by Abigail Cole
Butler Bill, as I started calling him in my head, is waiting for us at the bottom of the staircase. Dax, Garrett, and Axel are already by his side, their suits reminding me of the night they converted my dance studio into a nightclub. A sad smile pulls at my lips, simpler times seeming so distant now. Each one has gone for their own take on passive aggressive defiance – Dax has used his tie to fix his hair back in a fluffy ponytail, Axel’s sleeves are rolled up to the elbow with his shirt only buttoned over his navel and Garrett is wearing his entire suit backwards.
Reaching the bottom step and feeling left out, I bend to grasp the side of the navy material in my hands and pull hard, ripping a slit all the way up to my hip. The guys break into cheers while Butler Bill seems to have an aneurysm, his eyes wide and breathing on pause. I reach over to adjust Garrett’s tie knot at his nape and Axel turns to plant a kiss on my cheek, my heels making me almost eye height with the group for a change.
“Come on then, let’s get this shit show over with.” Axel prompts, striding forwards to lead the way. Garrett hurries to his side, complaining that he should still be resting while the rest of us follow them. My heels click loudly on the gleaming marble floor as we stroll from one side of the mansion to the other, every wall pristinely white with no homely additions in sight. No artwork, pictures of Axel, clocks, mirrors, nothing. Just closed wooden doors that match the network of beams crisscrossing overhead. Butler Bill shoves past me as we near a double doorway, rounded black iron doorknobs matching swirling decorations covering the timber.
“Ahh, Master Axel, your mother has requested we meet in the ballroom to begin-“he quickly fumbles for the handle, but Axel slams his palm on the door loudly. An echo of ringing silence follows, everyone holding their breath to see what happens next.
“No.” Axel’s quiet tone is laced with a deadly authority which surprises me, his amber eyes flicking back to me. “She’s never going in there.” I remain still except for an understanding nod, trusting his reasons without needing an explanation. Axel has so many demons within these walls, I’ll do whatever I can to alleviate his struggle of being here. After a tense moment, I step forward to link my arm in his and gently pull him onwards to the open doors at the end of the hallway. A long dining table surrounded by lavish chairs is visible, so I take a lucky guess and hear the others fall into step behind us. We enter the room as a tight unit, ready to play out this charade and get back to our rooms as quickly as possible.
Velvet curtains in the richest shade of plum are drawn over a row of windows, a similarly coloured shaggy rug beneath the table which has been set for ten. Gold flourishes line the ceiling and surround the chandelier hanging in the centre. At the far end next to a lit fireplace, a dark piano reminds me of home. Huffing behind us draws my attention to an approaching Sharon, an emerald green bodycon hugging her surgically enhanced body with a young man on her arm.
“Never one to follow the rules, were you Axel?” She mumbles, her lip peeling back in disgust as she assesses Garrett’s outfit. “Ugh, do you ever take anything seriously?”
“Life’s all shits and giggles until someone giggles and shits,” he shrugs, and I snort loudly. Deciding to ignore him, Sharon pushes her way through us with her lapdog on her heels and turns back with her fake smile back in place.
“Well, no matter. I’d like to introduce you all to my husband, Richard Barrett.” The pasty man puffs out his chest arrogantly, not intimidated in the least by the four guys that are all easily a foot taller and glowering at him like he’s pissed in their milk. He’s slim, his blue suit probably from the children’s section, with blonde hair and a grotesquely large mole on his neck.
“Pleasure to meet you at last Axel,” Richard has the balls to outstretch his hand, which I give him props for. Not that Garrett feels the same, stepping in front of Axel and slapping the offensive limb away with a snarl. Unphased, Richard slips his hand around Sharon’s waist and pull her into his side possessively.
“I don’t even know why I imagined you’d marry some rich bastard on his death bed, again. Of course this piece of jailbait is enjoying the house Axel’s father worked so hard for.” Garrett puffs out his chest in a challenge while Axel is happy to let him take the lead, no doubt thankful his personal bodyguard is blocking his view from the woman glaring at him. I shift closer and force my fingers into Axel’s clenched fist, grief for his father clear in his tone.
“For your information-“ Sharon begins but Richard places a hand on her shoulder to cut in, an usually kind smile on his lips.
“There’s no need for the hostility boys. If you give me a fair chance to introduce myself, you’ll learn I have my own company, can provide more than enough for Axel’s mom and I’ve already started making some improvements on the house. This place will feel like a real home for all of us soon enough.” If Richard notices the way all four men surrounding me bristle and take a dangerous step towards him, his permanent smug grin doesn’t let it show.
Gently pulling on Sharon’s waist, he leads her over to a seat at the far end of the table. After she is seated and he’s placed a kiss on her head, he moves around the room towards the head of the table. I notice the chair in front of the piano is slightly different to the others, the back is higher with black armrests and a darker shade of purple cushioning. Axel spurts forward, clutching his side as he beats Richard to the chair, his stare alight with a challenge.
“Not fucking likely,” he growls, lowering himself into the seat carefully. Richard shrugs with his carefree smirk and takes the place by Sharon instead. Garrett settles himself on one side of Axel and Dax places his hand on my lower back to guide me to his other side. Tension clogs my throat, the tremors of an oncoming panic attack trickling down my spine. Family reunions aren’t my idea of fun anyway, but the friction in the air is unbearable. As Dax pulls my chair out for me, I have the strongest impulse to turn and run until my eyes flick back over to the piano.
Longing grips me. The glossy coat of black beaconing me over, a tune already sounding in my mind that has my fingers twitching. It’s been so long since I’ve felt the calming press of keys beneath my fingers, the soothing notes of my soul transforming into music. Twisting away from Dax, I cross the space and click my heels off without a care. I need this, and I’m pretty sure Axel could do with a distraction too. Draping my skirt behind me on the leather stool, I lift the lid and smile at the ivory keys. My old friends. Closing my eyes and tipping my head back, I let my fingers drift across the grooves until a melody sounds in my mind. One I’ve never played to an audience before but suits my mood perfectly.
My index finger presses down on the first note, a rigid cord in my spine snapping at the sound as the rest of my fingers join in. I wrote this piece myself, the soft flutter of notes reminding me of my mum on a summer’s day. Her billowing skirts and loose hair twirling around her as she dances across the garden, the sounds of nature her only music. Full of light and life. With each chord that reaches my ears, I picture her land on pointed toes, her arms high in perfect arches like she would prod me to do during my ballet lessons.
The clouds overhead begin to darken, their fluffy texture growing heavy to match the weight pushing on my chest. My movements speed up, chasing the keys in an effort to save her. Large green eyes flick to me worriedly, pure panic gripping her delicate features. A fork of lightning flashes in the distance as my heart pounds in time with my fingers, the sweat covering my body coordinating with a sudden downpour of rain in my mind. She turns and runs, taking my soul with her as I use the melody to mourn her once again.
The crescendo I created lessens, my eyes cracking open to stare into the dancing flames carefully contained with the fireplace. I’m hot everywhere expect the empty hole in my chest, my hands shaking as I bring the piece to a close. The last few notes linger in the air, my fingers desperate to hang onto her memory for a few moments more. Dragging myself upright, I close the piano lid and inhale deeply, recovering from the onslaught of emotion that has left me
blissfully numb.
“Holy shit,” Dax’s voice reaches me, but I ignore him. I may have played in their company, but that release was solely for my benefit. The door opens abruptly, slamming back against the wall as a strikingly gorgeous blonde enters on painfully tall heels.
“Sorry I’m late, hope I didn’t miss the fun.”
Axel
My eyes remain glued on Garrett’s face, the strength passing through his hand on my thigh the only reason I’m still in my seat. I’d happily bust my stitches to launch myself across this table and choke out that conceited son of a bitch tripping over himself to please my mom. Visions of each and every way I could hurt him are soothing my twisted soul after Avery’s beautifully haunted music has brought every emotion I refused to feel to the surface. I could pummel him with my fists, smash a vase over his head, strangle him with the curtain tie. I appreciate he would be taking the brunt of my anger on behalf of my mother, but I don’t hit women – even if they are psychotic bitches. And he must have known about our stained relationship when he married her, so I’m willing to bet he’d take any punishment I wish to deliver on her behalf. ‘Til death do they part and all that.
The chair beside me scrapes back, a leg knocking mine beneath the table and I know instantly it’s not Avery’s. Garrett is looking at the unwelcomed guest curiously, but I honestly don’t give a shit who it is. I knew my mother was up to something the second she requested my presence down here. We only ever had family dinners in this room on Christmas Day, my father sitting in this very chair while I built by recently unwrapped model rockets by his side. A high-pitched squeal draws me from my memory, breaking my intent focus on Garrett’s lips to see Avery dragging the girl from the seat by a handful of her blonde hair.
“You’re in my seat,” Avery says calmly, shifting into place the second the leggy guest has scrambled out of the way. I smirk over and she throws me a subtle wink back. Without needing to be asked, Avery has my back and knowing that has my mood lifting instantly. I’m not the vulnerable kid I use to be, I’m the real man of this house now and with my Shadowed Souls around me, it’s time to have some fun. Straightening her red dress with more composure than I’d have expected, Blondie moves further down to sit beside Dax just as a round of champagne arrives. Garrett immediately reaches over to remove the champagne glass that’s place in front of me over to join his, catching the retreating waiter to request an orange juice for me since I can’t drink on my meds. Swoon.
“This is Sasha,” my mom speaks directly to me. “She is Richard’s niece and is very- “
“I don’t give a fuck,” I interrupt, staring her dead in the eye. My plan to actively avoid her may have floated straight down shit creek but that doesn’t mean I will be courteous. My mom pouts her pink lips as if that would change my attitude.
“I’m sure you two would hit it off if you gave her a chance. She’s studying aerospace engineering and already has an apprenticeship waiting at NASA when she completes her degree.” Huh, that does sound pretty cool but unfortunately for Blondie, she is associated with the devil incarnate by rubbing shoulders with my mother. “Maybe you should accompany her to the annual Caudwell Gala next month?” Blondie’s dark eyes flick to me uncertainly and I can’t tell if she’s actually interested or also being forced into this farce.
“If I was going to attend some stupid gala where you will no doubt be, my preferred date would have a little more packaging between his legs.” I reach over to slip my hand into the backwards collar around Garrett’s neck and pull him close to rub noses with me. Eskimo kisses. Cocking his eyebrow, he stares at me expectantly until I’ve realised my mistake and a laugh escapes my lips. “Sorry, a lot more packaging.”
“Come now, Axel. Stop being ridiculous, I want grandkids while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.” I release Garrett to roll my eyes, finding a missed cobweb in the corner of the ceiling to stare at.
“Valuable goods, you mean,” Garret scoffs. His grip tightens on my thigh, more likely to restrain himself from flying into a rage rather than in support of me but I still love that he’s come to my aid. However, I know for a fact his vicious words or even breaking a bunch of valuable shit won’t phase my mom. No, the way to get under her skin is by taking away what she really cares about – her money and popularity. That’s why she hates me. I ruined her precious reputation when I refused to be her pretty, angelic boy and transformed myself into a menacing skinhead that bites back.
“There’s no need for that, Gary,” Richard chimes in. I instantly shift my gaze to Garrett’s face, his expression turning murderous and I fight to hide my smirk. This should be interesting.
“Call my Gary again,” Garrett twists to glare at him, “and I will yank your small intestine out of your mouth, rip your large intestine out of your ass and use you as a human skipping rope.” A full bellied laugh leaves my throat, Richard’s cool façade shattering with a look of horror. Avery fist bumps Garrett across the table as a line of waiters enter the room. A bowl is placed in front of me as I wipe the tears from my eyes, the mix of sweet and salty scents drifting around the room. Three scallops sit in the middle of celeriac soup, my mouth already drooling.
“Oh, I’m actually vegan.” Blondie at the far end lifts her plate and hands it back to the waiter, muttering her apologises as if it’s her fault. I can guarantee my mom forgot to inform the kitchen of her guest’s dietary needs, yet she still has an eyebrow cocked condescendingly and a scowl ready for the poor waiter.
“Oh shit, you poor thing!” Garrett jerks up from hovering over his plate, speaking with his mouth full. “Do you have an epi-pen, should we have a doctor on stand-by?” The whole scallop between his teeth bursts, juice seeping down his chin while he continues to stare at her with genuine concern. Blondie flicks her mortified eyes to my mom who tells her to pretend he’s not in the room. That’s fine by me, pretend he’s not here while I lean over and drag the pad of my tongue over the salty juice from his chin to his lips. Garrett swallows loudly, his tongue sticking out to tangle with mine.
“Oh, for all of our sakes Axel, stop that! I’m fully aware of what you’re doing and that it is all for my benefit. Well, it won’t work!” Cutlery clashing loudly against her bowl mixes with her exasperated sigh. I keep my eyes on Garrett’s hazel ones, our breaths mingling as I reply.
“What am I trying to do, Mom?”
“The same as always. Acting out, showing off. Whatever it takes to anger me.” I turn my head to see her shoot out of her seat and Richard places a hand on her arm, trying to calm her with quiet words. Moron.
“Why on earth would I give a shit what you think? You broke me in so many unfixable ways, used me for your personal gain no matter the cost to my sanity. I’m rebuilding my life; you’re just pissed your cash mule has left you far behind.” Our eyes remain locked in a stare down to the death until Richard somehow manages to coax her back into her seat. Dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin, she throws it into her empty bowl and leans back on a sigh.
“You’re always were such a spoilt shit; do you know that?”
“Spoilt? Spoilt?! Ha! How do you figure that one in that fucked up head of yours?”
“You got all of your father’s money.” The flare to her nostrils makes me grin, my eyes floating upwards in fake thought. When my father died, he left her absolutely nothing like she deserved. I, on the other hand, received a sizeable trust fund, prepaid college fees and a yearly allowance.
“Oh yeah you’re right. And guess what – I gave it all away.” Her face turns to a shade of beetroot, the crazed look in her eyes reminding of the night she’d found me freshly shaven and finally free. If I had thought writing those cheques to abused children’s charities had helped to alleviate some of my grief, it’s nothing compared to how watching my mother’s internal seizure is healing old wounds to my battered soul.
The waiters return at that moment with our main courses balanced on the palm of their right hands, this dinner party suddenly much
more pleasant from my perspective. Minuscule versions of duck confit are placed in front of each of us, my mom too busy twitching and seething to notice. Blondie receives a plate of sliced tomato with some diced onion sprinkled on top and licks her bottom lip excitedly. She can add ‘easily pleased’ on her résumé.
Spearing a teeny tiny carrot on my fork, I notice Garrett glaring at his food it as if it will magically transform into a pizza for him. On his right, Huxley fails to fight a yawn behind his hand, and I feel his pain. Guilt swamps me that my brothers and Avery fell the need to stay in my childhood home with me, but at the same time I can’t let them leave. I won’t survive staying here on my own, if boredom doesn’t kill me first, my nightmares sure will. Dax is also pushing his food around his plate, every so often sneaking a glance over to Avery who is obviously ignoring him. I know I need to do something to break the uncomfortable silence but don’t know what. On my third mouthful of delicious yet microscopic dinner, an idea pops into my mind and I fight to hold back a grin. Knocking Garrett’s leg under the table to grab his attention, I bob my eyebrows mischievously for him to play along.
“Never have I ever said the wrong name during sex,” I begin, leaning over to lift Garrett’s champagne glass to his lips. He chuckles, knowing full well he called me Alex once by a slip of the tongue but that shit counts. In my peripheral vision, I see Avery take a sip from her glass too, much to Dax’s shock.
“Never have I ever received a lap dance,” Avery plays along with a grin. All four of us guys sip from our glasses remembering Huxley’s birthday at Strip ‘N’ Tip last year.
“That’s a wrong we need to right,” Garrett smirks across the table. “Come on Dax, give her a show.” The other end of the table is still eating formally as if they are above us, although from time to time, Blondie glances over in clear hope to join in.
