I fired up the grill and laid the steaks out on the attached tray. They were nice and thick, so I knew they were going to take a while to cook, which meant more time for talking with Raine’s friends.
Fucking fabulous.
I finished my smoke and slid the balcony door open.
“Seriously, Lindsay, what were you thinking?”
Lindsay and Raine were on the near side of the kitchen island with their backs to me, and Lindsay was holding a couple of wine glasses while Nick uncorked a bottle of Merlot at the counter by the sink.
“It’s just a bottle of wine,” Lindsay was saying. “It’s been months. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I want to celebrate my promotion, dammit!”
“He’s going to act like a jerk whether we have a drink or not,” Nick muttered.
“Stop that!” Lindsay smacked his arm and then turned back to Raine. She placed her hand on Raine’s shoulder and leaned closer. “You know he’s going to have to learn to be around it, sweetheart. I’m not trying to be insensitive, but you both have to know other people are going to indulge occasionally, and-”
“It’s all right,” I snapped as I walked in from the living room. “Drink the fucking wine. I don’t give a shit.”
They all turned toward me with big eyes and fidgety feet.
“Bastian,” Raine sighed, “this is your home-”
I barked out a laugh and then shook my head. My home was a long way from here, and I didn’t really think a fucking bottle of wine was going to make this place that much worse. With a deep breath, I tried to calm my voice.
“It’s all right, babe,” I said. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, kissing her neck gently just to prove a point. I wasn’t sure what the point was, but I was sure it needed to be proven to someone. “She wants to celebrate or whatever. I’ll cope.”
And cope I did—hanging on to my fucking iced tea glass like it was a life preserver—for all of about forty minutes.
“Sounds like Raine’s doing well in school,” Nick said as he slid the balcony door shut and joined me outside.
“Humph,” I replied through my nose. I kept my eyes on the grill, hoping he’d get the hint and go back inside. He didn’t. Fucker.
“So what are you doing during the day when she’s at class?” he asked.
“Jerking off,” I replied.
He laughed, but the sound trailed away when I moved my eyes to his.
“I guess it gets pretty boring, huh?” Nick shuffled back and forth on his feet and then leaned against the balcony railing. He took a sip from his wine glass and kept that stupid grin plastered on his face. “So where are you from, Bastian?”
“Chicago.”
“The windy city!” he exclaimed, like it was something I didn’t already know. “I was there once with my parents and sister when I was a kid. Loved all the museums. We rode that big Ferris wheel at Navy Pier and went to the top of the Sears Tower.”
It wasn’t worth the effort to correct him and say it wasn’t called that anymore, so I didn’t say anything. What was it about people’s need to tell you about their visits to a place you lived? He wasn’t the first to babble about Chicago, but I had seen a lot more of the alleys on the south side of the city than I ever did of the fucking museums.
“I’m from Pennsylvania,” he continued. “Pittsburgh, actually. My dad worked for a big container company.”
I ignored him.
“Mom was mostly a housewife, but she did a lot in the schools, too. She tutored kids and worked with the PTO—you know, bake sales and all that stuff.”
I could feel tension rippling up my back and into my shoulders with every word he spoke. My brain felt as if it were spinning in circles, trying to conjure up an image of a life like the one he had or of the woman who birthed me, but there was nothing to find.
“Do you still have family in Chicago?”
“No.” I clenched my teeth and hoped he wouldn’t go there.
“So where does your family live now?”
Of course he did.
Fucker.
“I don’t have any family,” I said.
“Oh, shit…sorry.” He scratched at his head and took another drink. “What happened to them?”
“Don’t know; don’t care,” I snapped. I jammed the tongs underneath one of the steaks and tossed it on its other side. “Change the fucking topic.”
After a little silence, I hoped he’d go back inside, but my luck just didn’t run that way.
“Are you going to get another boat?”
“I never had a boat,” I said.
“Oh, uh, I thought that sailboat was yours.”
“It was a three-masted schooner,” I said, “a ship, not a boat.”
“Sorry, I don’t know much about boats.”
Fuck me.
“So, are you going to get another one?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I let out a long breath and turned to glare at him.
“Because I fucking live here now!” I snarled before I focused my attention on the sizzling meat.
I guess I knew he was only trying to be nice and make conversation or whatever, but I wasn’t interested. I didn’t have anything to say to him, and I sure as hell wasn’t planning to open up and give the fucker my life story. It would only get him killed.
Now there’s an idea.
I shook my head a little to clear the violent thoughts parading around in it. With my attention on the food, I made it all the way through Nick’s attempts at conversation while I flipped steaks. When we went back inside, I made it all the way through Lindsay’s incessant babbling about shoes and Raine’s sideways glances at me every time someone took a sip of wine.
Raine had completely ignored the glass Lindsay had poured for her and drank water.
That just pissed me off more. I didn’t want her to deny herself just because I had a fucking drinking problem. It was my issue, not hers.
“How about a toast to the new customer service manager?” Nick said as he held up his glass.
Lindsay squealed a bit. She grabbed the glass Raine was avoiding and placed it her hand. Raine looked at me sideways again, and I rolled my eyes dramatically.
“Just drink the fucking drink, will you?” I snarled. “I really don’t give a shit.”
Raine cringed a bit and nodded at Lindsay. Nick held up his glass and said something about how proud he was of little Lindsay hitting the big-time of middle management. I sat on one of the stools in the kitchen and fiddled with my lighter.
“Come on, Bastian,” Lindsay said, “you have to hold up your glass!”
“It’s tea, for fuck’s sake,” I reminded her.
“You can still toast,” Lindsay argued.
I stared at her blankly for a moment, trying to keep all the nasty shit I wanted to say from flying out of my mouth like a swarm of bees from a disturbed hive. All the tension was moving up my legs and into my gut, and I had to swallow to keep the words inside.
“Drop it, baby,” Nick said quietly.
“But he can!” Lindsay insisted as she turned toward her boyfriend.
“Please,” Raine said as I felt her hand grip my knee as she stepped closer to me, “let’s go ahead and eat, okay?”
Awkward silence ensued.
It was better than what happened afterwards.
We all sat around the kitchen island with plates of steak, baked potatoes with little broccoli florets on top of them, and one of those salads with green stuff in it you couldn’t actually identify. My fingers tapped repeatedly against my leg as I tried to keep my mouth too full to join in any discussions.