Antitype Read Online Free

when I reach the table. Tipping back in his chair, he lifts a champagne glass and grins as big as his mouth will allow. “Brother! You made it!”
    â€œSorry I’m late.” I pull out a vacant seat beside Dad’s wife, Annabelle, who smiles up at me with a large dimple sinking deep in her cheek.
    My father hangs an elbow on the back of his seat. He fingers the black linen napkin draped over his knee. “You missed appetizers, but I’m sure your dinner won’t be far behind ours if you hurry.”
    Annabelle hands me the glowing touch screen from the center of the table. “I would have ordered for you, but James insisted you’d be here in time.”
    â€œI appreciate the thought,” I tell her.
    The topic of contracting our spacecraft to the government continues as if uninterrupted while I punch in my order and request wine service. I need at least two glasses to ease the tension knotting my shoulders and neck. I haven’t been able to get over Updike’s ultimatum since leaving the carnival grounds.
    â€œSo, Noah, why
are
you late for your brother’s celebration?” Dad asks, yanking me out of my head.
    I look past Annabelle, whose fingers link over the top of her child-swollen belly. “With a friend.”
    Everyone but me leans back as the salad course arrives. “What friend?” Dad asks, then thanks the waiter with a nod and tight smile.
    â€œNo one you know.”
    He forks a chunk of salad glazed with red vinaigrette. “I know all your friends.”
    He always manages to sound so damn sure of himself. As if he truly believes he knows every single person I do. I suppose he could if he were capable of some sort of intellectual osmosis.
    â€œNot all of them,” I say.
    Dad stares at me while chewing his bite, taking his time to mull over whatever it is he wants to say. I can already guess. We dance this waltz every month.
    â€œSomething you want to ask me?”
    He swallows. “Did you keep your appointment today?”
    â€œNo,” I say without hesitation. “I told you I wouldn’t. I tell you every month, in fact. You may as well stop wasting your time.”
    â€œA man your age could have had at least two—”
    â€œHis sperm doesn’t come with an expiration date,” Gabe says across the table, and his tone is loud enough to gather attention. He suffers the same talks and looks I do; the only difference is that Gabe keeps his appointments. He enjoys the show.
    Annabelle coughs lightly into her fist, barely containing a smile.
    Gabe beams at us proudly, his arms draped over the backs of the chairs to either side of him. His amber eyes practically glow. Everyone says he’s the spitting image of me now that he’s grown his dark blond hair out, letting the waves he used to despise go free.
    Dad narrows his eyes at Gabe before returning his attention to me. “If you don’t want to make the choice yourself, then at least send a private bidder in your place. With the right price, you could fill your bed in two weeks. A month at most.”
    I scrub my palms over my face.
Where the fuck is that sommelier? Italy?
“Christ,” I murmur. “Do we really have to do this now?”
    Annabelle lays a hand on my shoulder and I mirror the small smile she gives me. She’s a nice girl, caring beyond measure, and good to my father. Really good. She’s also seven months pregnant with a second son she probably expects to be around long enough to raise.
    They all think they’ll be the one James keeps, but I already see the signs. How he turns a shoulder away from her instead of toward. He smiles at her, but the act never reaches his eyes. Warning Annabelle won’t do any good either. I’ve warned others before her, and none have believed me. My father is a great con.
    â€œSpeaking of young, available girls,” Gabe begins, then accepts the forked cherry tomato his date offers him.