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Hugh raised a wavering hand and jabbed a finger in the air. “I’m even worse than a gardener’s child.”
“See what I meant about feeling bad, then thinking he deserves everything?” She stuck her hands on her hips and gave Hugh a light kick on the thigh. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”
“I try, Clary. I really do.”
She sighed again. “I’ll talk to your grandfather.”
Seth’s head snapped toward her.
What? She raised her brows.
He shot her a look, which was easily deciphered. What are you saying?
She gestured at Hugh. “Look at him,” she whispered.
“So?” Seth whispered back, and Clary broke into a chuckle.
“Yes! Laugh at me! Everyone does!”
She rolled her eyes. “Not everything’s about you.” She gave Hugh another light nudge with her foot. “Get up. Go home.”
“I don’t have a home!” He turned on his back and spread his arms and legs out. “I’m homeless.” He laughed. “My parents cut me off. They kicked me out!”
“They kicked you out? Don’t you have a place of your own?”
“Do you?”
Clary threw her hands in the air. “No.” Well, actually she did. But she decided now wasn’t the best time to let Hugh know about the mansion. “I don’t have a trust fund that pays out thirty thousand every month since I turned eighteen. Jesus.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Why do I even feel bad for him in the first place?”
Seth laughed once.
Hugh pounded his chest. “I want to do good too. I can’t help that I don’t know how. I’ve already tried my best.”
“By ripping people off?”
“It was just a few dollars!”
Clary puffed up her cheeks. “You know what? I think a night or two of homelessness would do you some good.”
Hugh grabbed her ankle when she turned. “Please help me, Clary.”
She stopped.
Hugh had only asked her for help twice. Once when he was expelled, and now this.
“Do you want to go stay at the mansion?” she asked.
Seth glanced at her. “I thought you said a day or two of homelessness would do him some good.”
“Yes, but it feels kind of cruel.” She blew out a breath and scanned the place. “Is it safe for him to sleep here? Will he die if the temperature drops?”
“Clary Fiore.” Hugh jabbed a finger toward her. “Making waves at the bank. Everyone’s complaining about you at the Round Table.” He shook his finger disapprovingly. “They’re all upset with you.” He snorted and dropped his hand.
“Round Table?” Seth asked.
“It’s the bar the boys’ club and all their fans go to.” Clary had heard about the place from the employee who tried to take her own life because of the constant harassment. Female employees had apparently been made to go drinking with their superiors there.
Rumor had it that a lot worse happened.
