“You’re the one who always taught me at Rainier Investment to have a viable backup plan for your backup plan. Don’t let those good ol’ boys catch you on your back foot.”
“You’re right,” I grumble. “Fine. We’ll go to some rich divorcée mixers.”
“Ooh! Fancy parties!” Carolina waggles her eyebrows. “Are we finally doing spa day makeovers? Thank you, Jesus. We’re going to whip those toenails into shape. I’ll put you down for an everything wax.”
“This is just for Kathy.”
“We need to do them all together. Also, you need new underwear.”
“No, they’re fine,” I mumble around the pen as I make notes on my spreadsheet.
“Hair, facials—I’m putting that on your to-do list. Ooh! Let’s do a burlesque class!” Carolina shoves me aside to type. “We can all go lingerie shopping too.”
“My sister and I are not that close…”
“There’s that new shop that Brea from Wedding in the City opened. It’s all, like, fancy lace stuff. And silk. They have plus sizes too. They are body positive.”
“Kathy just needs a normal size.”
“No, for you, girl.”
“I don’t need new underwear. The ones I have are fine. A little stretched out but they work.”
Carolina waves my phone at me. “Your mom just texted and says she’s throwing them all out.”
“Goddamn it. I am finding Kathy a boyfriend like it’s a job. Well, like it’s my third job, since I already have two and Kathy has none.”
“One job,” Carolina reminds me, pointing to Kathy chatting away with customers, Brew & Browse hat on her dyed-blond head.
I sigh. “I’m going to have to put her on payroll, aren’t I?”
“At least it’s not your mom working here,” Carolina says soothingly.
6
FITZ
“Idon’t see why I have to go.”
“It’s your fucking party.” Crawford scowls at me. “The Billionaire Ball.”
“That’s not the real name.” I blow out an aggravated breath.
“Buck up, asshole. I’m being paid to be here, but you’re not paying me to deal with your bad attitude.”
“I’m over this event.”
“It’s only the third time you’ve hosted it.”
I regretted it after the first time. All the billionaires who have something to sell, who need publicity, or who are flat-out bored come to this event. We have folks coming out of the woodwork, flying in from Monaco, from Japan, from London.
Around us, workers stream around setting up for the party. Florists wind flowers around the columns and setup oversized bouquets on the food tables. Expensive, difficult-to-procure alcohol is being delivered to the various bars in the ballroom under armed guards from Crawford’s security company.
“It could be nice. Give you an opportunity to socialize with people who are not family members. Maybe learn how to interact in a healthy manner with members of the opposite sex.” My brother gives me a knowing look.
“What? No. I don’t need that.” I scowl at him. “Women who are with me leave very satisfied sexually. They even get a goody bag and breakfast.”
Crawford stares at me for a beat.
