“We’ll speak about this after I’m done. Leave,” Jerry grinds out.
My mother’s gaze bounces between Jerry and Mary. Worry exaggerates the lines on her face. She’s always hated confrontation, preferring to talk shit about people behind their backs.
Mom shifts her focus to me. “Ryder,” she says with a slight tremble in her voice. “Are you going to eat? I made this meal specifically for you.”
“Eat your dinner, boy,” Jerry says.
My mother’s diversion tactic works. Unfortunately for me, I’m now in the limelight.
I lick my front teeth beneath my lips. “I’d rather eat something else.”
Like my sister’s pussy.
Hurt crosses my mother’s face, and she glances at my untouched food. “Don’t you like lobster tails?”
“Strange,” I say.
Jerry drops his silverware on his plate with a clatter. “Eat.”
“What’s strange?” Mom says. She lays her hand over her chest, already preparing to clutch her pearls for the theatrics.
Mary stifles a laugh by sipping her glass of wine. She knows what I’m about to say because she actually gives a shit about Madison.
I purse my lips. “You made a meal Madison can’t have.”
Mom turns her attention to my stepsister. Her eyebrows pinch together, and a muscle thrums in the corner of Jerry’s jaw as he keeps his scowl directed at me. Madison’s back straightens, and her head inches toward me.
Did she really think I wouldn’t know about this after years of her reminding my mother she can’t have shellfish?
Mom’s gaze drifts back to me. “What do you mean?”
I lean forward and shove Madison’s plate toward the middle of the table. The glass groans against the wood, filling in the silence. “She’s allergic to shellfish.”
Realization dawns on my mother, and she pivots to Madison. “Oh, honey.” Regret fills her voice. “I’m so sorry. I forgot.”
Madison shifts in her seat. “It’s fine.”
A vein bulges beneath the surface of Jerry’s forehead. “And you refuse to eat because your sister can’t?”
I fold my hands together and prop my chin on top of them while I rest my elbows on the table. “Yes.”
“That’s unacceptable,” Jerry growls.
I shrug. “Sounds like a you problem.”
“Is this what you really want to do?” Jerry’s nostrils flare. “Do I need to remind you of what I said earlier?”
He doesn’t need to remind me of anything. His message was clear in his office. It’s pitiful he wants to use his “power” over me because of something as simple as food. He knows I’m not scared of him anymore. Otherwise, he wouldn’t try to threaten me as much as he’s doing in just one day.
“I won’t eat what she can’t have,” I say.
Madison fidgets with her napkin, clearly uncomfortable that I’m fighting our parents about her. “It’s?—”
“No,” I say, while I keep my gaze on Jerry. “It’s not fine.”
Jerry grinds his teeth, loud enough for me to hear from across the table. “Then I guess you’ll both go without dinner.”
The corner of my lip curls in a subtle smirk. My chair groans against the marble floor as I scoot it back and stand. “Enjoy your meal.”
