Because apparently I am running the world’s worst bed-and-breakfast.
“Look, Mom,” I said. “You can stay here for a few days until you find a room to sublet.”
“You’re going to make me sublet?” she screeched. “How will it look if I go to the papers and tell everyone that my own son, who has more money than he knows what to do with, is abandoning his own mother?”
Fuck.
“Fine,” I snarled, “you can live here.”
She wrapped her arms around me. “My precious baby!”
Ding dong!
“The inn is closed!” the parrot squawked, hopping over to the front door.
I disentangled my mother to go answer it.
“Why do you still have that hussy and her menagerie here?” my father demanded when I opened the door.
“Hi, Dad. It’s great to see you,” I deadpanned as the parrot threw a fit at my feet. He attacked my father’s shoes, gnawing at the imported Italian leather.
“Stranger danger!”
“I’m concerned about your mental health, boy,” my father boomed, pushing past me into the apartment, dragging several suitcases behind him.
“Are you going on a trip?” I asked.
“I’ve fallen into a bad spot,” he said, setting the suitcases and his laptop bag in front of me. “Go put those in one of the spare bedrooms. I’ll be staying here for a while.”
He headed for the wet bar to make himself a drink then cursed when he saw my mother sprawled on the couch.
“Get out!” my mom screamed, hurling one of her designer shoes at my father.
“Why is that harpy here?” my father demanded, turning to me. “Throw her out!”
“She doesn’t have anywhere to stay,” I explained.
“I will not stay here with her,” my father said, incensed, as my mom took off her other shoe.
“Then stay somewhere else,” I snapped.
“I will not,” my father thundered. “That bitch bled me dry for decades. You cost me millions, boy, and now I’m in a bad spot. I lost my safety net. You need to pay me back for everything I’ve done for you. If you hadn’t been born, I’d be fine.”
“I was here first!” my mom screeched, which set the parrot off making police siren noises.
“Do something!” my parents yelled at me, furious.
“I have another meeting,” I said abruptly, turning on my heel and heading to the front door, feeling like a kid again when my parents would scream at each other during the drop-offs. I had always looked forward to being an adult where I wouldn’t have to deal with their anger, my dad’s guilt trips, and my mother’s disinterest.
Seems you can’t escape it after all.
48
Grace
“And finally,” Ivy said, near the end of our long morning meeting, “I just received a call from Ms. Frankel. She’s just gotten engaged.”
“She’s getting married again?” I asked.
