Page 65 of Living on the Edge

“Why not?” he asks. There’s no censure in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

“It’s expensive,” I say. “My dad didn’t leave me a lot, other than his condo, but I have bills. The maintenance, utilities, my car and insurance, gas, food, my phone… my influencer channel pays for most of that, but there’s very little left over. And I’m making like two hundred bucks a month at the magazine.”

He stares at me in horror. “Two…hundred? Amonth?”

I chuckle even though it’s not funny. “That’s why I’m here—to earn a spot on the full-time roster. If I can become a staff writer, instead of a contributing writer, then I’ll be eligible for health insurance.”

“I see.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize… the healthcare system in the US is so fucked up.”

Our eyes meet, and I suddenly understand some of the pressure he’s under.

Hisfamilyis one of the reasons the healthcare system is messed up. Pharmaceutical companies have far too much power, both in the medical world and in politics, making it hard on regular people like me. And he knows it.

“Does your family…understand that?” I ask quietly.

He snorts. “They do on an intellectual level, but from a business perspective, all they see is dollar signs.”

“This is why you changed your name,” I say.

I understood it on a very basic level before, but now it’s starting to make more sense.

“One of the reasons.”

“But do they still support you financially?”

“Yes and no. I don’t get money from my family anymore, but I did receive a trust fund when I turned twenty-five from my mother’s mother. I invested wisely and have a financial planner who manages it. I’ll always be comfortable unless I do something stupid. I won’t be a billionaire like my father, but that’s never been the goal for me.”

“Will your father cut you out of his will if you don’t go back to the fold?”

I lift one shoulder. “I don’t know and I don’t care. I made some good investments, and I don’t have much in the way of bills right now. Car insurance, minimal utilities on my house, and?—”

“You have a house? Where?”

“Apple Valley.”

That’s a suburb of Minneapolis, not far from where I live.

“Does the band know?”

He shakes his head. “We haven’t really talked about those kinds of details.”

“How come?”

He scratches his chin. “To be honest, I don’t know the answer to that.”

Before he can continue, there’s a knock on the door.

“Ryleigh? You awake?”

“It’s Kirsten,” I say. “Put a damn shirt on before she gets the wrong idea.”

To my surprise and irritation, he laughs.

“I’m pretty sure everyone got quite a few ideas after they watched me carry you out of the lobby last night.”

Chapter19

Angus

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