The Fling (18+)

Chapter 30

Jessica excused herself from the table as the waitress returned with our second round of drinks. Dad was polishing off the bourbon he'd been denied at the spa and eagerly accepted his new glass, shooting an appreciative smile toward the girl who'd handed it to him.

By the grimace on Jess's face, she'd noticed the attention and was calculating the probability of romantic competition.

Young? Attractive? In a wildly different tax bracket? Yeah, that's his type.

As she headed for the restrooms at the back of the restaurant, Dad resumed his tale about getting drunk in the Florida Keys and suddenly I felt a mighty need to be anywhere else.

Pretending to check my phone, I cleared my throat, "Sorry, I missed a call from Mom." Standing, I addressed the table, "I'll be right back."

On the patio outside the entrance, I brought the phone to my ear, pantomiming a conversation in case anyone was watching me through the windows.

"The hell are you doing?"

I whirled - Jess was standing behind me.

"Wh-" I blinked, "I thought you went to the bathroom?"

She shrugged, "I needed a break." Her assessing eyes scanned over me, "I'm guessing you did too?"

"There's only so many times I can hear the 'Hemingway' adventure."

Jess snorted, "Imagine having lived it."

Dropping the ruse, I put my phone away, "Now that you bring it up, how much of that bullshit actually happened?"

"Maybe thirty percent?" She laughed, "Your father never let the truth get in the way of a good story."

"Based on how much he had to drink, I'm surprised he remembered anything."

Her smile tightened. "Yeah."

I watched her expression harden. "He does that a lot, doesn't he?"

Jess swallowed, "Why don't we go back inside?"

The way she started toward the entrance told me this topic was closed to discussion.

"Sure," I nodded, following her back to our table.

Dad's back was to us as we approached, and I watched as his head turned to follow the departing figure of our waitress, her tight, black skirt hugging her figure as she carried an empty platter back toward the kitchen. I saw him raise up the remnants of his bourbon - his second bourbon

"Y'know," he spoke just loud enough for his words to reach my ears, "I'm starting to get worried about Jess."

Bruce perked up, "Oh?"

"Yeah. She's been off birth control for a few months now, and there's nothing to show for it." He sighed, "I don't know, how long do you wait before you start wondering if your wife is defective below the waist?"

Adam and Bruce, also angled away from us, just stared while the vile question faded into the ether.

And, behind me, I felt the cold rage when Jessica turned, retreating toward the entrance as she processed what her husband had just said.

Dad, of course, didn't notice any of this as he tilted his glass back and downed the last swallow.

Strained silence reigned in the car as we parked at the cabin. Jess muttered something about a headache and disappeared upstairs.