TWENTY-SEVEN
Mr. Stevens regarded Claire with a very bright smile. "Come in," he urged, standing up to warmly pull her into a hug.
Claire strode over, relenting to his wish. "Hi, Mr. Stevens. I hope you're doing fine." She was in his arms, and he seemed pleased to have her over.
"I am. But I told you to call me—"
"Grandfather!" Claire finished for him, flushing. They both laughed. "I better practice more often," she teased, trying hard to refrain herself from looking at Ryan.
"Yes, silly girl," Mr. Stevens remarked. "Thank you for coming tonight. I know you don't have any obligation toward this old fella but you've come anyway; and you look beautiful." He smiled at her.
"No, it's nothing. In fact I'm very grateful for the invitation . . . And for the compliment, too," Claire said calmly, and that's when her gaze shifted toward the other audience in the living room.
She received a wriggle of fingers and a plastic smile from Doris, who was seated cross-legged on the couch, holding a glass of red wine; same color as her tight wrap dress. She was gorgeous, and Claire couldn't deny her that.
Ryan was adjacent to her, and his eyes had been fixed on Claire from the minute she'd entered the room. It was the same sinister look he had the first time he met her. Claire sat close to Mr. Stevens, and across from Ryan himself.
"So, guys, when do we get to eat? I'm really starving." Bruno, as always, started to lighten the mood. He sat right next to Claire.
Rolling his eyes, Mr. Steven answered, "Why don't you go and ask Martha? It will be such a relief because I'm about to come and beat you to a pulp."
"Oh, Grandpa, are you still mad because I hid your whisky? The doctor said you shouldn't drink, so I only helped you lengthen your lifespan," Bruno replied, and the ladies laughed at the face the old man made.
Bruno leaned over and whispered something to Claire.
"You're crazy!" She laughed even harder.
Ryan got up suddenly. 'Excuse me," he muttered dryly.
"Where are you going?" Doris asked briskly..
"Do I really have to tell you what I'm going to do in the bathroom? I said I'll be back!" Ryan boomed.
Oh, jeez! Claire's eyes widened, wondering why he was so bitter today.
"I don't understand why you worry about him too much. No wonder men are scared of you because they assume he's your husband or something," Bruno told Doris. "A free reminder, don't hang around him too much, or else you'll end up an old spinster." He laughed wickedly.
"Oh shut up, Bruno! Maybe you should start by looking for a girlfriend yourself!" Doris snickered.
"I already have a girlfriend, Doris. Don't take me for a loner!" Bruno hissed.
"So, how is work, Claire? I heard you're working on my company project," Mr. Stevens asked Claire, and the two got engrossed in their own conversation, oblivious of the rest.
Half of an hour later, Martha announced that dinner was ready and invited them to the dining room. The place was filled with an alluring aroma of baked, sweet potatoes, creamed spinach, and a large meatloaf. It was enough to make everyone's mouth watery.
An additional dish was presented: fish scallops, cucumber salad and steamed brown rice— perhaps for Mr. Stevens' healthy diet. Two bottles of wine, red and white finalized the setting. Everyone placed themselves on their seats around a huge wooden table.
"Hmm . . . this looks delicious, Martha. You're the best!" Doris uttered with extra enthusiasm. She obviously seemed to have had a little more to drink.
"Thank you, Doris. Enjoy your dinner, everyone," Martha said warmly.
Ryan returned right on time and pulled a seat across from Claire, ignoring all other empty chairs around. The two exchanged a rueful look in a split second, and it was full of unspoken words.
"Care for some scallops, beautiful?" Bruno asked Claire.
"No, I want the meatloaf even if I had those tasty ribs earlier." She smiled while trying to avoid Ryan's gaze.
He was busy serving himself some spinach and potatoes, the same choice as Claire's, and completely different from the others.
Doris was eyeing them, her face frowned.
"What happened to Harry? I thought he was supposed to be here as well," Bruno asked his brother, a few minutes later.
"He had other plans for tonight," Ryan answered while pouring himself some wine, no smile on his face.
"Something like a date?" Doris asked sarcastically, and all eyes turned towards her. "What? Isn't he dating that Asian girl? Your friend, Claire, right?" She looked at Claire.
"Maybe," Claire prompted. "I'm not sure if they're dating yet, because dating is a little complicated nowadays."
Mr. Stevens laughed loudly, seemingly amused.
"Hold on! You mean Gena? Gena and Harry?" Bruno snapped, and no one responded. "Oh this is unfair! Why am I the only one who didn't know?" He pouted.
Doris rolled her eyes. "That's because you're too dense to notice."
"Instead of talking about others, tell me, when will you two start dating for real? I need a granddaughter already," Mr. Stevens barked. The boys lowered their eyes. "Don't tell me you can't find good women while they're just right in front of you." His gaze shifted between Claire and Doris.
Claire almost choked on her juice. Not because of his obtuse remark, but rather at the thought that she had slept around with his grandson, and she was super dumped.
"Are you okay?" Ryan asked sharply and reached for a tissue that he handed her right away.
Claire was taken aback. Did he really care?
"Yeah, thank you," she said.
Doris emptied her wine glass and put it down heavily before saying, "I don't have any problem with that, Grandpa. But it seems your grandsons have peculiar tastes in women." Her contemptuous gaze found Claire. "What about you, Claire? You do have a boyfriend, right?"
"What?"
"That dull—" Doris started. "No. That handsome and dull looking guy I saw you with at the restaurant, remember? Actually, I think I know him." She started thinking, her eyes narrowed. "Oh, he is—"
"Don't you think you've had too much to drink already?" Ryan uttered, scowling at her.
"Oops. My bad." Doris smiled.
Martha returned with a telephone. There was a call for Mr. Stevens. The old man excused himself, for it appeared to be an important one. Afterwards the pineapple pie was presented. Bruno jumped for it right away.
The four of them remained silent. Claire tried her best not to look at Ryan. Her blistered ankles kept tormenting her, and her feet wouldn't stay still.
At some point she even brushed her legs against Ryan's, without any deliberate attempt to, and immediately withdrew back. Ryan released a faint smile, making her feel so stupid, before resuming his eyes on the pie.
"So, beautiful, are you really dating the dull and handsome guy?" Bruno, like a big-fat traitor, raised the issue once again.
If looks could kill, then he'd have been dead and gone from Claire's glare.
"He's not dull," she bellowed.
Well Jorge was a bit dull, but she didn't appreciate anyone calling him names.
"My apology," Bruno muttered.
"Oh, now I remember," said Doris with a sly smile. "He's the CEO of Demott Architects. You are really something else, Claire. It seems like you're only surrounded by rich guys, huh?" Her voice was pure sarcasm.
Now Claire had had her fill. "What are you trying to say, Doris?" She threw the napkin on the table.
"Me? Nothing. I only said what I saw, but I'm sorry if my honesty offends you." Doris replied innocently.
"No, Doris, it's not your honesty that offends me. It's your rotten attitude and immature ways of dealing with facts!" Claire spat. "That guy you saw is my brother! And you're right; it's fun to be with rich guys." She was indeed pissed, her eyes blazing.
Doris fumed. "You—"
"What? Don't you know that way better than I do? If you don't have something better to say, other than picking faults in me, then go home and treat your alcoholism!" Claire snarled.
"What?" Doris snarled back. "You—"
"It's not my fault that you can't have him, so stop being pathetic," Claire whispered nastily after getting herself up. "Excuse me; I think I'm already full." She breezed out of the dining room.
"What a bratty bitch," Doris snapped, her face red from anger.
"I think you should just go home." Ryan said crisply, his lips hard as he glared at her.
"No, I won't. I'm still eating, can't you see?" Doris snorted.
"Well, at least stop making a fool out of yourself then!" Ryan remarked, angrily.
Claire was sitting in the sun lounge near the swimming pool. She was inspecting her bare feet and a few bruises. Her heels lay down on the floor. Despite the cool and relaxing atmosphere outside, she was still mad. There was no way she was ever going to like Doris, she decided.
"Oh, there you are," announced Bruno, and she lifted her gaze. "What happened to your feet?" He dropped down reflexively and took a close look, frowning.
"It's nothing. I just had a few blisters yesterday," Claire replied.
"Nothing? You got to be kidding me! Wait here; I'll go get some band aids." He stood up and left.
Her feet were the least of her problems right now.
She simply couldn't stand the situation anymore. With Doris breathing under her neck, and Ryan behaving like a total stranger whom she happened to have his house passwords.
How stupid was that?
Bruno returned and sat down. Slowly he took her feet into his lap. "Does it hurt?" he asked gently, gazing up at her, and slowly took a cotton stick and the ointment tube from a small First Aid kit.
Claire was a bit started, but his tenderness calmed her down. "Um . . . Now it hurts." She grimaced when he applied some ointment.
"Easy, it'll be quick." Bruno said, his smile assuring. "I'm sorry about earlier, I feel partly responsible."
"No, you weren't. I think Doris and I are natural enemies." She forced a laugh, and he easily joined in.
"Just forget about her; she is drunk and she will probably regret it when the morning comes." Bruno tried to cheer her up.
"You know what?" Claire started, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I just don't understand her. She is so hostile towards me, as if I've wronged her dreadfully. It's not the first time she provoked me, and it's not like I'm the reason why she can't have your brother for herself." She rolled her eyes.
"Aren't you?" Bruno muttered.
"I'm not," she returned. "She should maybe find someone else to vent her misfortune, because I'm not with Ryan, and if she wants she can keep him." Her anger resurrected.
"Care to explain? I saw you leaving his place and you admitted something was up." Bruno was enticed as he sat straight.
"There was," she answered quickly. "But not as serious as you imagine!" she added furiously. Bruno laughed at that, hardly stepping his eyes off her. "What? You think it's funny?"
"No. I mean, you look cute when you are mad," he teased her, and she could no longer contain the laughter. "See? You are laughing now!" He sounded victorious.
"Just finish playing doctor so that I can leave already," Claire snapped quietly, flushing.
Bruno scowled. "What do you mean leaving? You aren't going anywhere, pretty lady."
"Why not?"
"Grandfather won't let you, especially not without finishing the pie," Bruno warned, and she looked archly at him. "Okay, not only grandfather, but also me. I can't let you leave while you said that you can't sleep alone in that house."
Claire had no plan to sleep there all alone.
"I'll sleep in a hotel. Which reminds me . . . I should probably get going now." She sighed heavily, her thoughts derailed.
She was feeling so lonely right now despite Bruno's cheerful presence.
"Hotel? You're crazy," Bruno rebuked instantly. "We have plenty of rooms here, and there's already one for you. Don't you ever mention hotels and stuff." He was not kidding on this one.
"Oh boy!" Claire chuckled.
"Yeah," he insisted. "Well, unless you want me to accompany you, of course." He grinned at her.
"You wish." Claire huffed. "I'd rather sleep on the rug, or share Martha's bed. You're so untrustworthy." She was laughing delightedly until she caught a glimpse of Ryan.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Ryan was holding the drunk Doris, leading her toward the red Mazda.
"You like him a lot, don't you?" Bruno broke the awkward silence, his eyes tender on her face, busy reading her reaction.
"Huh?" Claire gazed at him.
"Ryan . . . Do you love him?" he asked directly.
"Are you crazy, Bruno? Of course not," Claire answered too quickly.
Bruno laughed. "It's alright; you don't have to feel busted."
"Busted?" She scoffed.
"Yeah. I just saw the way you looked at him." He smiled indulgently. "I'm not judging you though; I only don't want you to get hurt in any way." He seemed genuine, and it crept fear in Claire's heart.
"Why would I get hurt?" she queried, utterly intrigued and curious.
"Well, Ryan is my brother, but he's too complex. He is just not the type I'd be comfortable knowing someone I care about is involved with. At least not until you get to know him better, and be ready to accept what he is. That's all." Bruno was confusing her even more.
What was the mystery about?
"I feel like you don't want to tell me the real issue, right?" Claire asked, narrowing her eyes intelligently.
"There's nothing more to tell. And if there is, then only Ryan himself can tell you," Bruno said casually, evasively even.
"No, it's not important." Claire decided.
Deep inside she was dying to know who Ryan Stevens really was, and what made him so different and complex, but asking for more would only prove desperation. No, she refused to seem desperate for him.
In the meantime Ryan and Doris were still arguing as they headed towards the car. He clearly saw Claire and Bruno at the pool; both he and Doris did. His jaw tightened, a strange wave of distaste filling his throat.
"Do you see that? Our dearest Claire is now flirting with our little Bruno," Doris murmured lazily. "Now tell me, Ryan. Do you have feelings for her?" She looked him in the eyes.
"You are drunk, Doris," Ryan retorted, his face dark.
Doris slammed the door angrily. "I'm not drunk! I know what I'm saying."
"Okay. Can we go now?" Ryan asked, trying to ignore her words.
"Why are you pretending that you don't understand my feelings, huh? Am I not attractive to you?" Doris suddenly asked, her voice pained. "I'm tired of waiting in vain! I'm so damn tired of playing the good understanding friend. I love you, Ryan. I really do." Now she sounded desperate, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.
The words made Ryan stuck by the door. That's exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. He never wanted to hear that from her, and he had been trying his best to avoid such a situation.
"Please get inside the car," he purred, still hoping to find a closure.
But he knew eventually they had to talk of it.
"Or what? You'll fire me for not being professional? Oh please, Mr. President! Mind you that we're no longer in the office right now and I can speak whatever I see fit!" she barked.
Ryan was getting exhausted. "Fine. How about we discuss this tomorrow when you're sober?" He tried to be nice, and for once Doris seemed calm and relenting.