Page 41 of Bombshell

“So, how long are you in town?” I ask.

She gives me a look that clearly says are we really doing this and shrugs.

Okay, I search for a new topic. “Do you still live in New York?”

“Most of the time,” she says.

“Are you in school?” I know she’s younger than him, but that’s about all I know about Sutton, except that she grew up with a different foster family.

“Not at the moment,” she says with a smirk.

I’m reminded of the first time I met Sterling. He’d been an asshole from minute one. Apparently, the trait runs in the family. The trouble is, I know a thing or two about Fords. Most of the time, they’re putting on an act. The smirking, arrogant disdain? It’s just a survival mechanism. How long had it taken Sterling to warm up to me?

I don’t have time for games like that now.

“So, you think I’m a bitch,” I say, recalling the text conversation I’d accidentally read between her and Sterling.

“If it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck.” She shrugs.

“You don’t know me.”

Her eyes roll so far back, they nearly stick there. “Let’s see. Poor little rich girl. Dead mom. Dead dad. Depleted trust fund. Everything handed to you on a silver platter. Then again, that platter’s a little picked over these days, isn’t it? Daddy passed it around a bit too much?”

This time, I shrug. “Knowing someone’s circumstances and knowing who they really are—those are different things.”

“Spare me a dramatic story of how you’ve never fit in here,” she says theatrically, pressing a hand to her forehead for affect, “and how you wish I could see we’re not so different after all.”

“Oh, we’re different,” I say, relishing the surprise that passes through her familiar eyes. “I might be rich…”

“Were rich,” she corrects me. “I hear your little Scrooge McDuck money vault is a bit empty these days.”

“I might have been rich,” I say, not bothering to argue with her, “but I’ve lost people.”

“You think I haven’t lost people?” She jumps to her feet, dethroning Zeus who whines as her eyes flash.

“I know you have. You just got some of them back. And you got new people—a new family. Not all of us are that lucky,” I say.

“Us?” she repeats. “What? You think that you have more in common with Sterling than I do? I’m his sister.”

“A shared past doesn’t mean you’re the same,” I say, patting my knee to call Zeus to me. “It just means you’re connected.”

“Oh my god! Is this little TED Talk over yet? I heard you were full of shit, but I had no idea it was going to be this bad.” She stomps over to the kitchen and disappears. A second later there’s an annoyed huff and she returns with a bottle of water. “Why can’t he keep any booze here? How is anyone supposed to be around you sober?”

I stare at her. “Are you really asking that?”

“I know.” Another eye roll before she continues in a sing-song voice, “Your father was an alcoholic. You should stay away from that stuff. Look just because my dad drank doesn’t mean that I’m a fuck-up, too.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Please.”

If she rolls her eyes one more time, I think I might actually slap her.

“Sterling doesn’t drink,” I say. “That’s why he doesn’t keep booze here.”

“I know he doesn’t drink, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Have you ever been around him when he’s been drinking?” I cut her off.