Bastard’s Baby(100)

“I have to admit,” she said, “this is kind of cool.”

I hit the ignition and the car roared to life. “Hell yeah it is.”

“Let’s do it.”

I hit play on the tape player and Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper” came blaring through the speakers as I hit the gas and sped out into traffic.

She laughed loudly as I wove my way toward the suburbs and the banquet hall where the dinner was being held. I was surprised that she seemed to love driving fast as much as I did. The cool night air flooded in through the open windows, and although it whipped our hair around, hers coming undone from the fancy updo she clearly had worked on, she never once complained. In fact, she turned the music up louder and rolled her window down lower.

I was in awe. Part of me had wanted to mess with her, but my plan was backfiring. Clearly, there was more to Alexa than I had thought.

Attractive stepsister slash wife at my side, we sped through the cool California night, whipping wide around slower cars, rubber screeching over pavement, the stars coming in through the past and exiting further into it.

We enjoyed the ride in silence, not bothering to try to make small talk. We got to the banquet hall much sooner than I had expected, though, and I was a little disappointed that I had to stop driving. I would have loved to keep going with her by my side, but duty called. I parked and helped her out, and we walked into the venue together. We found our place cards and wove our way through the surprisingly large crowd.

“Alexa!” Frank said as we approached, clearly surprised as we made our way to the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Cindy demanded we come,” I explained.

He nodded, smiling. “Well, I’m glad you’re both here.”

We took our seats at the head table as Frank returned to his conversation with another old white dude. I felt completely out of place among the stuffy rich people, but Alexa seemed totally fine. In fact, she shook hands and smiled like she was born for it.

I knocked back my drink and gestured for one of the staff to bring me another. I might as well try to enjoy myself if I was going to have to endure that all night long.

“You’re good at this,” I grunted into Alexa’s ear after a half hour. She smiled at me.

“It’s easy. Just don’t act like a jerk and you’re fine.”

“I’m being pleasant.”

“Drinking too much and grunting at everyone is pleasant?”

“Is for me.”

“At least try, Cole.”

Before I could come up with some witty retort, my mother walked onstage and the crowd slowly quieted.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “thank you for coming.” The crowd applauded politely. “There have been huge changes here with Semingo, as everyone knows. When Semiotics Inc. and Blingo merged last year, nobody was sure where that would lead. What was a major producer of computer components doing merging with a software company? Well,” she said with a flourish, “now you all know.”

The crowd clapped louder.

“I don’t know,” I whispered to Alexa.

“Semingo. New company,” she whispered back.

I shrugged, my eyes glazing over as my mother continued her presentation. It followed the standard formula of thanking the shareholders, the board members, and every other old and rich and important member of the company. Next she talked logistics, going over numbers and such, and finally she ended with projections.

It was all well and good but boring as hell. I tuned it out after ten minutes, and then suddenly a spotlight was shining directly on Alexa and me.

Alex was giving me a look, and I glanced up from my drink. People were staring, and Alex was standing. I ambled to my feet and raised my glass to the room, smirking.

“Our children, everyone,” Cindy said. “Frank and I are so proud of them and are so happy they could be here.”

Scattered applause. We sat back down. Alexa scowled at me. “You’re doing more harm than good.”

“Maybe,” I grunted.

And the speeches continued. When Cindy was finished, she rejoined our table, shooting me looks. It was easy to ignore her when Alexa was so damn distracting by my side.

We were forced to sit through increasingly dull people talk about increasingly mindless things. Even Alex was looking a little haggard at the end of the first hour.

“Hey,” I whispered in her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We can’t leave,” she said. “It’s not over yet.”

“Won’t leave,” I said back. “We’ll just take a break.”

She gave me a dubious look. “I don’t know.”