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THIRTEEN
different
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As I stab the fork into my steak, with absolutely no desire to have dinner with my parents and their business people, Connor nudges me from his seat to my right. It was quite fortunate that I had allowed my brother to come along or else I would have died of boredom. No one seemed to talk of anything but 'deals' and 'growth.' In case of women, it was 'oh my, isn't that Chanel? I love your choker!' I internally cringed at everything. In spite of myself being such a shopaholic, the way these ladies fake-smiled and fake-complimented...I had the urge to exit at once.
"Aren't you joining the conversation?" Connor snickers and I glare at him.
"Shut yo mouth and finish your plate. I can't wait to leave." I say.
"By the way, your birthday's day after tomorrow. And am I again going to be ruled out of the party?" he asks, looking at me with puppy-dog eyes.
"Two more years and then you can legally buy alcohol." I smile apologetically. Contrary to most other parts of the world, the permissible age for drinking was eighteen instead of twenty one here in Australia. And my baby brother was still sixteen.
"Arghh...that's a long way to go." He groans.
"Don't worry, I am going to spend the whole morning with you." I say, patting him on the shoulder.
Ian, who was sitting on the other side of Connor glances at me, which makes me immediately return my concentration to my steak sprinkled with lemongrass. I hate steak, to be brutally honest and the manners compelling me not to push my plate away was irritating my nerves. Wondering what Gabriella might have cooked tonight, I reluctantly begin eating. More because I wanted to leave.
The program had been running smooth so far and I realized, being the 'host' is one of the toughest jobs in this world. Starting from fake smiling like an expert to making sure everybody had dinner, it seemed I had all the responsibility tonight. My parents appeared pleased and I internally wanted to scream at them for putting me in this trouble without my permission.
It was not until past midnight when we were about to leave, that I meet Mrs. Eastwood. She had shoulder length auburn hair and the exact set of emerald green eyes. Might be Iris has inherited her periwinkle ones from their father, I thought. She smiles warmly at me, taking both my hands in hers as soon as Ian introduces us. She was nothing like a cold, sharp businesswoman that I had imagined.
"Ian says a lot about you...it's so nice to see you finally, Vanessa" She grins.
"Mom!" Ian glares at her mother who chuckles. What does he possibly have to say about me to his mother? It's not like we have made some great friendship nor do we have memories that can be discussed in public.
