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A few moments later, Mrs.Rivers waves us toward the dining room. “Dinner’s ready!”

Shae pulls out a chair for me, and we settle around the circular table, the comforting aromas of smothered chicken thighs, collard greens, and mac and cheese filling the air.

But despite the warmth of the home-cooked meal, Shae’s father stabs me with his stare, saying nothing and eating his food silently, while Mrs. Rivers keeps the conversation going bytalking about Shae’s accomplishments and the work they do with their nonprofit.

“Tell me about your family, Storm.”

Mrs.Rivers smiles when she lobs the question my way over our empty plates with remnants of bananas foster, but there’s nothing soft about her interrogation.

“What would you like to know, ma’am?” I reply, taking a sip of the homebrewed iced tea. I’m not being intentionally evasive. At least, I don’t think I am.

There truly isn’t very much to say about my family, or anything I particularly want to share.

My father’s first priority is Stratos.

My only sibling is dead.

My mother is so anxious, most days she’s afraid of her shadow.

Mrs.Rivers smiles. “You can call me Opal.”

The statement seems to cause a bolt of…something to settle at the table, and when I glance at Shae, her eyes are wide, as if warning me not to fall into the trap.

“Sure thing, Ms.Opal,” I reply, giving her an easy smile. Shae’s shoulders drop as if she were uncertain whether I’d catch the line.

“What do your parents do?” This question comes from Mr.Rivers. I don’t think he’ll offer for me to call him Reginald any time soon.

I take another sip of my tea. “My father works in financial services. My mother is retired, but she was in the entertainment industry.”

Shae’s mom sits up a bit at that. “The entertainment industry? What sector? Is she anyone we’d know?”

I smile again and fight really hard not to let it devolve into a grimace.

“Maybe? She was a model in the nineties,” I reply, running my finger down the side of my glass to give myself something else to focus on. When the silence stretches for a bit too long, I add, “She was one of the first Black models to walk for Givenchy. Does Maya Arceneaux sound familiar?”

Mrs.Rivers’ eyes widen almost comically as she brings her hand to her chest.

“Maya Arceneaux! OfcourseI know who Maya Arceneaux is! Her, Naomi Campbell…Lord Almighty, will she be on the next season ofSupermodel Inc.?Reggie, we’re sitting next to fashion royalty!”

Mr.Rivers mutters something, but I focus my attention on Shae. What does she think about my famous mother? I haven’t even told her my father owns half of Chicago and has his hands in industries all around the Midwest.

But when I check for her reaction, all I get is a placid smile. Did she already know?

“No wonder you’re so pretty, Storm,” Shae’s mom says, giving me a sideways glance. The statement causes heat to rise to my cheeks.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, thank you, ma’am.”

Shae sits up at that. “On that note. Mama, Storm and I are going to hang out for a bit. Do you need any help before we go?”

Mrs.Rivers opens her mouth to reply, but Shae’s dad interrupts.

“Financial services. You mean Stratos Wealth Management, right?” Shae’s dad’s pointed words erase any doubt that he has a problem with me. “Google is a great tool.”

Shit.

“I know I’d heard that name somewhere. Your family is behind the failed shopping center on the edge of town. They put in some work to try to ‘revitalize the South Side,’ but didyousee a bustling mall as you drove by in your fancy Porsche?”

This time, I do grimace. Graffiti, shot-out windows, and boarded-up doors cover the abandoned eyesore. The city stepped in a few years ago and drove out the drug cells that’d popped up, but unhoused people still live in the vacant stores.