The thought of marrying Albany had never crossed my mind. At least, not since we were younger. And not until my damn sister just mentioned it. While Granny was convincing, Albany was resolute. She hated me.It’s my fault.She was also never one to follow orders blindly—even if it involved money. “Albany is not here for me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Albany.” I reviewed the spreadsheet and jotted down a note on a pad of paper. “I’m done with this conversation.”
Erica folded her arms. “Sure about that?”
“Very,” I confirmed. “I don’t have time to worry about the future when my present situation is fucked up. Shiftingmyfocus back tomyshit. I have deadlines to meet and a job to keep. If that means I have to let Granny send me on a date with a random woman, whatever.”
Hendrix stood. “Yeah, nah. I’m not agreeing to that.” He gave me a dap. “See you at the gym later.”
“You heard what she said,” Erica pressed.
“I did.” I pulled up the report my assistant had sent earlier. “And I meant whatIsaid. Talking about this all day isn’t going to change Granny’s mind. Or mine.”
Erica grumbled a curse. “Men have it so much easier.”
Hen scoffed. “How you figure? I’ve watched my mother emasculate my father for thirty years, talking to him like he’s a piece of shit daily, putting her hands on him, blatantly cheating on him every chance she gets. And he takes it because he’s accustomed to the Batchelor lifestyle.”
The Batchelor name made us seem larger than life to the community. The only thing that made our family different than any other, though, was money and status. Dysfunction was universal. Growing up, we’d witnessed the ongoing conflict between my father and his siblings. Family functions typically devolved into chaos. Several members suffered from various types of addiction, from drugs and alcohol to sex to gambling. The first time I’d ever seen a fistfight in my life wasn’t on the playground, but at a birthday party. Hendrix’s mother attacked a distant cousin who’d dared to call her on her bullshit. It was also the first time I’d seen Aunt Nina get arrested.
Erica’s gaze softened. “I guess I don’t know what to say to that.”
“It wouldn’t change anything if you did.” Hen shrugged. “That’s life. None of us are married—or want to be married—for a reason. Because, aside fromyourmother, all of our parents are weak-ass, fucked-up individuals. Granny called it herself today. And I may be an asshole on a good day, but I’m in no hurry to bring another person into this dysfunctional family. Let alone an innocent child.” He glanced at me. “I’ll catch you later, bruh.” He kissed Erica’s cheek and left.
Seconds later, Erica grabbed her stuff. “Fine. I’ll figure it out. I always do.” She hugged me. “See you later, big head.”
“Later, baby sis.” I grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s going to be okay.”
Nodding, she whispered, “Hope so.” She walked out of the office and closed the door behind her.
Hendrix had a point. Money and status made everything sparkle. The truth always dulled the shine, though. From the outside looking in, we had everything. But inside … our house of cards was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of secrets and lies. And I absolutely planned to expose the cracks. That was the only way to preserve the legacy my grandparents built.
Albany
Establish boundaries.
Stay focused.
Ask questions.
Practice self-care.
Say no.
I repeated my “Keep it cool” list in my mind several times. Therapy had been integral to my survival—especially in my line of work, definitely with my ex, and absolutely when I was around my family. After many sessions, angry tears, crushing despair, I’d finally gotten to a point where I felt confident walking into any room. I’d transitioned from uncertain, unhappy, unfulfilled Albany back to capable, strong, badass Albany.
Yet…
My current situation? Sitting across from Joyce Batchelor, the woman who’d known me before I knew myself, the woman who’d been at every important event in my life. And even though I knew I could trust “Granny,” I couldn’t bring myself to spout off the sixth and most important item on my list.
Accept the challenge.
Why? Because I simply didn’t want to.
“I assume you’re thinking about my proposal.” Joyce stared at me. Actually, she staredthroughme, dared me to decline the offer with her all-knowing eyes. It was the older woman’s gift and the reason she was still on top of her game. It was also the reason Batchelor Corporation continued to grow and expand when so many corporations had floundered.
Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to speak. But nothing came out. Instead, I nodded. Because the desire to work, to be able support myself again was strong. But my need to protect my peace was strong, too. A few minutes ago, I’d been elated, so grateful for the opportunity to work for Joyce as her personal private investigator. And I’d wanted to accept—until I received my first assignment.
