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“What?” His mother looked like she’d been slapped.
“You don’t think this is pretty damn homophobic? You’re all worked up not because I had someone in my bathtub but because he’s a he and not a she.”
“That’s not—” she spluttered.
“Then what the hell is it?” Simon thundered.
“Stop shouting at me,” his mother demanded.
“Stop trying to run my life! I’m almost fifty years old, and based on Dad and Granddad, who knows how many years I have left. I’m already living on borrowed time. So if I want to have an orgy in my room, I will do just that.”
“Stop being hyperbolic. You’re not going to die,” his mother said.
“How old was Granddad when he died?” Simon asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
His mother frowned then said, “Forty-four or forty-five, I believe.”
“Forty-four. And what about Father?”
“What about your father?” But Simon could tell by the set of her lips that she knew exactly where he was going with this.
“He was forty-six, Mother. I am forty-eight. I have the best cardiologist in the state and I follow his instructions to the letter, but I’ve already had one heart attack. He told me to destress my life, which is why I retired.”
“And you think having sex with some child is the answer?”
“He’s twenty-eight, Mother. Hardly a child. And my doctor did recommend I have sex.”
His mother shuddered. “The less said on that, the better. But a man, Simon?”
“Ah, here we are. Back to the homophobia. I guess we can add that to your rampant xenophobia.” racism.”
She looked shocked. “My what? What on earth are you talking about?”
“Your objections to appointing Jefferson as the new CEO of Prince Industries. What other reason could you have to not be happy with my choice unless it’s because of the color of his skin? And what about Hudson? You renamed him, for the love of god.”
“Hudson is a different situation entirely and I don’t disapprove of Jefferson because of that!”
“Then why?” Simon demanded.
“Because he’s not your blood, Simon.”
“Who cares?” He threw up his arms in frustration. “He’s family in every way that counts!”
“He’s not my grandchild!” his mother shouted back. More quietly she added, “I always wanted grandchildren. Even one would’ve been fine. But you… never did.”
“Oh,” Simon said. That wasn’t even close to the response he’d expected.
“It’s not a big deal,” she sniffed, which was obviously a lie, but Simon let it go.
“Okay. Let me see if I understand. Your only objection to Jefferson is that he isn’t directly related to me?”
“My objection,” she stated primly, “is that the company has always gone from father to son, and now it hasn’t.”
Simon wanted to point out that tradition had only gone on for two generations but decided not to. “Alright. You’re not xenophobic. At least not about Jefferson.”
“Simon!” she protested.
“But that hasn’t explained you not calling Hudson by his real name and you’restillhomophobic.”
