Yes, Sir

2.4

•- Laine Bennett -•

I scurry around the kitchen in my bare feet as I look for every utensil I needed. It was a mess this time of year. With Thea thoroughly enjoying the parade and a morning glass of wine, it only made the holiday more stressful. But it was tradition and in the Bennett household, breaking tradition was the equivalent to cutting off your own hand willingly. That shit doesn't work.

I move swiftly around the table set for the three of us to devour our meal that I'd been preparing since last night.

When I reached a certain age, Gram had taught me all her famous recipes that we'd enjoyed over the years. When she grew incapable of moving as freely as she used to, I took the reins over thanksgiving and in all honesty it was better this way.

I never liked watching everyone else do the work. The scurrying, the stress, the yelling, it was all so overwhelming that when I could finally go about it on my own, I intended on doing it right. No mistakes could ever be made if I planned on making this the best damn Thanksgiving ever.

But, like every holiday, there was always the one thing that went wrong. And mine just so happened to be the endless ringing of my phone. I'd tried to silence it or at least ignore the multiple calls coming in, but my hand had been shoved up a turkey's ass all morning that it was impossible.

I had no intention of disobeying Austin Wood upon first introduction. But working a holiday was too absurd for even me to come to terms with. So here I stood, in my kitchen with a turkey covered hand, a cranky grandmother, and a tipsy sister all while my phone blows up with calls from my boss.

So as you can see, the probability that my day could go the least bit right is so minimal I think I can already see the end and I've just begun.

"Lainey, if you don't answer the damn phone I'm going to-"

I turn to my sister, a rather large knife in hand directed at her. "Don't think for a second I won't spit in your food, Thea. In fact, I can already foresee you getting sick as hell. So back the fuck off before I shove this knife-"

My untruthful threat is cut short just as her sentence had but with a knocking on the door. I turn, not expecting anyone and knowing Gram was too tired to have visitors.

"You heard that too, right?" I ask for validation as fear overcomes me.

Of course I'm aware that no one would knock on the door to a family on Thanksgiving Day to kill them. I mean, maybe they would but all we have that is worth anything is our lives and I'm not even sure that's worth much.

"Lainey, of course I heard it. I'm not fucking deaf it's the door. Answer it," she scoffs, shaking her head like I should have already done so by now. Everyone has their flaws. Mine just seemed to be failed reactions.

I put the knife down and make my way over to the door and flatten the apron tied around my body.

As I pull open the wooden door, the last person I expected to see stands on the other side.

"You didn't show up to work," he says demandingly, his arms crossing over his chest in a very affirmative manner.

I roll my eyes, shifting on my foot to relieve the other due to my standing for a long period of time.

"It's Thanksgiving, Austin," I growl back, pinching my nose between my index finger and my thumb, "Shouldn't you be with your family?"

He scoffs loudly, but as if it were the theme of this year's Thanksgiving, he's interrupted.

"Lainey? Who is at the door this early in the... afternoon?" My grandmother calls from behind me.

I rest my forehead on the edge of the door. The last thing I wanted was for these two people to meet. Not because I was embarrassed by what our apartment was, because it was homey and held high character for itself, but because she had a hatred for big corporations.