Page 39

“I’m here!” I respond, standing up from my desk and heading downstairs. I make sure to shut my laptop before I do. I don’t need them seeing what I’m working on. It’s still too hard to explain, too sensitive to talk about.

“Don’t you have uni today?” Jason asks as I enter the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table and Dad’s on the phone, pacing. He runs his hand over his head as he shouts at whatever poor soul is on the other end.

“No. Just doing some work.” Jason doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone as he grunts in response. I grab an apple from the fruit bowl. “So…um. What’s going on?” He looks up then. And I wish he hadn’t.

“Oh. So, you care now?” His words slap me across the face.

“What do you mean?”

“Now that you have a stake in the business, a job for you, you suddenly decide to care? So typical of you.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“Look, I just asked what was going on. You both seem really stressed.”

“Don’t pretend to try to help now. We all know you’d be happy to see us fail.”

I have no clue where this is coming from. But holy shit, is it pissing me off. I take a deep breath and wait for him to continue. That’s my brother’s way. He loves the sound of his own voice.

“One of our investors has pulled out. We need to find another in 72 hours otherwise we’re broke.”

“How large was the investment?”

Jason seems to have calmed down now, choosing to look at me with a bit less fire in his eyes. “Twenty million dollars.”

“Fuck,” I breathe.

“Without that money, we can’t complete client’s projects. They’ll sue us for all we have.”

“Don’t we have insurance against this kind of thing?”

Jason glances towards Dad and we’re both glad he’s sufficiently distracted for once. “Dad thought that it wasn’t a…business expense of great importance.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Jason suddenly looks a lot older than his twenty-six years. I try to empathise with him. I really do. And then Dad hops off the phone.

“Oliver. Glad to see you’ve decided to join us.” His tone alone is enough to make my stomach turn. He wants an argument. One that I would like to avoid. I really thought we had made progress in the last few weeks, but we’re already sliding back into old habits.

“Yeah. Jason was just filling me in.”

“What do you propose we do then? You’re the one who goes to university, who always thinks he’s so much better than us. Tell us how to fix this.”

“Maybe having insurance in the first place?” I’m not wrong. I’m maybe just a bit too direct for this conversation. Dad’s face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Well, that’s just a grand idea then, isn’t it? Insurance. No one else would have ever thought about that. Good job, Oliver. You know what,” he continues, stepping closer to me, finger waving in my face. “We’d have money for insurance if it wasn’t for you. If your mother didn’t put all that money aside for your ‘education’ we wouldn’t have this issue!”

The air turns still, cold. He regrets those words. I know he does. Mentioning Mum in an argument in the lowest of the low. I’m surprised I haven’t cracked a tooth with how hard I’m clenching my jaw. “Oliver I’m—”

I don’t even let him finish that sentence. I don’t even respond. I just turn and go. Somewhere. Anywhere but here.

Oliver James:

I’m outside. Buzz me in?

I’m grateful I had my phone and keys in my pocket before I left home. Not that my phone is of any importance to me right now. Jason and Dad have sent me numerous messages apologising and telling me it’s just because of the stress. Fine. That’s fine.

But don’t take it out on your kid.

And don’t bring up his dead mum.