Page 46 of A Smooth Operator

Ididn't know how to deal with the mess I made with Echo, so I got drunk. I spent the weekend at my loft, mostly in a drunken haze. On Monday, I spent part of the day in the gym, burning off the alcohol and the rest of my time working.

That night, I missed her and drank again.

This went on for a week.

In the meantime, Echo had blocked me on her phone and email. Since she wasn't on any social media, I couldn't get in touch with her that way. I hadn't gone to her place. I couldn't stand seeing her as I had a week ago—broken. Her pain had devastated me.

And it's always about you, isn't it, Remi? It hurts you to be near her, so you drink. Fucker!

I had many regrets. But what the fuck were they worth? I couldn't do much with them.

"Son, are you sick?" My father asked when I showed up for Sunday lunch after a night of drinking. I'd barely rolled out of bed and hauled my ass into the shower. Then, I had taken an Uber over because I was sure my blood alcohol levels weren't legal.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

Lani and Tommy were still together, I noticed, because they were cooing at Mama's Sunday lunch table.

I hadn't seen Lani, Marina, or any of them since that night. They'd been at the club Thursday and Friday night, but I'd ignored them. The club was open Thursday through Sunday, and I spent my time there during those days. The restaurants were open Tuesday through Sunday, so I spent a day a week at each restaurant. The restaurants had capable managers, and I just went to look at the paperwork and for weekly meetings where we discussed things like menu changes, cover percentages, and other business.

The nightclub was newer and still had a lot of growing pains, so my time there was busy putting out fires. I could delegate, but the past week I hadn't. I didn't want to spend time partying or socializing. I wanted to work and hide.

"Remi is busy all the time," Lani chirped. "He doesn't even hang out with us at the club."

"You could've shaved at least," my mother reproached.

I thanked Lola, who served us lunch and made sure our glasses were filled. Fern used to do that when we were growing up.

Echo had set the table and helped Fern clean up at our place plenty of times. She hadn't in the beginning until my mother had wondered why Echo couldn't start working at the estate rather than at a diner. Fern had said something along the lines of the girl who has her head in the clouds. Yeah right! But like Echo had said, Fern worked hard for us and had gotten paid for it. It was an honest job, which was more than Lani could say, or even my mother, who'd never worked a day in her life. And none of that housewife shit either—we had help around the house and nannies.

"Remi?" my mother admonished. "I'm talkin' to you."

"I didn't have time to shave, Mama." I drank some iced tea.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" Lani pouted. "Is this because of that Echo thing?"

My father turned to Lani. "What Echo thing?" he demanded.

Lani shrugged, looking sheepish. "She got upset about somethin'. But you know how sensitive she is."

"She isn't sensitive, Lani; we were downright cruel to her," I snapped. Enough already with blaming her for what we did wrong.

"Oh, please, we've said worse to her," Tommy, the asshole, added with a laugh.

"Did any of you tell her she's my charity case?" Dad demanded, his demeanor unusually stern.

"Calm down, Dallas," Mama scoffed. "He's all upset because Echo quit her job. Good riddance, I say, and—"

"Stop it, Sierra," My father cut in. He never spoke this way to our mother, and she looked at him in surprise. "Now, I'm askin' you, Remi, did you tell her she's a charity case?"

"Yeah, Dad, somethin' like that," I admitted, feeling like a hundred knives were cutting into my chest. She quit her job. She'd said she would. I didn't think about it. She loved her job. She talked about it all the time.

"Why on earth would you say that?" Dad stood up, his anger palpable.

"Because she is, Dad." Lani made a face and snuggled into Tommy.

"No, Lani, that would be you who has a job at GeneVerse that you don't show up for and still collect a paycheck. Dr. Echo Devlin is a fuckin' asset to my company. Charity case? Do y'all have any idea how much competition there was to hire Echo after she finished her PhD?" My father looked at all of us around the table.

If I could beat myself with shame any more than I had, I would. She'd said that too, how she'd been headhunted. I'd ignored all of that and focused on one thing—Echo wasn't of the same socioeconomic status as us. That was her biggest flaw, something she couldn't control. But the rest? Echo was better than all of us.

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