Friday Night

You sit in the shallow darkness of your car and the parking lot, the sound of your lethargic breathing filling the otherwise quiet space. Your mind is busy having second thoughts about going into that dreadful party, while your eyes occupy the task of staring daggers into your father’s mansion-like house. It looks nothing short of lively, as bright lights bounce from every edge of the building, giving it a frisky look. 

You look down at the small device in your hand, recalling the latest conversation you had with your mother. Her words ring in your ear for the umpteenth time. 

“Don’t worry about me, honey. Your father needs you to be there by his side. Just be nice and have fun.” 

Sighing, you finally pick up your purse and head out the car towards the entrance. The faint noise of guests enjoying and having the time of their lives gets clearer after each step. As you carefully step on the tiled floor leading to the door, the sound of the soft party music also claims its presence. You roll your eyes at the song choice. 

Keeping one hand on the doorknob, you smooth your plaid skirt with the other and glance at your wrist. You check the time. Perfect. As intended, you’ve arrived fashionably late. Biting your lip, you put on a poker face, before twisting the knob and eventually joining the celebrations. 

The humungous interior doesn’t surprise you after witnessing the grand exterior. Although, the hall must be their common living room, with all the furniture out of the way, it looks no less than a banqueting hall. The large and shiny chandelier, too, doesn’t fail to help the cause. Your mind unintentionally starts to throw your own condo’s images to the front, comparing it with the palace engulfing you. But, before it is able to consume you wholly, you mingle further into the crowd. 

“Well, look who’s here!” A shrill voice squeals from your right. You flinch at the pitch, nonetheless, turning towards the owner. 

“Auntie Mona.” You manage a smile. 

“I didn’t expect you to show, darling. I can say, you’re full of surprises.” 

As your smile widens at your Aunt’s words, you don’t miss her undertone. She returns the smile just as big and corny. You thought so much would have changed over the past years, however, after a mere minute with Aunt Mona, you realise you were acutely wrong. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you say. 

“If you must,” says Aunt Mona, tilting her head. “Although, I don’t think your father would like your definition of punctuality.” She raises her brows cunningly, then takes a sip of the champagne in her hand. 

You hold back a retort as your mother’s plea to ‘be nice’ echoes inside your head. Giving it a second, your smile effectively comes back into its place. Not giving in to her prompts is the best revenge, Brook, you think. Silence is key, after all. 

“Aw, poor you,” Aunt Mona fakes a frown while keeping a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “Maybe use your job as an excuse. I bet assistants have to work their butts off.”

You burn under her touch and somehow manage to shake her vile hand off you. Your teeth grit, moulding your mouth into a firm line. Restraining yourself in such bitchy situations bite at you wildly. Still, you decide to take the high road and not fall to her level. 

“Your vast knowledge on different professions amuses me every time, Auntie,” you beam. “Well, I’m afraid I must wish my dad a happy birthday before the party ends. It was lovely seeing you!” You twist on your heel and walk away before she could reply and fuel you further. Albeit, her farewell smirk never escapes you. So, you quickly turn around and trace back a few steps. Your Aunt is at the same place where you left, surprised to see you return. 

“Oh, and I forgot to ask,” you start. “How’s Sienna doing? She looked rather pale serving coffee the other day.” You mock concern. 

Aunt Mona’s eyes grow big, getting what you just implied. Her cheeks redden a bit, as she tries to chip away at the embarrassment. You have rendered her speechless. 

“Well, do let me know if I can be of any help. Apparently, I’m quite good at assisting.” You chuckle and smoothly walk away. 

Feeling overwhelmed with a stressful mix of emotions, you head straight to the bar and order yourself a cool blue drink. It is only after the chilled liquid eases down your throat that your nerves settle back and you are, at last, able to breathe properly. You look around to be greeted by unfamiliar faces among the few familiar ones, which as sad as it may seem, you don’t wish to encounter. Not after your run-in with Aunt Mona. 

You think about your next destination. Your mind doesn’t seem to work at all today, unlike the usual days when it is mostly running on lightning’s speed. Obviously, meeting your dad and wishing him a happy birthday is the sole reason you were called here and what you came for. But you feel like stalling it for the sake of your own well-being. And, as you find your grandparents sitting in a corner among themselves while munching on some snacks, you realise you’ve got the perfect distraction. 

“Grandma! Grandpa!” You exclaim upon nearing them, snatching their attention away from the snacks. 

Your grandparents twinkle in delight as they spot you and stand up, encasing you in a warm hug. 

“Brook, honey!” says your grandma, while your grandpa chuckles and ruffles your hair. “Sweetie, I didn’t know you were coming,” he says. 

“It was a last minute decision,” you inform. “But know that I came only for you guys.” You grin wildly, happy to see your grandparents’ faces in a long time, realising how bad you have missed their presence. 

While your parents were going through a rough patch before their divorce, you were heartbroken and upset all the time. It was your grandparents who consoled you each time and were by your side through that dismal phase. 

“I missed you guys!” You go in for another hug, enjoying the warmth they possess. You inhale their smell—just like cherry blossoms in early spring—to make up for all the lost time. You try to store the sweet memory of them in the deep shelves of your heart. 

“We missed you too, sweetie,” they smile in unison. 

You’re about to speak again when another voice you know you can’t forget seeks your attention.

“Sis!” 

You make a face, shutting your eyes tight and prepping for what is to come. You turn and find your step-brother making a bee-line toward you. 

“What a surprise, sis! You didn’t tell me you were coming!” Eddie comes in for hug but you twist your body to only allow a half. 

“Yeah, it turned out that way,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. 

“Aw, now don’t be so hostile, sis! It’s a party, you’re meant to enjoy!” Eddie fist-bumps your shoulder, over enthusiasm dripping from his form. You cringe internally. 

“Did you wish dad yet? C’mon I’ll take you!” He grips your forearm and drags you away from your grandparents.

Eddie and you arrive near a circle made by people and you successfully spot your dad among it. Your nerves pick up the instant he notices your arrival and steps out the circle to greet you. 

“Brook, honey, you came,” he says and smiles softly. 

“Happy birthday, dad,” you wish him and go in for an awkward hug. 

“Thanks, honey. You look beautiful.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a present,” you say, looking everywhere but at him. His body rumbles with laughter, easing away the tension a bit as he speaks again.

“You coming here is enough for me, darling.” 

“Brook, oh my god! Don’t you look nice!” Both you and your father turn to see your step-mother approaching you, an overly vivid smile slapped across her face. 

“Hey, Isla.” You greet her with a bored timbre. 

“You can call me mom, honey. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have two moms!” She laughs wickedly. Your jaw clenches. 

“Thanks, but I’m good with one,” you say, as you fake a smile and nod at her once. 

“Good for you, darling!” She dismisses you with a wave of her hand, then turns to your dad. “Sweetie, the Clarks were asking for you.” 

You roll your eyes at the obvious innocent tinge to her annoying voice as she seeks your dad’s attention away from you. Your dad looks at you before telling Isla to tell the family to wait a couple more minutes. This makes Isla’s expression attempt a one-eighty. She scowls and eventually leaves you both alone, swaying her hips wildly while walking into the crowd. 

“Walk with me?” Your dad asks for your arm and you comply easily, entangling it with his. Although his sweet tone and mannerism surprises you, you don’t point it out. 

“How are you doing, Brook?” asks your dad. 

“Good.” 

“And work?” 

“Work’s good too,” you answer slowly. He nods and leads you around the space, finding a quiet corner to finally settle at. 

When he does, he speaks again. “You know you can just work at the company, right honey? I know you’d do great under your brother.” 

Your heart shrinks as the same topic echoes yet again. A topic you despise so much as to sacrifice meeting with your dad once every month. Despite of him being the one who cheated on your mom and leaving her for another family, his constant pity toward you and your mother fuels your core. 

You smoothly disentangle his hand from yours and step back, restraining yourself to not react again. “I think I am craving some delicious food,” you say. “Happy birthday once again, dad!” You wish him one last time and leave, not giving him a chance to stop you. 

You feel a burning sensation cloud your eyes as they become slightly glossy, but the aroma of sizzling food nearby intrudes your breakdown. Getting in the buffet line after obtaining a plate from a table, you eye each dish with unique interest. 

“Where are the freaking chicken wings?!” You suddenly find yourself crying out loud in the middle of the line. The crowd looks at you in annoyance but you seem the least bothered. Huffing, you skip the line and turn to the barbecue. 

“I know, right?” a voice scoffs beside you. “To think you’d get your chicken wings in a damn buffet.” You turn to notice a neatly dressed man munching on a grilled, crispy piece of steak. He gives you a knowing glance, as if agreeing with your yelping moment. 

“Exactly,” you join in awkwardly. 

“Yeah, and what’s with the cheesy songs?” says the man, making a disgusted face. Your eyes widen as you remember how you reacted at the beginning. 

“Oh, my god, my thoughts exactly!” you exclaim. 

“Here, try this.” The man offers you a crispy potato cut in the shape of a wedge. You taste it and moan as soon as the juices melt in your mouth. “Amazing, right?” asks the man, a smirk in place. You nod furiously and pick up a few from the grill for yourself. 

“I’m Liam, by the way,” he says when you both situate yourselves at a small corner table. 

“Brook.” You smile and extend a hand, which he readily accepts offering a spectacular smile himself. 

“I must say, I regret wasting a Friday night for this joke of a party,” says Liam after taking a sip from his drink. 

You raise your eyebrows tentatively, eyes narrowing at his confession. You give his neat and polished appearance an open glance. 

“What?” asks Liam, tilting his head.

You shrug, looking away. “I mean, I can be a bit surprised. You do look like you belong here.” 

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Okay, yeah, I get it. The suit can be misleading at times.”

“Although,” you turn to Liam, lips pursed, “this party is actually really lame. It’s literally overflowing with the wrinkled elite.” You make a disgusted face and then you both burst out laughing. 

When your breathing returns to normal, you chip on selected snacks, the soppy music echoing in the background. A moment of peaceful silence floats between you and Liam, before he decides to speak again. 

“So, how do you know the Collins, Brook?” 

“Well, let’s see . . . ” you pretend to think long as you keep your head on your fists and sigh. After a tardy second, you say, “by blood, I guess?” 

Liam does a double take at your words, utterly lost and confused. His now round eyes search your face for any sign of fooling around, but when he fails to obtain one, his shock only seems to triple. 

“Wait, seriously?!” he confirms in bewilderment. 

You try hard to suppress your amusement at his hilarious expression, maintaining a neutral and bored face. 

“But y-you just,” Liam stutters. He is about to open his mouth again, when a piercing voice interrupts and cuts him off. Both of you turn towards the origin of the sound and you roll your eyes at the new recipient. 

“Baby! There you are!” your step-sister clears the path to your table, as she screeches upon seeing Liam. 

Calculations criss-cross in your mind and you scoff at Liam when a totally graphic result is delivered to you. You cringe internally as Eliza claims Liam’s lips for a full-blown kiss, proving your assumptions right. Yet, Liam’s discomfort gives you the entertainment you need, so you stare at the couple with a keen and almost nosey interest. 

Your prying irks Eliza and she breaks away sooner than expected. You welcome her with an overdramatic salute. “Hey, step-sister!” 

Eliza grumbles while rolling her eyes at your eagerness. Simultaneously, Liam works on straightening his shirt and hair and finding a distraction to dissolve the awkwardness in the air. 

“Brook,” says Eliza in a clipped tone, “you’re here too.” 

You simply lean on your arms and grin at her. 

“I guess dad decided to invite you, after all,” she says while faking a smile, keeping a possessive hand on Liam’s shoulder who tenses on the uninvited touch. 

“Well, I am the next of kin, aren’t I,” you say slyly. “This kind of exposure would be good for the company as well, don’t you think?” You wave your hand about the place, exaggerating the truth. But, it earns you the reaction you seek as Eliza’s jaw tightens. 

“Like you would get the position,” she mumbles under breath and then turns to Liam. “What are you doing all alone in a corner, baby? C’mon, it’s time for the cake.” 

Liam glances at your smiling and overly enthusiastic figure before replying. “Uh, yeah, I’ll just finish this drink and come. You go ahead.” He nods, giving Eliza a convincing smile. 

“Okay, but be quick! I’ll be by the front.” She kisses him on the cheek one last time, before turning on her heel and shifting past the tables without giving you so much as a furtive glimpse. 

“Isn’t my sister just lovely?” You grin at her retreating figure. 

Liam clears his throat. “So, you’re a Collins, huh?” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t out your secrets to your precious girlfriend.” You smirk, while hitting him on the arm. He rubs his neck shyly. 

“And I’m guessing you aren’t much fond of this fact either.”

“You guess right, lad.”

He nods a couple of times and you sense him hiding questions, so you answer them anyway. “Dad left mom for Isla six years ago,” you shrug. Liam seems taken aback as he bites his lip and nods again, visibly uncomfortable. 

You stand up. “Don’t you have to be upfront for the cake cutting?” you mock, as he rolls his eyes, standing up. 

Both of you aim for where the cake is being placed at, swindling past the gathered crowd. When you reach the makeshift podium, however, you see your father passionately kissing Isla in the corner. Your steps automatically halt and something in your stomach churns. In spite of the divorce being years ago, this is the first time you have actually seen your dad in the arms of another woman. You swallow, suddenly feeling hot and lost. 

“Brook?” calls Liam, stopping beside you.  

You snap your head away from the disturbing scene to meet his grey eyes, shining under the chandelier’s glare. His proximity whisks something foreign inside you and before he can ask you what’s wrong, you speak out.

“You don’t really like my step-sister, do you?” 

“I-” The random question somewhat perplexes him, but he seems to think on it nonetheless. A slow smile appears on your lips due to the crease between his brows. 

“We can still do your Friday night, is what I’m saying,” you clarify. “If you want?”

Liam’s irises darken slightly. He glances around, running the pros and cons in his head. He takes a long look at Eliza, who’s busy touching up her makeup in another corner before his eyes finally settle on your brown ones. 

“Lead the way, Collins,” he smirks. 

Your smile widens into a complacent grin as you take his hand. Without a second peek at the lame party, you both swerve past the crowd, disappearing into the infamous Friday night.