Hidden Talent ➳ (Emerson Barrett x OC)

Chapter 27: We Love A Good Cliché

On tour, the weeks always seemed to bleed into one. There was no beginning, no end. Only constant travelling with a night filled with adrenaline rushes and way too much excitement to be healthy. I always complained about the long days that filled the space between the evenings, but now that it was all gone, it felt... strange.

"Oi, stinky." I was quickly snapped out of my daydream by a pillow hitting me square in the face.

"What was that for!?" I protested, glaring at Alexis blankly.

It would be lying if I said I wasn't glad to be with her again. Despite how annoying she appeared.

"You know... just reminding you that your boyfriend may or may not be coming over in twenty minutes for your dinner with your mother," she shrugged nonchalantly, "No big deal."

Shit.

It had been organised the moment we arrived back in LA. I'd spent days stressing over it, worried about every little detail that could go wrong (and probably would knowing my mother). The actual day it arrived, of course had to be the day I forget.

"Oh, shit," I instantly shot up from the couch, "Shit, shit, shit. Do I have time?"

"Yeah, just throw on a nice outfit and brush your hair. You'll look fine." She shrugged once again, earning an annoyed glare, "I'm serious! You're so much of a perfectionist that your day-to-day makeup is more black tie worthy than when I actually try."

I sigh and nod, giving in to her honesty. "What would I do without you?" I exhale wistfully.

"Die, probably."

I scurried off into the bedroom and changed as fast as I could into the outfit I had already picked out.

I couldn't keep track of what time it was when I emerged from the room- attempting to push an earring through my piercing- but Emerson had already arrived. His cap perched on his head and his hands in his pockets, he stood chatting to Alexis. I watched as his eyes darted to me the moment I stepped into the room, his lips curling into an almost devilish smile. Without wasting any more time, I paced over to the other side of the room, gently taking his hands in mine and allowing the smile to spread onto my face.

"My eyes are up here," I teased, noticing his gaze lingering on the black dress I wore.

"Sorry," he chuckled, his eyes quickly flickering back up to my face."

"If he can't look, someone has to," I heard Alexis from behind me and turned to see her leaning against the counter.

"Lex, stop looking at my ass," I deadpanned with a roll of my eyes. Turning back to Emerson, I tugged at his hand lightly. "We should go before we're late."

"You're right," he nodded in agreement before I pulled him towards the door, the tap of my heels against the laminate flooring already annoying me.

Just as we were at the door, I yelled over my shoulder at Alexis before we left. "I shoved some leftover Chinese in the fridge. Don't starve on me."

"What would I do without you?" She called after, instantly rushing to the refrigerator excitedly.

"Die, probably."

To no surprise at all, by the time we arrived at the restaurant, she wasn't there yet. We were showed to our seats, and got ourselves comfortable aside each other at the four-seater booth we had booked. The place was rather posh, considering my mother had chosen. My mother. My mother always went for the cheaper options, there was no splashing out on luxurious restaurants. No, she needed that money for cigarettes.

"God, I knew this would go wrong," I sighed, gripping onto the drummer's hand under the table, "She can never do anything normal without fucking it up."

"Hey," his soft tone was just what I needed to console my racing thoughts, "Look, she's just a little late. It's going to be fine."

I reluctantly nodded, not wanting to admit that he was probably right. "Yeah, okay."

Around five minutes later, the familiar scent of cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes appeared in front of us, and my eyes flickered up to see my mom sat in the seat opposite us, a smile plastered over her face. Emerson was right, she was only late.

"Sorry, I got caught up with something," she huffed as she sat herself down in the seat opposite us, "Emerson, its lovely to meet you in a more normal situation."

The drummer nodded his head once. "And you," he added with a polite smile.

"I hope you haven't ordered anything yet," the blonde took a menu from the wooden stand and began browsing the contents, "I'm starving. Tara, how are you?" She seemed frantic in the way she spoke. She was rushing her sentences causing her words to trip up over each other. She barely even allowed me to finish answering her question before she butted in again.

"That's good." Her head turned over her shoulder as she looked around the room, "God, I haven't been keeping you for too long have I? Is there a waiter in here?"

"Mom," I caught her attention by placing my hand calmly over hers, "Breathe."

She brought her free hand to her head and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I'm sorry," she shook her head apologetically, "I just don't want this to go wrong." Neither did I.

I cleared my throat. "Well why don't we just do this all again? Mom, this is my boyfriend Emerson." My stomach went fuzzy at the words.

Emerson played along and stood up slightly, holding his hand out for my mother to take. She eyed it warily before tentatively reaching her arm out. "Its lovely to meet you, Miss Garcia." My mother's expression softened and she gently shook the drummer's hand before pulling away.

"Please, call me Beatrice." I couldn't help the smile that quickly spread to my face. I've watched countless movies and TV shows, wishing that I could have that awkward family dinner with all the typical clichés. And that's what just happened. 

"Did I do that right?" she leaned forward and whispered to me.

I nodded and whispered back, "Yes, that was perfect."