“My son is quite the romantic,” my father snorted around his cigar. “He’s a fine newsman, and a very bad businessman. Just look at his recent choices. Did you know he recently broke off his engagement to the beautiful Lily Davis, heiress to Newsflash Corp, because he fell in love with a junior reporter? From Brooklyn, no less.”
Now I pierced through the fabric of my pockets and tore my slacks. Fuck if I knew how he’d gained this information, but my top guess was it had come from Lily herself. I didn’t know where she’d gotten this information, but I was certain we had a mole, because the chances of Judith opening her mouth and talking about us to anyone who wasn’t Ava and Gary were nonexistent.
A quick glance at her face confirmed she was Team #MaimMathias. She paled like the moon, standing up and excusing herself from the room.
My mother refocused her attention on the screen.
“You’re being absurd, Mathias.” Her red-lipsticked mouth puckered.
“Am I, my darling Iris? I married you and took half of what you have.” He laughed evilly. “Clearly absurd is not the word you’re looking for. May I suggest harsh?”
“If suggestions were your strong suit, you wouldn’t be held by the balls by your son.” I rolled up my sleeves, getting tired of his little charade.
Maman reddened quietly next to me.
“The last thing you want is for me to really go after you, Father Dearest. As for the deals—they’re going to ruin our reputation and bulldoze over all the hard work we’ve done. We might as well publicly endorse kids drinking and teens catching STDs. By the time LBC dies, you won’t be in charge anymore, and I’ll be the one expected to provide the answers.”
Mathias fingered an invisible goatee, pretending to mull over my last statement. “What do you say, fellas? You’re the bigwigs. My son, on top of being a romantic, also hates money. Should we or should we not take the deals?”
My mother waved her manicured hand.
“I think we should pass on the deals and add more interns to the newsroom to maintain the current ratings.”
“I’m with Mathias on this one, Iris. My apologies.”—Bigwig 1
“Me too.”—Bigwig 2
“Me three.”—Bigwig 3
I slapped the laptop shut before my mother could answer, then threw it across the room. It crashed against the wall, fell to the floor, and broke in half. My mother sat back in her cushioned couch. Her chin wrinkled, like she was about to cry.
“Don’t say anything,” I warned.
“If you want to fix this, you need to talk to Lily.”
Fuck you, Maman.
She reached for another cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side. I stood up and paced, running my fingers through my hair.
“Swallow your pride. Take her back. Judith is a nice girl, but there will be a lot of Judiths walking in and out of your life. There’s only one Lily who can save you. Protect your mother’s network.”
“My mother’s network?” I spat, laughing incredulously. “Where the fuck have you been for the last decade, Maman? Even before you moved to Florida, you didn’t give two shits about LBC. You only attended board meetings, and even that was half-heartedly and solely for the chance of screwing Dad over somehow. You could have managed it yourself, but you chose to give it to some incompetent asshole because working is not your jam. I spend ten hours a day in the newsroom. I live it. I breathe it. I eat it. But when I make one decision that has nothing to do with it, it’s suddenly an issue. This network is not yours more than it is mine. Just because Lily was born into the right family doesn’t mean she’s right for me. And that bullshit where you marry someone without standing up to their fucking face? I had a front-row seat to that scenario at home, and I’m sure I’m not spoiling it for you when I say it ended badly. One last thing—Judith is not, in fact, disposable,” I noted. “But I know a few people who are.”
Now it was my mother’s turn to stand up and throw her hands in the air. “All we ever wanted is for you and your sister to be happy. Don’t give me this holier-than-thou attitude. If I may recall, you’re not innocent, either.”
I kicked her precious sofa’s frame. The price tag fell, and I took sick pleasure in how symbolic that felt. “Yeah, you made us very fucking happy. Especially the part where Dad sent Camille’s boyfriend to a goddamn war zone to keep him away from her because his blood wasn’t blue enough, then proceeded to fuck my girlfriend. All while you were standing on the sidelines doing what, exactly? Finding more hot, young ass my age? Really, you two should host a talk show on how to raise kids. Or, you know, on how to kill them.”