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“I’m really not sure, actually. Obviously, Dad ranted and raved before he set out to ambush you at work the other day. But when he came home, he was pleased. And we both know a pleased Stan does not bode well.”
I frown. “What are you doing at their house?” Liz has her own apartment while she finishes grad school. But whereas I stayed gone after I left, Liz often spends her weekends at home. Stan’s words about Liz being devastated if cut off echo in my mind.
“Mom and I are going to a charity lunch tomorrow. I finally got her to branch out and donate to the children’s art project. Dad, of course, said it was nonsense, but I think it’s important that underprivileged kids have access to art.” Her passion comes through in her voice, and I smile. “Plus, it’s a great opportunity to spy on Dad for you. Show some appreciation for my sacrifice, why don’t you?”
I really freaking love my sister. “I’ll buy you a pony.”
She laughs, which has me thinking of Campbell. They both have first-rate laughs.
“No need for a pony, bro. But you could spare a wad of cash for the children’s art project as well.”
“That is more than doable.”
“Sweet.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, the humor is missing from her voice. “Just know that even though Dad is happy, he isn’t.”
“When is he ever?”
“That’s just it.” It’s her turn to sigh. “I just… don’t you ever want to fix things? Have us be a normal, happy family?”
Damn it. I close my eyes and sigh. “You know that won’t happen, Liz. It would take more than just us wanting that. We can’t change him.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Another pause. “Maybe instead of the check for the children’s charity you could do me a favor and try to get Thomas out to dinner sometime? Now that he isn’t heir apparent, maybe he’ll be less of a douche.”
Liz’s eternal optimism is something I cherish about her. I do. But sometimes even she doesn’t know a lost cause, even when it grew up with her. So I do the only thing I can think of—I answer her without answering her. “You would keep my money from the children just so you could go to dinner?” I deepen my voice and scold, “For shame, Liz. For shame.”
She giggles, as I hoped. “I was actually hoping you’d spoil me like you usually do and give the charity their check and go make the dinner happen.”
“You can consider the check in the mail.”
She doesn’t bring up Thomas and dinner again, thankfully.
After filling me in on school, friends, and her dating life (at which I enjoy making fun of the millennial, tight-jeans-wearing hipsters she dates), Liz says goodbye, and we hang up.
Before I can even put my phone down, it lights up again, blaring the standard phone setting ringtone. Thomas. First the office and now my personal number. Which I don’t recall ever giving him. The fact that he doesn’t have his own ringtone shows how little I think of him. For a second, I think of Liz and her belief that one day, we’ll all get along. That maybe Thomas and I can one day look back on all the animosity of our childhood and laugh.
Then I get real and silence the call.
As if sensing my morose mood, Mike the Sphynx jumps onto my lap, his sharp claws making sure my dick is incapable of sprouting wood anytime soon.
“Fuck,” I gasp as he settles down, his wrinkly skin covered in one of the cat shirts I got him. Buffalo plaid flannel. Thought I’d try to butch him up a bit, the poor dude. I’d planned on getting him studded leather but decided that would scream more Village People than badass. Plus, flannel is warmer for the little bag of skin.
My head falls back on the top of the couch, and I close my eyes. The day started with such promise. And yet here I am, on my couch, alone, with an injured dick, petting my hairless pussy.
Awesome.
11
BELL
If you do something as ill-advised as getting yourself off on your new client’s trousers, you’d think you’d have a hard time sleeping.
Not me.
I woke up refreshed and satisfied before embarrassment and shame brought me back to reality. The combined feelings brought on a sense of déjà vu.
I pushed those feelings down, ordered room service, and worked remotely from my hotel room like a coward. I also put the Do Not Disturb sign on my door and called the front desk to have them send all my calls to voicemail.
I was mad at myself. I knew better. A woman makes one misstep, opens herself up for any ridicule, and she loses all credibility in business. It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. But it is what it is. My past is proof of that. A past that I thought I’d put behind me.
