Page 59 of Bad for Business
My lips press into a thin line as my life flashes before my eyes. “I’m too young to die.” I hadn’t realized I’d said the words out loud until she gives me a pointed glare.
“You’re being drunk and dramatic. You’ll be fine. I have no plans for either of us to die tonight. I can’t die until I finally get my father’s approval and make partner.”
“That’s really your biggest life goal? The one thing you have to do before you die? Get your father’s approval?”
I let out a whistle. Damn. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m drunk or if I’d still think this sober, but that’s really sad if it’s true.
Camille grabs the steering wheel and lets out a long sigh. “And what if it is?” Her gaze cuts to me, a defiant look in her eyes. “Then what would you have to say about it?”
“That it’s fucking sad,” I blurt.
She winces the moment the words leave my mouth. A wave of guilt crashes over me at the hurt look in her eyes, but the longer I think about it, the more I believe my words to be true, no matter if I’m drunk or not.
“Wow, thanks for being honest. And what about you? Aren’t you trying to get your father’s approval? Isn’t that what we’re both trying to do?”
I close my eyes for a moment. The longer we’ve sat here, the more the alcohol has started to hit me. My head feels fuzzy, and my vision isn’t as clear as it normally is. I try to think of my words carefully before saying them, but for some reason, the thought of her worth being dependent on what her asshole father thinks of her really bothers me.
“Yes, I want his approval. I want him to feel good about giving me the company I’ve been raised to take over. There was once a time when he looked at me and I knew he was proud ofme. I want to get that back. But no, Cami, it isn’t my one life goal to get his approval.”
I thought being drunk was supposed to numb the pain. But even the mention of the way my dad used to look at me sends a wave of grief through me. Before my mom got sick and passed away, my parents were proud of me. I did everything right. I was the golden son, ready to take over Davenport Media and take it to new heights.
And thenshedied.
The person I loved most on this planet died.
And making anyone proud didn’t seem to matter anymore. Why should it? Even when I was perfect, Mom still died.
“What is your one goal, then? What doyouwant to accomplish before you die?” Camille spits, breaking me from the painful memories overtaking my mind.
I turn my head to look at her. “I want to like myself again. It’d be nice to have my own approval before I go.”
Camille’s mouth snaps shut. I don’t think she was expecting that answer. To be honest, it wasn’t an answer I was expecting to give her either.
I sigh, wishing I had kept it to myself. She doesn’t need to know how much I hate the person I’ve become since Mom passed. I wasn’t the person who drank to mask the pain or who made reckless decisions. I liked who I was. I felt good about myself. Now? I’d do anything to get back to that point. I just don’t know how to after losing Mom.
“Ryker.” The way she says my name makes me want to throw up. She says it with so much pity that it makes my skin crawl.
I hold my hand up to stop her from saying anything else. “You shouldn’t attach your worth to an asshole like your dad, Camille. With a man like him, I think you’ll be waiting your entire life for his approval.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not true. He already told me he’d make me partner if we succeed this summer.”
“He’ll make up an excuse about why you can’t have it.”
“You don’t even know my dad,” she fires back, her tone defensive.
I shrug before leaning back in the passenger seat to get comfortable. “Not well. But I know men like him. I’ve spent my entire life around guys like your dad. He told you he’d make you partner so you’d stop asking.”
A weird noise comes from the back of Camille’s throat. For a few long seconds, all she does is stare at me with wide eyes, full of disbelief. Eventually, she shakes her head and composes herself. “You don’t know him. He wouldn’t do that. You’re just being mean.”
I pull my gaze from her and look forward. There’s no use in arguing. She’ll find out sooner rather than later. Plus, I’m over this conversation. I’m starting to spin because of the drinks, and all I want to do is climb into bed and hope I drank enough to make it so I don’t dream of her tonight.
Without looking at her, I reach between us and tap on the gear shift. “This right here is how you put the car into reverse. That’s what you’ll do to get us out of here. There’s also these things called a gas pedal and a brak?—”
“Stop being an asshole. I’ve got it.”
My jaw hurts as I keep it closed, forcing myself not to make any other sort of remarks to her. I keep my thoughts to myself the entire car ride home. To my surprise, she isn’t as bad a driver as I was expecting for having not driven in years.
Neither of us says a single word to each other the entire car ride or even after we get home.
