Chapter 19
Michael
Arya is calling. She’s finally calling! I feel like jumping out of my skin when I see her ID on my phone. It’s been a rough day, thinking she might not talk to me again.
I pounce on the call in spite of myself. But then, I take a moment. I need to play it cool, not come off like some desperate asshole who is at her beck and call just because the sex is good.
“Hey,” I say as casually as I can manage.
“Hey,” she says back after a confused pause. “I, uh... I gave everything some thought and... yeah, I got pissed, but I also overreacted.”
My eyebrows go up. A woman I am sexually interested in is actually apologizing first after an argument.
Holy shit.
I am suddenly so horny that my heart is pounding.
“I didn’t do too well on that score either, sweetheart,” I admit without any hesitation. It’s easy when she’s doing it first. “I said things I shouldn’t when I knew you were already heated over the whole thing.”
“Yeah, you did. But you know what? I want to give this another try anyway.”
I have never been so happy to hear someone offer me a second chance in my life. I want to rush over to her hotel room and fuck her right now and again... all night.
“That’s great news,” I say when I can trust my voice to sound calm, cheery, and in control. “Did you mean the working together thing or the fucking each others’ brains out thing?”
She laughs, which worries me for about half a second before she reassures me by saying, “Definitely the working together thing. The sex thing... well... it’s certainly still on the table.”
I’m grinning now. “Guess I better go clear it off then.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Michael.”
And that makes me laugh. And I’m so damn happy to be laughing with her again.
When I catch my breath, I ask, “So... when should we get back together?”
“I need a while longer to catch up on my sleep. Tomorrow afternoon?”
I think about it. “I have a yacht that doubles as a liveaboard. It is very private. We should head over there. We’ll get takeout, use the hot tub...”
“How’s the Internet connection?” she breaks in, sounding just a touch annoyed.
I’m pushing it. I smirk and push only a little bit further. “Good enough that we can get the job done early and enjoy ourselves.”
She’s silent for a heartbeat as I wait to see if I have gone just that step too far. Then, she scoffs again and says, “First, we do some work on finding and utterly fucking up the lives of our enemies. Then, we can talk hot tubs and wine.”
“And sex?” I ask eagerly.
She snorts. “Maybe.”
And for now, that’s good enough for me.
I am smiling as I walk back into my parents’ house to check in and grab some more clothes. It’s about noon, and Mom is having lunch made while she oversees the cooks. When she sees me, she glances away quickly, awkwardly, then slowly looks back at me.
“Have you been out drinking?” she asks out of nowhere. I’m dead sober and don’t smell of booze.
“Uh, no, I have been out at my condo so I can have a quiet place to work. What did I miss?” I feel like I’m walking into the middle of a conversation where I have no idea what is actually going on.
“Your sister has been very... vocal today. She has some strong opinions about your not being able to get all that money back yet, and it’s been... well, we had some interesting conversations. You should know, you know, in case she tries to confront you or, God forbid, goes off during lunch.”
I stare at her. I’m now almost certain that I’ve missed a whole hell of a lot more than that. But I am not interested in prying it out of her when she already looks tired and harried.
“You know, I have never in my life understood why Maria has it in for me, and I don’t think I ever will,” I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Oh, Michael, honey, you can’t take it personally. She’s just really immature.”
“It’s more than that, Mom. I know you love her, and she’s your special girl, but... she does a lot of malicious and destructive stuff, Mom. She expects to get away with it. And I have never understood why I get to be the target of that so damn much.”
“Oh, honey.” She smiles, but her eyes are tired and troubled. “Your sister just has problems. She’s jealous of you. You really shouldn’t worry about it so much.”
“I just walked in on being told to prepare for epic levels of Maria-drama, Mom. You can’t have it both ways. I can’t be both bracing myself for it and brushing it off.”
“I...” she starts talking but quickly closes her mouth.
“What is it, Mom?”
“I don’t know, honey. I’m sorry. I know Maria can be very hard to be around! But she’s my daughter, and I love her. I hope she’s wrong in all the things she’s saying, and we can convince her of that and just move on.”
“But Mom... you literally just told me to expect...”
She just smiles tightly. “I know. I’m in a bad position here. My daughter is saying terrible things about my son, and I don’t know if it’s true. But even if it isn’t true, I have to support her.”
I raise my eyebrows as I stare at her. “Even if she’s attacking me?”
My mother goes quiet, and I stare at her for a few moments before shaking my head and turning to walk to my room. Lunch is going to be unpleasant, I can already tell.
It is... lots of silence. Everyone else in the room looks at each other silently, and nobody looks at me. I feel like I’ve just farted in church.
Maria looks smug as hell and keeps giving me these little sidelong looks like she knows a secret I don’t. Just looking at her with that expression on her face makes me want to smack her one. Why the hell is she smiling like that?
Sometimes, I wonder if there’s something really wrong with her mind or if there really are more drugs involved than any of us would expect.
Billy isn’t here. If he were, I have a feeling this would all be a hell of a lot easier. As it is, it feels like there’s a pane of glass between me and my family, and it’s increasingly pissing me off.
Maria seems to keep forgetting that I have a backbone just because I have a lot of patience.
I eat my burger and fries in silence, knowing the drama’s going to kick off the moment I speak up. I don’t give a shit, but I don’t want it ruining my meal completely. The whole time I’m mechanically chewing it down, I’m watching Maria.
She smirks and makes a fancy business of eating her burger and fries while gazing at me through her lashes. It looks contrived: overacted. Like she’s either covering for something or is so completely high that she’s no longer really herself. I can’t even tell which one it is, but the way she’s acting pisses me off even more.
I manage to keep my mood down to a low simmer mostly by thinking about Arya. I’m going to see Arya soon, and then all this bullshit will get shoved back into the back of my mind where it fucking belongs. And Maria can just stew over the fact that she can never really get to me anymore like she did when we were kids.
But for now, I have a confrontation to plow through, and there’s no way out of that but through it.
I finish my meal while awkward silence rules the table. Maria’s smile flickers uncertainly on her face, fading away then forcing its way back. She’s starting to doubt herself.
My parents look nervous—even my dad. It’s kind of ridiculous to watch. Why have they always doted on her to the point where they get scared of her tantrums? My father runs a big chunk of the Bay Area. What the hell is he scared of, some broken plates? A headache?
Most of the time, I look up to my father, but right now, all I can see of him is this cowed man who can’t even discipline his own kid—because he and Mom never did, with her.
It’s depressing, and it pisses me off. I wish I could do something to change it all, but their favorite is their favorite, and that favorite has never been me.
“All right,” I say finally after the last bite on my plate is gone. “What the hell is all of this about? You guys are acting like I kicked a baby.”
Maria scoffs and says nothing, annoying me even further. My whole body tenses, but I just stare at her expectantly.
My father clears his throat. “Son... we need to address all of these rumors that you deliberately dropped the ball on that $5 million heist.”
I stare at him incredulously. “That is what all of this is about? Haven’t I explained away that stupid rumor already?”
He can’t look at me. “Well... the problem is, it’s a more believable explanation than your idea that one of us, or someone on the staff, managed to take that money.”
“This is ridiculous. I already pointed out that I wouldn’t gratuitously torpedo my reputation with the family like this.” My heart isn’t even beating that fast over this. I’m just too tired. I’m too... done.
“Maybe you weren’t thinking straight?” my mother ventures diplomatically. “Maybe you even made a mistake and lost the money somehow. Sent it to the wrong account.”
“Sent it to the wrong account, that’s it.” My father bobs his head, and I roll my eyes and rub one of my temples in exasperation.
“Dad. I triple-checked everything. I even offered to show you the records.” Is this kind of bullshit what Arya goes through with her family? Is this how hard it is for her? Is it even harder?
I would lose my fucking mind if I were her—if it’s even harder than this for her.
“I know you did, but—”
“Oh, come on, everybody, this is really stupid. If I was into lying to you, wouldn’t I have just grabbed another five million, claimed I got the original heist back, and handed it over? Why would I face all these complications and all this drama—”
“Maybe you’re just stupid,” my sister breaks in suddenly. “Maybe you’re so deep in lying to cover for being stupid that you can’t even remember what lies you told anymore.”
“What?” I look between them all. “Holy hell, would you listen to this girl?”
She scowls at me. “I’m in my twenties, idiot. I’m a woman now.”
“Could have fucking fooled me,” I clap back at once. “Spreading all sorts of crazy rumors about me on and offline, trying to turn Mom and Dad against me... acting like you’re a genius and the first person ever to come up with the idea to pull shit like this. What the hell is your endgame, Maria? Is it anything at all besides pissing me off?”
My mother’s face falls. “Michael, sweetie, don’t raise your voice at the table.”
I eye her for just a moment and force my voice to be calmer. “All right, Mom. Look, Maria, if you’re going to do this, will you at least tell me why? When exactly did I take a piss in your cornflakes?”
My father scoffs and snorts; my mom forces herself to scowl disapprovingly at me.
Maria looks from me to our parents and down at her phone. Her face is petulant as always, and for a bit, I expect some kind of nasty retort that a 14-year-old might think up.
Finally, she says, “You always think you’re so damn smart, Michael. Smarter than me. But the truth is, I’m smarter than you, and I always have been.”
I stare at her. My sister is as brilliant as she is mature. She flunked out of junior college. She destroyed two BMWs my dad got her within three months of each other. She has to be reminded regularly how cell phones actually work. And, of course, she thinks she is the smartest person in any room anywhere on the planet.
“If you’re so damn smart, why are you pulling dumb crap to try and mess up my relationship with everyone?” I don’t get it. I have never gotten it.
“You deserve it! That’s what actually happened, and you’re lying about it!”
Oh, great, she actually believes her own bullshit. “You just won’t let any of this go no matter how many times I explain it, will you?”
“No!”
I just don’t get it. Maybe I never will. “Mom, Dad, look. I know you feel caught in the middle here, but Maria is dead wrong, and I’m going to prove it one way or the other. And once I do, I want you to make her put all this shit to rest. I’m done.”
Maria’s jaw drops, and for a moment, I think we are going to get somewhere with her. But the next thing out of her mouth is, “He’s just bullshitting again. He won’t find anything! You’re a failure, Mike! Just admit it!”
I stare at her. God, I want so much to just tell her to shut the hell up so I can enjoy some time with my family without her crazy manufactured drama ruining everything. But the day’s already ruined, and she just keeps staring at me with that blank-eyed, petulant malice that I can’t understand what I’ve done to deserve.
“I’ll find the damn money,” I say again, knowing nobody in the room believes me but me. “And when I do, I want a goddamn apology.”
“You won’t get one because you won’t find that money,” Maria scoffs.
I get up suddenly. “I’m going away for a few more days,” I say as I walk away. “I have work to do.”
And I’ll be doing it in a way better company than I have here.