Her eyes were already filling with tears, the medication no use against the beginning of a downswing. "None of this would have happened if… I don't want any of this, anyway." My mother flew out of the room and up the stairs.
Just when I thought we could clear everyone out and be done with the whole disaster, my father said, "Quinn, why don't you help me set the table for dinner?"
"Are you kidding me?" Quinn hissed as her father pulled her into the adjoining dining room.
"Not at all. You created this mess, and you damn well better deal with it," Mr. Thomas said. "This kind of reckless and frankly disturbing decision-making is exactly why I've asked you to start coming home on weekends. Now, I don't care what kind of discomfort it causes you, you are going to serve dinner and we are going to act like civilized hosts."
I stepped towards the door to intervene, but Trent sidled in front of me. "Now, now, you should know better than to interrupt family affairs."
"This isn't entertainment. I'm going to help Quinn," I said.
Trent jutted out his chin and smiled. "Or what, you're going to punch me? That would be so perfect, don't you think, Nicky?"
"I think we should go, Trent," Nicky said. He rubbed his mesh-covered arms. "Who cares about dinner? Let's just go dance."
"You're making everyone uncomfortable," I said.
"Me? I'm not the one trying to trade in the dead sister for the younger one," Trent countered.
I clenched my fist, then stopped. It was exactly what Trent was hoping I would do. I forced myself to turn around and sit down in the high-backed chair across from Nicky. "Let me guess, you had no idea what you were walking into," I said.
"He said family dinner then a night in Vegas. Sounded alright to me," Nicky said.
"Nothing about the ex-girlfriend that he cheated on or the overprotective family?" I asked.
He shook his head. Trent came to sit next to him, and poor Nicky almost flinched.
"Oh, don't worry, there is so much more. I thought dinner and a show before dancing would be the perfect second date," Trent said.
Quinn came back in the room looking pale and hurt.
I stood up. "Are you alright? Do you want to leave?"
She shook her head. "He keeps talking about your intentions. Nothing about him or this whole mess or even how any of this could possibly be making me feel."
"Oh, sweet princess, we're just having a little fun. Come on, you can't tell me you don't want to see your father this uncomfortable," Trent said. "Really, I'm doing you a favor. Compared to me, Owen looks a lot less of a creep. Am I right?"
For once, everyone in the room was in agreement.
"I'll just let them think my interests lie elsewhere," I whispered in her ear. I would have kissed both Trent and Nicky if it would erase the worried furrow across her brow.
Quinn nodded as I opened another bottle of wine.
"I was just at the Wynn the other night." I topped off everyone's glasses. "I don't know about the dance scene there, but I had a great time. A friend of mine had the most amazing suite, one of the villas."
"You have friends that stay in villas?" Trent asked.
"Well, one friend really. Anya. She's one of those drop-dead gorgeous jet-setters that also happens to play video games. We meet up at tournaments from time to time," I said.
Trent gave me an assessing look and then turned to study Quinn. She was looking even more miserable. I had obviously chosen the wrong plan.
"So, you and this Anya chick, huh? Guess Quinn wasn't lying about the whole 'he only kissed me to help make Trent jealous thing.'"
I was about to backtrack when Mr. Thomas walked in the room. "Who’s Anya?"
"Owen's girlfriend," Trent said.
Mr. Thomas slowed down and gave me a less angry look. I finally saw Quinn relax a little. Maybe it was not such a bad idea, after all.