Page 61
Story: Guarded By the Goalie
“No,” she says fussing with the bracelet on her arm. “We’ve known one another for ages and we’ve been working with the youth group. He’s with the boys and I’m with the girls. It just… kind of happened.”
Yeah right. “I’m sure the Rev approves.”
“He does.”
Midway down the staircase I grab her arm and pull her to a stop. “You don’t have to do this, you know? You can go to college. Move out. Get a job.”
She pulls away from my grasp. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you that you have options?” I sigh. “You should come visit me. See what it’s like on campus. Reese’s girlfriend is amazing. You could stay with her and Nadia–”
“Don’tstart this today,” she repeats. “I like David. He’s cute, smart, and respectful. Heisin college, studying business management, and he comes home every weekend to volunteer and to see me. Just because you’re desperate to rebel against the future, doesn’t mean that I am.”
“You haven’t even kissed him, have you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes, trying to see it.
“Of course not.” She gives me a final, hard look, and continues down the stairs, the smile plastered on her face before she greets her first guest.
Fuck.I really need that drink.
Thanksgiving isn’t a family affair.Nothing about the Rakestraws is ever just ‘us.’ His argument is that the church built this home, and we should open it to members of thecongregation and community to celebrate. Of course, none of these people are needy in any way. They’re the same people that follow my father everywhere, kissing his ass, tell him he’s amazing, agreeing to his every word, not to mention, funding his ideas and causes. Most of all: lining his pockets.
At some point Thanksgiving got so big that my mother started hiring help. I don’t blame her. It’s too much for one woman to do and my father sure as hell isn’t helping. There’s a valet outside, a man at the door receiving guests and taking coats, and waitstaff rushing around in all black, weaving through the guests offering appetizers and drinks. Over all this buzz, I can hear my mother commanding the army of servers in the kitchen as the scent of turkey wafts through the house.
“Sweetie, you look like you could use a drink.” This comes from a woman I assume is from my mother’s bible study.
“That would be awesome.” I’ve been hovering–finehiding–in the alcove near the library for the last hour, hoping I didn’t overwork my wrist from the repeated handshaking I was forced into when the guests arrived.
She snatches a glass of brown liquid off one of the passing trays and presses it into my hand.
“Oh,” I give her a tight smile when I realize it’s iced tea. This house is an alcohol-free zone, even on holidays. “Thanks. It’s crowded in here.”
I don’t know if it’s unnaturally warm or not, but my skin is itchy and hot.
“Your parents are so gracious to open their home to everyone.” She grins. “It’s wonderful, but definitely a little chaotic.”
I nod and repeat. “So wonderful.”
“Slow down, Preston!” she calls when a few kids run past us, out the back door to the wide, green lawn. I watch them wistfully, wishing I could follow them. When I was their age,I loved these events. But now… I swallow a sip of the sickly sweet tea and hope it washes away the dread. “Put them in clean clothes and they turn into wild things.”
“Get some turkey in them and they’ll be ready for a long nap.”
“Maybe I can slip them a little bit before dinner starts.” She laughs and then looks at my hand, her gaze lingering on the tattoos and rings on my fingers. “I don’t think we’ve formally met, I’m Donna. We joined the Kingdom last year.”
“Axel.”
“The Reverend's son. I’ve heard of you.”
“Cautionary tale?” I ask. “Or in reference to the prodigal son?”
“Oh no, your parents have nothing but praise for you. They’re so proud.”
I fight a snort at that, but yeah, outwardly, I’m sure they put up a good front. Inwardly, the disappointment is thick.
Donna rests her hand on my arm. “You go head in the den with the other men. We’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
It may be my imagination, but I’m pretty freaking sure she feels up my bicep and I take the offer to escape. The den is in the back of the house–my father’s other sanctuary. Dark wood paneling lines the walls and comfortable leather seating fills the space. Football is on the massive TV. The Cowboys’ game will be on later today–dinner scheduled around the event. Trays of appetizers have been set out on a buffet in the back and I head straight for it instead of joining the other men. I don’t miss that my father is talking to David–Shelby’s new beau.
I’ve got a stuffed mushroom in my mouth when I’m approached by one of the men.
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