10
LACHLAN
My surviving art collection sold within a week. I had enough to pay off the investors, therefore satisfying the SEC and Varela in one smooth transaction.
The value of nostalgia proved higher, however, making for a hollow victory. That collection had been my grandfather’s passion.
Despite the big turnover of cash, for the first time in my life, I was broke. I didn’t even have enough money to make money. But I’d had my eye on an affordable-housing development that ticked all the boxes, fulfilling my desire to help those in need while bolstering Peace Holding’s finances. I couldn’t wait for the insurance money because the theft of the Pollocks was still under investigation.
The thought of selling the apartment turned me upside down. It held special memories. I’d fallen in love with Miranda there, and I’d been her first. I hadn’t even washed the sheets since she left. Her sweet perfume was the last thing I smelled every night before falling asleep. I’d been spending most of my time there to avoid Tamara, who was hanging around the estate like a bad smell.
My phone buzzed with a text. Gig tonight. $300. Interested? R&B covers.
I answered, Count me in.
He replied, There’s plenty more for a hot drummer like you. Ready to work seven nights?
Three hundred bucks used to be my breakfast bill.
I answered, Sure thing. Thanks, buddy.
The offer had come more quickly than expected. I’d contacted a few college pals I used to jam with, asking about gigs. A few hundred dollars here and there would at least stall the sale of my apartment, even though it wouldn’t go far enough to cover Tamara’s massive credit card bills. The sale of the remaining Pollock would solve my money issues, but it needed to be authenticated. I didn’t know what the holdup was, and I couldn’t wait for that as the bills mounted.
I headed back to the estate to get some practice on the bigger drumkit. Playing softly on pads in the penthouse may have worked for jazz but not for rock.
Britney met me at the entrance just as I was turning the doorknob.
“We’re out of the shit. That sale fixed everything.”
“For now.” I exhaled. “What about Tammy’s fucking bills? And why the hell are we paying off her credit cards?”
“Hello… she’s married to your father. I’ve already confronted Tammy about her excessive spending.”
“I can imagine her fucking response.” I shook my head. The shower debacle had only happened a few weeks ago, but it felt like years.
I regretted not going to the authorities, but the media would have turned it into a soap opera. And Tamara, with her B-grade acting skills, would have told the world I’d tried to rape her.
“I visited Clarke earlier,” Britney said. “He wants to see you. I don’t think he’s going to last.”
I kept walking.
“You need to see him.” Britney followed me.
I nodded. Of course, I would go and see him.
From the living room, I heard Tamara yelling at Sherry in the kitchen. In the middle of her tirade, she turned, and seeing me there, she asked, “How dare you ask Sherry to take my son to that fucking witch’s class?”
Heat flushed through my body. “That’s my mother you’re talking about. She’s got more class in one atom of her DNA than your entire common family put together. So shut the fuck up.”
Her plumped lips twitched into a smile. “Mm… Is that testosterone I smell?”
I rolled my eyes at Sherry. “Can you give us a moment?”
After the nanny left, I said, “Mannie’s the happiest I’ve seen him. You’re rarely here. So why would you give a shit?”
“Because as his mother, I make the rules.”
“Then you should show some interest in him.”