Mike:I’m not giving you shit until you provide proof.
I set the chess table down and followed the girls down the hallway.
“Come see our room,” they insisted, grabbing my hands.
I passed by the master door, barely daring to breathe. But the door was open.
“And furthermore,” Belle yelled at Greg while he stood at the dresser, inspecting his watch collection, “the fact that you thought I wasn’t going to find out is the most insulting part of it.”
“Please,” Greg said. “You shot yourself in the foot when you had all those senior citizens move in here. All I have to do is send my brothers to a few of those crackpot community building events you’re hosting, and the old bats are going to be eating out of my hand.”
Greg turned and gazed at Belle coldly. “You’re going to learn the hard way that just having one development doesn’t make you a power player.”
“And you’re going to learn—or rather not learn—not to screw with me.”
The corner of Greg’s mouth quirked. “Well…”
Belle grabbed him by the tie, shaking him slightly. Greg’s mouth parted.
She leaned in close to him then spat, “Don’t ever think that’s happening again. I wish I’d never met you.” Then she adjusted her handbag and stalked out.
I plastered myself against the wall.
“Bye, Ms. Belle!” my sisters chorused.
Belle gave them a small smile over her shoulder. “Make sure you keep Greg on his toes.”
The fury wafted off my brother, rolling out into the hallway from the master. I knew how awful he could be to be around when he was in this kind of state. I inched toward the front door.
“Beck!” he barked. “Don’t think I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m just here to—”
Greg appeared in the bedroom doorway, eyes cold. I swallowed. For a moment, Greg looked eerily like our father, especially when he was in a rage.
“I’m just leaving. Was grabbing my coatrack.”
“You better not say anything about this to anyone,” he threatened.
“I, er…”
At that moment, Greg’s phone went off like a basketball buzzer.
“I might have been misled by our sisters,” I admitted.
Greg picked up the phone, and his anger rose by several orders of magnitude.
“You—” He could barely get the words out.
“We’re all just very concerned about our favorite brother,” I said, trying to back away slowly.
“You owe me,” Greg spat, rounding on me. “I will have this tower. You are going to go parade around the gym, one of those ridiculous yoga classes, and the pool and have all of those horny seniors eating out of your hands. Do you understand me? Or you’re done.”
Tessand the girls were having an impromptu picnic when I returned with the coatrack and the chess table. They were sitting in the living room under a god-awful painting that looked like some sort of thrift store reject. Tess must have brought it.
Typical. I don’t know why you were fantasizing about her.
Once this was over, I was finding a real assistant—a better assistant—one who was professional and organized and not messy.
