Shift OR Drift

Killian

Amberly leads me through the large house and out to the back porch where a blonde-haired woman who looks similar to Lexy sits and a dirty blonde man with green eyes sits next to her. AJ and Lexy sit to the left of the man on the opposite side of the table. At the sight of Amberly and I, the man and woman both stand with excitement. The sliding glass door flies open, and a much higher than I thought it would be voice greets us, "Hello! You must be Killian! Trey Scott's son!" The man says and shakes my hand. Something about the way he added 'Trey Scott's son' immediately rubs me the wrong way. The woman wraps me into a hug and greets me with a discreet hello. Anger flares all over Lexy's face.

AJ told me all about how when he first met the Brooks, they did not exactly have their greeting of approval. Something tells me my welcome was a lot warmer than his, based on the look of Lexy's face and AJ's intense stare. There must be a lot more to their feelings than anyone is aware of considering they both appear upset by the greetings I received.

I hand the wine to the older woman who introduced herself as Miranda. Meaning that man is Carson although, his voice is an octave higher than I anticipated, it also tells me he could very well pass as Miranda, not that I would dare to say that out loud. He is nice and very out-going, bubbly, a lot like his daughter. It seems Miranda is the introvert and Carson is the extrovert. Lexy must have gotten the looks from her mother and personality from her father. Thus, making the bubbly blonde who ensures she rubs off on everyone, no matter how long it takes. I do not buy it. There is a devil in there somewhere. We all have one, it just depends on when they come out to play. No one has seen proper Lexy's. I wonder if anyone ever will.

Miranda opens the bottle of wine I brought, pouring herself a steep drink. She offers me one, but I raise my hand to stop her, "I don't drink a whole lot," I tell her, and she shrugs me off moving on to the next person in line.

I do not drink a lot. If I do it is one drink that lasts me the whole night unless stress consumes me. I do not get the kicks from the morning headache or the forgotten memories. None of it interests me as well as the amount of times I had found my father in the bathroom with his head in the toilet. He would always cat-call my mother right after. Usually, after one of those benders is when my father would clean up his act. It lasts for about a year and then it would happen all over again. Like at the strip when he reeked of alcohol. Another one of his lovely psychotic cycles. He is a creature of habit like my mother is. They always straighten their axis for a little while and then it tilts on its side all over again. Habits are the hardest thing to kick especially when someone truly does not care about breaking them. No matter how much they break the person who keeps them.

Miranda sets out plates while Carson tends to the grill. Lexy and Amberly are sucked into some conversation about tonight's race and yet all I can do is stare at Amberly. The way her lips move with every word which falls out of her mouth. Her hands move around while she talks. A little habit that is amusing for me to watch. She is a hand-gestured talker. Opposite of me. When I talk, I prefer to shove my hands in my pockets and do most of the listening. Miranda sits back and watches the conversations play out as she eyes AJ like she has some problem with how he is sitting. Which happens to be straighter than I have ever seen him sit. Is he auditioning for the Military? What is this? The thought crosses my mind and grosses me out. He would never do that, he likes his carefree life a little too much. Miranda is the one everyone should watch for. She collects information and nods along like she is listening to every word and the precise way it is said. An observer. Her eyes flick to me as I shift uncomfortably from her intense blue-eyed gaze burning on my flesh almost like they are filled with a touch of hidden hate.

"What do you do for a living Killian?" Her calm and cool voice pierces the air, "Amberly hardly told us anything about you."

"I race. If I am not racing, I am sitting at home or driving around town. Occasionally visit my father," I tell her simply, she has to be used to this reality. She had Amberly to raise after all.