Page 107 of The Grumpy Billionaire

I think back to what my mom told me about Charlie being sensitive that Hugo stole the spotlight. Could that be part of it?

“But I’ll definitely be having words with Charlie. Because insinuating I don’t want to talk to you? Or that you should act like you don’t recognize me? I did not appreciate that.”

“No, don’t. It’s my thing to talk to him about.”

Hugo growls the way he does when he doesn’t agree.

“I got this,” I say.

* * *

I’m prettypissed off at Charlie—and my parents. But in a weird way, their behavior with this thing has been so outrageous, it’s inspiring. Liberating, even, because they are so obviously wrong.

I join Kelsey and Willow for a walk down 11thAvenue to the park the next day and tell them about it. I tell them how I let Charlie and even my parents label me as this screwup, but I don’t have to keep that label.

“That was me as a kid,” I say. “And yeah, maybe there’s a grain of truth in it now—I’m not the world’s most organized person, and I don’t always look before I leap, but I always come through on the things that matter.”

“Rip up that script!” Willow says.

“If they want to give me that label, it’s about them, not me.”

“Fuck yeah!” Kelsey says.

Willow suggests an audiobook on mindset and getting new skills, which I listen to the next week while I’m doing my home workout with Kelsey’s set of weights. It’s as inspiring as Willow said it would be, all about how you can acquire any skill. It’s not about how you were born.

Inspired by Hugo and the book and my friends, I volunteer to update the investor database, which entails organizing tons of data into a really neat and orderly form. Normally I would shun this task, and I would complain that it was the exact opposite of my abilities, but I’m on it.

When I run into trouble, I ask Viola for pointers. Not only is she excited to give them to me, but her pointers are actually helpful.

“I can learn this thing,” I say, marveling at the wonder of it. “I can do database organization.”

She looks at me, confused. “Why wouldn’t you?”

I’m about to say because it’s not in my nature, but I stop myself. I suppose in some ways I still believe it, but I’m chipping away at it. “Right,” I say simply.

“The figure-it-out girl,” she says proudly.

Hugo and I go to a movie one night and out for late-night dessert after. He really wants to know when I’m going to confront Charlie.

“I’ll do it eventually,” I say.

He grunts and takes another bite of marzipan cake.

The truth is, I’m hesitant. Charlie has always had the power to make me doubt myself, and I don’t want him anywhere near my fragile new dreams where I grow beyond my old branding.

And I have this other fragile new dream: what if I do try to start my own tiny business?

* * *

I’m steamingthrough day two of the database update when Hesh pops his head over my cubicle wall.

“No chia project for you anymore?” he asks, adjusting his little glasses.

“Nope.”

Jane rolls up. “Are you back to being free for lunch for once? You want to go to Ming’s with us?”

“Into it,” I say. “What time?”

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