Sweet Home
Page 50
Nothing.
* * *
Romeo and I climbed up the steep stairs of the huge, sprawling white-columned plantation house still clasping each other’s hands. Mine were trembling, but Rome didn’t say anything. He just kept tight hold.
We reached the door and he turned to me. “First, you look gorgeous, baby.”
“Thank you.”
“Second, remember what I said. Don’t let them hurt you. No matter what.”
I crossed my heart with my finger and just as he went to knock, the door flew open to reveal Romeo’s ultra-glamorous fifty-something, blond bobbed-haired mother wearing a red twin set suit and pearls, clutching an extra-large whiskey, the strong smell nearly making me retch.
Her ruby-red lips curled into a cruel snarl as she stared at Romeo, completely neglecting to acknowledge my presence. “You’re late.”
Romeo stiffened. “Mother. Always a pleasure.”
Mrs. Prince grimaced in disgust. “Shame the same can’t be said for you.” She turned and, obviously well-intoxicated, stumbled on shaky feet to a tall archway on her left.
Romeo inhaled slowly, eyes closed in meditation. I could tell this kind of treatment was nothing new. His reaction said it all. When he looked down at me, I smiled reassuringly, but I had to stop gritting my teeth. I was furious.
We followed in the direction of his mother, and when we rounded the corner to a huge black and white ornate grand parlour, Mr. Prince stood next to a large coal fire awaiting our arrival, wearing a perfectly tailored grey suit. I immediately felt uneasy in his company.
Mrs. Prince joined her husband and Romeo’s father straightened, placing his hands in his pockets, almost mockingly. There was no greeting, no warm embraces, just coldness enough to make me dither from head to toe.
Mr. Prince flicked his chin at Romeo. “You kept us waiting on our invitation for dinner tonight, boy. Not acceptable.”
Romeo shifted on his feet. “I thought I might’a had practice. I didn’t, as it turned out. I got back to you as soon as I could.”
Mr. Prince looked affronted. “Well, lucky for us,” he lilted sarcastically. “I don’t know why you still waste your time with all that football nonsense anyway. We both know you won’t be going into the draft.”
My eyes fixed on Rome in surprise, but the tightening of his jaw and his lack of response were the only indicators that his father’s words had any sort of impact.
Mrs. Prince rang a bell before Romeo could respond and she gestured towards the luxurious bronze sofa. “Why don’t y’all sit down?” she slurred.
Rome and I moved woodenly to the couch, his hand clutching mine tightly, refusing to let go.
Within minutes, a maid dressed in traditional black-and-white monochrome attire stepped in the room.
“Four Bollinger’s,” Mrs. Prince ordered, a sharp edge to her command. The elderly maid bowed and left the room.
Mr and Mrs. Prince moved to sit opposite us on an identical sofa.
“So, Molly, isn’t it?” Mrs. Prince asked bluntly.
I nodded. “Yes.”
Her top lip curled on what appeared to be a disgusted snarl. “I hear you’re a transfer?”
“Yeah, I arrived to complete my master’s earlier this academic year.”
“And you met Rome, how?”
I turned to Romeo and smiled. He cast a glimpse at me from the corner of his eye and squeezed his hand holding mine.
“We met on the first day of classes.”
Romeo smiled and leaned forwards, pressing a tender kiss to my head. “Best damn day of my life.”
“Well, isn’t that… sweet?” Mrs. Prince said, insincerity coating each word.
Romeo and I snapped our attention back to his parents, whose matching scowls showed they were not impressed by our little show of affection.
The elderly maid re-entered the room, breaking the awkward moment, carrying our drinks, and proceeded to hand us each a glass. I quickly took a sip when no toast was made and Mrs. Prince finished hers in one long swig, topping up her scotch from the large bottle in front of her on the table.
“So, Molly, I suppose you’re aware of Romeo’s plans after college?” Mrs. Prince asked.
“With football?” I answered, slightly confused by the strange tone in her voice.
Romeo’s parents laughed loudly with patronising expressions.
“Absolutely not! We’re talking about his duty to take over the family business,” Mr. Prince lashed out coldly.
“Daddy,” Romeo warned.
“She needs to know, Rome,” he responded with a sneer. I could see he was building up to something. “She needs to know that you won’t have time to continue your player lifestyle.”
“Leave it!” Romeo snapped, this time with much more force. “I won’t do this with you tonight.”
Mr. Prince’s face deepened to a scarlet flush at Romeo’s reprimand and the tension became stifling as father and son stared each other down.
I cleared my throat. “May I use your bathroom, please?” I needed some space, needed to take a moment to calm down and brace myself for the rest of the night.
Romeo fixed me with a worried look, breaking his glare at his father. “I’ll show you where it is, baby.”
We stood and headed out of the room without looking back, leaving his parents muttering to each other on the couch.
As we entered the expansive hallway, I froze mid-step.
“Unbelievable!” Romeo spat, his free hand clenching into a fist.
Shelly was entering the house, wearing a tight black dress, skyscraper heels and a cunning grin on her face.
Romeo tensed. “What the f**k are you doin’ here?”
Shelly gave a small wave and stopped right before us. “Romeo, darlin’. Your momma invited me to see you tonight.”
My stomach dropped and disappointment took hold of me. They had set us up.
Romeo and I watched as Shelly sauntered through the parlour into the welcoming arms of the Princes, then all three of them turned their attention onto us.
Romeo’s mother stood proudly behind Shelly with a cruel smirk on her overly Botoxed face, all fake pleasantries now completely gone.
Romeo stepped forward, his taught muscles bunching under his shirt. “How dare you do this to us!”
“Do what? Shelly is family and Molly needed to be informed of a few things that may affect your little… relationship,” Mr. Prince said with a calm voice.
* * *
Romeo and I climbed up the steep stairs of the huge, sprawling white-columned plantation house still clasping each other’s hands. Mine were trembling, but Rome didn’t say anything. He just kept tight hold.
We reached the door and he turned to me. “First, you look gorgeous, baby.”
“Thank you.”
“Second, remember what I said. Don’t let them hurt you. No matter what.”
I crossed my heart with my finger and just as he went to knock, the door flew open to reveal Romeo’s ultra-glamorous fifty-something, blond bobbed-haired mother wearing a red twin set suit and pearls, clutching an extra-large whiskey, the strong smell nearly making me retch.
Her ruby-red lips curled into a cruel snarl as she stared at Romeo, completely neglecting to acknowledge my presence. “You’re late.”
Romeo stiffened. “Mother. Always a pleasure.”
Mrs. Prince grimaced in disgust. “Shame the same can’t be said for you.” She turned and, obviously well-intoxicated, stumbled on shaky feet to a tall archway on her left.
Romeo inhaled slowly, eyes closed in meditation. I could tell this kind of treatment was nothing new. His reaction said it all. When he looked down at me, I smiled reassuringly, but I had to stop gritting my teeth. I was furious.
We followed in the direction of his mother, and when we rounded the corner to a huge black and white ornate grand parlour, Mr. Prince stood next to a large coal fire awaiting our arrival, wearing a perfectly tailored grey suit. I immediately felt uneasy in his company.
Mrs. Prince joined her husband and Romeo’s father straightened, placing his hands in his pockets, almost mockingly. There was no greeting, no warm embraces, just coldness enough to make me dither from head to toe.
Mr. Prince flicked his chin at Romeo. “You kept us waiting on our invitation for dinner tonight, boy. Not acceptable.”
Romeo shifted on his feet. “I thought I might’a had practice. I didn’t, as it turned out. I got back to you as soon as I could.”
Mr. Prince looked affronted. “Well, lucky for us,” he lilted sarcastically. “I don’t know why you still waste your time with all that football nonsense anyway. We both know you won’t be going into the draft.”
My eyes fixed on Rome in surprise, but the tightening of his jaw and his lack of response were the only indicators that his father’s words had any sort of impact.
Mrs. Prince rang a bell before Romeo could respond and she gestured towards the luxurious bronze sofa. “Why don’t y’all sit down?” she slurred.
Rome and I moved woodenly to the couch, his hand clutching mine tightly, refusing to let go.
Within minutes, a maid dressed in traditional black-and-white monochrome attire stepped in the room.
“Four Bollinger’s,” Mrs. Prince ordered, a sharp edge to her command. The elderly maid bowed and left the room.
Mr and Mrs. Prince moved to sit opposite us on an identical sofa.
“So, Molly, isn’t it?” Mrs. Prince asked bluntly.
I nodded. “Yes.”
Her top lip curled on what appeared to be a disgusted snarl. “I hear you’re a transfer?”
“Yeah, I arrived to complete my master’s earlier this academic year.”
“And you met Rome, how?”
I turned to Romeo and smiled. He cast a glimpse at me from the corner of his eye and squeezed his hand holding mine.
“We met on the first day of classes.”
Romeo smiled and leaned forwards, pressing a tender kiss to my head. “Best damn day of my life.”
“Well, isn’t that… sweet?” Mrs. Prince said, insincerity coating each word.
Romeo and I snapped our attention back to his parents, whose matching scowls showed they were not impressed by our little show of affection.
The elderly maid re-entered the room, breaking the awkward moment, carrying our drinks, and proceeded to hand us each a glass. I quickly took a sip when no toast was made and Mrs. Prince finished hers in one long swig, topping up her scotch from the large bottle in front of her on the table.
“So, Molly, I suppose you’re aware of Romeo’s plans after college?” Mrs. Prince asked.
“With football?” I answered, slightly confused by the strange tone in her voice.
Romeo’s parents laughed loudly with patronising expressions.
“Absolutely not! We’re talking about his duty to take over the family business,” Mr. Prince lashed out coldly.
“Daddy,” Romeo warned.
“She needs to know, Rome,” he responded with a sneer. I could see he was building up to something. “She needs to know that you won’t have time to continue your player lifestyle.”
“Leave it!” Romeo snapped, this time with much more force. “I won’t do this with you tonight.”
Mr. Prince’s face deepened to a scarlet flush at Romeo’s reprimand and the tension became stifling as father and son stared each other down.
I cleared my throat. “May I use your bathroom, please?” I needed some space, needed to take a moment to calm down and brace myself for the rest of the night.
Romeo fixed me with a worried look, breaking his glare at his father. “I’ll show you where it is, baby.”
We stood and headed out of the room without looking back, leaving his parents muttering to each other on the couch.
As we entered the expansive hallway, I froze mid-step.
“Unbelievable!” Romeo spat, his free hand clenching into a fist.
Shelly was entering the house, wearing a tight black dress, skyscraper heels and a cunning grin on her face.
Romeo tensed. “What the f**k are you doin’ here?”
Shelly gave a small wave and stopped right before us. “Romeo, darlin’. Your momma invited me to see you tonight.”
My stomach dropped and disappointment took hold of me. They had set us up.
Romeo and I watched as Shelly sauntered through the parlour into the welcoming arms of the Princes, then all three of them turned their attention onto us.
Romeo’s mother stood proudly behind Shelly with a cruel smirk on her overly Botoxed face, all fake pleasantries now completely gone.
Romeo stepped forward, his taught muscles bunching under his shirt. “How dare you do this to us!”
“Do what? Shelly is family and Molly needed to be informed of a few things that may affect your little… relationship,” Mr. Prince said with a calm voice.
