“No! We wouldn’t rather that at all. The firm wouldn’t have survived the last three years without you, man. You’ve given us the luxury of having two kids back-to-back. Not only do we owe you, but we want you as a partner.”
I know he means that, and I need to rein in my disappointment. And try not to strangle the next paparazzi who reaches out to me for comment. “Thanks.”
“We should be the ones thanking you.” Then he pauses. “I know Barclay never acknowledging your existence must have hurt and that Parker Emerson was never any sort of friend since he’s raking you over the coals in public, but Beth and I would never do that to you. Your sister knows what it’s like to be betrayed by someone she trusted and loved.”
From all accounts, our father was a raging asshole to all his children, but especially Bethany, throwing her under the bus to the feds when his Ponzi house-of-cards began to fall down. Yet she came back from that and found love with a man who had once made revenge against her his mission in life.
“It sucks.”
“She won’t turn her back on you. Neither will I. Just give this some time to die down.”
Like Maxon’s, Clint’s response is perfectly rational. It’s smart, measured, and tactical, too.
But this whole situation—and my phone now rattling endlessly—makes me rage.
Still, I can’t be angry with my family. They could have dropped me altogether, abandoned me the way our biological father did. The way Hadley did. Instead, they’re sticking by me. I just need to be a big boy, deal with my disappointment, and make lemonade out of lemons.
The burning for revenge that dimmed while I was with Corinne last night sparks to red-hot life again.
“Yeah,” I assure him. “Just let me know when you and Bethany are ready to proceed.”
“It won’t be long, just until things are quieter so our clients will be excited about the announcement. Holding off works in our favor, anyway. The lawyers haven’t quite finished with the paperwork yet. One is getting married next weekend, so this will give him more time. I’d rather have a good job than a rushed job.”
More logic I can’t argue with. “Sure. I think I’ll work remotely today, unless you and Bethany have an objection.”
“No, it’s probably wise. Besides, you’re a partner in all but name, man. You make your own decisions. And we’ll be in the office to cover things shortly. Just lie low today. And a word of advice? Avoid social media and shit stirrers like TMZ. Apparently they never heard that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
Most are cowards hiding behind their keyboards, pretending they’re shining a light on society’s wrongs. It’s utter bullshit and I don’t need more negativity in my life. “Will do.”
“Talk to you later.”
“Absolutely.”
“See you at Sunday brunch?” Clint, like Maxon, seems determined to make sure I still feel like part of the family.
It’s nice to be wanted…but if it wasn’t for the happy accident of having Barclay Reed’s blood running through my veins, I’d have none of these people in my life. Other than my high school friends, I can’t think of a single person left who loves me for me.
And now I sound like a pouting little bitch.
“I’ll be there,” I assure Clint.
We end the call. I resist the urge to hurl my phone against the wall—barely—and instead flop back on my bed to glare at the ceiling. Motherfucking Parker! Why won’t he get the hell out of my life? Oh, because he’s making a fortune off of bashing me and blaming me for his woes.
It’s freaking early, and after so little sleep, I should feel exhausted. Weirdly, I don’t, especially after a masochistic peek at Twitter. Yeah, I swore I wouldn’t look, but I need to understand the bullshit I’m up against.
It’s every bit as ugly as I suspected. Lots of comments about the apple not falling far from the tree since I’m just the latest in a string of Barclay Reed’s sharkish, money-hungry offspring. But I’m particularly vile because of how I abused and bullied poor Parker—totally unprovoked, of course—simply for malice.
Some people have the nerve to suggest it’s a good thing my mother is dead because she’d be ashamed if she could see me now. Even more egregious comments suggest she must not have been much of a mother if she raised an asshole like me.
Since I’ve long thought this platform is a cesspool of haters, I close it and peruse some popular financial sites and blogs. Unfortunately, the coverage about me there isn’t more positive. Oh, they included the fact that I seem to have the Reeds’ Midas touch in growing money, but that’s where the praise stops. Again, most drag my siblings through the mud with me, especially Bethany. I’ll give credit to the restrained few who point out that the media is only broadcasting one side of the story. But they’re waiting for me to comment. That’s not happening.