Page 21 of From the Ashes (Redwood Bay Fire #2)

CHAPTER 21

Colt

When my father asked me to meet him for lunch on Friday afternoon, I na?vely assumed it was to meet a new client. To be fair, I’ve been drifting through work like a zombie lately, so it’s not that much of a surprise that I didn’t analyze the circumstances more thoroughly.

Either way, when I rock up at the fancy sushi place a few minutes earlier than I thought the meeting was supposed to start, I’m confused when I see my mom wave at me from across the room. The space is relatively big and crowded, leaving the impression that she angled herself specifically so she had a clear line of sight so she could watch the front entrance.

That certainly seems like something my mom would do.

My first thought is that the lighting is artfully low, and the restaurant only has windows at the very front of the building in order to maintain the intimate atmosphere. So perhaps it’s just another lady who looks like my mom in the moody setting.

But why would that woman wave at me? I figure it must be my mom, after all, and this has to be a coincidence. Then I quickly realize that my father is sitting next to her, so it can’t be.

What the hell is going on?

I pass a server as he lights someone’s salmon dish on fire right in front of him. The food in general smells amazing and I like the tranquil music playing quietly through the room. If my stomach hadn’t suddenly tied itself in knots, I’d have said this place has my kind of vibe.

Carefully, I weave through the tables and head around the circular bar with a huge artificial Sakura tree standing in the center of it. There are additional fake cherry blossom branches threaded through the wooden beams above my head, and lampshades hanging between them that look like paper lanterns.

Breaking up the floor space are several medium sized fish tanks, illuminated blue, each with only one or two koi carp swimming happily through all the aquatic plants. To my right are a series of colorful open parasol tops displayed flat on the wall. To my left is a small waterfall collecting into a stream that then cuts through the corner of the restaurant I’m heading to. Judging by the fact I have to use stepping stones to cross a Zen garden, then cross a little semicircular bridge over the stream to get to where my parents are seated, I’m assuming this is a VIP area.

Of course it is.

I round another fish tank, this one with two baby koi in that can only be a couple of inches long each, which reveals the other side of the table. Or rather, it reveals the third person sitting opposite my parents. Their head turns to reveal a stunningly beautiful blond woman, whose perfect smile lights up when she sees me.

Fuck.

I’ve been ambushed.

Unable to help myself, I slow as I take the last few steps. But my mom has already jumped to her feet, her arms outstretched as she greets me by clasping either side of my face.

“There he is! I was starting to worry.”

“I’m early,” I point out. She just scoffs and squeezes my shoulder—the closest I’ll ever get to a hug from her.

“Never mind about all that,” she gushes. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet! Colt, this is Portia Bamford. Portia, this is my son, Colton Ross.”

She grips my elbow surprisingly hard for a woman of her age as she steers me to my seat. It’s clear there’s no getting out of this easily. So for the time being, I plaster on a smile as the young lady in question rises to her feet and holds out her hand. The fact she clearly wants to shake rather than expecting me to kiss her fingers like a lot of the women my parents have introduced me to immediately earns her a brownie point in my books.

“It’s nice to meet you, Colt,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “I hope we’re not pulling you away from anything important. Our moms got talking during book club, and apparently decided we had to become acquainted without delay.”

Her tone is playful, which tells me she also appreciates that this is a little ridiculous. But it also suggests that she has no idea that I’ve been lulled here under false pretenses. For her sake, I decide not to chew my parents out in front of her.

There is going to be a damn conversation, though. This is stepping over the line. I understand they both want me to be happy, but getting impatient and arranging a blind date with them is like something out of a history book. You’d think I was a freaking prince who needs to be married off to secure the safety of the kingdom.

“You haven’t pulled me away from anything,” I assure her as I carefully sit down, minding my left hip. Draping my napkin over my lap gives me something to do as I hide my wince. “I’ve cleared my afternoon for this.”

That’s at least true. As I was expecting to be wining and dining a client, I had no intention of heading back to the office afterward.

Speaking of wine, I lean over and pick up the ice-cold bottle of white from the bucket to pour myself a glass. There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to this ordeal while sober.

Portia frowns and glances at my lap. “Are you all right?”

I blink midway through returning the wine bottle. “Uh, yeah, sure. Why?”

“The way you winced, I thought you might be injured,” she says with a practical sort of concern. “Would you be more comfortable in one of the booths with the sofa seating?”

I’m torn between being slightly horrified she noticed that, and enamored with her blunt but caring suggestion. Now I’m closer to her, I can see in the low lighting that her long hair is more strawberry blonde than platinum. She has high cheekbones and full lips, and although her blouse is done up respectably, I can still tell she has a magnificent rack.

To be fair to my mom, if I was in any way attracted to women, I’m sure Portia would actually be a winner.

“Oh, thanks, but—” I begin, but of course my father talks over me.

“Nonsense. This is the best table in the house, that’s why I booked it.”

I try not to be hurt that he cares more about appearances than my wellbeing. That’s nothing new, after all. It still stings a little, though.

“I just pulled a muscle,” I tell Portia.

“Doing what?” my mom asks, immediately getting into my business.

I take a sip of wine and try to rein in my sarcasm as I reply, “Surfing.” They don’t need to know that the pain was inflicted entirely on purpose and is nothing to be concerned about.

“You’re too old to still be indulging in such a childish pursuit,” my father grumbles.

Portia, however, seems to dial up the brilliance on her smile as she directs it at me and picks up her own half-finished glass of wine. “I never got the hang of surfing, but I love snorkeling, and I play volleyball competitively.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” I say sincerely. “What team?”

“Portia is a policy advisor for Mayor Hernández,” my mom interrupts, blatantly yanking the conversation in a direction she prefers. “But she’s got her eye on the governor’s office. Isn’t that right, Portia?”

“That would certainly make my mom very happy,” Portia replies with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You know, Colt is thinking about getting into politics.”

“No, I’m not,” I blurt with a laugh before I can stop myself. My parents’ glares follow swiftly after, so I do my best to laugh some more, like we’re all in on the same joke. “I’ve only just moved back into town and I’m still finding my feet in our family’s law practice,” I explain convivially to Portia. “Maybe one day I’ll think about moving on from that. But for right now, I owe it to the company to stay put for the time being.”

“Oh, you two work together?” Portia asks, giving my father an approving smile that appears to mollify him a little.

Oh. She’s good.

“We do indeed,” I say, looking around for a menu as there doesn’t seem to be any around. “Should we order some food before we get too distracted?”

“We already ordered a selection for the table,” my father says dismissively. His attention is on Portia and I’m not keen on the gleam in his eyes, and he smiles back at her. “We all know Colt is destined for more than family law. It’s only natural that he’ll be moving on soon enough. Therefore, it made sense to introduce you two. There’s no harm in thinking about the future, is there, Colt?”

My irritation is starting to become anger. In that moment, it dawns on me that there might never come a point where my parents stop meddling in my life. They’re just going to keep doing their best to mold me however they want with little to no regard as to what I might want.

Enough. I’m done being manipulated. The ache in my hip makes me feel like Zahir is almost here with me, helping me stand strong as I finally do something I should have done many years ago.

Grow a spine.

“I’m confused,” I say, my tone cheerful despite the simmering rage in my chest. “Is this a date or a job interview?”

My parents still as Portia raises an eyebrow and looks between us. Then my mom laughs, clearly flustered. “There’s no need to be vulgar, darling. We’re all here to have a nice meal and to get to know our guest a little better.”

“That’s funny,” I say with a chuckle. “Because I was under the impression that this was a meeting with a new client, Dad. I guess someone at the office got their wires crossed, huh?”

My father scoffs and sips his wine, not meeting my eyes. “Why are you younger generations so obsessed with labeling everything? Can’t lunch just be lunch?”

Something reckless is brewing within me and for the first time in my life, I’m not inclined to stop it. “I’m pretty sure it’s you guys who are obsessed with labels.”

“And what’s that’s supposed to mean?” my mom snips, struggling to hold on to her pretense of civility.

I shrug. “Status. Wealth. Race. Religion. Gender. Sexuality. Who a person’s family is and where they come from. Those things all add up to how much power you think someone has and therefore how much value they are to you.”

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!” the server I didn’t see appear announces to the table. “I have your selection of entrees here.”

“Just put them down anywhere,” grunts my father impatiently.

“Thank you,” I say immediately, refusing to let him get away with taking his bullshit out on the staff. It’s not his guy’s fault we’re having a long overdue family breakdown at his place of work.

It’s not Portia’s, either. However, she seems to be taking the turn in conversation reasonably well. “Could we get another bottle of the sauvignon blanc?” she asks pleasantly as the server puts the last of our plates down from his large silver tray.

“Of course, ma’am,” the guy says, looking relieved to have a reason to make a swift escape.

“I think we should just move on from this little misunderstanding,” my mom says, her voice forcefully cheerful.

“I’d love to,” I say as Portia surreptitiously tops mine and her glasses up. “We can start with me making something very clear. I’m not interested in going into politics one tiny bit. I’m also not looking for a girlfriend right now. I’m so sorry, Portia, for any confusion my parents might have caused.”

She gives me a one-armed shrug and a smile. “The food here is excellent, the wine’s even better, and I’m enjoying your company. No need to apologize.”

“Colton, you’re being so rude,” my mom says tearfully, wringing her napkin in her hands. “You’ve only just met Portia. You can’t know if you two aren’t compatible. And it’s not like you’re making an effort to date anyone else!”

I lean forward, that recklessness brimming dangerously close to the surface. “How do you know I’m not already dating someone?”

“Because you’d tell me,” she manages to shriek while still keeping her voice down. Of course she still cares what strangers might think of her over her only child’s feelings.

“Would I?” I ask, genuinely curious. “When you set the bar so astronomically high? Who is ever going to pass your criteria?”

“Portia!” my mom cries, flinging a hand her way. My not-date pauses with an avocado hosomaki roll pinched expertly between her chopsticks.

“Lucky me,” she says brightly before popping the sushi into her mouth.

“Calm down,” my father says, his voice low. For a second, I’m a child again, fully aware of how much trouble I’m about to be in.

Then I snap back to reality and remember that I’m a grown ass man and other than his disapproval, there isn’t a damn thing I need to be afraid of. Neither my mother nor my father can do anything to hurt me other than say mean things.

And they’ve been doing that my whole life.

“Or what?” I ask him, taking another sip of wine. Portia’s right. It is very good. “You’ll fire me? You’ll disinherit me? I hate to break it to you, but I left New York filthy rich, and I’ve barely made a dent in those savings in the time I’ve been in Redwood Bay. And truth be told, if I have to sit through one more petty divorce mediation, I’m going to quit anyway.”

“This!” my mom hisses, her eyes blazing. “This is why I wanted to introduce you to a nice young lady! I thought someone elegant, ambitious, and sophisticated might set you back on track. It’s like I don’t even know you since moving back home.”

I laugh hollowly. “I hate to break it to you, Mom, but this is the real me. The guy I’ve been hiding my whole life to try and please you guys. The other Colt is the one that never existed. And I can’t do it anymore. I’m so sorry, I really am.”

My voice catches, but I do my best to swallow the lump in my throat.

“All I wanted was to make you both proud. To earn your love. But you kept twisting me into your perfect son until I was going to break. Well, it turns out that this is the moment, in this very nice Japanese restaurant, in front of a perfectly lovely young woman who has nothing to do with our fucked-up family history, beside a tank of baby koi. You’ve broken me. I’m done. I’m out.”

“Your sauvignon blanc, ma’am?” the server asks hesitantly. Damn, this guy isn’t just as silent as a ninja. He really knows how to pick his moments.

“Perfect timing,” Portia says, taking it off him. He doesn’t run, but he certainly walks away as quickly as possible.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colton,” my mom says in a fluster, rearranging the little pots of ginger and wasabi in front of her. “Of course we love you. We just want what’s best for you. Sometimes you’re too much of a daydreamer and you need some help with that. I think it’s very uncouth of you to disrespect your father and I like this when we’re in public.”

“You’re the ones who set this whole thing up,” I scoff over the rim of my glass.

“What do you mean that you’re done and you’re out?” my father asks, his voice remaining low, like he thinks he can still scare me. Sucks for him. In the space of about fifteen minutes, it’s become abundantly clear that I’ve got nothing at all to lose. “The plan has always been for you to inherit Ross & Associates. I know you’re not talking about walking away from your responsibilities.”

“Aren’t I?” I ask in amusement.

He puffs up like a bullfrog. “Colton Archibald Ross! After everything we’ve done for you?—”

“Oh, you mean after everything you bullied me into?” I interrupt. “Christ, I’ve been such a fool. Such a coward. To think that I chose your approval over Zahir.”

The second I let the name past my lips, I know I’ve made a mistake. All color drains from my mother’s face, while my father’s does the opposite and goes beet red.

“Your father told me he’s been bothering you at work!” my mom cries, tears in her eyes again. “I knew there had to be a reason for all these changes recently. That boy was always a terrible influence on you!”

“That boy is now a fully grown man and a paramedic,” I inform her, fully aware I’m only antagonizing her and not caring one jot. “He spends his days saving people’s lives. Not that I expect that to meet any of your criteria.”

My mom doesn’t even seem to hear me. “He almost ruined your chances at school and he’s trying to do it again now! Why can’t you see that dating someone like Portia would do you so much good?”

The lady in question raises a long, French-manicured finger. “Just a quick aside. ‘Someone like Portia’ is in fact just Portia, and she’s not here to fix anybody’s son.” She glances at me with a sly smile. “Although once this one’s finished with his epiphany, he can give me a call.”

“He’s not normally like this,” my mom says desperately, reaching out like she wants to grab Portia’s arm, but stops herself at the last second.

Wise chose, I reckon.

“You are right,” I concede. “I normally behave myself and toe the line. Unfortunately, I’m done with that old Colt, so I doubt you’ll be seeing him again.”

“That’s right, you’re ‘out,’” my father sneers. “Are you going to quit law and become some kind of hippie? Out of where?”

“The closet,” I say before I can stop myself.

Everyone goes very still.

Well…if I was ever going to come out, this isn’t even close to how I planned on doing it. But there’s no putting the genie back in the bottle now. And quite frankly, I don’t want to.

“W-what?” my mom stammers.

“Fuck yeah, dude,” Portia murmurs appreciatively, dipping some nagiri in her soy sauce.

“You’re not…you can’t be…” My mom looks from left to right, as if expecting the paparazzi to be lurking within earshot. “Gay?”

I shrug, wondering if I feel so calm because I’m on my second glass of wine or if it’s because I truly do not care anymore. It’s so funny how years and years of crushing anxiety have all just been washed away like footprints in the sand. They say the truth will set you free, and that’s exactly how I’m feeling right now.

“I can be and I am,” I tell her with a grin. “Gay, that is. In case there was any confusion.”

My father looks like he’s clenching his jaw so hard it’s going to snap. “This is pathetic. If you think you can embarrass the family name like that?—”

“I’m sorry,” Portia interrupts again with her manicured finger raised. “Just to clarify that what you’re saying is if your son was gay, that would be a scandal in your eyes?” There’s no humor in her voice anymore as she licks her lips and fixes my father with a piercing stare.

He splutters and glances at my mom. It’s rare that I see him lose his cool, and under the circumstances, I’m not ashamed to admit that I enjoy it a little. “Well, I mean, of course not. It’s just…it’s not who he is! This is obviously some kind of attempt at rebellion! That’s what I meant about embarrassing us.”

“Oh, good,” Portia drawls. “Because for a second there, I thought you were a couple of homophobic bigots that have been making their son’s life miserable his whole life.”

“Colt,” my mom whimpers as tears fall down her face. “I just want you to be happy. Successful. It’s so much harder for those people. Why would you choose that?”

I laugh and rub my head. “To quote the one and only Lady Gaga, I was born this way, Mom. I’m not choosing to be gay. But I am sure as hell choosing to stop being ashamed and living a lie. This isn’t a phase nor am I experimenting. I’m attracted to men and only men, so you’re going have to come to terms with a very different-looking future from the one you’ve been crafting for me. The only people who could make my life difficult would be the kind with attitudes like yours. So the ball’s in your court now. You have to choose whether or not my sexuality is a dealbreaker for you.”

I take a breath and try not to let my sadness rob me of the right words in this important moment.

“This is me. The real Colt. And he is a bit of a daydreamer. He’s gay, he loves surfing, and he’s not sure he wants to be a lawyer anymore. He’s one thousand percent never going to be a politician or marry a woman. If this Colt is someone you’re interested in getting to know, you can give me a call.”

I’m surprised how calm I am as I place my napkin back on the table and stand up, offering my hand out to my left.

“Portia, it was genuinely a pleasure meeting you. If you ever want to grab a cone on the beach, you can also give me a call. If not, good luck with getting to the governor’s office.”

She shrugs and grins at me as she gives me one firm shake before releasing my hand. “Eh. I like the mayor.” She looks pointedly at my parents. “We’ve worked really hard on protecting trans people’s access to healthcare in the city. I’d hate to see anyone try and undo that if I left.”

I snort and wiggle my hand next to my ear with my thumb and pinkie out, making a ‘call me’ motion. She winks, and I take that as my cue to leave.

I’m not sure if it’s the overwhelming relief flooding through me, or the couple of glasses of wine on an empty stomach. But I feel a little unstable as I move past the tank with the baby koi and start heading across the path through the Zen garden.

Then my phone vibrates in my jacket.

So do several other people’s phones around me. Even more phones ping with a message notification.

Frowning, I pull mine out of my pocket to see an alert filling up my screen.

That’s when I realize it’s not my legs that are shaky underneath me.

It’s the ground.

“EARTHQUAKE!” someone near me screams as the glassware hanging above the bar starts vibrating. Within seconds, it’s crashing to the floor. The lights begin flickering and the walls groan. The artificial two-story high cherry blossom tree starts to tilt.

People shove chairs back as they abandon their tables and try to run. I stagger as the ground rumbles, flailing my arms as I spin around. “NO!” I roar, flinging myself at my terrified looking mom. In the same moment, Portia grabs my father’s hand, pulling him to his feet.

But that’s when the lights go out entirely as the ceiling falls on top of our heads.