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“It’s time,” he says.
“Time for what?” I ask, frustrated. “I swear, you guys just don’t get it. I’m not like you, okay? I don’t want to sell houses! I don’t want to kiss up to clients, and I definitely don’t want to shill property that’s sub-par. I’d kill myself if I had your jobs.”
My parents’ heads snap towards me.
“That’s enough,” my dad says in a tight voice. “You have no idea how hard we work.”
“We do everything in our power to provide you with a good life,” my mom wails, wringing her hands. “And what do you do? You take up work in a sex shop. The minute our clients find out, they’ll drop us. The minute our friends at the country club find out, they’ll be laughing behind our backs. We’re going to be the talk of the town, and not in a good way!” Amity’s sentence ends on a shrill note, and I literally cover my ears, wincing at the sharp sound.
“It’s not that bad—” I begin, but my dad interrupts again.
“Since you won’t quit your job, it’s clear that there’s no way to turn this around. We need to get rid of you, Amy.”
“Get rid of me?” I repeat, gawking at Andrew. “What do you mean? That sounds a little ominous. I mean, I didn’t know you were going to hire a contract killer to off me like in the movies,” I say in a dry tone. Unfortunately, my humor is lost on my parents.
“You’re going to be married,” my dad announces. “Once you’re married, you’ll no longer be our responsibility. What you do won’t reflect on us, but rather on your husband. Although good luck to him,” Andrew adds in a low voice. “He has my condolences.”
I fly into a fury then.
“You guys are insane! First of all, this isn’t the Middle Ages. You don’t get rid of your daughters by marrying them off. That’s so old-fashioned and ridiculous. Second, what I do willalwaysreflect on you because everyone in St. George knows that I’m your daughter! It’s not like you can erase an entire community’s collective memory with a wave of your hand.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” my dad says in an even voice while exchanging a look with my mom. “One of our country club friends has agreed to marry you, and fortunately, he’s only in St. George during the season. You’ll be out of our hair for most of the year.”
I sputter.
“Where is he then? Mexico? Canada? Outer space? I swear, you guys are making no sense.”
“No, we are,” my mom interjects. “We’re just trying to do what’s right for you, and what’s right for us too. We can’t have you walking around St. George looking the way you do while bearing the Ryan name. Everyone knows we’re the Ryan Team at Circle Brokerage, and you reflect badly on us, Amy. I could have snagged a new client last week, except the family’s daughter was a classmate of yours. When they found out you were our child, they were no longer interested in working with us.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m sure they didn’t hire you forotherreasons. Not because they found out that I’m your daughter.”
“No, that’s not so,” my mom counters. “The client is Griselle Beauvais, whose daughter is from your high school. She said you used to go over to their house and hump the sprinklers in their lawn.”
“What?” I cry with outrage. “That’s a lie! That’s so gross! Who would even think of something like that?”
My mom’s expression is doleful now.
“Griselle said Marcella would invite you over after school on sunny days. You’d get into your bikinis to lay out by the pool, but you have a filthy mind, Amy. She said you’d take your bikini bottoms off and literally push your pussy down on the lawn sprinkler to get off. Then, you’d ask Marcella to turn the sprinklers on so you could feel the water jetting against your insides.”
“Are you kidding?” I shriek, practically tearing at my hair with rage. “These are lies! These are nasty, filthy, disgusting LIES! I would never! That’s so sick and twisted!”
“But it doesn’t matter, don’t you see?” my dad interjects. “Now that you’re working at a fetish shop, it gives their accusations credence. You’re a dirty girl, and unfortunately, everyone knows you’re our daughter. So like I said, Amy: get married, or get out.”
“Or what?” I howl. “What are you going to do to me? I’m an adult!”
“Yeah, but you’re an adult who has no money,” my dad says in a dry tone. “How much does A Woman’s Secret pay you? Minimum wage? Or even less?”
My mouth snaps shut.
“For your information, Chloe’s still getting the business off the ground,” I say in a stiff voice. “Sales are booming, but she had a lot of start-up costs. She’sgoingto pay me as soon as she can.”
“So your friend’s not paying you anything,” my dad drawls, one eyebrow raised. “You’re working for free. You’re basically a volunteer.”
“No!” I whine. “As soon as Chloe improves the business’s liquidity, she’s going to pay me. She says I’m first on her list.”
“Right, after she pays her suppliers, the bank, her rent, her taxes, and god knows whoever else,” my dad adds in a sarcastic voice. “You won’t be seeing any money for a good long while, I can assure you.”
