Stepfather. Part 1

A year ago my mother Ellen stumbled onto a real catch. Alexander Bennett was 33 years old, blonde and blue-eyed. He would have looked like an All-American man if he wasn’t perpetually scruffy, if he didn’t have such a quietly scornful personality, or even if he cut his hair a little. Instead he looked like the guy your mother warned you about. In my case, my mother married him.

He softened her a little. Made her giggle with his cutting barbs towards her friends. She even blushed when he paid her a compliment. I knew he didn’t mean any of it. He was full of shit.

As the son of a well-to-do politician, he was expected to become a prominent member of society and marry a “nice” girl from a “nice” family. Since Alex was a dick, he gave his father the middle finger, invested his trusts into a few restaurants and became a wealthy restauranteur all on his own.

Mom wasn’t a nice girl, but she did come from a great family and she knew which fork to use. She was also excelle