Beautiful Beginning
Page 10
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I made a mental note to call a friend of mine at the IRS and have him audited.
I was only kidding. Mostly.
Dinner consisted of seared salmon and heirloom tomatoes, potato puree, and basil beurre blanc. It was perfect, and made it almost possible to tune out the conversations around me.
“Are you kidding?” Bull yelled from across the room at an elderly second-aunt on my mother’s side. “You must be kidding me. Eagles fans live their life feeling like they never get the credit they deserve. You want attention and praise? Win a goddamn game, that’s what I’m saying!” Bull took a giant gulp of beer, swallowed, and semi-stifled a loud belch. “And another thing—you’re old, I bet you know the answer to this: why the f**k is Wheel of Fortune still on? Did you know they have a goddamn website where you can dress up Vanna White? Dress her up like she’s some sort of f**king paper doll. Not that I know from experience, mind you.” He made a point to meet the eyes of everyone unlucky enough to be seated at his table, whether they were listening or not. “But what the f**k is that all about? And I’ll tell you what, she might not be getting any younger, but if I could find someone as hot as that woman to walk around the lot, motioning to the cars like she does on the TV?” Here he made a dramatic flourish with his hand, the other one cocked on his hip as he motioned to the empty space next to him. “I’d make a goddamn fortune.”
“Jesus Christ,” Chloe whispered in my ear. “That is a train wreck and a half right there.”
I swallowed a large pull of my drink before saying, “You said it.”
“You grew up with this guy?’
I nodded, wincing as I downed the rest of my red wine in a single, burning gulp.
“Has he always been like this?”
I nodded again, sucked in a breath, and wiped my mouth with my napkin. I watched as Chloe glanced around the room, first to my cousin Brian, who would be considered by most to be handsome and who had always been fit. Then to my dad and his brothers, Lyle and Allan, both still pretty good-looking for their age. She turned briefly to Henry and then to me, before blinking back to Bull. I could practically hear her evaluating the genetic map in front of her.
“And we’re sure there’s not a leak in the Ryan family gene pool? Like, is there any way he’s the milkman’s kid?”
I barked out a laugh that was so loud, almost every head in the restaurant turned in my direction. “I need another drink,” I said, standing in a way that momentarily left my chair wobbling on its two back legs.
My phone insistently buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a flurry of texts from my mother:
Sweetie, your hair is a mess.
They’re serving the DeLoach Pinot? I thought
we had the Preston carignane set for the table wine.
Tell your father to stop introducing Aunt Joan as the Prospector. I have no idea why she’s
wearing so much gold nugget jewelry, but he’s being rude.
I had just escaped to the bar for a shot of Johnny Black and to scope out all easily accessible exits—I loved my family but Jesus Christ, these people were f**king nuts—when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“So you’re the one who’s marrying our Chloe.”
“If she doesn’t get wise and escape before the ceremony,” I said, turning to the women behind me. In an instant, I knew who they were. “You lovely ladies must be Chloe’s aunts.”
The one to my right nodded, and her entire head of fluffy red hair nodded right along with her. “I’m Judith,” she said, and then pointed to her sister. “This is Mary.”
Judith had hair that could only be described as some sort of sugary confection: overdyed and overteased into what resembled spirals of strawberry cotton candy erupting from her head. It could have been merely the power of suggestion, but I swear she even smelled like strawberries. Her skin was still relatively smooth considering her age—mid-sixties, if Chloe was correct—and her brown eyes were sharp and clear as she considered me. Mary shared many of the same facial features as her sister, but her hair was a much more subdued, subtle brown, and piled high on her head in some sort of bedazzled and bobby-pinned twist. And while Judith was tall like Chloe, stopping just below my chin, Mary was barely pushing five feet, and was probably as wide through the chest area as she was tall.
I reached out to shake each of their hands. “It’s nice to finally meet you both,” I said, smiling politely. “Chloe’s told me wonderful things.”
They were having none of that and each pulled me in for a squeezing and rather lingering hug.
I was only kidding. Mostly.
Dinner consisted of seared salmon and heirloom tomatoes, potato puree, and basil beurre blanc. It was perfect, and made it almost possible to tune out the conversations around me.
“Are you kidding?” Bull yelled from across the room at an elderly second-aunt on my mother’s side. “You must be kidding me. Eagles fans live their life feeling like they never get the credit they deserve. You want attention and praise? Win a goddamn game, that’s what I’m saying!” Bull took a giant gulp of beer, swallowed, and semi-stifled a loud belch. “And another thing—you’re old, I bet you know the answer to this: why the f**k is Wheel of Fortune still on? Did you know they have a goddamn website where you can dress up Vanna White? Dress her up like she’s some sort of f**king paper doll. Not that I know from experience, mind you.” He made a point to meet the eyes of everyone unlucky enough to be seated at his table, whether they were listening or not. “But what the f**k is that all about? And I’ll tell you what, she might not be getting any younger, but if I could find someone as hot as that woman to walk around the lot, motioning to the cars like she does on the TV?” Here he made a dramatic flourish with his hand, the other one cocked on his hip as he motioned to the empty space next to him. “I’d make a goddamn fortune.”
“Jesus Christ,” Chloe whispered in my ear. “That is a train wreck and a half right there.”
I swallowed a large pull of my drink before saying, “You said it.”
“You grew up with this guy?’
I nodded, wincing as I downed the rest of my red wine in a single, burning gulp.
“Has he always been like this?”
I nodded again, sucked in a breath, and wiped my mouth with my napkin. I watched as Chloe glanced around the room, first to my cousin Brian, who would be considered by most to be handsome and who had always been fit. Then to my dad and his brothers, Lyle and Allan, both still pretty good-looking for their age. She turned briefly to Henry and then to me, before blinking back to Bull. I could practically hear her evaluating the genetic map in front of her.
“And we’re sure there’s not a leak in the Ryan family gene pool? Like, is there any way he’s the milkman’s kid?”
I barked out a laugh that was so loud, almost every head in the restaurant turned in my direction. “I need another drink,” I said, standing in a way that momentarily left my chair wobbling on its two back legs.
My phone insistently buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a flurry of texts from my mother:
Sweetie, your hair is a mess.
They’re serving the DeLoach Pinot? I thought
we had the Preston carignane set for the table wine.
Tell your father to stop introducing Aunt Joan as the Prospector. I have no idea why she’s
wearing so much gold nugget jewelry, but he’s being rude.
I had just escaped to the bar for a shot of Johnny Black and to scope out all easily accessible exits—I loved my family but Jesus Christ, these people were f**king nuts—when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“So you’re the one who’s marrying our Chloe.”
“If she doesn’t get wise and escape before the ceremony,” I said, turning to the women behind me. In an instant, I knew who they were. “You lovely ladies must be Chloe’s aunts.”
The one to my right nodded, and her entire head of fluffy red hair nodded right along with her. “I’m Judith,” she said, and then pointed to her sister. “This is Mary.”
Judith had hair that could only be described as some sort of sugary confection: overdyed and overteased into what resembled spirals of strawberry cotton candy erupting from her head. It could have been merely the power of suggestion, but I swear she even smelled like strawberries. Her skin was still relatively smooth considering her age—mid-sixties, if Chloe was correct—and her brown eyes were sharp and clear as she considered me. Mary shared many of the same facial features as her sister, but her hair was a much more subdued, subtle brown, and piled high on her head in some sort of bedazzled and bobby-pinned twist. And while Judith was tall like Chloe, stopping just below my chin, Mary was barely pushing five feet, and was probably as wide through the chest area as she was tall.
I reached out to shake each of their hands. “It’s nice to finally meet you both,” I said, smiling politely. “Chloe’s told me wonderful things.”
They were having none of that and each pulled me in for a squeezing and rather lingering hug.
