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We reached my brother’s place a few minutes later. Damon surprised me by getting out of his car and walking me to the door.
“Do you want to come in for some coffee or something?” I asked. I wasn’t exactly sure why I felt like extending an olive branch, so I figured it was probably self-preservation. If I could manage to stop my relationship with Damon from being a constant sparring match, I could comfortably enjoy the salary. No more fear of getting fired or driven to quit hanging over my head.
Damon arched an eyebrow. “Coffee? It’s past midnight.”
“Decaf?”
“No. Thank you, but it wouldn’t be wise.”
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “What, worried you’re going to fall in love with me and violate your sacred code of being a grumpy asshole?”
“Believe what you want, Tinkerbell. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For some reason, I found myself smiling and biting my lip when I closed the door. Whatever this was, I needed to stop it. Dangerous didn’t even fully capture the stupidity of the spark I felt in my belly.13DamonI typically managed to avoid my parents, but they eventually pushed hard enough that I had to relent. Unless I wanted to formally cut ties with them, there was no avoiding it.
We were sitting beneath the hanging gardens of a quiet little bistro on the West Side of Manhattan. My father was an aggressively round, red-faced man who had one purpose in life—convince me that I was handling my business wrong. My mother’s driving motivation was to get me married and produce an army of grandchildren. Together, they were exhausting.
I checked my phone while we waited for our food. I’d texted Chelsea half an hour ago to ask her to bring me something ridiculous she’d have no hope of accomplishing. I told her to get Tia Klein to meet me here, and with the minuscule time window she had, it was nearly impossible. It was Thursday, and I’d already started to recognize a pattern in my own behavior. When I was pissed or frustrated, I tended to take it out on Chelsea by giving her some sort of impossible assignment. Unfortunately for her, that pretty much meant she was constantly bombarded with tasks.
I felt a little guilty when I saw she still hadn’t texted back. I had to admit I was projecting my anger at my parents on her, and she also gave me a legitimately good solution to help with Chris’ problem Monday night in the car. But I’d let my guard down too much, so I’d been trying to remind her where we stood ever since then. Maybe I was also trying to remind myself.
Besides, I wasn’t going to go soft on her just because she was accidentally useful for once in her life.
“I’m just saying,” my father continued between mouthfuls of the crusty bread they’d left on our table. He smeared another generous helping of butter on the piece in his hand, waving his knife as he spoke. “You’re trying to sidestep this whole drug and partying thing. I say make it part of his image. Embrace it.”
I nodded. In any other context, I’d make my argument to the counter—explain that more than half our sponsors were family brands that’d drop us like we were hot if I tried anything like he was suggesting. But I knew it was easier to play nice and survive these conversations. Fighting back just dragged it out.
My mom pursed her lips a few minutes after my dad trailed off from making his points. “I know that Trish woman made some mistakes, but it really was the last time I saw you happy. Have you ever considered trying to work things out with her?”
I felt my nostrils flare. My parents both knew enough to know how insulting it was to suggest I’d ever try to patch things up with Trish. I knew better, but I couldn’t stop myself from speaking my mind.
“No. Trish was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I’d rather die alone and childless than so much as speak to her again.”
My mom tutted. “Now you’re just being dramatic. You two fought. It’s what couples do. You know your father and I fight all the time. Just yesterday he didn’t believe me when I said it was going to be cold this winter. But the love bugs came out in force right on schedule, and that always means it’s going to be a long, cold winter.”
My dad groaned. “You say that every year.”
“And what happened two years ago? I was right, wasn’t I?”
“You say it every year and you’re bound to be right sometimes. What about last year? Hm? Was that a long, cold winter?”
“See?” My mom said, pointing to my dad who was still waiting for an answer. “But we got along well enough to make two wonderful children.”
