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He laughs. “The two are not related, I assure you. And if she is real, then why did you miss supper?”
Because she doesn’t know you think she’s my girlfriend. “Because she was busy. With her own family last weekend.”
He smiles approvingly and nods, pointing at me. “That is a proper reason. People trust those who are involved with their families. You should take a page out of her book. I know you must be serious about her to some degree, since you’ve mentioned her to me.”
As much as I hate lying to him, this is the only line of discussion that doesn’t make me want to tear my hair out. “I am serious about her. Told you that.”
“You did, but until I see it with my own two eyes, I won’t believe it. Trust, but verify, remember?”
His saying should have been etched on my silver baby rattle. “I know, Dad.”
“The company will trust you more when you settle down, and you cannot settle down with someone until we meet them. Bring her to supper, Anderson. I’m serious about this.”
“I will, but I can’t rush it?—"
“This Sunday.” My father’s oratory gift is making non-threatening words feel like a noose.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 23
JUNE
Pajamas? Check. A bowl of ice cream with chocolate sprinkles and chocolate sauce? Check. The money Anderson owes me? Pfft. Like that’s gonna happen. Depression is far easier to come by than my fee.
I should have known. Flicking through Netflix on my bed while trying to keep my hair out of my ice cream is a challenge, but it’s worth the effort, unlike other recent challenges. I’m pissed and poor and there’s nothing I can do about it, so I’m wallowing.
It’s not fair. But I’ve always known life isn’t fair. It wasn’t when I was a kid, and it’s not fair now. One thumbnail blends into another—it’s all horror, so the thumbnails are some version of a dark background and spooky lettering with a woman who is either in trouble or she is the trouble herself. Why is it horror, which is so often lauded for being empowering to women, is also the genre that kills the most of them?
Life isn’t fair, even in movies.
Ugh. I push my iPad away and dig into the ice cream. At least that never lets me down. Sweet, creamy flawlessness. This one is peanut butter, perfect for chocolate toppings. I don’t care what anyone says. Ice cream may not fix my life, but it will fix my mood for the moment.
Still, my head swirls around one question, no matter how much ice cream I shovel in. How could I have been so stupid as to believe Anderson West about anything?
He hasn’t called. It’s been three days, and he hasn’t fucking called.
So, I called out from work. I am in no condition to see other people. Not when I feel like such an idiot. I can’t be my sparkling work self while I feel sorry for myself. It just doesn’t work that way in my head.
It’s funny how angry you can be when you don’t get something you never expected in the first place.
I had never thought I’d be able to quit my job so early, and then this shiny opportunity falls in my lap—or rather, I fell in Anderson’s—and I’d thought all my dreams were coming true. God, I’m an idiot. Of course, it was a fucking scam. I don’t know how he did it. The elaborate nature of it all is boggling me, but he did it, and I am furious.
And for all my fury, what do I have to show for it? Chocolate sauce on my sweatshirt and my hair springing out in every direction.
I’ve already harassed him at work, so I’m pretty sure I can’t just show up there again without security bouncing my ass out. Once again, I’m the butt of his joke and he got the last laugh. It makes my blood boil, and there is nothing to be done with the steam.
Just like every other time he made fun of me, I have to swallow this down and move on. Only, I don’t want to. I want to sue the fucker. And I can’t. Because there is no way to go through legal channels. And when I contact the Chamberlain Mansion, they act like I’m insane until I give up.
The rich get to play by different rules, and they always will.
As much as I love the thought of starting a photography business, that pipe dream is dying in my heart, because now I want to start a business that helps the little guy get what he’s owed from the big guy. I want to level the playing field for all of us who have been screwed over and don’t have a leg to stand on. The farmer who gets sued for copyright infringement because patented crops blew onto his field. The small time business owner forced to take the fall for a mobster just to keep his family safe. Farm workers exposed to deadly pesticides. All the little people who need someone in their corner.
A text startles me out of my Robin Hood fantasy. It’s Callie, open the door.
I roll my eyes, tuck my ice cream between two pillows, and get the door. She’s still in her work clothes and looks amazing. I love the girl, but god, I hate her for that. “Hey, Cal?—"
“Hey, Cal? Seriously? That’s what you have to say to me?” She brushes past me. “Where’s the ice cream?”
