Blake (Season One: The Ninth Inning #2) by Lindsay Paige, Mary Smith

need to get going. I’ll call you soon, Mom.”
    “I thought you were going to stay for dinner, Blake?” She frowns, upset that Jack’s more or less running me off so soon after I arrived. “You haven’t had dinner with me in a while.”
    “I know. How about I come pick you up one day this week and we’ll go out to eat at that restaurant downtown you like?”
    “You’re fucking ungrateful,” Jack growls. “Are you too fucking big and bad to have dinner with your parents? I’m surprised you and your ego could fit through the front door.”
    I stare at him, taking a few measured breaths to control my temper. “I didn’t think I would be welcomed, but if you want me to stay, then I will.” Surely, he’ll send me home.
    “Maybe if you were more respectful to your damn mother, you would already know she wants you to stay.” He chugs his beer and I open my mouth, but I see my mom subtly shake her head.
    He thinks I need to be respectful to her? A damn dog is more respectful to a woman than he is. “Do you want me to stay or not, Jack?” I doubt he’ll ask me to, but he has to answer.
    “Your mother wants you to stay, so sit your ass down at the table.”
    He sits at the head and I take my place to his right. There’s no point in trying to help Mom with anything else because I learned growing up he wouldn’t allow it. Mom wants me to play nice, so I will. She plates our food, places it in front of us, and fixes her own before taking a seat to Jack’s left. The silence is thick with tension, or at least it feels that way. I feel like I’m suffocating.
    Not a word is spoken. The tension mingles with the clinking of silverware and ice knocking into the sides of our glasses when we pick them up. The moments tick by until it’s finally over. Jack goes to his office, which we all know is nothing more than where he goes to drink and watch TV. I help Mom clean up the kitchen.
    “Blake, are you seeing anyone now?” she asks.
    “No. Things have been busy anyway,” I lie. There wouldn’t be time for a relationship if I wanted one.
    “Well, you won’t believe what happened to me this morning.” Her tone shifts, and she sounds upbeat. “Do you remember Judy O’Brien? Her son, Marty, was a couple years older than you.” I shake my head, having no clue who she’s talking about. “It doesn’t matter, but she invited me to have lunch with her and Vivian Gardner.” Her grin is wide. “I mean, I’ve never met Vivian Gardner.”
    “Gardner? That name sounds familiar.” Surely, Mom’s lunch isn’t connected to Sofia and her family somehow.
    “Her husband, Art, owns almost all of Memphis and he just hit the Forbes billionaire list. I’m super excited.”
    No fucking way. I swear to God, Sofia better not have any part in this. I push my rising anger to the side and smile at Mom. “Really? Wow. I’m sure you’ll have fun, Mom.”
    Her grin widens, and she tells me about how she may go shopping for something new to wear. I haven’t seen her excited or happy in a long time, and this lunch is making her both. Once we’ve finished, I gently hug her and kiss her cheek, promising to see her soon.
    The second I get in my truck, I call Sofia. The anger is back in full force.
    “Hello?” she answers.
    “Did you have anything to do with the fact that your mom and Judy O’Brien, who my mom hasn’t spoken to in years, want to have lunch with her?” The more I think about it, the less it sounds like a happy coincidence.
    “Um...I’m not sure. I mean, Mom’s the President of the Women’s Society of Memphis. She knows a lot of people.” Her hesitation speaks for itself.
    “What the fuck does that have to do with my mom?” They don’t know each other, my mom said as much, and there’s no reason Judy would want to catch up and have Vivian there. “Did you have something to do with it or not, Sofia?” I snap.
    “Alright, alright, Mom knows Judy O’Brien and Judy knows your mom. When I asked Dad about