Something in the Way (Something in the Way 1)

“Manning. Tiffany’s friend.”

“Christ. Come get me when dinner’s on the table. I’m not interested in entertaining her flings.”

I didn’t want Dad at the table at all. At best, he wouldn’t be nice to Manning. At worst, he’d try to cut him down in front of us. Manning didn’t deserve to be embarrassed. I’d have been happy to let Dad stay in here with his toys, even though it’d surely kill Tiffany a little bit that she wouldn’t get to rub Manning in his face. But I knew Mom would never let Dad skip dinner. As it was, they’d fought about it already. Mom thought Tiffany was better off with a boyfriend. Dad didn’t want to deal with it. “It’s on the table already,” I said. “He’s been here a while.”

Dad stuck his elbows on the desk and massaged his temples. “I work all damn day. I should be able to enjoy a nice, quiet meal in my own goddamn home.” He looked up at me as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Go on. I’ll be right there.”

He made it seem as if he was doing us some kind of favor, but his response sounded more like a threat than a concession.

9

Lake

Mom, Tiffany, Manning and I were all seated in the dining room by the time Dad came out of his study. “Why are we eating in here instead of the kitchen?” he asked before he’d even pulled out his chair.

“Because we have company,” Mom said.

Manning looked surprisingly relaxed in his chair, his plate served, food untouched like all of ours. He watched my Dad.

“Daddy, this is Manning,” Tiffany said.

They locked eyes finally, holding each other’s gazes, a silent conversation passing between them.

“Thank you for having me,” Manning said.

“I’m not having you,” Dad replied, scooting his chair into the table. “My wife is. Thank her.”

“He already did,” Mom said softly but firmly. “You’re being rude, Charles.”

He glanced at her and then Tiffany before picking up a serving bowl of broccoli. “Did you cook tonight, Lake?”

Even though everyone had started eating, my fingers were laced tightly in my lap. I was the tensest of everyone, and this didn’t even involve me. I wanted it to go well for Manning. I didn’t need to give him a reason to stop coming around. I wasn’t sure what was developing between us, but if we couldn’t find out until I turned eighteen, then he needed to stay in my life two more years. “I helped with the steak and dessert,” I said.

“Good,” Dad said. “I like when you cook.”

“I was just asking Manning about home,” Mom said. “He’s from Los Angeles.”

“Pasadena, specifically,” Manning said.

“Aside from my time at USC, never been a big fan of L.A.” Dad cut into his meat. “Too diverse. Even the neighborhood the campus is in is dangerous. Too much crime.”

“Jesus, Charles.” Mom said. “I’ve told you before, you can’t say those things.”

“The hell I can’t. This is my home.”

“Daddy, please,” Tiffany said.

My dad made comments like that sometimes, but never in front of company, mostly because it upset my mom. It was the first I’d heard Tiffany speak up against it.

Mom turned to Manning. “He doesn’t mean anything by that. I’m sure you come from a lovely home.”

Manning chewed and swallowed. “It was all right.” He glanced away as he said it. “Nothing like this.”

“This,” Dad said, gesturing around with his fork, “is the result of a lot of hard work and investment in education. Do you go to school?”

“Yes, sir. At night.”

“For?”

Manning had a mouthful of steak, so the table sat quietly as he chewed and then sipped his water. “I’m going into law enforcement.”

“A cop?”

“Yes.”

“And after that? Want to be a lawyer?”

“No. I want to help people.”

“If you want to help, go to the top,” Dad said. “Officers don’t have any clout. They just do what they’re told.”

Mom cleared her throat. “Charles—”

“What?” he asked. “What now? These kids need a dose of reality. I’m just trying to be helpful.”

I’d figured this would happen, that my dad would try to make Manning feel small. Knowing how much Manning’s future career meant to him, I opened my mouth to interject.

“Cops do help people,” Manning said before I could speak. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Dad shrugged. “Good, then. Do that. The world needs policemen.”

“More than it needs lawyers,” Mom added.

Manning turned to me, maybe looking for an out. “Did you make the salad, too?”

I hadn’t even told him. I smiled. “Yes.”

“You should try it then,” he said, nodding at my full plate.

I’d been so wrapped up in a conversation that didn’t involve me, I’d barely touched my food. I took a bite of a fresh, crisp tomato, and juice dribbled down my chin.

“Where are you on the reading list, Lake?” Dad asked.

I dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “The last book.”