When I opened the door, a string of bells clanged loudly against the glass. Every table was full, the room bursting with swirls of hushed murmurs and loud conversations. No one paid attention to my presence, though. I scanned the room and saw my sperm donor sitting at a corner table for two with a cup of coffee while typing on his tablet.
People attested that Cranston Nash’s greatest strength was being a businessman. However, I deemed it his greatest weakness— because it was all he knew. My father equated to a lopsided mullet, all business in the front… and no party in the back. I could count on zero fingers how many times I’d seen him give off any feeling of warmth toward me in the past few years. He’d punished me for his actions, and that relationship-killer rang loud and clear.
I made my way through the maze of tables and set my bag down. “Hi.”
“Ah. Jademeister,” he replied, setting his device down. Cranston took off his glasses to rub his face.
“Jademeister” was as personal as it got. A skin-deep nickname. Never a “How was your day?”, “What’s happening in your life?”, or an “I love you” graced his lips.
“You’re late,” he tacked on.
“Don’t remind me.”
I studied his face, noticing how it’d aged, even since I last met with him. The thin valleys crinkling at the outer edges of his eyes weren’t from laughter. They told a different story, one of stress, guilt, and unease. His gaunt cheeks told me he rarely ate. The circles cradling his eyes told me he had trouble sleeping. His arms folded on the table told me of his insecurity in our sitting at the same table, serving as a physical barrier separating us.
I slid the menu out of the way. Not only did I have it memorized, but nervousness outweighed hunger.
Our usual waitress, Theresa Butler, hurried over to the table, her large, silver hoop earrings catching the natural sunlight from the window. She tucked a honey-colored lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. “How’s life, Cranston?” she asked, pulling a green pad of paper and a pencil from her apron pocket.
“Good. Busy,” he engaged in conversation with her and with interest. “When do you start the new nursing job down at the VA hospital?”
I sank down into my chair and half-listened to them over the next few minutes. The sharp knife he plunged into my back pierced every nerve in its path without Theresa having any clue. Cranston knew more about our waitress’s life than his own daughter’s, and he made sure that moment got attention.
Next, he put on his glasses again. “I’ll have the Thanksgiving combo and a bowl of clam chowder.”
I wrinkled my nose at the thought of clammy cranberry sauce from a fish and chips joint.
“What about you, Jade?” she asked.
“Coffee,” I said. “Black.” I wanted something stronger, but Cranston wouldn’t be amused if I ordered a fifth of anything.
“So, what’s up?” I handed the menus to Theresa and looked at my father. “We usually have dinner on our set day of the month like clockwork. It’s unlike you to change routine.”
On the inside, butterflies flitted against the walls of my stomach while my organs did somersaults at the idea he might announce his retirement. On the exterior, I stayed calm.
“Well…” He quickly blinked ten times before continuing. I’d counted. Never nine. Never eleven. Always ten. Back to childhood, I remembered it being a Cranston Nash specialty. “This past quarter has been exceptionally hectic. After meeting with my accountant, I realized we really need to discuss my future plans.”
Chill out, Jade. Also, holy shitballs! I wasn’t wrong, after all. No one saw it, but I dug my fingernails into the seat cushion of the bench, holding my breath.
“My impending retirement has been on the table for a few years. I’ve had in-depth talks with multiple parties about your company absorbing my clients with the second branch running in Seattle.”
I’m getting out of Cannon Cove. Finally! I nodded eagerly, afraid of slowing his flow. However, Theresa delivering a steaming bowl of chowder made his focus stumble. Cranston didn’t talk while he picked up a small package of oyster crackers, crumbling each individual blistered hexagon to dust inside the bag.
I forced oxygen in and out of my lungs, trying to pace myself.
He dumped cracker confetti into the bowl. “So… I brought you here tonight to have a discussion.”
“Okay.” I pinched myself.
“How do you feel about… what I’m trying to say is…”
The moment I’d worked toward for years arrived, ever since I’d picked massage as a profession. Cranston’s promise would help secure The Triple C financially for years to come. My chance had arrived to help Roxy’s and my dreams come true, and all I needed to hear was his offer, “Jade, I’m passing the practice down to you, just like I promised.”
“Jade, I’ve explored a different route and am selling the practice.”
“I accept. Huh?”
He sat still, waiting for me to process his statement.
I couldn’t move or speak above a whisper, “You what?”
“I knew,” he let out a slow breath, almost like my reaction was the disappointment instead of his decision, “knew you’d be upset because it was your idea, but it’s—”
“Don’t twist this. Your idea. You, Cranston, told me, Jade, you wanted to keep the practice in the family.”
“Jademeister…”
“Don’t call me that.” My nose burned with emotion. “You’re breaking another promise?”
He took off his glasses again and rubbed his face for the second time. “It’s complicated. After talking with Bianca, it’d be foolish to not capitalize on that amount of money. Plus, she knows a guy— Zachary Main, who deals with investment properties and businesses. He has some great ideas.”
I’ll bet he does.
Not only did Zack destroy me with his sex tape, but he’d found a way to do it through my father, too. “Are you kidding me?”
“Bianca said—”
“There’s her name again.” I frowned.
“Put yourself in my shoes. There’s a lot financially at stake, and it locks in my retirement rather than having to budget like I’d anticipated. Bianca can sell her shop, and—”
“Third time. Bianca.”
“Yes, my future wife. Is there a problem?”
“Nope. No problem, Dad.” I took a few breaths and convinced myself to let loose. “You know what? It’s not nothing. Say what you mean. Bianca wants your cushy retirement.”
“There’s more to it than retirement. When Eli and Annelies get married tomorrow, someone has to pay for—”
My eyes widened. “Shut the front door. You’re paying for the rest of the wedding? Why would you… What about Eli’s parents?”
“They aren’t paying for the wedding. After the carnival, and the other activities, they closed their wallet.”
“Tell the bride and groom to pitch in.”
“You can’t expect Annelies and Eli to foot the bill on their own.”
“They’re both adults. Why can’t I? You’re the bride’s mother’s fiancé. That’s like listing a distant relative. You’re not even blood related or tied by marriage… yet. I can’t believe this.” I rubbed my temples. “We had a deal.”
“Sometimes, deals fall through,” he spoke that sentence as if it weighed nothing at all.
Wow. I set my napkin down on the table and grabbed my bag.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “What about your coffee?”
“Fuck coffee,” I said.
“Watch your mouth.”
I put on my sunglasses.
“Don’t throw a tantrum because you didn’t get your way.”
“I didn’t get my way?” My body shook. “Let’s talk about me not getting my way. S
hould we talk about when I was a kid and you skipped out on family vacations, or when I was a teenager and you picked a golf tournament over my high school graduation, or last year when you stood me up at Christmas? Any of those are great starting points.”
“You’re not being fair.”
I stood up. “Enjoy retirement with Bianca.”
“Jade!” he demanded. “Sit down.”
“I don’t know why I expected anything different.”
“Different than what?” he asked.
“If you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for the sanctity of marriage, I don’t know why I thought you could keep your word to your own daughter.”
My father’s face changed from flesh-colored to beet red, and it was the first time I’d taken him on in years.
I leaned across the table to close in on the distance between us. “Don’t you ever forget what you did to Mom.”
“I didn’t do—”
“That’s right.” I smacked my palms on the tabletop hard. “You weren’t doing Mom. You were doing Bianca, and I walked in on you!”
My father rubbed his face with both hands, and I was pretty sure he’d lost a few layers of skin by that point. “I don’t want to argue with you, and I don’t want to revisit the past.”
“You don’t want to argue because you won’t win. Walk away, like you always do.”
His rage drilled deep. “Don’t forget who blackmailed me into walking away and out of that sanctity of marriage without your mother knowing why. You’re the one who contacted her lawyer and tried to bleed my bank account dry for her alimony.”
“Don’t blame me for your affair! I did what I had to, so I could protect Mom.”
“Christ. The fact you share any DNA with Annel—” he stopped himself.
The world stopped and I sank back into my seat. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” Cranston set his spoon down on the saucer and blinked ten more times at his bowl.
I placed my hands on the lip of the table, curling my fingers over the beveled edge tight. “What does that mean?”
“I should leave.” He pulled a twenty and a ten from his wallet and tossed them on his napkin.
“No. That’s not how this works. You don’t get to order chowder, detonate a bomb, and leave.”
He stood up, still staring at the table.
“You can’t even look at me?” I asked. An elderly couple, engaged in laughter, scooted their chairs back to leave an assortment of empty dishes behind, unaware they’d cut my dad off before he could make a move for the door. “I want answers. Now.”
“It’s not your business—”
“Rewind sixty seconds. That’s when you made it my business.”
He hesitated. “I’ve known Bianca more than twenty years, but your mother and I were already married.” His eyes finally met mine. “Figure it out.”
“Wait. If you’ve known her for…that means Mom and you…and then… Bianca and you…” Oh, God. My mind raced, large puzzle pieces colliding together and then exploding into tinier ones.
The business trips.
The late nights at the office.
The impromptu dinner meetings with colleagues.
The retreat in Cancun. And Bali. Tahiti. Vegas. Los Angeles.
Iris and I stayed behind at home. Every time. My dad always had an excuse to go solo. Over the years, I’d disliked my father more and more. But at that moment, I realized Cranston Nash’s shady morals simulated every man who’d I’d gotten involved with. That? I hated. Being part of his business practice no longer mattered, and I suddenly wanted nothing to do with it. Too many layers of lies and deceit corrupted it and our relationship.
“How did… and Bianca didn’t care that… you and Mom were…”
He didn’t offer any further verbal clarification, slowly shaking his head left and right.
“And Mom never knew at all…”
The side-to-side head motion continued.
“So… Annelies and I are…” My series of inhales and exhales sounded muffled in my ears while I covered my mouth.
He stilled and watched me.
“Explain… Never mind. It’s best I don’t know more.”
I swallowed, wishing I’d opted out of going to Poseidon’s. At least if I went to Brady’s, I could’ve had cheesecake. That would’ve been easier to swallow than learning my dad led a double life and I had a sister. The truth was that important. My own words burned like fire.
“I can’t do this.” I grabbed my bag and stood up.
He reached for my wrist, his fingertips cool when they grazed my skin. “Jade… it’s time you knew, but I didn’t mean for it to happen like—”
I pulled away. “Is this why you bagged on going to the rehearsal stuff tonight?”
“Bianca and I both thought it’d be best.” He reached for me again.
“Because, clearly, you’re an expert at knowing what’s best.” Tearing from his touch was instinct, my composure cracking in half. “Go to Hell.” I turned to storm out of the restaurant and let the jingling bells announce my exit.
My flip-flops slapped, striking between the soles of my feet and the cement. The past few days dealt emotional blows my way, but Cranston pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t handle more because my chest was about to explode. Tears flooded my vision, and I tried so hard to hold them back. The first two drips spilled down my face. Each one was a disappointment in myself for letting him affect me.
I wanted to go home.
“The ties binding me to Annelies Taft run deeper than my cat’s emotions, my aloe plant’s sex life, or being creepy by Flickflix-and-chilling with kitchen appliances.”
Well, no shit. I didn’t know how black and white that sentence would be less than a week after saying it aloud to Roxy.
Annelies. Did she know? She had to! And if she knew, did Paige know? Did Eli know? Did Iris know? Lissy? Sabina? Teddy? My head spun. Where did it begin and end? Was I the only one sheltered from reality? I dug deeper. Is that why Cranston decided to pay for the wedding? Out of guilt or because that’s what the bride’s side of the family traditionally did? Family. Is it why I’d been volunteered, against my wishes, to be her MOH? Lucky me had to face her at the bonfire in under an hour. If I had to endure Anal Eyes, I needed a friend by my side.
A friend who would listen.
A friend who wouldn’t judge.
A friend who would soothe.
A friend who would make everything better.
At that moment, I knew who to call on. Halfway to the Jeep, I unzipped my bag and reached inside, my hand fumbling past my phone, my thumb bumping Seth’s cell out of the way, fingers finally wrapping around what I needed— my wallet. Instead of unlocking the door, I turned and headed to the opposite edge of the parking lot. Decision made. I waited for a break in traffic before darting across the busy two-lane road.
I stood outside a building and stared upward. Yellow letters crackled and buzzed on the stained stucco overhead. Vodka. My fate stared back at me, reinforcing the companionship I needed. Vodka would listen. The sliding glass doors of The Liquor Rack opened with a hush. Vodka wouldn’t judge. The air conditioning sent goosebumps up my arms. Vodka would soothe. My feet led me over the squishy welcome mat and through the stainless-steel turnstile. Vodka would make everything better.
Irony stood behind the cash register in the form of a pimply-faced, gangly man-child, who didn’t look old enough to drink. “Welcome to LR,” he squeaked, his eyes widening when he saw my face. “Can I help… are you all right?”
“Fine.” I caught a glimpse of my appearance on the security camera screen and wiped my nose with my forearm. Streaks of mascara stained my cheeks beneath my puffy eyes and chapped lips. “Vodka.”
He nodded, ste
aling a few fearful glances my direction as he led the way down the far aisle. “Any particular brand?”
“Doesn’t matter.” The wall in front of me advertised a sea of bargain and expensive brands in glass bottles. A golden label reading Valiant in black lettering grabbed my attention first. “Flavored cake vodka,” I said aloud. It wasn’t Brady’s cheesecake, but it’d get the job done.
After proving my age and paying, I left the store alcohol rich and dignity poor. I sat in the darkened Jeep at Poseidon’s and stared at the shimmering gold sticker, running my fingers over the glass. Cold. Smooth. Familiar. A nearby streetlight turned on and illuminated the liquid, but it became indistinct when another round of tears succumbed to gravity when the conversation with my dad played out again. I choked back a sob and set the bottle down before driving to the public access point at the beach.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, I slowed on the sand-packed road and parked between Seth’s truck and Sienna’s car. Tall beach grasses covered the dunes on either side of the path and blocked my view of the picnic shelters. With no one around, I took in the sunset in its dusky brilliance. Vivid ribbons of oranges, pinks, and purples overlapped on the horizon. The water beneath looked inky, topped with white dollops of seafoam. I longed to watch it from the cove for many different reasons.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, you can have your life back.
Before I got out of the Jeep, I grabbed for the vodka and allowed myself to feel its weight, both symbolic and literal. First, in my right hand. Next, in my left. My fingers shook when I twisted the cheap metal top until it gave way with a crack.
This is it.
I lifted the fifth to my nose and inhaled deeply. The sugary sweetness of buttercream frosting fused with lush vanilla. One taste would have me losing everything I’d fought to win. The brown bag fell to the floor of the Jeep while I let out another sob. With my eyes shut, I took another whiff and smiled through the tears. Rainbow sprinkles. A hint of toasted coconut. Icing-draped cake… wedding cake.
Jade Page 31
