Chapter 30
Jason
Eric tosses a balled-up napkin across the conference room table. “You know, the point of Tuesday lunch is to give us time to catch up on our lives.”
“I know,” I say, before popping a potato chip in my mouth. “So what’s the problem?”
“Don’t do that,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“Do what?”
“Talk while you’re chewing. That’s grounds for dissolving our business partnership.”
“Whatever,” I say, eating another chip.
“Okay, fine, but if we’re catching up on our lives, what did I just tell you?”
“About what?”
He rolls his eyes. “About anything.”
“That I shouldn’t talk while I eat?” I ask, frowning.
“No, before that.”
“Something about meeting someone.”
“And who did I meet, J?”
“A woman?”
“Just a random woman or…”
“A woman you’re interested in.”
“Good guess, but no. I met Rihanna.”
“What the fuck?!? You did? When?”
He reaches over and snatches my bag of potato chips from me. “No, dumbass, I didn’t meet Rihanna. I’m just confirming that you haven’t been listening to me. I’d be hurt, but I know you’re going through it right now.”
“Going through what?”
“Heartbreak.”
I snort dismissively. “Please. It wasn’t that serious.”
“Oh really?” he says, drawing back and lifting his chin as he studies me. “So you’re not having trouble concentrating?”
“Not at all.”
“Is that why you ordered two dozen toilets for the house in Greenwich?”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
He lifts a folder off the chair next to his and opens it. Smirking, he pulls out a sheet of paper and slides it over to me. “Take a look.”
I glance at the paper, knowing it’s an order form. Within seconds, I spot the mistake. “Fuck, I did. But it happens. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“In all the years we’ve been in business together, nothing like this has ever happened.”
“So? I’m entitled to make a mistake every decade. I won’t make another one for at least another year.”
He pulls out another sheet from the folder.
What the hell?
“This one’s an email,” Eric says. “From Delroy Oasis, the pool subcontractor. He’s wondering why we scheduled him for a meeting with Patricia Barnes to go over her pool plans.”
“Because that’s what pool subcontractors do—help people with their pool plans.”
“Patricia Barnes lives in a condo, J.”
“Shit,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “Okay, I’m a little off this week. But it’s not about Vanessa. I’m just tired.”
“If that’s how you want to play this, fine. I had a feeling you’d clam up, so I brought in reinforcements.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
As if on cue, Denise sticks her head into the conference room, then shuffles inside, making jazz hands. “Yah-dah-da-da-da-da-yah-dah-da-duh.” Jumping to a stop, she throws her hands on her hips. “Here I come to save your ass!”
I glare at Eric. “This is your idea of helping me?”
“No, this is my idea of helping the business. You’re fucking up, and Denise says she knows how to smack some sense into you.” He clears his throat. “And yeah, I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“Where’s the lunch you promised me?” Denise asks Eric.
“You had to bribe her to come talk to me?”
Eric nods. “Sadly, she doesn’t do anything for free.”
“I’m right here, asswipes. Eric. Lunch. Where is it?”
Eric flicks his gaze to the ceiling, then gathers the remnants of his meal. “In the fridge. I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, papi chulo.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving her off.
Denise takes the seat Eric just abandoned and studies me.
“What?” I ask.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Oh, so you already know what it is.”
“Vanessa, I’m guessing.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This is about so much more than Vanessa.”
“Let me get comfortable for this,” I say, sitting back in my seat. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Don’t be a dick. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“I’m going to make this relatively easy for you by telling you what went down. All you have to do is correct me if I’m wrong.”
“This should be fun.”
“After an amazing night of debauchery and sex, Vanessa discovered that you knew all along what she and Lisa were up to. Accurate so far?”
“Wrong.”
“Correct me, then.”
“After an amazing night of debauchery and sex, Vanessa was ambushed by my younger sister, who, despite knowing I had a date, came over the following morning, brought me some weak-ass coffee, and blabbed for no fucking reason.”
“Well, shit,” Denise says. “That’s quite a correction. But you don’t intimidate me. Never have.”
“Continue.”
“Vanessa, realizing that she’d had sex with someone who was withholding critical information about her that might have affected her willingness to get into bed with him, got pissed and told off that certain someone.”
“Hold on, she was withholding critical information from me.”
“That you knew about. So she only thought she was withholding critical information, whereas you were actually withholding information.”
“Is this the shit they teach you in law school? How to talk so fast your witnesses can’t keep up?”
“I’m flattered you think my conversational skills surpass yours, but no.”
“I’m not the bad guy here.”
“You’re not exactly the good guy either.”
I squeeze the back of my neck and sigh. “Then we’re both fucked up, and we shouldn’t be together anyway.”
“Nope, that’s a cop-out.”
“So what’s your point?”
“My point is that not everything is simply black or white. There are fifty damn shades of gray, for God’s sake.”
“That was beneath you.”
She tilts her head and twists her mouth back and forth as she considers my words. “It was. Pretend I never said that.”
“Done.”
“Okay, so my point is that there are all kinds of lies: blatant ones, little white ones, malicious ones, empathetic ones, lies of omission. And your insistence on never forgiving a lie lacks nuance. The what of the lie. The why of the lie. The consequences of the lie.”
I hate that she’s making sense. “Explain.”
“A woman pretends to like the same music I do to get my interest. Eh, it’s annoying, but whatever. I’ll eventually figure out if we’re compatible anyway.”
“That’s not what we’re talking about, though.”
“Yes, it is. Be patient.”
I drop my head back. “Go on.”
“A guy claims he’s packing nine hard inches between his legs. Most likely a lie. But why? Insecurities? Society’s arbitrary ideas about masculinity? Whatever. The person he’s lying to is going to figure it out if they have sex. And maybe it matters, or maybe it doesn’t. See? Nuance.”
“Where the hell are you going with this?”
“Stick with me.” She grimaces a moment, then presses on. “Okay, so this might be a little touchy, but it needs to be said. That woman you thought you were going to marry.”
“Elyse.”
“Yeah, her. That lie of omission was fucked up. And considering what she was lying about, her kid, and the consequence of that lie—holy shit, you’re now engaged to a woman with a kid when you don’t even know if you want to be a father—I’d say you were fully within your rights to be like, ‘Bitch, we’re through. ’ ”
“I didn’t say it like that, but sure.”
“Now, our own father’s lie, cheating on our mother despite his vows not to, and the consequences of that lie—too many to recount—mean that rat bastard didn’t deserve her.”
“You’re absolutely right about that.”
“Now, that kid who knew his father was cheating and didn’t tell his mom, well, there’s the gray area, wouldn’t you say? Because, damn, what’s a kid supposed to do under those circumstances?”
My stomach drops. Wasn’t expecting her to go there. “That kid wasn’t a child. He was a teenager.”
“Yeah, but he was also protecting his mother and his family, and he was put in a position where he felt he had to keep a secret because the consequence of telling the truth was too great.”
“Oh-kay.”
“Did Vanessa tell you why she didn’t confess to the scheme?”
“Yeah, she said her feelings for me had grown so much, and she thought telling me would risk losing me altogether. And even if I managed to get past it, it would be this thing between us. That, considering my feelings about deceit, I’d use it against her.”
“Interesting.”
“What does that mean, interesting?”
“Think about it, Jason. The what. The why. The consequence. I bet if you took the time to truly consider what she did, instead of sticking to your hard-and-fast rules, you’d realize this is one of those lies you might be able to live with. If you care about her enough, that is.”
Denise is exhausting, but I can’t pretend she’s not making me reconsider my position.
“One more thing,” she adds, holding up a finger.
“You’re not done yet?”
“Not quite.”
I look around. “Where’s Eric with your lunch?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m on a roll.”
“I can’t believe I actually agree with you.”
“So I’m going to say this last thing, and then I’m going to hunt Eric down and make him buy me dinner too.
I think you stick to this rigid standard because you’re trying to work through your own guilt.
Vanessa didn’t tell you what she and Lisa were up to, so you tell yourself she’s just as bad as our sperm donor.
Or Elyse. But deep down, I think you worry that she’s just as bad as that kid who kept his dad’s cheating a secret.
You can’t fathom forgiving her because you can’t fathom forgiving yourself.
She’s not entitled to a pass because you’re not entitled to one either. ”
“You and Eric should open up a psych practice, I swear.”
“Or maybe it’s time for you to see a professional so you can work through all of this on your own time.
” She stands and reaches for my hand. “I know I’m a pain in the ass, and you probably think I’m too young to impart any wisdom, but I love you, and I want you to be happy.
I just don’t want you to give up so easily on someone who might be able to help you get there. ”
“I don’t always agree with your methods, but I admit you’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Excellent,” she says, brushing off her shoulders in a disgusting display of arrogance. “My work here is done.”
Before she leaves, I stop her by calling out her name.
She turns around in surprise. “Yeah?”
“You’re brilliant. I’m really proud to be your brother.”
“And don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite brother.”
“I’m your only brother, dipshit.”
She gives me a cheeky grin. “Exactly.” Then she flashes a peace sign and saunters out the door.