Page 47 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

Avril folds her arms. “I don’t like economics,” she says. “I want to do something creative. Coming here just makes it worse, because I see ten jobs I could be doing and really enjoying. Instead, I’m stuck in a classroom, wondering whether I’m destined to become just another empty wannabe banker who would do anything for a dollar.”

You won’t just find Avril’s name next to the entry forexaggerationin the dictionary—you’ll also find a full-color photo.

“You’re telling me you want to drop out in your junior year? With nothing to show for it except your brother’s empty wallet?”

She sighs. “Oh please. You’ve got more money than god. And what’s the point in being rich if you can’t use your wealth to help others? To feed your sister’s soul.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say. I don’t even know how to respond to her. My mind is too full of other things. I want to see more of Sophia. She’s busy tonight, and I hate the thought of spending the night without her. I’d be happy for her to move in so we could really get to know each other, but I know she’s not ready for me to suggest that.

During the brief moments when I’m not thinking about Sophia, I’m consumed by thoughts of this Ninth Street disaster. I really don’t want to take on a project like this—at least not when I have to be involved at the literal ground floor.

And now there’s Avril.

I’m used to having solutions to everything, but today it’s raining problems and I’m out of umbrellas.

Sophia was surprised that Avril being on academic probation was a problem for me personally. I suppose in a normal family, it would be my parents’ problem, but we’re not a normal family. Will I always play a pseudo-parental role in my sisters’ lives? I’m not sure I know how to relate to them any other way. I should be encouraging both of them to be more independent.

“You need to stay in school?—”

Avril groans from the other room.

“Let me finish,” I say. “It doesn’t make any sense for you to quit when you don’t have any idea what you’re going to do. It’s not like you have anything lined up.”

Avril appears in the doorway. “I hate it, Worth.”

“So find something you want to do. Something you’re passionate about. This is your life, Avril. It’s not my responsibility to figure out what you want to do with it.”

“I told you, I can help you with this place.”

I sigh. Is she just looking for an easy out? I can’t tell. I need more data. “Then write me a plan. No whining. No excuses. Write me a plan for this place or whatever it is you want to do if you drop out of Columbia.”

“I don’t need your permission, you know. I could just drop out.”

I fix her with a stare. She knows she needs my okay to leave the Ivy League school I’ve been paying for.

“Okay, what kind of plan?” she relents.

“Tell me what you’re going to do. What experience and qualifications you need. I want a career plan from you. And don’t half-ass it. Do it properly. You need to sell me on this.”

A smile twitches at the edges of her mouth. “You’ll consider it?”

“I’ll consider the plan. But if it’s bullshit, it gets tossed, just like the ten proposals I get per week that I don’t think are worth my time. And you stay in school. But if it’s good, then, like I said—it’s your life.”

She bounces on her toes. “This is going to be the best plan you’ve ever fucking seen.”

That’s all I’ve ever wanted for my sisters—a life plan. I don’t want to see them disappear into nothing like my mother did after my dad died. I want them to have something to get up for every morning. For Mom, we weren’t enough. If Avril and Poppy find something to be passionate about, there will always be a light at the end of every tunnel.

It takes me a little by surprise when Avril slips her arm into mine and rests her head on my shoulder. “Thank you, Worth. You won’t regret this.”

I hope she’s right.

FIFTEEN

Sophia

I’m impressed with myself, and it’s not because of the pink cocktail dress I’m wearing. Despite going out with some of the girls from work last night, I did not booty-call Worth. And I managednotto tell the girls I got hitched in Vegas, even when I was three drinks down. I deserve a ten out of ten.

This dress isn’t right. I pull another from my wardrobe—my last option. I just don’t have a wardrobe that screamsI’m married to a billionaire.I don’t know what Worth likes. Not that I’m dressing for him. Except, maybe I am. He seems so into me, I feel like I need to live up to who he thinks I am.

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