Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
“Good plan,” Grace says.
“I agree,” Michael says. “Thank you, Carson.”
“All of us under one roof where we can all be taken out in one fell swoop? I don’t fuckin’ think so,” Derek states. “No way am I keeping Chloe here.”
I look up at his face. Our eyes meet and his are frighteningly angry.
His hand at my lower back jerks some more.
“It was a public place; there was only so much we could do,” Grace defends. “But-”
“Bullshit,” Derek clips. “Did me and Jonah not both try to convince you people it was a bad idea to be out in the open like that? Lotta good that recon did when enemies can strap explosives to drones.”
Michael keeps going. “We’ll go out there, present a united front, and deal with all the bullshit tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Did I not just fucking speak?” Derek snaps.
“Do I give a fuck?” Michael returns.
“You really gonna continue acting like I’m not here, Dad?”
“Me, Derek? You say practically nothing to me for decades and now you’ve got all sorts of shit to say to me? Now you want attention? Here. During all this?” Michael pauses and then sourly finishes with, “I think given the circumstances, it can wait one more day, son.” He gulps back the contents of his glass and sets it down hard.
“I’ve got shit to say that should’ve probably been said a long fuckin’ time ago,” Derek snaps. “Maybe I don’t wanna wait until tomorrow. Maybe I can’t swallow it down for one more fucking minute.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re supposed to be burying my wife today, Derek.”
“She’s dead and gone. And she’s still your biggest priority, isn’t she?”
Michael’s face is red, but like stone.
A staff member comes in and speaks low to Carson.
“The police are here,” Carson states.
“Make them wait. We’re busy,” Derek snaps.
“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you all of a sudden,” Michael says.
“Of course you don’t know; you haven’t given a fuck for most of my life, Dad.”
“My wife is dead!” Michael shouts gutturally.
I wince.
“My mother is dead!” Derek counters. “And you didn’t protect her when Elijah told you shit was too amped for you to be wandering around in New York. All because she wanted to see a fucking play and you didn’t want to burst her fragile bubble by revealing that shit was dangerous. And now again today… again… your ignorance put my wife, my brothers and sisters, their spouses in jeopardy.”
“And I have to live with all that, don’t I?” Michael fires back.
“You have a history of not paying attention to anybody who says anything you don’t wanna hear, don’t you? Until big shit happens to wake you up, right? Oh… wait… except when it comes to your kids.”
Michael bares his teeth, but Derek isn’t done.
“Did sweet fuck all for your family unless it was throwing money at staff to look after them for you… until she almost died when we were kids and then she was all you gave a fuck about. And now she’s dead. What’ll you give a fuck about now, Dad?”
“You’ve lost your mind, Derek.”
“I think I lost it a long time ago, man. Around the time my father didn’t give a fuck that I was being held for a ransom he could easily pay.”
“Here we go,” Michael mutters. “I need another fucking drink.”
Carson rushes over with the decanter, looking stressed out.
I’m still standing in Derek’s embrace, trembling along with him.
Grace is crying, Naomi’s crying, and Sabrina has sat down in the chair beside Naomi, has her arms wrapped around herself, and she’s staring at the fireplace, looking broken.
Elijah moves over and stands beside her, looking frazzled. Looking like he wants to comfort her but is afraid to touch her.
“I say we shouldn’t have the funeral at a cemetery out in the open and Elijah insists you won’t listen. Jonah calls you to talk about it and you sluff him off, too. So Ash nearly gets blown apart, then the whole fuckin’ place is being attacked and shit is on fire just five feet from my wife and my fucking sisters and still all you care about is what she would have wanted in terms of appearances. She’s gone, Dad. Bullshit ceremonies and fake receiving lines and fucking nonsense for the clicking shutters to make the press think we’re the perfect all-American one percent family? Why don’t you tell everyone to go the fuck home so we can help clean up Elijah’s mess and take out his fuckin’ enemies?”
“What is your fucking problem?” Michael retorts, full of venom. “You-”
Derek cuts him off. “What’s been my problem my whole life, man? Maybe your lack of giving a fuck has something to do with it. Probably figured the good doc was helping you weed that garden, huh? Too bad I shot him and came back.”