The Weight of Love

Chapter 6

When they arrived at the table on the upper mezzanine level of the restaurant, Lila's mother and Robert were already well into their second bottle of wine, and both of them were drunk.

"Lila, baby!" Her mother swayed to her feet and gave her a big kiss on the cheek, smearing lipstick across her face. "Congratulations! Oh, we have flowers for you -- honey, where are the flowers?"

"Must've left them in the car," said Robert. He was a stone-faced drunk. He got up and extended his hand to Cameron. "Hope she didn't give you too much trouble."

"None at all," Cameron said, pulling back Lila's chair for her. "She's a good girl."

"I wish that were true," Robert said with a roll of his eyes. "Really, kids are the cause of most of a parent's woes. This one wouldn't agree to go to college in the fall like a normal girl her age, so I imagine she'll be puttering around the house all next year, annoying the hell out of me."

He grinned at Lila as if he were joking, but it was a nasty grin, and she knew it wasn't a joke.

So did Cameron, but he played along, even while laying a protective arm around the back of Lila's chair.

"Maybe I could find some odd jobs for her around the office," he said. "PA, that kind of thing. Then she can at least get some secretarial experience under her belt. Fetching coffee, stapling papers, taking dictation..." He turned and winked at Lila. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"That sounds like a good idea if I ever heard one," Robert droned on across the table. He'd clearly missed the interplay between his coworker and teenage stepdaughter. Lila thought that her mother, even deep into drunkenness, looked more aware. "Yeah, hire her out. Then at least she can make some money, earn her keep. My father always said, son, if you're not out of here by eighteen, enrolled in a good program at a good school, you can pay me rent. Maybe I haven't been running a tight enough ship."

"I'd sooner move out than pay you rent," Lila snapped, unable to contain herself.

"What's that you say to me?" He leaned forward, an angry gleam in his dull, drunken eyes. "Move out and pay the rent with what money? You'd be worse off than your own mother. You don't even have an ass to shake."

Angry tears stung Lila's eyes, and she turned her face away. Cameron tried to catch her gaze, but she refused to meet his eyes. What was the use of him, when he seemed all too willing to humor her abusive stepfather?

Robert got up and wandered aimlessly toward the bathroom. Lila's mother had preoccupied herself with the waiter. Cameron reached over and squeezed Lila's hand where it lay curled in her lap.

"I'll tell him off if you want me to," he whispered to her. "But it's not my place, unless you say so."

She shook her head.

"No, you don't have to. He's a mean drunk, is all."

"He's much more than that," Cameron said darkly.

His arm remained around the back of her chair. At times his hand came near to her shoulder, his fingers sometimes skating across her bare skin. The waiter came and took their dinner orders. By that time Lila's mother was seated again and paying attention to the company.

"You did a wonderful job with the diplomas, Mr. Winthrop," she gushed, her cleavage threatening to spill out of her low-cut little black dress. "Robert and I couldn't believe it when you heard you would be the one -- and your generous donation to the school! I think the arts are a very noble endeavor, personally. I used to dabble in photography... and Lila's very artistic herself! Tell him about your art, sweetie."