Page 146 of Gold Rush

“Thanks.” I tilt my glass at him before draining the inch of scotch left.

The brunette bartender comes over to take Perry’s order. He orders a beer, which surprises me. I’ve only ever seen him drink water before. It was probably insensitive to invite him to a bar, but I’m not known for consideration. I don’t know what I’m known for. I’ve squandered so many opportunities.

After grabbing Perry his beer, the bartender asks if I want anything else. I request a refill, avoiding the view her low-cut top offers. She’s flirted repeatedly since I arrived an hour ago, and I don’t care. I don’t feel any compulsion to flirt back, to make her laugh or smile, much less touch her. I can’t remember when I felt that compulsion last.

“You been here before?” Perry asks, glancing around the bar.

“Yeah. I come here a lot. They do pints half off on nights the Yankees play.”

Perry’s eyebrows rise before he sips his beer. “I wouldn’t have thought that was a selling point for you.”

Because I’m rich, he means.

“My dad cut me off. Well, I cut him off because he kept threatening to cut me off. But, yeah, I’m living off my salary, same as you.”

“Minus the student loan payments.”

“Minus the student loan payments,” I acknowledge.

“That’s big … with your dad. You guys always seemed … analogous.”

I snort. “You serious?”

“Well, yeah. You golf and drink scotch and go to fancy parties.”

“We argue all the time. I’m a perennial disappointment to Julian. He thinks I’m a hapless idiot who would be nowhere without his money.”

Perry appears genuinely surprised. “It’s never seemed that way to me. Yeah, he’s a little image-obsessed, but he talks about you all the time. You were lacrosse captain, you aced the SATs, you went backpacking across Europe, you graduated summa cum laude from law school, you got hired by Locke, Grey, and Lee. I don’t know any of that because you told me.”

I swallow more scotch. “He’s bragging. He pays selective attention to what might make him look like a good father.”

“Maybe. But you brag about things you’re proud of. And he has to pay attention to everything to be selective.”

“You’re defending him?”

“My dad hates that I moved to New York. He told me law school was a waste of time and money, that there were a dozen other careers that were more fulfilling and less status-centered. My parents argued up until the day they got divorced, but my dad only moved a block away and still goes over there every weekend to mow the grass. Won’t admit he messed up or move on. My dad isn’t perfect. Julian isn’t perfect.” Perry shrugs. “Who is?”

I’m totally taken aback. I figured I’d offered Perry a prime opportunity to rag on my father, who’s always treated him with stiff politeness that heavily influenced my own aloof treatment of my cousin. I also had no idea about any of what he just shared, aside from his parents’ divorce.

“So, you think I should unblock him?”

“You blocked him?” Perry smiles. “I figured you meant cutting him off in a less literal sense.”

“Nope. Very literal.”

“What made you decide to do that? Based on what you’re saying, it sounds like it’s been contentious for a while.”

“I, uh …” It sounds stupid when I say it aloud, but I tell him the truth. “I was mad he didn’t show up for a dinner with Rory. He said we’d reschedule, if we were still together, and I … snapped. Dating her was supposed to …”

Perry waits while I sip more scotch, then asks, “Was supposed to what?”

I sigh. “I was supposed to get my trust fund at twenty-two. Then my dad changed it to after I went to law school. Then he changed it to after I got engaged. He doesn’t owe me the money—it’s his. But he’d told me, over and over again, that I’d get it. I made plans predicated on receiving it. So, I asked Rory to pretend to be my fiancée. Except I told my dad to fuck off before we got to that stage. And I didn’t tell Rory there was no money anymore until after she told her entire family we were getting married.”

“Shit. That’s …”

“Insane? Absurd? Messy?”

“Pretty much,” he agrees.