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“Well, that’s the thing,” Sully said, trying to give his mother a confident smile. “That’s what financial independence is all about. I saved enough money, so I don’t have to work anymore.”
“But you just graduated college a few years ago,” his father said.
“It was nine years ago, Dad, and I made good money.”
“Exactly, so why quit?”
He was losing them. He pushed his glasses up. “I invested my money, and it generates interest. That’s what I live off, the interest and dividends.”
“The stock market?” his father growled. “That thing is going to crash any day now. Ever heard of something called The Great Depression?”
Sully grabbed his glass of water and took a large gulp. “I bought a house in Yucca Hills and fixed it up myself… well, a friend helped, and I just rented it out two days ago.”
Fortunately, Tess Aldridge had checked out and she’d promptly Venmo’d him first and last month’s rent, along with the security deposit. Oddly, he still hadn’t seen a moving truck pull up to the house. Maybe it’d been delayed.
“I still don’t get it,” his father said, though at least he jabbed at a hunk of meatloaf with his fork and shoved it into his mouth. Sully noted, per usual, he hadn’t touched the salad on his plate. “What’s the point? What do you do with all your time?”
Sully brightened. “Lots of things. I’m meditating and running each morning. Trying to eat healthy and learn new recipes. I’m also learning the guitar. Oh, I just started weightlifting.”
Should he tell them about his latest effort, which he’d dubbedThe Girlfriend Project?
Yeah, no. Not in a million years. Within a few months of bringing Michelle over for family dinner, he’d caught his mom assembling a Pinterest page of Mother-of-the-Groom dresses.Just in case,she’d told him. She’d been almost as devastated as he was when the whole Michelle situation hadn’t worked out.
Plus, his progress onThe Girlfriend Projectwasn’t exactly brag-worthy. Last night, he’d signed up for an account on a dating website, but something had stopped him from filling out his profile.
Shehad stopped him.
Alanna Sandoval.
Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? She was probably back in Los Angeles by now, still laughing at his cringey pickup attempt… that is, if she remembered him at all. Hell, a woman like her was probably dating an underwear model.
“So… you’re in real estate?” His mother asked, breaking the silence. Hope bloomed in her voice. “I suppose I could tell that to Brenda.” She smiled. “Lots of people are in real estate. There’s good money in real estate. You’re… you’re an entrepreneur!”
Sully sighed. “Sure.” Technically she wasn’t wrong. He looked to his father, some small part of him still seeking the approval he should know better than to expect.
His dad just shook his head. “A man’s gotta work. He’s gotta have a job.”
“Oh, John,” his mother said, “things are different now. Daisy, Brenda’s youngest, does influencing on the Tikky-Tok. All sorts of companies give her free clothes. One business flew her to Miami. Brenda wouldn’t stop bragging about it, but you know her. She’ll talk your ear off.”
“I worked my whole life,” his father said. “Plumbing ain’t fancy, but it pays the bills.” He pointed his fork at Nora. “It’s kept a roof over our head. Let you get your nails done.” Now the fork poked the air in Sully’s direction. “Paid for your undergrad degree so you could get your fancy job. And I’m proud of that. All this stuff you’re doing, meditating, playing the guitar, they aren’t a reason to get up in the morning. Those are just hobbies. What’s your purpose, son?”
Sully had no answer for his father. All he could do was look down at his plate, his appetite vanished. Those words—the most his father has spoken to him in the past year—echoed in Sully’s mind and hollowed out his heart on the long drive back to Yucca Hills.
Ch. 12 Alanna
Staringatherselfinthe full-length bedroom mirror, Alanna experienced an uncharacteristic feeling. Uncertainty. The rustic blue Chanel knit dress she wore was one of the more casual options in the limited wardrobe she’d brought down from L.A. but was it still too much?
What exactly did one wear to a crazy cat lady club? Sweatpants, crocheted sweater, and a heavy whiff of desperation?
The dress hugged her slender frame like a glove and brought out the pale blue of her eyes. Alanna fluffed her short hair to give it a little body and slipped into a pair of Tabitha Simmons red suede-heeled sandals. Watching herself apply a layer of Scarlet Leather across her lips in the mirror, she decided that whatever the other women chose to wear, it was no reason to lower her own standards.
“This is what you’ve brought me to,” Alanna said, glowering at the bed. Petunia continued to lurk beneath it like some sort of boogie cat. “I’m sure you’re real proud of yourself.”
If anything, the hell demon had upped her campaign of destruction over the past two days. Her newest guerilla warfare tactic was howling in the middle of the night for no goddamn reason.
Alanna gave the bed one more scorching look. She’d better get some magical cat whisperer tricks at this meeting, or… she didn’t want to finish the sentence.
After a quick browse in the closet, Alanna grabbed a Fendi shoulder bag, tucked her wallet and lipstick inside, and headed out of the bedroom. The wobbly banister made the stairs an unhappy adventure—she really needed to get that fixed—and then she was at the front door.
