Chapter 2 #2
I pull my hand back gently, wrapping it around my water glass just for something to hold on to. “I’ve never lied to you, Mrs. Carrington. Not in the twenty years you’ve known me.” I meet her eyes. “I don’t want to start lying to you now. So please don’t ask me where the money comes from.”
Something flickers across her face—concern, maybe, or pity. I hate both options.
“Are you safe?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.”
“Are you doing anything that could get you hurt? Or arrested?”
Define hurt. “No, ma’am. Nothing illegal.”
Well, technically, not illegal. I’m legitimately employed through Rina’s very legal business.
What we do off the books is borderline…questionable, but once I’ve paid back every penny Dad owes and get him out of prison, then I’ll properly admonish myself for my gigolo behavior. Until then, the hustle lives.
Anne holds my gaze for a long moment, searching for the lie. I keep my face neutral, my breathing even. I’ve gotten good at this—the performance of calm when everything inside me is screaming.
Finally, she nods. “Okay.”
That’s it. No interrogation, no lecture, no demands for details. Just okay. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.
The server returns with our champagne—two crystal flutes, each with a perfect spiral of orange peel curled against the side. Anne murmurs her thanks, waits for him to leave, and takes a slow sip.
“I spoke to your mother a few days ago,” she says.
The champagne I just swallowed turns to thick sludge in my stomach. “Oh?”
“She called to wish Joy a happy birthday. They talked for almost an hour.” Anne traces the rim of her glass with one finger. “She asked about you.”
“Oh? And what did you say?”
“I asked her why she was asking me how her son was doing.” Anne presses her lips together, and in a very un-Mrs. Carrington-like fashion, plants one elbow on the table. “Why aren’t you speaking to your mom?”
I shrug. “I’m not…not speaking to her. I just happen to be busy every time she calls.
” I fight the urge to roll my eyes at my lame excuse.
I’m busy. My phone is never charged. My service is crap.
The time difference. I was at the gym. The endless excuses worked for about the first three months after Mom moved away. By now she knows what I’m full of.
“Well, I told her you invited me to this lunch.” She pauses and raises one eyebrow for dramatic effect. “I promised my best friend that when I saw her only, beloved son, I’d ensure he’d call. Don’t make a liar out of me, Taio.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll call her.” Ah, dammit. My first ever lie to Mrs. Carrington. “I’m glad you two were able to stay friends.”
“Naomi had no idea what your dad was up to, Taio. Neither did you. We don’t hold either of you at fault.”
The corner of my lip twitches, maybe a warning that I shouldn’t open up this can of worms, but before I know it, the words are out. “Then why isn’t Mr. Carrington here?”
She takes an exaggerated sip from her champagne. “Because Richard is a dimwit who struggles to separate the sin from the sinner. He sees what was lost, he’s not thinking about who stole it.”
“He’s not alone. I think that’s the majority’s opinion.
” I take a long drink of champagne, letting the bubbles burn my throat.
“My mom wanted me to come with her. Start over in Tokyo like the last twenty-seven years of my life didn’t happen.
But I couldn’t just abandon my dad when he needed me most.”
“And staying here, cleaning up his mess—that’s better?”
“He’s my dad.”
It sounds pathetic even to my own ears. A child’s argument. He’s my dad. As if that explains anything. As if that justifies the choices I’ve made, the things I’ve done, the person I’ve become.
Anne is quiet for a moment. Then: “You know I love you, Taio. I’ve known you since you were six years old, following Alaina around like a puppy, trying so hard to impress her father.
” A sad smile crosses her face. “You were so nervous the first time you told me and Richard that you and Alaina had decided to go steady. I mean, I couldn’t believe how time flew.
You went from wetting the bed at my house so many times to dating my teenage daughter in the blink of an eye. ”
“I mean I don’t think it was that many times,” I mutter, a little embarrassed for six-year-old Taio.
“What your father did was unfathomable. He stole from us, from everyone who trusted him. Richard will never forgive him—you know that. But I don’t blame you. I never have.” She leans forward slightly. “And I don’t want to see you waste your life trying to atone for his mistakes.”
I don’t have an answer for that, so I change the subject. “How’s Joy?”
Anne’s expression shifts—still soft, but with an undercurrent of something heavier. Worry, maybe. “She’s…sixteen. You know how that goes. Moody and dramatic. Convinced that no one in the history of the world has ever suffered as much as she has.”
“Charming.” I smirk.
“Indeed.” Anne takes another sip of champagne. “Although, she did have quite a night a few weeks ago. I took her to that concert—you know, the pop star she’s been obsessed with? Charlie Riley?”
The name rings a vague bell. Blonde, I think. Young. One of those ubiquitous faces that shows up on magazine covers at the grocery store. “What about it?”
“Well, the poor thing collapsed on stage. Right in the middle of her set. She just went down like a robot powering off. They had to cancel the whole show.”
“Geez.”
“We paid a fortune for those VIP tickets, right up against the front barrier. Charlie could’ve sweat on us that close.
” Anne shakes her head. “Joy said she didn’t care and claims she was ‘so over’ Charlie Riley anyway.
You know how teenagers are. But I know she was devastated. We’d been saving for months.”
The guilt twists deeper. Three years ago, Anne wouldn’t have thought twice about VIP concert tickets. Three years ago, I could’ve bought them myself without checking my bank account.
“I’m sorry that happened. Is there another city you could see the show in?”
Anne’s hair, glued down by hairspray, doesn’t budge as she shakes her head, almost violently. “From what I understand, the entire tour is canceled until further notice. Such a waste. And it was the last thing she needed after getting her Stanford letter.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Stanford? She already applied?” Joy and I always got along great. I treated her like a little sister because that’s what she was always supposed to be. Going to Stanford was her absolute dream.
“She got her early admission letter last month.”
“That’s amazing. Go Joy! But why don’t you seem more excited?”
“We were.” Anne’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “For about three days. Until we sat down and really looked at the numbers.”
I already know where this is going. I can feel it coming like a train in the distance—the low rumble before the impact.
“Out-of-state tuition,” Anne says quietly. “Room and board. Books, travel, living expenses. We’re looking at almost a hundred thousand dollars for the first year alone. We’re maxed out on loans, and with the savings gone…” She lets the silence finish the sentence.
With the savings gone. Because my father stole it.
“I’m out of retirement,” she continues. “Did I tell you that? I’m back at the firm three days a week, trying to rebuild what we lost faster.
But at our age, and with Richard’s health…
” She stops, composes herself. “Right now, we just don’t have anything to spare.
Joy is looking at scholarship opportunities at an in-state school. It’ll be okay.”
I feel sick. Physically, genuinely sick like I might have to excuse myself and find a bathroom.
“How long do you have?” My voice sounds strange. Deeper and sharp, like I’m trying to close a business deal. “If she accepts admission, when is the first payment due?”
“Fall. August, technically, but there are deposits before that. She’ll lose her spot in April.”
“Tell her to accept.”
Anne blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“Tell Joy to accept. I’ll get the money.”
“Taio—”
“I mean it. The hundred thousand, the full year—I’ll get it.” I’m talking too fast, making promises I have no idea how to keep, but I can’t stop. “Just tell her to accept. I’ll figure it out.”
Anne stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
“Sweetheart.” Her voice is gentle, careful, the way you’d talk to someone standing on a ledge. “That’s very kind, but…do you have any idea what you’re saying? A hundred thousand dollars by fall? On top of everything else you’re trying to do?”
“I’ll find a way.”
“How? And please don’t tell me it’s from this mystery job you won’t explain.” She gestures at the envelope still sitting between us. “You just handed me five thousand dollars like it was nothing. That’s not nothing, Taio. That’s months of work for most people. What are you doing?”
“I told you, I can’t—”
“I’m asking because I’m worried about you.
” Her voice cracks slightly. “Do you understand that? I’m not angry, I’m not judging you, I’m worried.
You look exhausted. You’re sitting here promising me a hundred thousand dollars like you’re going to pull it out of thin air, and I don’t—” She presses her fingers to her lips for a moment.
“I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for us.
That’s not what I want. That’s not what anyone wants. ”
I don’t know what to say. The champagne has gone flat in my glass. The string quartet has shifted to something so soft, it’s almost mournful.
“Is this what you’re going to do with your life?
” Anne asks, and there’s no judgment in her tone, only sadness.
“Spend it trying to fix your father’s mistakes?
Because I have to tell you, sweetheart—what he took from people, it’s in the millions.
Tens of millions. You could work yourself to death and never make a dent. ”