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“I’ll ah, call you when the bill comes in,” George says.
Yeah, I bet he will.
“This’ll mean a lot to Mom, Janie,” Derek says confidently, as if I need him to reassure me why I’m doing it.
I want to tell them all to go fuck themselves. They’re all more than capable of pitching in to split the bill; they just consider it a waste of money. I know that. I know them. Chris breathes a sigh of relief and then checks his phone quickly. “Well, it’s late,” he says. “I better get going. Long day at work tomorrow.”
Three, two, one…
“Me too,” Derek says. “I’ll swing by tomorrow for a little bit.”
They both leave, and I’m alone with George. He turns to me, his mouth open to give his own excuse.
“I’ll stay with her,” I say, not even bothering to hide my disgust at this point. When it’s just me and George, I feel like we should just be honest with one another. In a way, it’s what family does, right? Even fucked-up families like this one.
“Are you sure?” George asks, feigning concern convincingly well. “I can stay if you need to go.”
Bullshit he can. The minute I’m out of sight, he’d run off and leave her here. “No,” I say. “Go home, George.”
If he meant it, if he really loved Mama, he’d argue with me, or offer to stay with me. We could nap in shifts or something.
But no. Once he’s gotten permission to fuck off, he does so without much of a fight. Naturally.
Once he’s gone, I ask one of the orderlies for an extra blanket and a pillow, if it isn’t too much trouble. She acts like she’s about to suggest I just go home, but whatever I was able to hide from the family I no longer have the will to keep hidden. She leaves to get me the goods, and I go into Mama’s room to wait for her.
Mama’s still asleep. She’s sedated. I’ve got a few hours to rest before she’s up. And shit, I’ve got a day of planning and tasting and setting up to do tomorrow. That starts about six hours from now. But at least someone will be here when Mama wakes up.
At least she’ll know there’s someone in her life who still gives a shit.
Chapter 13
Jake
The hammer falls the next day. I was expecting it, so I’m not surprised when one of my father’s goons meets me in the garage, where I was hoping to avoid my father entirely by leaving the house for a few days.
“Mr. Ferry is looking for you,” Barry tells me, smug. He’s a heavyset guy, ostensibly one of the security personnel on the grounds, though he doesn’t do much securing. He runs “errands” for Reginald.
“I haven’t got a text from him,” I say. “That’s the usual mode of contact. Is his phone dead?”
Barry shrugs. “All I know is he wants to see you.”
“Where at?”
Barry snorts, and points up, as if to heaven itself. “Where do you think?”
The Office, then. Every bit as serious as I expected.
My father doesn’t care for an office setting. His meetings are usually informal, in an environment where he can schmooze and charm and everyone is off guard. But he does have an office. He reserves it for announcing hostile takeovers, firing longtime employees, and tearing new assholes. Just the stuff where he doesn’t feel a need to play nice.
“Fine,” I tell Barry the lackey. “I’m going.”
Barry grins at me with his chipped front tooth. Asshole.
I take the stairs up to the third floor, which has exactly one function—to serve as a massive office with windows on all sides. The floors are made from a single giant redwood Reginald bribed the governor of California to get his paws on. Oiled, polished, and waxed, it makes the floor look stained with blood—which is the point, of course.
My father is waiting behind his desk, looking out over his domain. The estate stretches in all directions around us. Not that anyone’s ever attempted to assassinate my father, but the glass is five inches thick and bulletproof. Never can be too careful.
He doesn’t say a word until I take a seat in one of the uncomfortable, not-quite-big-enough chairs on the victim side of the desk.
