Please Try Again//ONC 2024

8. The Next Step

"Do I really need security all the time?" I asked Robert at one of our weekly dinners with my parents a month into our "dating." I wasn't ready to bring Robert to Thursday night dinner, so we joined Mom and Dad at a restaurant or their house on Tuesdays instead. Robert insisted that it was vital for us to be seen in public with my parents, though he had yet to introduce me to his father because he was out of the country, and we had only had dinner with his sister once.

"Many people would like to use you as leverage against me," Robert answered. The day the story about our relationship broke, he had insisted on placing a security team with me around the clock.

"It's not like someone is going to kidnap me in broad daylight," I protested, thinking of the security escort that had accompanied me to the art gallery with Uncle George that afternoon. Marcus had laughed at my discomfort, but my uncle took everything in stride.

"Why not? Who would stop them?" Robert's voice had an edge of annoyance. We had already discussed my security when we were alone, but bringing it up in front of my parents was a new level.

"It's a reasonable concern," my mother agreed, her calm voice ratcheting down the tension. I glared at her, and she shrugged. "You are now dating one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. It is wise of him to be cautious, and it shows me that he genuinely is concerned for your safety."

"It makes more sense than announcing to the world you are dating and then leaving you at risk," my dad added.

Robert smiled and leaned back in his chair. He had won this argument definitively. Even Beth was okay with his caution. Knowing what I knew of people, I wasn't sure why the security team bothered me. Perhaps it was its uselessness. If someone wanted to kill me, they would find a way to try, security or not.

Dad and Robert launched into a conversation while Mom brought me to look at the art she had recently installed in one of her sitting rooms. She liked to get my opinion on the placement and lighting. I looked back at my father and fake boyfriend when they burst into laughter. They had definitely hit it off, their shared love of community organizations being a great launching point.

I had been unaware of Robert's charity until one of our family dinners. It turned out that Robert had helped a friend set up a non-profit at school in New York and then established another branch when he went to graduate school with another friend. Although he didn't run the non-profits, he started them up and ensured they stayed on track. My father had partnered with one of the branches for a community event a few years before, but everything about Robert's involvement was pretty hush-hush.

"I try to keep it that way as much as possible. The Lamb name is a double-edged sword, and I want these groups to fly under the radar and get the job done," Robert explained a few weeks later when I asked him about it at another family meal. This one had been at my father's favorite Cuban restaurant a few nights before Robert went away on his last-minute LA trip.

My mother nodded in agreement. "We use the Mason name when it is helpful, like at the auction, but often we use Diaz when doing charity work. It keeps it from becoming a zoo when we don't want it to be."

I hadn't realized it before, but Mom was right. Some of my favorite volunteering experiences were when we all put on baseball hats and worked together to clean empty lots or build new houses without any pomp and circumstance that came with a Mason-led event.

"So, I hear you are going down to LA on Friday," my father said after paying for the meal. Robert may have been worth five or more times than my family, but my parents always insisted on paying when we went out, and Robert was always gracious about it.

"Yes, Catherine gave me some good leads, and I need to head down there to firm things up," Robert glanced at my mom, who nodded in response but didn't smile like I expected. She almost seemed upset about something, but it passed before I could overthink it. My brain zoned out as they talked more about business, and I examined the vivid art on the wall. One caught my attention, and I stood and walked to it without thinking. Robert followed me to the familiar-looking painting.