What’s normal to someone like you?
***
The backyard buzzed with activity. Fiona, never one to miss an opportunity to invite Deirdre’s scorn, had managed to book psychics, tarot card readers, crystal healers and a hypnotist for the cocktail hour.
The black baby grand had been brought onto the patio, and the four musicians Dad had plucked from some music school in central LA set up stands and instruments. Piano, two violins, and cello. Except the first violinist wasn’t tuning a violin. She was tuning a viola. Hardly worth making a fuss over, except she was stunning, with full lips and long, dark hair. She had to be five-ten in flat feet, with a chin that pointed upwards as if daring the world to hit her on the jaw.
“She’s magnificent, no?”
My father’s voice beside me, admiring a girl who was probably in high school. I looked away quickly.
“Jail bait, dad. Ever hear of it?” I turned to face him. In his late fifties, he was still a good-looking guy. His red hair had turned completely silver five years earlier, and stayed fully attached to his head. The girls loved him. And when I said girls, I meant just that. Girls.
“You’re avoiding me. I was looking for some common ground.”
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t know where to start with him. Common-ground wise, we had Rachel. That was awkward enough. I glanced around. We were relatively alone, a situation Mom never let slide if she could.
He spoke quietly, barely moving his lips. “You never stop wanting them that age. Every man fantasizes about the dew on the flower.”
“You’re sick.”
“Were you not just looking at that girl? She can’t be a day over fifteen. On the evening of your engagement, no less. It’s time to accept reality, son. The need is biological. You can fight it your whole life if you want to, but it will be a fight.”
He looked like he’d wanted to say that to me for a long time. Like it was some kind of big talk every man gives their son, and it had been denied him by my avoidance and Mom’s intervention.
“We aren’t having a meeting of the minds on underage girls.”
“Except the one,” he said as if we had some delightful shared history.
“I’m going to need you to stay away from my wife, and if there are children, especially if there are children—“
He got that look. The one like he was being electrocuted. It was hard rage directed forward. I’d only seen it once before, days after I found out what he was and I saw him touching Theresa’s arm when he spoke to her.
“Do not ever presume that I don’t have boundaries, son.”
Much as an animal won’t shit where they eat, he’d never touched any of my sisters, but when I flew at him I didn’t know that. We may have been evenly matched the day he laid a chaste touch on Theresa, but at my engagement party, I was older, taller, and less fearful.
“You will never be alone with my children,” I said. “Those are my boundaries.” I took a gulp of my whiskey. Too much. The drink would never last if I kept doing that. But I needed to do more than let the liquid touch my lips when I stared at him over the glass.
“I wanted to just elope somewhere far away,” I said, seeing Mom coming up behind him, “so there would be no problems with Jessica’s family. But it wasn’t possible. I’m sorry you’ve been insulted in the process. Truly.”
He smirked, because he knew the kinder tone and change of subject must have come for one reason. He and I had come to blows after Rachel’s accident, and I’d taken a handful of pills. Mom didn’t let us alone in the same room if she could avoid it. Over the past seven years, she’d run a pretty tight interference. I had to admire her aversion to conflict. It had kept her in a state of blissful, drunken ignorance that my sisters and I had sworn to protect until death.
Dad took the opportunity to clap me on the back just as the string quartet started warming up.
“No worries, son. No worries. It was just business. Can’t win at it and make friends, too.”
I smiled, not mentioning the tens of millions in payoff money that had drained him to the point where only shady deals kept him afloat. Nope. It was all smiles when Mom reached us. Dad put his arm around her and I made it a point to shake his hand like a gentleman so she would enjoy the rest of the evening.
“Jonny! Come over here?”
“Come on!”
“This is perfect!”
It was the sound of a gaggle of sisters. Four rushed up in green dresses and varying shades of strawberry chignon. Margie, Sheila, Leanne, and Theresa. Their voices became a cheering chatter.
“You have to see the hypnotist.”
“He’s going to relax you.”
“You’re too tense.”
“A teepee and a wigwam!”
“It’ll only take a second.”
The drink was taken from my hand and I felt myself being pulled to a guy in a fedora and handlebar moustache sitting by one of our chaise lounges.
“Hang on, hang on…” I held my hands up in surrender.
“What?”
“It’s fun!”
“Chicken.”
“Bok bok bok.”
They were beautiful, each one of my older sisters. A huge pain in my ass, each in a different way, but all precious. And annoying.
“I need to use the restroom. If he relaxes me too much I’m going to have a problem, if you know what I mean. That’s all.”
Margie, the oldest and most practical, who didn’t believe in anything but money and death, took charge, spinning me by my shoulders. “Go. Then you’re back here or we’re dragging you out for a crystal cleansing.”
I walked to the house, making a point of not looking at the stunning brunette plucking her viola. Not easy. She had the kind of face one stared at. But I glanced over, and there was Dad, talking to her, leaning over in a way that seemed respectful and dignified, getting her comfortable. I wondered if he did it to spite me, then remembered he simply and shamelessly liked f**king girls too young to drink legally. It had nothing to do with me. Which meant I’d be unable to get him away from her. I couldn’t say, ‘Okay Dad, you’re right, high school girls are hot. Now can you step away?’ because then he’d take her to bed for sure. I couldn’t try and cut in or he’d make a light hearted competition of our pursuit. And I couldn’t cross-check him through the windows or I’d ruin my own party, and I’d have to explain to my fiancée why I was protecting the honor of an underage girl I’d only glanced at.