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“Hey!” I shouted.
“You’ll get it back after you start talking.”
I looked to Ryan for support, but he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, clearly on Team Frank. I really hated them sometimes.
Sighing, I said, “What do you want to know?”
“Start with Dad and the company,” Ryan said.
“How is this surprising you guys right now? You both know he’s been grooming me to take over the company since I was thirteen.”
Ryan leaned back against the counter. “Right,” he said, dragging out the word. “But you don’t want to. When are you going to stop doing what he wants you to and live your own life?”
I bristled. “That’s not fair. You didn’t have to deal with any of this shit. You didn’t have this version of Dad, but I do. He didn’t expect either of you to come back and run the company, but he pounded it into my head nearly every day.”
Frank pulled up a stool next to mine and sat down. “But you hate it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t hate it; I’m actually really fucking good at it. I just don’t want to do it forever. And I want to work here with you guys.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “And we want you here. But mostly, we want you to be happy.”
“And we want you to live your life for you,” Ryan added. “It’s not right that Dad does that to you. We can talk to him, if you want.”
“No. It’ll only make things worse.”
“How?” Frank asked.
Clearly, neither of them understood how drastically our father had changed since becoming successful.
“He has a temper. I guess that’s a new thing, according to Mom, but I’ve always been privy to it.”
Frank’s jaw clenched, and Ryan cocked his head to one side hard enough that I heard his neck crack.
“He hit you?” Ryan asked.
“No, no. God. No. Nothing like that. He just gets really angry. He likes to threaten the things I care about. He’s manipulative. The man doesn’t like to lose, and I really fucking hate disappointing him.”
Frank handed my beer back to me, his face pinched as if he were in pain. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that alone. I had no idea things were that bad.”
I downed the rest of my beer and pushed my glass away. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either,” Ryan said. “Now, what about this whole dating-Carla thing?”
Frustrated, I closed my eyes for a minute. I’d hoped they’d forgotten that part. “Dad wants me to date Carla Crawford.”
“Why? Why does he give a shit who you date?” Ryan asked as he drew himself a beer. “And who is Carla Crawford?”
“Her dad owns half the TV stations in Southern California. That’s a lot of marketing Dad would get access to if I were dating her.”
Frank and Ryan shared a confused look, then Frank shook his head. “It’s like we don’t even know the man you’re talking about.”
“I can’t even imagine him being so cold, so heartless.” Ryan scowled. “Caring about the business over the family?”
I didn’t know what to say in response. Dad being cold was all I had ever known. Him controlling my life, telling me what to do in every aspect of it was part of the deal.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
