Page 17 of Tickled Pink

“No, you came here to bribe me. What are you here to offer me this time? A new condo? How about a house in the Hills? Or the Porsche?”

“Max, come on—”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Dad. I’ve got everything I need here in New York. The life I’ve built here with Phoebe and Thad is so much better than anything I could achieve as a footnote in your legacy. So, again, my answer is no.”

Dad looks down. “So, you and he are still…”

“Still what, Dad?” I egg him on. “Still friends? Still living together?”

“You know what.”

“Still in love with the same woman?” I tilt my head. “Or is it the possibility that I’m in love with him the thing that really bothers you?”

He says nothing.

I shake my head. “You know what, don’t answer that. I don’t give a shit what you think.”

The elevator opens on the 15th floor and I move to step off.

“Max, where are you going?” he asks.

I pause, briefly turning back between the open doors. “I’m going to update my boss and then I’m going home to spend the holiday with the people I love. I suggest you do the same.”

Dad stands still, silently fuming, as he glances over my shoulder.

“Max.”

I turn around and my gut lurches. Thad stands in the waiting area with his hands in his coat pockets and a dire expression on his face.

Something’s wrong.

I throw on a smile for my father’s sake. “Speak of the devil,” I say.

Thad’s grim eyes suddenly brighten as he notices my father. He steps forward to greet me as I walk off the elevator with a devious glint and a gummy smile.

“Wassup, Keith?” he asks.

My father flexes his jaw and looks at me, blatantly ignoring Thad. “Consider my offer, son,” he says as he taps the door close button.

“Already have. I’ll pass,” I say. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

He looks down as the doors close on his face.

“Damn,” Thad says. “He seems… well, angry. As usual.”

“Some things refuse to change,” I say, catching the shift in his face. “What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you and Phoebe be at the airport by now?”

He sighs. “Yeah, we were supposed to, but…” He runs a hand through his locks. “They aren’t coming.”

I squint. “Not coming?”

“Pheeb’s dad called, said some pretty shitty things, but the gist of it is that they don’t support her lifestyle, so they’re not coming. Direct quotes in there.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since always, I’d imagine. Just never had the balls to come out and say it until now.”

My heart breaks. Poor Phoebe.

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