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“I think it’s actually going to be quite an adjustment,” Trey replies politely, despite the snide nature of his remark. “I don’t think it’s actually hit me yet. It’s not like I was poor before this happened, but I am definitely being thrust into a whole new world.”
“I’m sure you will adjust just fine, sir,” Officer Martello says with a chuckle. “You’ll have to forgive Detective Kelly. He has always had it in for the one-percenters.”
“Honestly, so have I,” Trey replies. “I don’t have very much in common with most of them.”
After they leave, Trey turns his back to the door, leaning back against it. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, looking up at the ceiling.
“Don’t worry, Trey, you’ve got this,” I assure him while slipping my arms around his waist. “You handled them like a seasoned pro. I was impressed.”
Chapter 19
Late the following afternoon
Trey
Even though it delayed us for several hours, I’m glad we decided to take Dad’s corporate jet to Monaco. It seemed foolish to leave a brand new Gulfstream G650 standing idle. I’ll have to pay the corporation back for the crew and fuel, but that’s a small price to pay for first class luxury.
The meeting with the attorneys this morning had a few interesting twists, but nothing in Dad’s will had been changed since right after the divorce. That means that all of his stock will be placed into a trust for Tyler and me. Over the next twenty years we will gain control of the stock and voting rights, but for now we will only receive the quarterly dividend payments.
The remainder of his estate will be split evenly between the two of us as well. It was a smart move for Dad to protect the stock and allow us to gain control over time. Neither Tyler nor I have managed our inheritance from Papa very well. Besides, our first quarterly dividend payment is only about three weeks away and it will be more than four times as much as our entire inheritance from Papa. So, neither of us have anything to bitch about.
“I still can’t believe Dad is gone.” The words tumble from my mouth as the thought strikes me. When my phone rang yesterday afternoon, part of me still expected to see his name.
“I’ll bet there will be times when you are going to miss him,” Mandy says in that soothing voice of hers.
“I have missed him for years,” I confess, reflecting on how our relationship had changed back when I was just a kid.
“What do you mean?” she asks, confused by my statement.
“Dad missed our eighth birthday party.” I clear my throat, surprised by the sudden upheaval of emotions. “It was the day Tyler and I realized that we were no longer his priority.”
“Because he was working instead?”
“Yeah, he was closing a big deal, so he couldn’t make it to our party. But he had promised to call us when he finished,” I tell her, recalling every detail of that day. “We waited for him until an hour past our bedtime, but we never got a call.”
“Ouch. That’s rough.” Mandy runs her fingers through my hair; soothing me in the same exact way Mom had done that night.
“Things were never the same after that,” I continue. “Even when he was home, he would be in his office returning phone calls or working on the computer. Once we were teenagers, he would call each of us in there for a stern talk every Sunday afternoon. It gave us a chance to review our mistakes from the previous week.” I think back to how much I used to dread Sundays. “My talk always revolved around the fact that I didn’t have straight A’s or enough extra curricular activities,” I add.
“You must have had pretty decent grades,” Mandy says with an air of confidence in her voice.
“I graduated as an honor student with a 3.92 GPA overall.” I shrug.
“Really? And that wasn’t good enough?” she gasps. “That’s better than mine.”
“No, because Dad was the valedictorian of his class.” I explain. “Nothing was ever good enough. The only compliments that I ever heard from him were directed toward Tyler.” I shake my head in bewilderment. “When he became Captain of the football team, it was Dad’s proudest moment. You would’ve thought he had won the noble prize or something.”
“He obviously had higher expectations for you,” Mandy postulates, in an attempt to make me feel better about the past.
“He expected me to be him, but I’m nothing like him,” I explain, still frustrated by the notion. “I’m a lot more like Papa. He always treated people right.”
