“My parents are having a dinner party” Jason announces, parking his Mercedes in the garage. It’s a little after ten. “If it’s still going on you probably won’t see them.”
“That’s ok.” I’m a little nervous about meeting them. His father is a judge; his mother works part-time at an art gallery. They’re pretty well-off.
Jason turns the car off, smiles at me and gives me a quick peck. Then he hurries out and opens the door for me. When I step out he wraps an arm around my waist, leading me up the stairs of the brownstone. He opens the door and walks through the foyer into a huge living room. “Mom?” he calls. “Dad?” No answer.
“They’re probably asleep.” He walks around. “I see some plates and stuff still out. They’re probably gonna clean up in the morning. Do want a tour?”
“Sure,” I smile.
He takes my hand and begins. “This is the living room. You are not allowed to eat or breathe in here unless you make above six figures.”
My chuckle is cut off by the sounds of shouting. Jason looks at me shocked and embarrassed.