He sighed. “Let’s not do this. I’m sorry I—”
“Like mother like daughter, Beau, think about that. Her mom slept with your dad knowing he had us back home. The girl’s a leech, it’s in her blood, and she’s known from the start you were headed for success. That money’s for family only—”
“Enough,” he snapped. “She is my family. And she’s yours too.”
“Not for a goddamn second, never was.”
“Just until her inheritance ran out, right? Then you had no use for her anymore.”
“You always take her side.” She panted slightly. “I don’t want to get into it. I’m not feeling well.” She coughed unconvincingly into the receiver. “Florida. That’s where I want to be. With my sister.”
“Florida,” Beau said, taking a breath. “Fine. Make the arrangements this weekend, and I’ll write the check.”
“Thank you, honey. I love you. I’m still in shock—I know you told me this was going to happen, but it’s a lot to take in.”
Beau pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I should go lie down, though. I love you.”
“Call me when you know more.”
Beau hung up the phone. It occurred to him she didn’t have to make the arrangements if she didn’t want to, and neither did he. He definitely didn’t want to. He’dstart interviewing secretaries first chance he got, and then it’d be someone else’s problem.
Beau picked out two more quarters and punched in the number to his landline.
“Can I pick out my yacht yet?” Brigitte answered, her flowing French accent distinctly different from his mom’s harsh tone. “Ibiza is calling my name.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Who else would be calling?”
“Good point.”
“So,” she urged, “how’d it go?”
“It went. Holy shit did it went.”
She laughed joyously into the phone. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Remember, I told you, the night you started working on this—I said, this is the golden one, Beau. I just knew—listen, meet me on the corner of Sunset and La Cienega. We need drinks.”
“Brigitte, wait,” he said before she could hang up.
“Oui.”
“Don’t walk tonight. I’ll get your cab.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
The line clicked. Beau hung up too, flagged down a taxi and took off for Sunset Boulevard.
3
Brigitte grabbed Beau’s wrist, forcing his drink in the air. She raised hers with him. “To success,” she said. “You’ve earned it. You deserve it. And you’re going toownit.” She clinked their glasses before downing her shot.
Beau, on the other hand, held his Macallan Cask Strength under his nose, let the pungent aroma sink in. It was a top-tier single malt, and he’d been salivating over it since he’d learned of its existence. Tonight would be his first taste. He just hoped his credit card would go through when the bar closed out his tab.
He took a sip, savoring its caramel-vanilla smoothness, the liquor so rich, he had to close his eyes when he swallowed.
“How about that chick?” Brigitte asked.
