“Doubtful.”
“I understand you are feeling a loss of control, but when we get angry, we should take a deep breath, count to five, ask ourselves if maybe we aren’t just tired and need better sleep hygiene. We need to ask ourselves, are we hungry? Maybe we need to lay down in the wellness room.”
“I want her gone.” I slam my hand on the desk. “I’m not listening to this shit for the next week or whatever.”
“The ten-step plan has a six-week timeline.”
My older brother and I face off, ignoring her.
“In the span of a week”—my brother’s voice thunders—“you have lost your driver’s license, physically attacked a beloved citizen unprovoked, and aired dirty laundry about a board member that should have been handled internally.”
“Denise is a cunt who was funneling charity money so that Joseph could fund his hamster furry kink. Their incompetence is not my problem.”
“You have yet to produce evidence.”
“I have evidence.”
“Legally procured, court-admissible evidence.”
“Since when do you care about doing things the right way? Where’d you lose your balls at?” I ask.
Salinger grabs the collar of my shirt and shakes me roughly. For a second, it’s like he’s our father and I’m six again.
I grab his wrist, his platinum watch icy under my hand.
Salinger backs off a notch, loosening his grip, but he’s still got me half out of my seat. “You are fucking with my money.” His voice is low. “Now go do what she says.”
I stare straight ahead to the wall past his head.
He throws me back into my chair. “I am older. That makes me literally better than you, stronger than you, and meaner than you. Do not fuck with me.”
“There’s one fun thing on this list!” Jenna says brightly, trying to cut the tension between us. “That you can look forward to.”
She’s waiting for me to exclaim “What could it be?” I stare ahead mulishly.
“Guess!” She bounces up on the balls of her feet.
“I won’t.”
“You’re going to get a girlfriend!”
Salinger barks out a laugh.
“You mean you?” I snap at Jenna.
She’s taken aback. “Uh, well, no,” she stammers. “I have a boyfriend. Fiancé. We’re engaged. But I mean, I guess I should ask… Are you seeing anyone?” There’s more paper shuffling. “I didn’t see anyone on social media.”
“I’m seeing you.” I let my voice drop like we’re in the bedroom and I’m telling her to take off her skirt.
She blushes just at the collar of her blouse.
Gotcha.
“I mean anyone that could pop up with an STD or a baby.”
“No.”
“Shocking.” Salinger snorts and heads for the door.
