Hawthorne won’t release the bottle of scotch.
Faulkner sneers, “Some women go for older men.”
I finally wrestle the bottle from Hawthorne, who mutters, “Whatever.”
“…Or because she’s engaged,” I say.
“Christ help me.”
Fitz pours Salinger more scotch.
“It’s because she’ll get fired if she fucks a client. However, I bet,” I say, taking a sip of the burning scotch—neat. No ice. Just brown liquor in a cup—“that she does end up caving. I’m kind of irresistible like that. Also, she makes terrible decisions when it comes to men.” I peer into the glass.
“Did you get the cheap stuff, Sally?” I’m pushing him, itching for a fight.
I should have just beaten the shit out of Brock when I had the chance. Blown off some steam.
Jenna is not your girlfriend,I remind myself.Don’t fight her battles.
Salinger doesn’t take the bait.
“Yes, I did, because I’m not staying long. I left Isaac with Mandy.”
“Who died and made you a responsible father?”
“I’m not doing this,” Salinger says in a clipped tone, “because I’m trying to father you. You are fucking with billions of my dollars because you are spiraling out of control. And someone take that glass away from him.”
I drain it before Hawthorne slaps it out of my hand.
“Clean up your act, McCarthy. I can and will have you ousted from your own company if you don’t grow up.”
“And he’ll put me in charge.” Faulkner smirks.
“Turd.”
Faulkner curses as I launch myself across the table at him.
“The oysters!” Fitz grabs the platter as I slug Faulkner in the ribs.
Salinger grabs me in a headlock.
“That’smy company!” I struggle, but he wrestles me down.
“Then act like you’re a CEO.” Salinger thumps me against the wall. “You’ve been fired by four therapists, three life coaches, two PR firms—”
“And a partridge in a pear tree.”
My brother’s palm slams close to my head.
Hawthorne makes a concerned noise.
“He’s fucking with your money too,” Salinger snaps as he shoves me down in an empty chair. “Eat your dinner, then go home.”
I stand up just to spite him and go to the window.
Just in time to see Jenna walk out loaded down with enough food to feed a family of ten. As she’s waiting for the valet, she hands a container to a rough-looking older man pushing a shopping cart, who gives her a little bow of thanks.
“Well, you’ll have to give me a ride, then. My driver just left without me. And,” I say, “I need to stop at a bookstore first.”
