“I do.” Fran wanted to backpedal, but she pressed on. “Our family would be better off if you stopped for a while.”
“Go for it.” RJ gestured to the ball.
Fran lined up at the elbow and shot, the ball arcing through the air and swishing neatly through the net. RJ grabbed the ball, bringing it to her spot and pausing for a moment before shooting. With one hand helobbed it through the air, missing the whole basket by a mile, the ball landing with a thump in the grass. “Oops.” He winked. “Guess I don’t drink anymore. Take another.”
“Okay.” Fran fetched the ball and positioned herself in the paint. “If I get this you have to take over all the kids’ appointments. All the dentists and doctors and speech therapists.” She bounced the ball off the backboard and through the hoop. Again, RJ took her spot and clumsily lobbed it with one hand, an airball into the weeds. “Okay, I’m the appointment guy now. Next?”
“Hmmm.” Fran smiled mischievously, “If I get this one, no Greasy Pole next year.” RJ pretended to look horrified and Fran took the shot. The ball teetered on the rim but missed and RJ pumped his fist. “Okay, your turn.”
RJ took the ball and walked as close to the basket as he could, an unmissable shot. “Fran, if I get this basket and you miss it, you have to marry me.” He looked at her quickly and then turned, popping the ball through the hoop.
“It’s a pretty easy shot, RJ,” Fran said, making her way to the base of the basket. She held the ball over her head, looked at RJ, and then, instead of even shooting, she dropped the ball to the ground. “Oops.” She smiled and took RJ in her arms.
Ten Million Dollars
The following Sunday Fran went to see her parents while RJ took London and Hale to a Pokémon card trading exhibition at a Marriott hotel in Burlington. As Fran pulled into their driveway, she noted the usual array of luxury cars: Kon’s Land Rover, Damien’s BMW, her parents’Lexus and Volvo SUV. Inside, her mother was watering the houseplants while her father and brothers watched ESPN.
“Hey, guys, let’s have this family meeting.” Fran dropped her phone and keys on the counter.
“The ‘FAMILY MEETING’!” Damien snorted. “Is thisSuccession? Are you making a play for Dad’s company, Shiv?”
“Wait wait, we need all the Waystar Royco shareholders here, Fran. If it’s going to be a realfamily meeting.” Kon cracked. He was wearing a backward baseball cap and Fran wanted to punch him. They made no move to get up from the couch.
“Damien. Konstantin.That’s enough,” Fran’s mother growled, watering can in hand, and both boys got up and came quickly into the dining room. It had been a hard year for her mother, Fran knew. She had forgiven Fran’s father for the gambling losses, for falling behind on the house payments, but it had shaken her to realize how close they were cutting it, how easy it would be to lose everything.
Fran’s father had been suffering too, but more quietly. He didn’t want to talk about the money, it pained him to look foolish in front of them, and Fran knew that if her brothers hadn’t told her about his debts, he would have let the bank repossess his house and cars before bringing it up. That was the thing about Fran’s relationship with her parents. They hated anything that subverted their traditional roles, and Fran knew her independence drove them crazy. Of course, for her entire life she had done what they asked of her, she did well in school, she went to church with her mom, she visited all sorts of elderly relatives at their behest, but she never told them a thing that mattered. She never introduced them to a boyfriend, never talked about fights or prom or minor heartbreaks, never even asked for their help applying to colleges, just wrote her essays and presented it all to her parents as afait accompli. It annoyed them that Fran was so intent on doing things her own way, and for years they had taken it as a silent rebuke, as a rejection of their parenting, and so Fran saw, plain as day, how painful it was to accept her help.
“I talked to RJ, and I have an offer, but the offer comes with strings.” Fran sat down. “RJ is going to lend you seventy-five grand and get you entirely out of credit card debt and caught up on the mortgage—”
“Oh, Francesca,” her father muttered quietly.
“But the strings. No more gambling for anyone—Dad, Kon, or Damien.”
“Fuck off.” Kon rolled his eyes.
“That’s my offer.” Fran shrugged. “Take it or leave it. If you have a better option for the mortgage, just say so.”
“I’m a strategic better, Fran,” Damien objected. “I make money gambling. I don’t have a problem.”
“If you make so much money, where’s your seventy-five grand?” Fran frowned at her brother.
“You don’t need to be condescending about it,” complained Damien. “You can just do the right thing without having to drag us.”
“I’m not done,” Fran continued. “I want everyone here to delete FanDuel, delete DraftKings, delete all the apps and close out your accounts. Then, Mom and Dad, once your leases are up, we’re going to trade in the Volvo and the Lexus for normal cars. No more Caribbean vacations, no more handbags, no more frivolous spending until RJ is paid back in full. Deal?”
Fran’s parents both nodded.
“You know, I gave them four grand and I did it without acting like a total bitch,” said Damien.
“Damien, stop it.” Fran’s mother glared at him.
“I’m just saying, this isn’t how you treatfamily.If your parents needyou, you help them, you don’t give them sanctimonious lectures about their cars.”
“Yeah, Fran, you’re doing your part, and that’s great and all, but you can’t walk in here and shit on everyone about their life choices just because you’re holding the purse strings at the moment.” Kon took off his baseball cap and flexed the brim.
“You know what?” Fran said. “This actuallyishow you treat family. You tell them when they’re making mistakes and you help them get back on track. I’ve spent my entire life letting everyone around me live any way they please—drinking, smoking, gambling, spending—even when it was making my life harder. That was my whole thing—‘live and let live.’ But that doesn’t work for me anymore. Kon and Damien, you guys are assholes to me. If you want me in your life you need to start treating me the way you treat Mom, the way you treat your wives. If not? I’m done.” Fran slapped the table with her hand and for a minute everyone was stunned into silence. Kon put his baseball cap back on and Damien studied his fingernails. Eventually Kon leaned forward and put his hand on Fran’s.
“Just don’t make me sell my car,” he whispered, and Fran rolled her eyes.
