning. His muscles threatened to split his tight jacket open at any moment. Luckily my height made up for our total difference in muscle mass. I towered over him. No way I’d play little brother to his steroid pumped ass.
“Hey, Richard,” he replied blandly.
“Richard?” I snorted. Didn’t know my dad was okay being called on a first name basis. He nearly had a cow when my Stepford wife looking stepmom-to-be told me to call her Teresa.
He shrugged me off and brought Jason in for an awkward hug. Once my dad released his grip, Jason practically jumped three feet away. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was even doing in the room if he hated my dad so much.
Tugging at his too-tight suit, Jason looked up and caught my eye. “Hey, are you Jesse?”
“Yup,” I answered with a pop of the P.
“Oh! Forgive me for being rude. I’m sorry for not introducing you two. Jason, this is Jesse. Jesse, Jason.” My father’s gaze bounced between us. “Wow, both J’s! You two already have so much in common.”
Dad’s poor attempt at a joke made me cringe. I extended my hand and was surprised when Jason reached out to shake it. Up until that point I had already written him off as a douche.
“Guess this means we’re brothers? Bro?” His eyes hardened. Something in the way he looked at me made my skin feel as if it were on fire.
Not wanting to show my discomfort, I lifted my chin and threw him a fake smile. “Guess so, bro.”
His lips twitched in amusement. “Welcome to the family.”
***
Open bar almost always spells catastrophe. It’s even worse when the bartenders are completely lax about checking IDs. I’m not sure exactly how Jason pulled it off, but somehow our bartender had been shoveling top shelf liquor to Jason and his friends all night long. It wasn’t even an hour into the reception before everyone in his entourage was completely hammered.
Choosing to sit out, I remained seated in a far table near the exit. I watched enviously as my father danced with his new bride. They looked…
“Perfect,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Hey, you!” A glass of amber looking liquid was slammed down on the table in front of me, splattering the brew against my face. The familiar stench of alcohol was both disgusting and comforting. Feeling uneasy, I pushed the glass away from me.
“Really? I’m stuck with a pussy for a stepbrother?” Jason slid the drink back toward me. “Don’t tell me you’ve never drank before.”
I could have told him that I grew up with an alcoholic mother and had my first drink at seven when I mistook her beer for apple juice. I could have told him a lot of things, but the meathead standing in front of me wasn’t worth my time.
“Really? You mute now too?” His colossal body loomed over me, permeating a nausea inducing stench of whiskey, body odor and cheap aftershave.
BZZZ.
Fighting an urge to dry heave, I ignored Jason’s drunken bewilderment and grabbed my phone.
Haven’t heard from you in a while…are you okay?
“Rocky?” Jason swiped for my phone, but I was too quick for his drunken ass. He lurched forward a bit and slurred, “Are you gay?”
“Seriously?” I grunted, slipping the phone back into the front pocket of my blazer.
“Hey, nothing against your orientation. It’s cool, man.”
“It’s a nickname for Raquel, dipshit.”
Jason broke out into laughter. “Oh, okay. I mean I have no problem if you swung that way, but geez, what a way to get to know your new brother, you know?”
“We’re not brothers.”
“Not yet.” Jason narrowed his eyes and once again nudged the glass toward me. He nodded toward my pocket. “Are you whipped? Is that why you don’t drink?”
Rocky’s face flashed in my mind, and once again I was reminded of all the reasons why I could never be whipped with her. The familiar weight in my stomach returned, churning at my intestines, further souring my already bad mood. “Just leave me the fuck alone, man.”
Jason stared at me quietly for a few moments and finally broke out into a shrug. “See you around.”
I snorted and flicked against the cool glass, watching a bead of condensation roll down its surface. I glanced up and spotted my dad looking as if he were having the time of his life. As happy as I was for him, I couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated. Why did he have the right to start his life over and win whereas I felt as if I were still in a losing race? He told me Charleston would make me into a better person, but why did I feel as if something was still missing?