Page 177 of Double or Nothing

“I notice everything. Except the return of some prick from Chicago, apparently.”

Her smile fades.

There it is.

The reason neither of us is sleeping. Out in the open.

I sigh and put my coffee down.

“For fuck’s sake, Alice. Stop this crap.”

Her eyes land on mine. “What crap?”

“Don’t even try it. I haven’t had enough caffeine to deal with the façade.”

“It’s not crap, Jack. It’s life.”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Life. The tragic little production where your ego-assed father directs the show, and the rest of you obediently learn your lines.”

Her eyes narrow. Pissed off.

“I’m not learning any lines, and this isn’t a fucking stage show.”

“You’re planning on going to the rehearsal, though. That says it all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sunday dinner. Your mother’s probably already polishing the silverware for Prince Chicago.” I pause. “Oh, no, wait. She probably has a housekeeper for that, doesn’t she? My mistake.”

Alice looks away.

A tell.

Small, but clear.

I lean closer. “You’re actually going, aren’t you? Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve been invited to Sunday dinner, yes.”

“Summoned, more like it.”

She taps her nails against her coffee mug.

“Things get difficult if I miss too many of them.”

“Things get difficult? You aren’t five years old, Alice. It’s up to you if you want to eat parsnips or not.”

“Some days, it doesn’t exactly feel like it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t want to, thank you.”

“No, well, good for you.”

Another silence. A few sips of coffee.

Fuck this shit.

“Don’t go,” I say, just like that.