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Sloane scoffs. “Paul. Of course. Protecting his interests. I hope he’s freezing his balls off.” She doesn’t linger on him long though. “How’s Rhett?”
I carefully start down the stairwell just in case Rhett is listening at the door. “He’s… fine,” I say.
God, I hope Sloane isn’t as preceptive as they say.
“Is he giving you a hard time?”
I’m so glad this isn’t a video call and she can’t see the heat rise up my face.
“He’s definitely keeping it interesting,” I say. “But he actually is helping. In fact, he saved the welcome dinner from becoming a disaster. And Bill Alencar really took a shine to him at some point.”
Sloane is dead silent on the phone. What does she want? Assurances? Platitudes? Positive Rhett stories? Negative ones?
Just as the silence approaches uncomfortable, Sloane asks, “How is he? Really.”
“Ummm.” I’m really not trained to be a psychiatrist, and even the best psychiatrist in the world would have trouble untangling the mess of co-dependency and vitriol that is Rhett and his mother.
“Better than I expected,” I say hesitantly. “He’s cheering me up about the whole deal going south rather than the other way around.”
“Of course. He’s a Westing,” Sloane says. “Spines of steel. I don’t think I ever saw his father upset about anything.”
I’m not sure how to respond. Sloane doesn’t sound pissed any longer. She actually seems proud. But the tone of the call is venturing into something that I wouldn’t exactly call business-like.
“Of course, as a helicopter pilot that’s to be expected,” Sloane continues. “You have to have nerve, and I don’t think I need to tell you that when it comes down to it, most men don’t have it.
“Sure some have the appearance of it, but it’s really just cockiness, stupidity. A lack of belief in their own mortality supported by dumb luck. But my husband was calculating, cunning. I’ve yet to find a man who could back me into a corner. Doubt I ever will again.
“And our son? Don’t get me wrong. He has the nerve and the intelligence. You want to know what my son’s fatal flaw is, Liz?” She doesn’t pause for me to answer. “Sentimentality. He feels too much. And that will never take you far in this business. And to think he wanted to be in the Marines! Believe me, Rhett isn’t the type. He never would have hacked it and that would have pushed him right over the edge. But of course he hates me for it. For keeping him safe!”
There’s a pause where I swear I can hear ice clinking in a glass.
“I suppose you think I sound like a bad mother. I want him to be happy. Don’t you think I wanted to make him happy?” She stops again, but I know better than to answer.
“Don’t have children, Liz. Women like us, we know what’s good for the people around us and those same people will always resent us for it. That’s our burden. That’s—”
There’s a muffled fumbling that sounds vaguely like Sloane’s feet falling off her desk. Forget tipsy. My boss is drunk.
“Liz? Are you still there?”
“Yes, of course,” I say quickly.
“Keep an eye on Rhett, Liz,” Sloane says. “He needs someone watching out for him. God knows I won’t be here forever.”
“Of course,” I say. “And I’m still working on that account. It’s—”
But before I can say anymore Sloane hangs up.
I sit on the stairs next to the door leading to our floor and try to wrap my brain around that conversation. Holy familial problems, Batman. I don’t think ten psychologists and the Dalai Lama could sort out that mess. I’ve never been so thankful for my nice, normal accountant parents who drink a glass of wine on holidays and who have fallen asleep watching CSI every night for the past fifteen years.
Still, something is bothering me beyond the dysfunction of Rhett’s home life. It takes a bit of thought before I place it.
Why is Sloane acting like I’m not going to be out of Rhett’s life on Monday, at the same moment she is?
My mind flashes to Rhett’s cock in my mouth fifteen minutes ago. Does she know? Does she suspect? It’s impossible to tell. And I hate to break it to her, but as hot as it was, as supportive as Rhett ended up being, none of that means we have a future together beyond this weekend.
Even the thought of seeing him tomorrow is already making me blush. This is getting too complicated, even for me, and as much as I’m starting to come around to the fact that Rhett isn’t a complete douchebag, his impending cutoff and issues with his mother/my boss are two very good reasons why this fling is staying contained to that beautiful rooftop.
And to my memories.
