Page 99 of Play Dirty

The place is filled with people rushing back and forth moving boxes of legal papers on dollies. I spy the other two founding partners having a heated conversation in the hallway outside my father’s office, and turn to Eileen. “What the fuck is happening?”

“Your mother’s here. You should go talk to her. She’s down there. In his office.”

I nod, that awful sinking feeling back in the pit of my stomach. Because I just know something’s happening. Has been happening for a very long time, I just never saw it coming.

I push past the other two partners, who don’t even stop their argument to say hello to me, and stand in the doorway.

My mother is sitting in my father’s oversized chair behind his desk, talking a mile a minute, handing out instructions to the five office assistants as they go through file cabinets and drawers.

“Mom?” I say. “What’s going on?”

She stops everything and smiles at me. “Oh, good, you’re back. Everyone,” she says loudly as she claps her hands three times. “Get out. And close the door behind you.”

I watch as all five people drop what they’re doing and leave.

“Come here, Jordan. Have a seat.”

“What the hell is going on?” I repeat.

“Well,” she says, swiping a piece of hair out of her eyes. She’s still Barbara Bush classy, but with a healthy dose of disheveled added in. She takes a deep breath. “I don’t have time to explain the details, but the short answer is I’ve sold your father’s portion of the firm to the other partners. And… and you quit, Jordan. I handed in your resignation and—”

“What?”

“—and you’re done here.”

“You… fired me?”

“No,” she says. “You’re not fired. You quit.”

“But—”

“You don’t want to work here, Jordan. Trust me. Just… just take the boxes I packed in your office and…” She shrugs. “Well, I was going to say go home, but it’s being sold and we’re having an open house this afternoon. Do you have another home? I mean, I’m assuming you do, since you don’t live with us. But…” She shrugs again. “I have no idea where you live, Jordan. And that’s not your fault— it’s not even my fault, not really. It’s his fault. And it ends today. So… wherever you’ve been staying, go back there.”

I just stare at her. “Who are you?”

Which makes her laugh.

And that unsettles me more. Because… “I mean, Dad just died and—”

“Yes, that reminds me. Can you handle the funeral? I’ve already contacted the mortuary.” She reaches for her purse and goes fishing through it. “Where is that card? Oh, here.” She thrusts a business card at me and I take it automatically. “Can you call them and make sure everything is taken care of? We’re having the funeral tomorrow. Just… you know, pick whatever you want.”

“Mom,” I say. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Later, Jordan.” She frowns. “I can’t today, OK? But I’ll explain everything soon. I promise.” And then she presses a button on my father’s desk phone and says, “Can you send everyone back in, please?”

The door opens and all the people who were ordered out return and get back to work as I stand there, just feeling… stunned.

I turn and leave, still clutching the business card for the mortuary, push my way past the still-arguing partners, and go into my office. Eileen is standing in the middle of the room behind a dollie stacked with boxes. “These are all your personal things. And don’t worry about me. Your mother is hiring me over at her company.”

I blink three times. “My mother has a company?”

“A real-estate business, apparently. I never knew.”

“Me either.”

“Well.” She shrugs. “It was a good offer. So I’m not unhappy about it. Do you want some help to your car?”

“Don’t you think this is weird?”