“I think you wrote some movies years ago, isn’t that right?” Baptist tilts his head to the side. “How are things now?”
Dad’s smile slips and I can tell he’s struggling with his rage. He isn’t used to being challenged by anyone remotely in the industry, and it must kill him to hear Baptist so casually dismiss him like that. Baptist steps forward, hands balled into fists, and I think we’re about ten seconds away from an actual fight.
“Baptist,” I say quickly, “why don’t you go check on Max for me?”
He hesitates and looks back at me. “Are you sure?”
“Please.”
He releases a soft frustrated grunt and moves toward the hallway. My father watches him, sneering, until my bedroom door opens and closes.
I let out a relieved breath and move away from the door, gesturing at it. “Dad. Please go.”
“You really are pathetic, aren’t you? Working with a second-rate nobody like Baptist Thompkins. He’s nothing more than Ansell Drake’s bag man and yet here you are, treating him like he’s anywhere near your level. You’re a goddamn Webb, Blair. Start acting like it.”
“Get the fuck out of my apartment,” I snap at him, rage getting the better of me, and he grins in response.
“That’s what I thought. Still the emotional, impulsive girl you always were.”
I could scream. The bastard baits me over and over into losing my temper and when I finally break, he uses it as a bludgeon against me. But at least he walks to the door, sneering viciously the whole time. He pauses before he leaves, looking at me again with those cold, calculating eyes.
“Stop working with Tony Cowan. I doubt you’ll do it for my sake, but maybe you’ll do it for your own. He’s going to destroy you both and when he does, I won’t be there to pick up the pieces. Listen to my warning now before it’s too late.”
“Leave.”
He shakes his head and steps into the hall.
I slam the door shut before he has a chance to turn around and get the last word. I bolt it and stand there, breathing hard, trying to get myself together.
What the hell was that? Did Dad really come out here to check up on Max, or was that pretext for bugging me about working with Cowan?
I know Dad wants to monitor my career in this industry. He thinks that whatever I do will reflect back on him, and that’s just how insecure he’s become. If my father could only keep his mouth shut, do his job, and feel happy about it, his film legacy would already be cemented. Instead, he’s too much of a child to let anything go, and I’m worried he’s going to torch my first real shot at doing something important out of sheer jealousy.
It’s pathetic. My own father wants to ruin me because of his stupid ego.
“You okay?”
I jump a little and press my hand against my chest. Baptist is leaning against the wall, watching me with a deep frown.
“Fine,” I say quickly. “Sorry. I panicked when I texted you.”
“It’s all right, I’m not far.” He glances over his shoulder. “Your brother seems cool.”
“He had a hard day.”
“Punched a homophobe bully in the nose. I’d say he did great.”
I laugh once. “He told you that? I had to drag it out of him.”
“I’m charming like that.” He shakes his head. “What the fuck was your dad doing here?”
“He just showed up to tell me not to work with Cowan.”
Baptist’s eyebrows raise straight up. He gives me a long, meaningful look, and pushes off the wall, moving past me into the kitchen where he pours himself a drink without asking. He throws it back and sighs as I stand in the doorway, watching him.
“Are you going to listen?” he finally asks. The fact that he has to say it bothers me, like I’m my father’s lapdog or something.
I don’t jump when my old man commands it.