Page 5 of Tool

Page 5

"That fact didn't seem to deter you before," I say.   "Besides, we're not related.   Not even a little bit.   Doesn't count. "

"Why did you come up here, Gaige?" she asks, ignoring my attempt to discuss our familial relationship.

"Can't I welcome you home?" I ask.   "Do I have to have any other reason?"

"You hiked all the way over to the house in that -- what is that thing on your foot, anyway?"

"It's a boot.   I shattered my tibia," I say.

"Should I ask what you were doing?"

"What do you think I was doing?"

The edges of her mouth turn up in a half-smile.   "I would say you were pulling some riding stunt, but it's far more likely that you broke yourself in some kind of scandalous sexcapade. "

I reach between my legs to grab my crotch.   "Well, it's a damn good thing that what's important survived," I say, wiggling my eyebrows.

Delaney shakes her head disapprovingly but her eyes twinkle.   "Yes, it's definitely a good thing your brain wasn't injured. "

I can't help but laugh.   "It's been boring here without you, you know. "

"Gaige, what happened that night --" she starts, but a shrill voice from the other end of the hallway cuts through the air.

"Delaney!"  My mother Anja strides down the hall, wearing wide-legged white pants and a matching white shirt made of flowy material that billows as she walks, the look effortlessly casual but something I know cost thousands of dollars, made by some pretentious designer.   Her hair and makeup are styled as if she's just stepped off the set of a television show, and she's wearing sunglasses inside the house.   My mother hasn't modeled in ten years, but she treats every step as if she's still walking the runway in Milan.

"Anja," Delaney says.   She reaches out with one arm to hug her, as if she's momentarily forgotten she's only wearing a towel, and then glances at me before grasping her towel tighter.   "Sorry, I would -- Gaige knocked on the door and, uh, caught me by surprise. "

"Clearly," Anja says, peering over the edge of her glasses at me.   "Nice to see you out of the guest house. "

"Nice to see you without your broom, mother," I say, as she air-kisses both sides of my face as if I'm one of her friends she luncheons with.

She turns toward Delaney and stage whispers.   "He's been even more insufferable since the injury, as I'm sure you can tell. "

"You're more bitter than usual," I retort.   "The three martinis at lunch didn't take the edge off?"

Anja ignores me.   "Did we send a driver to pick you up at the airport, Delaney?" she asks.   "It was on my list, but I had a luncheon with the --"

"It was fine," Delaney says.

"Actually," I start, but Delaney interrupts me.

"It was totally fine," Delaney says, more emphatically this time.   "And now, I'm going to get dressed, if that's okay?"

"Should I tell your father you'll meet him at the office?" Anja asks.

"Um.   It's pretty late?" Delaney's voice is tentative.

"Oh, yes," Anja says.   "I got carried away at lunch. "

"Obviously," I say with a snort.

"Gaige, let her get changed for dinner.   Stop bothering her. "  Anja turns without waiting for a response, and flutters back down the hall, a sea of billowing fabric.

Delaney starts to close the door, but pauses.   "Yeah, Gaige," she whispers, sticking her tongue out like a child.   "Stop bothering me. "

I'm about to make a lewd comment in response, but she's already shut the door.

"I thought I mentioned that Delaney was coming back. "  My father sips from a glass of scotch, talking to Gaige.   It's him and Gaige and I for dinner.   Anja had a headache, which is apparently a euphemism for drinking too much.   I wonder how often she has headaches.

"I think I would have remembered that, Beau," Gaige says, glancing at me.   He winks, and I can feel a flush spread up my chest all the way to my cheeks.   I swear, if my father saw it… But Beau is busy sawing at his steak, blood oozing from the meat and pooling on his plate.   I give Gaige a cut-it-out look.   Obviously Gaige hasn't matured over the years.   I resolve to tell him later to stop the shameless flirtation, but I'm not entirely convinced it wouldn't encourage him even more.   In fact, I know it would.   Gaige has a rebellious streak a mile wide.   Which is why I want to ask him why the hell he's back here, living under my father's roof.   Or at least on my father's estate, anyway.