I know exactly what she means. She’s been struggling since she left SFG, even though she’s trying to hide it. Curie, on the other hand, is doing fine posting fluff on Instagram. I’ve seen her posts, and she gets paid to mention products and whatnot. Tight or not, it can’t be an emotionally comfortable place to be. I give her a hug. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You only need one interview to go well.”
“Yeah.” She smiles, but it’s hollow and forced. “Want to come? She’s inviting us both.”
It’s excruciatingly tempting to cancel on Percy, but I want to make my position on Skittles clear as soon as possible. “I’d love to, but I have a meeting.”
“Okay. I’ll let her know.”
I’d rather be stuck in an elevator with a platoon of flatulent Klingons, but I make myself presentable and drive over to La Mer while Skittles goes to see her sister. Although I’ve been here before, the place still impresses me with its gorgeous aquarium walls and partitions.
I should bring Skittles here on a date. She’d enjoy it. We should also have a mimosa brunch at Éternité. As a matter of fact, we should hit every nice restaurant in the city just because she’ll love it. It’ll also be ten million times more pleasant than what’s to come.
Percy is already seated, dressed in a gray three-piece suit. Some of the people in Tempérane say his slicked-back black hair and mustache make him look like Clark Gable. I have to agree, especially with his tanned complexion. He grins, showing teeth white enough to blind.
“Court! How are ya?” He’s full of Southern bonhomie as he stands to shake my hand.
“Good.” Would be doing great if you hadn’t bothered me on my dad’s behalf. “You been waiting long?”
“Nah. Have a seat.” He gestures, then sits opposite me.
I notice the half-empty tumbler of bourbon. Percy loves good liquor. Especially when he thinks he’s won. Guess it’s up to me to show him the celebration is premature.
A server comes over to take our order. Nate told me once never to get the day’s special, because it tends to be stuff the chef’s trying to get rid of. But that’s exactly what I’m going to do, since I’m not really here to eat and don’t want to bother with the menu. Percy obviously shares the sentiment, because he requests whatever I’m having without glancing at the menu himself.
“How much is my dad paying you to hound me?” I ask the second our server vanishes.
“The firm’s on retainer.” Percy smiles. “I’m doing this for your sake, not a billable rate.”
“Riiight. How stupid do you think I am?”
“You aren’t stupid, son, but here’s the problem. You have no direction,” Percy says smoothly.
I snort. “I don’t need Dad to give me direction.”
“Is that a fact?” He takes a slug of the bourbon. “You got yourself a job?”
“Nope. Want to know why?”
“Do tell.”
“I don’t have to. I don’t need to work to put food on the table or make ends meet. Don’t need to rush to grab some vanishing opportunity. I can take my time, explore my options—find something that really turns me on and is worth my time and energy.” This is going to go straight to my father’s ears, thanks to Percy. But I’m not just saying it to annoy them. If money doesn’t give you the flexibility to explore your own life, what’s the point?
Percy looks at me pityingly. “Like that girl? She turn you on? Worth your time?”
I tense, annoyed he’s bringing Skittles up again. “Is this some kind of threat?”
Percy’s eyebrows twitch. “Threat?”
“I’m not going in blind like Tony.” Cold shivers run through me at the memory of what happened to him—how they hurt Ivy to get to him. “He only got fucked over because he didn’t think the family would stoop so low.”
“Margot, son. Not your family.” His voice cools.
If he believes that, he’s an idiot. And Percy is no moron. “Dad was complicit.”
“He was no such thing.” His tone is suddenly all lawyer.
“He looked the other way.”
“And is currently rectifying his mistake.”