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Wednesday, August 22, 2012
11:38 p.m.
New York City
So what are you really doing in Atlanta?” Daddy took a sip of his Dalmore 62 whiskey. He owned one of the twelve bottles of the sixty-two-year-old aged whiskey that was released from the distillery from Scotland in 2012.
“How much did you pay for that bottle again?” I asked, attempting to change the subject.
“Two hundred grand.”
I shook my head.
“Hey, I can’t take billions of dollars with me, you’re my only child, and you’re filthy rich yourself.”
“I’m not a billionaire.” I stressed the last word.
“Close to it, and besides, you will be once I kick the bucket.” He held his glass up like he was doing a toast. “That’s a guarantee.”
“There’s no amount of money that could ever replace you, Daddy.”
“And I know you mean that. Ditto.”
He glanced around my penthouse apartment on Park Avenue. I had put it on the market for $18 million. It would take a while for anyone to come along who could afford it—likely another celebrity. But they had to be approved by the board of the building as well. It was sometimes shocking when celebrities were denied by a group of stuck-up floozies and pedigreed old-money folks. Like who really gave a fuck about them?
“That’s why I’m concerned about you. So what are you doing in Atlanta? Really?”
I sighed. “Daddy, I came back here to celebrate your birthday with you.”
“My birthday’s the day after tomorrow.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate early.”
I kicked off my black heels and put my feet up underneath me on the sofa. We had gone to a premiere of Lawless with Tom Hardy’s fine ass in it. If I’d had it in me to actually let a man blow my back out, he would have been tied with Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to rip my panties clear off my ass. God bless both of their sets of parents.
“Did you enjoy the movie? It was good to see so many of your old friends at the premiere. That red carpet was bana
nas.”
“Isn’t it always?” He took a puff of his Cohiba Behike cigar, something else ridiculously expensive. Only one hundred humidors were ever made, with forty rolls each in them. A single cigar was worth four to five grand. “You keep thinking that you can change the subject, but that’s not going to work. You know me better than that.”
Daddy owned several properties in New York City, but he’d decided to chill with me at my place so we could spend a lot of quality time together. I hadn’t been there in months and wanted to be in my own space.
“Do you think someone will take this place off my hands? Why don’t you buy it, Daddy?”
“Not a chance. I told you this was a bad investment when you purchased it. Park Avenue is getting played out. You may end up taking a loss on it. The real estate market has tanked in certain parts of town.”
I shrugged it off and took a sip of my distilled water. I was trying to get the liquor out of my system from the after party of the premiere. I had lost count at five cosmopolitans, and heavy drinking was not my thing in the first place.
“Are you really going to make me ask you again? Don’t insult me!”
“Daddy, I’ve already explained to you that I’m posted up in Atlanta because it was time. It was time for me to stop avoiding my past. I’ll be forty next month, for goodness’ sake. How long am I supposed to let them dictate my moves?”
“It’s not about people dictating your moves. It’s about you keeping your condition under control.”
I glared at him. “I haven’t gone off, or snapped in a long time.”
“Not to an extreme, that I know of, but we both know what you are capable of. Have you been taking your medication?”
