Page 84 of Rent: Paid in Full
A male assistant for Derek?
Incredible.
This has Barbara Ann MacAvoy stamped all over it, and I have to say, it’s kind of impressive. The woman is hell on wheels, but she does have life skills. Serious life skills. She has a unique understanding of people and the world around her, and she isn’t afraid to use them.
Want to make someone your bitch?
Just ask Barbara Ann how. She’ll tell you. And if you’re not very careful, she’ll demonstrate the technique on you for her own entertainment.
I’ve gotten to know Miller’s parents over the years, and let’s just say navigating my way through that hornet’s nest hasn’t been without its challenges. To my endless surprise, I find Barbara Ann and Derek tolerable in their own right. More than tolerable. Individually, they both have their redeeming qualities if you look hard enough. It’s just that, as an ensemble, they’re the worst. The living worst.
The two of them together are unbearable, and it’s only gotten worse with each passing year. So much so that when the fourth major argument broke out while we were visiting them for Thanksgiving break a couple of months ago, Miller lost his shit, jumped up, banged his fists on the dining table, and yelled, “Get a divorce already!” so loudly the vein in his forehead popped out.
That little outburst set things in motion, and now here we are, miles and miles from where they live in LA, but somehow still embroiled in the fallout of their impending divorce.
“All right, in that case, how may I help you?” I ask.
He swings his shoulder bag around from his side to the front of his body and riffles through it, pulling out an A4-sized envelope with the MacAvoy Group logo emblazoned on the left-hand corner. His cheeks color as he hands it to me.
I can tell he has a lot to learn about MacAvoys in general, and Miller and Derek in particular.
“Ah, another Cease and Desist, is it?” I smile.
He gulps. “Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that. Mr. MacAvoy isn’t alleging that a crime has taken place. Not at all. No, it’snothinglike that. It’s just…just a, um, strongly worded letter from legal, that’s all.”
It’s far from the first time something like this has happened. More like the tenth. It’s exhausting and draining, and unfortunately, in this instance, even I can see that Miller is almost entirely in the wrong.
Still, you don’t deliver a strongly worded letter from legal to my man and not get on my bad side.
“Well,” I say, taking the envelope from him and dropping it onto the pile of unopened mail on the entrance table, “please tell Derek thank you for the letter. I’m sure Miller will read it at his earliest convenience. Sometime this year or next, I imagine.” I put my hand on the door, a none-too-subtle sign that I’m almost ready to conclude this interaction. Almost, but not quite. “And do let him know we’re both looking forward to seeing him at the wedding.”
He’s paying for the entire event, so I think it’s important he attends despite this little kerfuffle.
It’s not the response Will, Wyn, or Whatever His Name Is was expecting. I can’t tell if he looks relieved or if he’s had the wind knocked out of his sails.
Poor thing.
Ordinarily, I’d try harder to set him at ease or at least learn his name, but there’s really no point. There just isn’t. He seems nice and quite possibly normal. He won’t last long. Derek’s PAs never do, and they’re usually the type of women who wear six-inch heels and make it look easy. They’re the type who’ve been hardened by years and years of dealing with the egos of arrogant men.
Dear little Whatever His Name Is looks squeaky clean and brand new. He doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of holding his own against Derek MacAvoy.
In fact, I’d put good money on this being the first and last time I’ll see him.
He zips up his bag, gives me a curt bow from the neck, and turns to leave. I’m still not completely done. Derek has annoyed me with this little display, and I think a last jab is in order.
“And while you’re about it, remind him we’re still waiting to hear back about his plus one. Barbara Ann got her card back to us last week,” I call after him. “She’s bringing her naturopath. Tell Derek that.”
With that, he’s gone and peace is restored.
Eloise turns her nose up at my first dinner offering but accepts the second with a modicum of grace. I consider it a victory. She winds her way through my legs and all but frog-marches me to the sofa. Her intention is clear. I’m expected to sit stock still for at least the next hour, acting as the human version of a TempurPedic while she sleeps off her meal.
My phone buzzes before I’m able to take my position. I get it out of my pocket and look down at the screen. A slow, too-big smile creeps up my face when I see the name on the screen.
Miller Fucking MacAvoy.
Oh, go ahead, judge away.
I don’t need you to tell me I look stupid, believe me, I know. I’m super embarrassed by it, and I’ve tried to stop doing it. Obviously, I have. It’s the last thing I want for myself.