“Amy, you’re being unreasonable,” Emmett says.
Too late. I’m already in my car. With lots to stew over.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emmett
Fury erupts as I watch Amy drive away. What the hell? It was going so well until that woman showed up.
Fucking Dad. He knew FedExing a hooker wouldn’t work, even if he paid her handsomely for her trouble. So he’s resorting to sending some poor woman desperate for a break in Hollywood.
I slam the door shut and pick up my phone. If Dad thought he was going to get away with this, he has another think coming.
After five rings, our call is connected.
“Who the hell do you think you are? You sent me a girl auditioning for porn and think that’s going to get you a grandbaby? I’d rather get vasectomy!”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” comes Joey’s dry, professional voice. “Would you like the name of the doctor who did Ted’s first vasectomy? He’s still practicing.”
I want to rip a hole into Dad, not his assistant. “Where’s. My. Father.”
“Busy.”
I narrow my eyes. “Oh, I get it. He sends me his ‘actress’ and is hiding now because he knows I’m going to ream him out.”
“Just like gods don’t need to hide, Ted Lasker never hides. You know that.”
“Bullshit!”
“He is busy, as he often is, making a movie that will entertain millions. On top of that, everyone knows you’re a good son. You’d never be disrespectful to your father.” Joey sounds like a shitty actor at an audition—soulless and unconvincing.
“Can’t you hire a writer for better lines?” Not that my criticism is going to make a dent in Joey’s relentless desire to make sure Dad gets whatever he wants. Joey would be nothing in Hollywood without his job as my dad’s assistant, and he knows it.
“Ted knows you’re busy with work, and he just wants to help you along with the grandbaby production.”
“I’m not some baby-making widget! And you—along with my super entertainer father—embarrassed me in front of my girlfriend!”
Joey perks up. “You have a girlfriend?”
Shit. “No,” I say, annoyed with myself. Now he’ll hire somebody to figure out who my girlfriend is and try to work on her. Amy doesn’t need that kind of static.
“Is she pregnant?” Joey asks, his words brimming with excitement.
“No! There’s no girlfriend, pregnant or otherwise.”
“Ah, but you said there was. Can you get her pregnant? Like with a doctored condom?”
“You are the most vile, underhan—”
“If you feel squeamish about putting holes in condoms, I can provide some that are pre-perforated. They look slick. She won’t suspect anything, I promise.”
“No, no, no!” I say it three times so that maybe one will get through. Joey has highly selective hearing, a trait he picked up from Dad.
“I hope she’s a redhead,” he adds. “Ted wants a redheaded girl for his grandchild.”
“Well, he can father one himself!”
“You can’t father your own grandchild, Emmett.” Joey speaks like I’m intellectually challenged. “Even if biology wasn’t your best subject, you should know that. It’s just common sense.”