26. Priestley #2
Of course he focused on that. Not the national debt or the medical debt, or the general financial instability of the entire country.
Men like my father in their glass towers are insulated from reality on the street below.
They take a cab right outside their office, or they drive their Mercedes and BMWs from underground parking lots straight to their condos in gentrified parts of town.
They send their children to boarding schools where they’re sheltered from reality, too.
I feel a little sick at how close I was to becoming the man before me.
How utterly ignorant I was until I met Will.
I ignore his stupid comment about communism and tell him the truth. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to do at a big company like Morgan Stanley, but it’s a start. One day I’d like to start my own asset management company, ideally with Will.”
I’d hire people only Will approved of. I trust his instincts far more than I trust mine on this matter. When it comes to helping people financially, experience is everything and Will knows what it’s like to be on the losing side of the finance war.
“You want to be my competition?”
“By the time I was in any sort of position to be your competition, you’d be long retired.”
“And you could have taken over this company. Now what’s going to happen? I won’t have it leaving the family, Priestley. Over my dead body.”
My gut clenches again when I think about Jamie.
“So who do you want to take over? Jamie isn’t even studying finance.”
“Of course Jamie couldn’t take over. He doesn’t have the gumption to run a company.”
I clench my teeth before remembering that I don’t have to hold in how I really feel anymore.
“Jamie would make an excellent CEO.”
Father snorts. “The boy can barely get his words out, and when he does, you can barely hear him.”
“He only gets tongue-tied around you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffs. “I’m his father.”
I study him for a moment. Is he really as ignorant about his effect on people as I was? Does he really think treating us like this, pointing out our flaws, telling us how disappointed he is in us when we fail, is making us better? That it’s just his way of looking out for us?
“Jamie’s doing well at Princeton. He’s well-liked by his fraternity brothers and he’s acing all his classes.”
“That’s the bare minimum, Priestley. He needs to be asserting himself, stepping into leadership roles.
He’ll never be the president of Alpha Sigma Psi if he goes on like this.
Guiding your brother now is important practice for when you have your own children.
Remember, the Rosenthal name is going to continue with you. ”
I swallow, looking him in the eye. “If I have children, they won’t be biologically mine.”
He frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Until this moment, I didn’t think I had an opinion on having my own biological children.
But listening to my father lament on the family name and its importance, I’ve realized that if I do have children, I don’t want them to have my name, or my blood.
I don’t want this man to have any influence over them whatsoever.
I want them to be raised the way Will was, with the kind of unconditional love his parents showed him and the values they instilled in him from a young age.
“Will O’Reilly is my boyfriend.”
His head snaps back like I just punched him. He’s too confused to be angry, yet.
“I’m gay,” I reiterate.
He makes a noise I’ve never heard him make.
When Jamie came out, Father wasn’t exactly surprised. His main emotion was disappointment—disappointment he made damn sure Jamie could see.
This time, he’s flabbergasted. He can barely get his words out. It’s a little scary, seeing someone who has been in command of themselves for your entire life suddenly fall apart.
“You cannot be serious,” he finally spits out.
I almost laugh at the fact he unknowingly sounds like a bratty tennis player.
“I’m deadly serious, Father.”
“How can you be … gay. Jamie’s gay, you … you’re—”
“Also gay.” He turns back to the window as if the view is going to give him the answers.
“This can’t be possible.” He’s muttering to himself, rubbing the back of his neck, skewing his pristine shirt collar. I went to London with him to have that suit tailored. Sat in the tailor’s chair, admiring the man I thought of as invincible. Now he’s crumbling before me like a block of feta.
“Is this because your mother and I divorced when you were children?”
I snort.
“Was it the school? The all-boys school?”
He is genuinely asking. He isn’t angry—he’s scared.
“No, Father, it wasn’t the all-boys school or the divorce.
” I explain patiently. “Will had the most stable, heterosexual upbringing you can imagine. His father is a hockey-loving, macho firefighter and his mother is affectionate and present. Your upbringing doesn’t make you gay.
You just either are or you’re not. It’s nature, not nurture. ”
He blinks at me a few times before sinking into his chair and running a hand over his face. I watch in amazement as he loosens his tie. I have never once seen him loosen his tie anywhere outside of the house.
I give him time to compose himself and take it all in. Is he having a realization? Maybe he’ll see that in trying to push us to succeed, he has only pushed us away. Seeing him frightened rather than angry has shown him in a new light. Maybe—
“Leave your cards on the table and go.”
I blink, wondering if I misheard. “What?”
When he fixes me in his gaze again, it’s cold, like he’s looking at a stranger.
“If you want to be independent, Priestley, if you’re so disdainful of wealth inequality, let me help you by taking away those status symbols.
I’m sure your communist boyfriend won’t approve of you having a Black Card, will he? ”
My nostrils flare, but only because he’s trying to insult Will.
I stand, unfastening the button on my jacket before reaching into my pocket for my wallet. I take the Black Card out and place it down on Father’s desk before slipping the wallet back into my pocket.
“And the rest.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Surely you don’t want my bank card?”
“The platinum and the membership cards, Priestley. If you are so above the life I’ve built for you, then you won’t want to benefit from it any longer, I assume?”
I take every card except my bank card, my driver’s license and my student ID out of my wallet and put them down on the desk.
Father isn’t even looking at me anymore.
I wait for him to say something, but he stands instead, dismissing me.
“You won’t take this out on Jamie,” I say. I’m not sure whether I mean it to be a question or a statement. I square my shoulders. I won’t let him.
“This is between you and me.”
I sigh with relief.
As I’m leaving, he says, “This isn’t personal, Priestley. It’s just business.”
I manage to make it down to the first floor in the elevator and out onto the street before I collapse against a wall. I can’t believe I just did that. I stood up to my father. He took away every safety net I’ve ever had and I feel … free.
“Hey, how’d it go?”
I turn to find Will holding two disgustingly unhealthy-looking hot dogs, a dab of relish in the corner of his lips.
“What?”
“You’ve got something—” I kiss him instead of pointing it out. He groans into my mouth.
When he pulls away, he’s watching me cautiously. I take one of the hot dogs from him, taking a big bite before telling him, “My father took my credit cards away.”
Will nods, like he expected as much. He puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in closer and kissing me around the hot dog.
“Someone just got a job at Morgan Stanley. I hope you told your dad he can stick his AMEX Black Card up his ass.”
“I got an internship, not a job.”
Will rolls his eyes. “For now. Priestley Rosenthal doesn’t give up, that’s what I heard.”
I laugh before diving back into my hot dog. “This is really good.”
Will’s watching me like I’m doing something sexy. Weirdo.
He presses me against the wall to the Rosenthal Asset Management building and kisses me silly, probably getting relish and mustard on my good shirt.
“Priestley?”
I break away from the kiss. The son of one of my father’s associates is watching me with fascinated horror.
“Hello, Blaine.”
He looks from Will to me and back again. “What are you doing?”
“Eating a hot dog and kissing my boyfriend. What are you doing?”
Will snorts.
“Going to see your father.”
“Good luck with that. He’s in a stinking bad mood.”
Blaine nods and almost walks into the revolving doors before disappearing behind them.
“Is he someone important?” Will asks.
“Nope.” I kiss him again, making sure I’ve got all the relish off his lips. “Will, how would you feel about starting a new group project with me?”