For the baby’s sake, I hope that things will work out between the two of them, but to be quite honest, Darryl looks a tad squirrelly. I’d be astonished if he’s still around by the end of the calendar year.
But I keep my opinions to myself. Instead, I take another spoonful, trying not to slurp too loudly and earn a stink-eye from Great-Grandma.
My god—this soup is awful.
But it’s Great-Grandma’s favorite first course dish, so it’s regularly on the menu here at the Lannister family estate. I don’t get what all the hype is about. To me, it basically tastes like flavorless beans in plain watery broth. I’d never dare to say that out loud, though. Especially not right now.
My phone buzzes in the front pocket of my jeans. My heart jumps hopefully.A sale? Please be a sale…I sneak a peek at the screen of my device.
Nope. Not a sale.
My optimism deflates. I haven’t gotten one single purchase order in my online storefront since last Tuesday. My one-woman T-shirt business is hanging on by a thread. The expenses are piling up. I don’t know how much longer I can keep holding on.
But on the bright side, Idohave a new unread text message from my best friend, Alba.
Alba: Hey hun. Is family dinner almost over? What time do you think you’ll get here?
I suppress a groan.
I’m not getting out of here anytime soon. I’m afraid that this pregnancy drama is going to drag out the multi-course meal even longer. I have places to be tonight, and every minute sitting here feels like I’m losing hours off my life.
Unfortunately, I have one of those faces that does little to hide my feelings, so I’m sure my annoyance is on full display.But luckily for me, Josephine The Terror is too busy reading my cousin the riot act to notice my current resting bitch face.
I only come to these painful family dinners to play nice and keep up the family image.Why?
Trust fund.
The answer is my trust fund.
I turn 27 in just a few months, which means it’s almost time to collect on the lump sum that’s been promised to me. Correction—the lump sum that’sowedto me. I’d say I’veearnedevery damn penny that’s coming my way.
Sure. I sound like a spoiled brat, but I’m nothing like my cousins and half-sisters who are seated around this oversized dining table. For starters, I don’t plan to spend my inheritance on a yacht or a luxury penthouse or a dozen new pairs of designer shoes. My portion of the family fortune is going to go into investing in my T-shirt business.
I launched my little venture years ago, but without the proper equipment, storage and advertising that I need, I haven’t been able to get it off the ground. With my current setup, for every shirt I manage to sell, I’m only making pennies.
I have such big visions. I just need the funds.
The truth is, despite all her rough edges, I do love Great-Grandma Josephine. She’s a tough old broad who takes no crap. I admire that. But I don’t fit in here. Because to the rest of the family, I’m the outsider. The black sheep.And it’s a label I won’t ever be able to rebrand.
Because I can’t change what I am.My father’s affair baby.The everlasting reminder of my daddy dearest’s infidelity.
Hello. I’m Julissa Mei Lannister, and this is my villain origin story.
Kidding.
Sort of.
These fantastic little family dinners do nothing but fill me with food I can’t pronounce and remind me that I don’t belong here.
I’m so unlike my blonde, blue-eyed half-sisters that no one would ever fathom to guess we’re related. And not just becauseof the Japanese heritage I acquired from my mother. I have zero in common with these people, other than our shared dad.
I almost feel bad for looking forward to getting my cut of the Lannister riches. It doesn’t feel right to take anything from people who wouldn’t notice if I keeled over tonight. But I really, really need the money to get my business going.
History has already proven that I’m not cut out for the typical nine-to-five. I’ve lost track of how many different jobs I’ve burned through in the last few years. I just can’t stand all those power-tripping egos bossing me around, trying to give me shit, and treating me like I’m not worthy of the tiniest morsel of respect just because they sign my paycheck.
And it’s definitely in the best interest of my current boss that I get away from him ASAP. I just might accidentally uppercut Mr. Drummond the next time he makes some shitty suggestion about shortening the length of my work uniform.I can’t stand the man.
I’m sitting here, mentally planning out the perfect eff-you speech for the pervy, old bastard, when I hear Great-Grandma bark out the wordstrust fund.
