Someone to Love(15)
“This would be your darling niece.” Cruise fans a hand over me as if I were a carnival prize. “I’m just giving her a ride.”
“Oh my gawd! Andrew, come here! It’s Kendall! She’s drop dead gorg!” She pulls me into a rocking hug and does her best to smother me in her cushiony breasts. Her perfume lays over me thick and cloying like strong tea without any sweetness. “Look at you! All grown up.”
I smile awkwardly at Cruise because mostly she’s propagating a lie. She’s never seen more than a dozen pictures of me.
An oversized chandelier drips from the entry, and the room opens up to a sitting area. A supersized white Christmas tree, decorated with clear lights and strategically dispersed red bows, sits in front of the bay window. It’s beautiful in a sterile sort of way. I suppose once you amass a certain amount of wealth, you have sophisticated standards to abide by. Gone are the popcorn-strung Christmases and children’s art from yesteryear adorning the mantle. It’s as if the capital in your bank account bleaches the fun out of everything. Strangely, it’s just this sort of opulence I had been craving my whole life, and now that I see it with my own eyes, I’d trade it for that tiny brick house of Cruise’s and the bushy Douglas fir in a heartbeat. I might have already.
“Andrew? We’re in the sitting room.” She ushers us in haste toward a palatial room that houses a giant oil painting of Jackie and her husband as they hover over a younger version of Pennington—and speak of the devil. He strides in the room looking perfectly preppy—a wolf donning designer sheep clothing.
My anger toward him actually managed to decrease significantly in the past twenty-four hours—especially since Cruise had the good sense not to dismember me. I’m thinking this whole thing with the housing department was the best botch-up ever and I should be thanking Pen, so I’ve temporarily taken his name off the list of choice expletives. And even though I’m feeling charitable, I’ll be quick to revert the action should Cruise turn into an ass by midnight.
“Dude.” Pen high fives Cruise before smacking me in the shoulder in a show of platonic affection just this side of battery. His eyes are glossed over, and he smells rank in an illegal sort of way, but I’ll be the last to point out that tidbit of incriminating information now that I’ve once again relegated him to my good side.
“Hon, your son is here.” Jackie screeches at the top of her lungs until a middle-aged man with a spare tire appears in the arched entry.
Did she just say son? Is she talking about Pen or me? God—maybe they’re all wasted. Maybe hitting the reefer is a long-standing Christmas tradition at the Alexander household.
“Dad.” Cruise heads over and gives a hug to the man he just referred to as his father.
“My half-brother,” Pennington whispers, and holy shit his breath stinks like the exact illegal foliage I had mentally accused him of smoking.
And what’s this “half-brother” business?
“And here’s my future daughter-in-law.” Aunt Jackie’s voice hits its soprano register. “This one’s all Pen’s.” She squeezes my shoulders tight. “I bet your mother we’d hear wedding bells long before graduation.” She rattles me aggressively as if shaking the idea into my head. “And I never lose a bet.” Her eyes get all wide and swirly like they do in cartoons and she manages to scare the shit out of me in the process. For a minute, I’m tempted to assure her she won’t lose, even though I’m positive she will.
Andrew clears his throat. “She never loses.” The friendly-faced genetic donation station comes over and offers me a hug. He’s far less caustic than his questionably better half, although, apparently, he’s friendly as hell when it comes to women and generous with his sperm to boot. “How’s your mother? I haven’t seen her in years.” His face lights up as if he wouldn’t mind launching a few genetic missiles in her direction, as well.
“She’s good—just coming off a divorce.” I say it a little too loud like it’s an academic achievement or a laudatory honor that we might be moved to toast later. Nothing like making my own mother look like a loser in front of old friends on Christmas to start the night off right.
“Sit! Sit!” Jackie squawks. “Tell me everything. How’s the dorm? And don’t tell me the boys are cute because you’ve only got eyes for my Penny boy.” She belts out a laugh while falling over the sofa.
Cruise lands on the ottoman across from me and indulges in an all-encompassing grin because he so conveniently forgot to tell me he was giving me a ride to his father’s house. That seems like it would have been a relevant nugget to share—yet he held onto it presumably for the shock factor. And judging by those soulful kisses he doled out, he rather enjoys getting a rise out of me.