She’d skin me alive.
But I don’t care.
If I can’t stand right next to her,
I’ll pay the best men in the state to do it.
My mother won’t stop talking about Jade. It’s crazy how everything backfired on the both of us.
She stands in the hallway doorway, pearl necklace clutched in her manicured fingers like she’s auditioning for a soap opera.
“Leo,” she says, voice trembling with some mix of fake awe and fake concern, “is Jade… dating anyone now?”
I stare at her.
Stare and stare until she starts shifting, uncomfortable.
“Seriously?” I say. “This is your angle? Now you want me with Jade because it’sconvenient?”
She blinks. “I only meant?—”
“No, you meant you finally want to ride her fame.”
“Excuse me?”
“You want in on her reality show. You want your name in her orbit. You want the country club to whisper about you when you walk by.”
She steps back like I slapped her.
Her face pinches, ugly and sharp.
“You’re being ridiculous, Leo. I simply?—”
“You’re a joke, mother.”
Silence.
You could hear the snow melting outside.
Her eyes go cold.
Frostbitten.
Glassy.
“You don’t speak to me that way.”
“Oh? Watch me.”
“Leo—”
“Now that Jade’s famous, now that everyone wants to interview her, now that Netflix is fighting for her attention—you magically think she’s worthy of your son.”
I laugh.
It’s not a nice laugh.
“You don’t deserve her name in your mouth.”
