“My phone is in my pocket and hasn’t been ringing,” Ash said as he shut the door.
“Then who was I calling? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
Ash watched his mother stride her way into the kitchen and he knew what she was going for. He heard the cork of the wine bottle open before the pouring could be heard. He came around the corner and leaned against the doorway, watching his mother pour herself a very tall glass of wine.
“So good to me. Wine already opened and everything. Were you expecting me?” his mother asked.
“No, I wasn’t. Now if you don’t mind—”
“When were you going to tell the family you were in town?” she asked.
“Never, if I could help it.”
“Always so dramatic. I planned on being here an hour ago, but my driver was late. And I was already wound up as it was because my massage therapist canceled due to some pish-posh family emergency.”
“How dare he have a life,” Ash said.
“She. I fired the other one. Got a little too handsy.”
“Not something I needed to know.”
“And to make matters worse, my maid hid my Louboutins! I had them made especially for this outfit and I couldn’t even find them.”
“Call the Coast Guard,” Ash said.
“You poke fun, but I’m very wound up. So a tall glass of wine will have to do.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t gone in on Dad yet.”
“Oh, don’t get me started,” his mother said. “That man called me yesterday to tell me you were back in town and I was furious to even hear from him. He knew before I did! What were you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”
“Nothing in that statement is heart attack worthy.”
“You’re my son, Ash. I should know when you’re in town before your cheating father does.”
His mother ran on with her litany of complaints as he relaxed into the wall. He was waiting for the old bag to run out of wind. She was one of the main reasons why he never came into town. Why he was estranged from his family. It was all topical, and “me, me, me,” and they bitched about absolutely nothing that was worthy of their energy. Ash kept looking at his watch, counting the minutes until he could kick her out, and make way for Kallie’s arrival.
“And that woman! What's that? His third wife now? I guess he can’t find a suitable replacement for the original,” his mother said.
Ash rolled his eyes and tuned out again as he looked at his watch. There was a reason he’d left New York City, and everything happening in his kitchen was it. His mother hated his father and had no problem treating Ash as a captive audience to her bickering. It had been like that all throughout his teenage years. Whenever she felt like going in on his father, she made Ash listen. Like some form of torture used at Guantanamo. It made him resent his mother. Loathe her presence and the sound of her voice.
She was so self-absorbed. He really could see why she and his father never worked.
Ash’s father was a narcissist with unlimited funds who didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. Their marriage fell apart before Ash’s third birthday and the only presence his father had in his life was all the money he threw his way.
Somehow making up for the absence.
Not that being raised by his mother was any better.
Ash couldn't get a word in edgewise, and his mother hadn’t asked him how he was doing. She hadn’t seen the man in over a year, and not once had she asked about him. Par for the course, in Ash’s life. But before he could open his mouth to try and get her out of the apartment, the doorbell rang again.
Fuck.
Kallie was there.
Without another word, he rushed to the front door. He looked down the hallway and saw his mother’s shadow and started to panic.
“Ready to go?” Ash asked with a smile. “We can grab dinner anywhere you want. Wait down in the lobby and I’ll get my things.”