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“Deal.” Eden snorts.
They all laugh more.
She’s so. Fucking. Cute.
Pierce points the remote at the TV and turns it off. “Well, a man can only watch his own demise for so long. I mean, the lawyers are still pushing forward so we’re not quite done fighting. But it’s going to be a bitter win when it comes and—“
“What?” I say. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“What what?”
“You’re still going to try to take her to court?”
“Why would I just give in?” Pierce asks. “It was my idea.”
“You’re the one who was saying maybe it wasn’t last week when she walked out.”
“I’ve had a change of heart.”
“You mean, you saw the five million subscribers on YouTube and decided to take a piece of her pie.”
“Nice.” He laughs. “But yes. It’s just business.”
“You can’t win this.”
“I think I can. I have money, and power, and the best lawyers in the state. At the very least I have something to negotiate with.”
“So you really do want a piece of her pie?”
“Of course,” he says. “I’d be stupid to let her get away with this.”
“Wow,” I say. “You’re a dick.”
“Me? No. I’m just trying to save my magazine.”
“Is that all you think about?”
“What else is there to think about?”
“Um… well, let’s start with a healthy dose of human decency for one.”
“You know as well as anyone that human decency doesn’t go far.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Fuck you back,” he says. “Do you have any idea what I had to promise Myrtle to get her to stay on as my assistant?”
I picture long nights of Pierce being handcuffed in Myrtle’s secret dungeon lair as she stands over him in thigh-high latex boots holding a whip.
“She now makes more than my VP. And she’s hostile.”
“She was always hostile.”
“No, she was assertive. Now she’s just angry. And that’s all because of you. You knew it wasn’t her and you let me embarrass her in front of the whole company.”
I sigh. We’ve been over this a dozen times and hell, I’ve done nothing but apologize to him—and Myrtle, and let me tell you, apologizing to Myrtle isn’t something I ever want to do again—so what more can I say?
“I’m sorry.” I just give in and say it again. Because… whatever.
“So yeah,” Pierce continues. “I’m going all in on this little fight. I deserve something out of it.”
I just look at him. Like… seriously. How is this guy my best friend? Maybe it’s me who makes bad choices?
“They’re gonna slaughter you.”
“I’m ready.”
“You’re gonna be the sole reason this magazine goes down.”
“At least I’ll go down fighting.”
“Dude.” I laugh. “You can’t win this. These are two young women with a solid high-concept idea. One of whom is a single mother with no child support, the other is being attacked by her former employer for succeeding. That relationship with your father? Gone. Because this magazine won’t recover from a PR nightmare like that. Not to mention, you’re just an asshole for even considering it. Just do the world a favor and accept the fact that she had the idea first and didn’t steal it, OK? Because we’re all tired of your fake aristocratic attitude. You’re not a king. You’re just a sad, sad man with daddy problems.”
He purses his lips and nods his head. “Yeah, OK. But at least I’m being honest with you. Which is more than you’re doing with me.”
“What? What the fuck does that mean?”
He shrugs. “You’re still holding a grudge. So why should I give up mine?”
“She lied to me.”
“Whoopty-do! She lied to me too. So we’re even.”
“We’re not even. I’m not the one trying to ruin her life.”
“Then why do you feel so guilty about what you did?”
“I don’t.”
“Well,” he says quietly. “Then you’re the sad one, Andrew. Because you found a girl you liked. And she liked you back. And talk about a royal fuckup? You’re the king of that kingdom. I’m not gonna sue her, asshole. I’m just trying to make a point.”
“What point?”
“I wanted to see what side you’d land on.”
“Side? What?”
“It was a test.”
“A test? What? What the fuck? What are you doing right now?”
“Doesn’t feel very good, does it? You are the one who ruined this. And I’m not talking about the magazine. I’m talking about the relationship. And your litmus test just proves that you’re the asshole here, not me. I dunno. I’m just doing some shit I read about in one of our articles. Reverse transference, or… something. Some way to make a chick think she’s crazy. But I’m just using it on you. Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
I laugh. Guffaw, actually.
“You got fucked over by a woman once and now you’ve got this test to see if people are worthy. Well, good luck with that. Because your standard is impossible to meet. You set them up. Just like I set you up. Beautifully, I’ll add.”
