Page 132 of Ryker
“Yes. And he paid for your golf lessons.”
She’s missing the point. “I got a fucking business degree and a real estate license.”
“And your father gave you a high-paying job and huge bonuses every year.”
She’s still missing the point. “I never wanted to be in real estate. I never wanted to golf. Jesus, I wanted to be a chef, Mom!”
“Oh please. The only thing you’ve ever made was that damn pudding. You would have failed. Your father gave you success, and that’s all thanks to me.”
“William is not my father. Neither was Steve or Randy or any of the other rich dipshits you tried to bag.” My heart pounds in my chest and my cheeks tingle. I feel sick. “I’ve spent my life doing everything you told me to, so you would be happy. I’m done. It’s over. Me quitting Brisbane Realty isn’t the end. I’m never stepping foot in William’s house again. He’s not my family.”
“Why are you doing this?” she screeches. “I don’t understand.”
That makes me pause. Now I feel terrible because she didn’t know what happened at brunch when I stormed out. “William wanted me to fuck whoever I had to so I could get the Greene Street property before the auction.”
She’s silent. I latch onto the possibility that she finally understands why I’ve quit. I brace for her to be furious on my behalf. I hold my breath, feeling lighter because maybe now she won’t be so mad at me for what I’ve done. Maybe she’s proud of me for sticking up for myself and walking away with my dignity and power.
“Would it kill you to bend a little?”
I almost drop the phone. “Excuse me?”
“Tara. Be real. It’s just a little nudge. If you can use your assets to help your father land an important piece of property, what’s the big deal?”
I’m speechless.
“Honey,” she says, like it’s cute that I’d be offended by William’s demands.
“Fuck you.” The words fall out of my mouth. “You’re supposed to protect me.”
“From what?” She laughs. “Tara, you’re not in any danger. This is such a small thing.”
No, it’s a huge thing. The biggest. “You don’t care about me at all, do you?”
“Of course, I do.”
Bullshit. “What about when Garret slammed me against the sliding glass door last Christmas?” My eyes narrow. “You did see it, didn’t you?”
“You pushed him too far.”
“Giving him a present is pushing him too far?” What is wrong with her?
“It was your attitude when you gave it to him, Tara. You’re always so nasty.”
Something deadly grows in my chest. “He tried to strangle me last week.”
“What did you to do to piss him off?”
Unbelievable. The deadly calmness inside turns to numbness.
My voice shakes as I pace across the room. “I’ve made excuses for you my whole life,” I say quietly, while my inner child shrinks. “I took the blame for your problems. I carried the guilt for your actions. I’ve been miserable, so you can be happy.” When she doesn’t say a word, I swear that inner voice always telling me everything’s my fault and I should try harder to be better for everyone becomes mute.
When that happens, something else grows in my belly. Rage. It spreads like wildfire in my system, pushing lava in my veins, smoke in my heart, flames in my mind.
“You are a shit mother. You’re an even shittier wife. All you do is hop off one dick and straight onto another. By the way, how was Travis? Let me guess, thin and long, curved like a banana? I know you prefer them hanging to the left. Bet he’s promised to take you far away from grumpy old William. Not like you’re leaving with anything in your pocket when you divorce. He was just as smart as your last two husbands and had you sign a prenup. But you don’t care because you’ve already got your next target lined up.” I shake my head in disgust. “You only switch men when you think you’ve found a fatter bank account to suck dry.” And William probably already knows because he made that awful—and accurate—dig about my mom at brunch.
“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me. My god, Tara. I’m so disappointed.”
“That makes both of us, then.” I hang up and throw my phone across the room.