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“Thomas?” Suddenly, Thomas talking to Bell downstairs takes on new meaning. Maybe I should have gone over and confronted him.
“That’s right. It just took him seeing you with that tramp to see the light.” He sneers. “I can’t believe you introduced that whore to your mother.”
“Leave Bell out of this.” I have to consciously unclench my fists.
“I would, if you hadn’t given that woman firing privileges. It’s obvious you’re being led around by your dick.” Stan snorts. “Thomas may have had doubts, but he’s realized his duty. As firstborn son, he has the right to run this company.” He points a meaty finger at me. “You don’t.”
As archaic as it is, Stan is right. The by-laws state that another family member/shareholder can take over only if the firstborn turns over the reins willingly. Thomas had, verbally, but, since I don’t like talking to him, I never asked him to put it in writing. Technically, Thomas can take over again.
Stan’s face is grotesque with triumph. Me? I’m just tired of this merry-go-round our father has had us Moore kids on from day one. “Why?”
“Thomas is the first—”
“No. Not that.” I roll my eyes. “I understand by-laws.” I walk over to my desk and pick up the cracked family portrait. “I want to know why you hate me so much.”
My father’s smile slips. “Excuse me?”
I catch his eyes with mine. “You heard me.”
His eyes narrow, like he’s trying to figure out my angle. I really don’t have one. I just want to know. It’s something I’ve been afraid to ask my whole life.
He dismisses my question with a wave of his hand. “Don’t be so sentimental.”
“Why?” I slam down the picture, the glass cracking further.
Possibly shocked by my rare burst of anger toward him, he remains silent.
Annoyed, I state my case. No jokes, no self-deprecating humor. Just the facts. “I’m a self-made man. I didn’t take any of your money. I earned what I needed and invested in start-ups and applications and became a billionaire in my own right. Something neither you nor Thomas ever did.”
“You’re right.” A sneer. “Thomas or I would never get into porn.”
His words sound pat, rehearsed. Like he’s almost glad I created Pick a Dick, because that one application gave him the right to hate me. But there has to be more. “You always bring that up, but we both know that isn’t why you look down on my success. That application is a small part of what I’ve done over the years.” I sort through my thoughts, trying to find the missing piece. “It has to be something else. You’ve hated me ever since I can remember. Why?”
“Why does there have to be a why? You were a sniveling, rotten boy. Always misbehaving. And look at you, you’re still sniveling.”
“No.” I shake my head, strangely calm. “That’s not it. I mean, I may have misbehaved, but I was on the honor roll, a varsity athlete, earned academic scholarships. Just like Thomas.”
His face turns red. “You’re nothing like Thomas.”
“I guess not.” I shrug. “Though I did bring this company back from the brink of layoffs and bankruptcy. Something your poor management skills led us to, and Thomas didn’t even want to try to fix.” Stan’s face is almost purple now. “I turned this company around. I saved the Moore legacy.” My words come hard and fast. “So why do you hate me?”
Stan slams his hand down on an empty shelf as he yells, “Because you were born.”
The blow of his words has me taking a step back like he hit me and not the bookcase. “What?”
Like I unlocked the floodgates, Stan paces in front of me, spewing angrily. “Your mother and I had a deal. A deal she agreed to. One kid. One! Just enough to ensure the legacy, but not any more, so I wouldn’t have to divide up the shares.” He looks up, his eyes narrowing. “But she lied. She tricked me and got pregnant with you.”
“How is that—”
“She didn’t even tell me she was pregnant until it was too late to get rid of you.”
Bile climbs up my throat.
“I checked… you know. But you’re mine. The DNA test was conclusive.” He shakes his head in disgust. “I had to give you the shares as per the terms of the trust.”
We’re silent for a while. After all that, you’d think I’d regret asking the question. But I don’t.
Now I know for sure that there’s nothing I can do to prove myself to this man. It’s fucked up, his reasons are definitely fucked up, but it’s freeing to finally know.
