Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
That he has the nerve to even mention Keats triggers a tornado of rage inside me. “He’s a student.”
“In fine arts. He’s a nothing, Sosie.”
“And I’m just a photographer.”
“They are similar that way.”
Slipping my hands free, I feel more confident than ever. Tapping the desk, I say, “Be careful, Dad, before you say something you can’t take back.”
He laughs. Not with me. At me. I see it in his eyes. To him, I’m a pampered princess with nothing to offer anyone except apparently my body. Like, is that what he’s really asking me to do, or am I being dramatic like he claims? What world am I living in that I need to question my own father’s motives?
“I have work to do before your mother and I catch our flight.” They never tell me when they’re leaving or where they’re going. I’m informed on a need-to-know basis like an employee. Though I think his employees outrank me. “The Lafoons are good people. You’d be lucky to snag Gregory, especially considering how poorly you’ve treated him all these years.”
“It hasn’t been poorly. We’re friends. It just never developed into more.”
“For you. But he’s in love, and we should capitalize on that.” He drags an envelope from the side of the desk to place it in front of me. Still in shock from the mere suggestion of using someone like that, I glance at the recipient to see my name written in calligraphy. “You’ll either be accepting his invitation for New Year’s Eve—”
“My birthday,” I say just to take the dig.
“Or you can spread your wings and live exactly how you please. Elsewhere.”
“What?” I’ve been threatened before, but not with intent. Judging by the consternation of his tone, this isn’t a threat. It’s real. “Where would I go? I start school soon. Do you want me living in a dorm?” How did he manage to turn this discussion into a transaction? And what will I have to sacrifice to please him?
“That will not be our concern any longer. We think you’re a bright girl and can figure it out.”
Why does the part about figuring it out sound like it means more than I initially thought? “Will you still pay—”
“No.” He shakes his head like I’m a bother to him. “We won’t be paying for anything. No school. No food. No place to rent. Your lifestyle or the subway card.”
“Credit cards?” I stand, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t understand. Nothing?”
“Nothing. You’ll be on your own. I’m sure you’ll make it work.” He returns his eyes to the monitor like I’m nothing more than an interruption in his day.
I pace the room, stopping when I see the spot where Keats and I met, smoked, and laughed. That’s where the switch flipped on, showing me there’s another way to go in life. The irony that meeting him has sent my life into a tailspin, and now my dad is pulling the rug out from under me, isn’t lost on me.
Returning to stand in front of his desk, I ask, “The options are: go on a date with Gregory for New Year’s, or I’m completely on my own?”
He glances at me with a self-satisfied grin. “Yes.”
“And Mom’s okay with this?”
“She’s in complete agreement.”
There’s no good option. The easiest and most obvious choice would be to go on one date to secure my life as I know it. But the insult of being told to date someone I have no interest in has me wanting to walk away from everything. How will I survive? Other than a trust fund from my grandfather that kicks in when I’m thirty, I have no money of my own. I have no job. I won’t have a place to live. No food. No school. No nothing.
Tough love has always been my parents’ style, the hands-off method a close second. But to cut me off is a new tactic to make me bend to their will. My indignation has me raising my chin as fear of the unknown tidal waves over me. Before I burn the last of this bridge down, I reply, “I’ll think about it.” The attitude voiced in my tone probably won’t go over well, but too bad.
“Don’t take too long.” When he looks at me again, he hands me a piece of paper and the invitation. “The rules have been laid out.” When I take the paper and envelope, he adds, “Merry Christmas.”
My mouth falls open, too stunned to say anything more to him. I’ve been gutted by the betrayal of their actions before, but . . . there’s no coming back from this. Not in my book. Unfortunately, I still must consider all options and consequences.
Before I reach the door, my dad says, “And just in case I wasn’t clear, if you choose the second option, your new friend won’t have a job any longer or any other in this city, NYU might find that he was cheating and expel him, and stealing champagne that cost over a thousand dollars is a felony in this state. We have him on video carrying it out of the building.” I stare at him, this unrecognizable man who claims to love me. “Choose wisely, honey.”