Aaron smiles and looks down. “That was the official explanation. The truth is the writers wanted a pay raise, and I denied it. There was a head-to-head, and they refused to write the new episodes until they had a salary adjustment. I dug my heels in, not wanting to give in to their threats. Until Dad came to my office shouting and slamming the costs of those production delays in my face. It was twice as much as the salary increase they were asking for. I was inexperienced, I wanted to have a reputation for never giving in, and I completely lost sight of the big picture. I couldn’t make up for that mistake, but I learned to look at the whole context and apologize.”
I had no idea that Aaron could make such an error of judgment, and in some ways, it’s encouraging to hear it from him. Knowing my brother makes mistakes makes me feel like less of a failure.
“So if you think I’ve always had the easy life and the ready answers, think again,” he says, standing up and picking up the pizza and Chinese takeout boxes scattered on the table. “And for Pete’s sake, go take a shower. You stink.”
I shake my head and smile. It’s the first sincere smile I’ve been able to manage in weeks, and it’s strange that it comes from an interaction with my brother.
When I leave the bathroom, showered and fully dressed, I find my brother, without his jacket, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, cleaning my house. If I weren’t so shocked by the sight, I’d pick up my phone and make a video of him scrubbing the coffee table with a sponge, cursing the stains that won’t go away. It would go viral and make me rich instantly.
“Finally, you’re properly dressed. Should we go out for lunch?”
“Yes, because if I stay here watching you clean, I’ll end up gauging my eyes out.”
Aaron gives me a half-smile as he fixes his shirt and jacket. “It’s not my fault you live in a pigsty.”
I roll my eyes and wave him out the door.
The restaurant Aaron chooses is Mandalay because he says the best way to get noticed by clients is to end up on the front pages of newspapers. I don’t know if it’s true, but after the numerous awards won by the Jailbirds’ documentary, a meeting between the two of us will surely make people talk. Everyone will wonder if there’s some other project in the works besides the documentary still getting excellent ratings on streaming platforms. No paparazzi are stationed outside the door, but the people who matter are sitting here, at these tables. I count at least three producers with five famous actors while the hostess accompanies us to our table. I don’t miss the interested glances. By tonight the bigwigs in the industry will talk about this meeting, putting a bit of excitement around our names.
“Our father is not going to file a complaint for your aggression.” Aaron gets straight to the point as soon as we finish ordering.
Now I understand his urgency to go out for lunch. He wanted to be in a public place to prevent me from killing him with my bare hands. He doesn’t know that my father is at the bottom of the list of worries keeping me awake at night.
“He can sue me. I don’t care.” Although I breathe a sigh of relief because a lawsuit for assault is something I don’t need right now.
“No, trust me. It’s as if you’ve given him a gift. He told newspapers that he was the victim of an attempted kidnapping and robbery on his boat and is basking in the free publicity he’s getting from it. There are pictures of his bruises everywhere.” I notice a hint of disgust in his tone, even if his face remains as cool as it usually is in public.
I shake my head. Only my father would fake that kind of thing to gain something. “Did he unleash a manhunt?”
“As far as I know, he hasn’t gone so far as to involve the police in a fake attack,” he confirms.
Surely they must have asked some questions since they can’t just overlook something so serious, but he probably found a way to make some donations and covered it up.
“But you’re not telling me this just to reassure me, right?”
My brother does nothing by chance. Since there were no repercussions for me, he had no reason to fly here to tell me about it. There’s something else he wants to talk to me about.
“He’s meeting with lawyers to use this incident to get his hands on your trust fund and make that money his own. Since it’s a joint account because of the clause to work for him, he wants to have your name removed altogether.”
I study Aaron’s unreadable face for a few moments; he’s trying to guess what my reaction will be, and I see him relax a bit when I smile.
“He can take that money and use it to light the fireplace in the dining room. Yes, I needed it, but now it’s too late and he can do whatever he wants.” And I mean it. It’s not something I say lightly. That money has only brought problems since I tried to get it back. The price for having it is way too high.
“It’s not fair. That fund is yours.”
I’m surprised by his reaction. He was never one to show his feelings, much less get angry for something unfair that happened to me. “He wants to use that money to put me on a leash. It was never really mine.”
Aaron looks down, though not out of shame. He consciously agreed to work for our father to keep his trust fund. He never made a secret of it. But he couldn’t understand why I didn’t do the same. He’s lucky because he really loves his work, but I would have felt suffocated in a job that I don’t like, employed by a man I hate. This is where we’ve always clashed.
The waitress brings us our lunch, and as soon as I put a spoonful of crab soup in my mouth, my brother decides it’s time to bring up one of the reasons for my unhappiness.
“Look, it’s time for you to get Emily back.”
I almost choke. Did he make a list of topics to infuriate me when he decided to drag me to this restaurant? I don’t want to talk about Emily and how she left my apartment, stomping on my pleas and my heart on her way out.
“You say it like she’s a package.”
Aaron shakes his head and smiles at my harsh tone. He knows that when I don’t want to talk about a topic, I put up an impenetrable wall.