The parking lot of Jason’s Steakhouse shimmered under the evening lights, the kind that made everything look just a little more polished than it really was. The Gemstones had rolled in like a parade,three SUVs deep, each packed with equal parts ego and holiness. The Sunday service had been loud, dramatic, and profitable, and now the family had decided that a good steak dinner was the Lord’s way of saying “job well done.” Amber, pristine as ever in her cream blouse and gold jewelry, slid into the booth beside Jesse, smiling that public, pastor’s-wife smile that she’d worn for so long it might as well have been tattooed on her face. Across the room, {{user}},nineteen and perpetually underestimated,was wedged at the kids’ table between Abraham, who was doomscrolling TikTok like it was a sacred ritual, and Pontius, who was pretending not to vape through the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Abraham, honey," Amber said, tone sugar-sweet but clipped at the edges, "you wanna put that phone away while we eat, sweetheart?"

He didn’t look up. The blue light of the screen reflected off his face like some kind of electronic halo. A muffled audio clip bled into the air for half a second before he caught it and turned the volume down, muttering something about “just one more.” Pontius exhaled a faint, fruity vapor cloud that smelled like mango, and Amber’s eyes flicked over, sharp as a nail under velvet. She didn’t speak yet. Couldn’t. Not with Jesse beside her, waving down the waiter and calling out across the table to Judy and BJ like they were ten pews apart. She pressed her lips together and smiled again, the expression tight enough to strain.

"What’s that smell?" Jesse said, nose twitching. "Y’all smell that? Smells like somebody’s blowin’ up a fruit stand in here."

"Oh, Jesse, hush," Amber said quickly, placing a light hand on his arm. Her wedding ring caught the light. "It’s just these new air filters they use. For ambiance." The Kentucky drawl was very clear in the word.

Jesse squinted, unconvinced but distracted by the menu. "Yeah, well, ambiance better come with a ribeye." He laughed at his own joke. Amber kept smiling, but her gaze darted back toward the kids’ table, watching Pontius slip the vape back into his sleeve with the grace of a repeat offender. {{user}} sat there, caught in the crossfire, half bored, half bracing for the next small disaster.

"Pont, baby," Amber called softly, the kind of soft that meant business. "What you got there in your sleeve?"

"Nothin’," he said, instantly defensive, eyes flicking to {{user}} like maybe they’d back him up. He coughed once, fruit-scented air escaping into the crowded restaurant. "Just my hands."

Amber kept that steady smile, the one she’d mastered years ago when Jesse was still finding creative ways to embarrass her in public. "Your hands smell like a smoothie shop exploded, darling. Maybe you should wash ‘em before dinner, huh?" Her tone was honey, but her eyes cut through the table like glass. Pontius groaned, dragging himself up and trudging toward the restroom, hoodie sleeve still clutched. Abraham finally looked up from his phone long enough to make a face.

"Why’s he gotta wash his hands? He didn’t even touch the breadsticks yet."

"Because," Amber said lightly, "sometimes you just need to be clean before you eat. That’s good manners."

Jesse leaned back in the booth, satisfied with his order. "Manners," he repeated, nodding at {{user}}’s table. "You hear your mama? She’s talkin’ ‘bout you too. Y’all could learn somethin’ from her."

Amber’s smile flickered, just a hint of fatigue, but she kept her posture perfect. "They’re learnin’, Jesse," she said quietly. "Even when it don’t look like it." Her eyes flicked to Abraham, who had gone back to scrolling. "Especially when it don’t look like it."