Page 7 of The Muse
I roll my eyes. Landon has a habit of interfering when he's home—like making up for lost time. Sometimes I think he doubts my ability to stand on my own two feet.
“Big brother. How nice to see you,” Ivy mocks. “Is this just a flying visit?”
“I’ll be around for a few weeks, then returning to the States before coming back permanently. But you know all of this.” He takes a seat at the piano stool opposite where Ivy has draped herself, his eyes scanning her. “What do you want?”
“Why do you assume I want something, brother dearest?” She bounces her leg, crossed at the knee.
I wiggle my toes, enjoying the relief while listening to them spar. It makes me smile, regardless of the antagonistic nature.
Landon’s the eldest—the heir to the Broderick Media empire that he's finally coming back to run. But Ivy's only eighteen months younger than him, and they often fight and bicker. That’s all they ever did growing up and seemingly still do. And being a journalist herself, I've always wondered if Ivy feels she’d be more suited as the boss. But the Brodericks are nothing if not fastidious when it comes to doing things the proper way.
Landon’s a lawyer, a good one, but he doesn’t know the media business. Saying that, the empire that Daddy has amassed since he took control is impressive and not simply to do with journalism. That was the family business from years gone by; there’s much more now.
Then there's Neve. She’s the shy, quiet one of us all. Happy to stay out of everyone’s business and keep to herself. She’s the only one that visits Tallington apart from Mother and Father. At least she came today.
And finally, there's me. The baby of the family, which nobody ever lets me forget, even though I’m nearly twenty-two. Of course, it has its perks, but Daddy will never see me as he does Landon or Ivy.
“You’ve always got an angle, Ivy,” Landon grits, half chuckling.
“Well, I don’t. But I do want to know what you’re going to do about Persephone’s critics.”
I inwardly groan at the mention. It’s only been a few days since my final show, but all the papers have covered my farewell performance. And there are a variety of reports. While I don’t usually pay attention to what the media says, it's been different this time. And with the circus that was my last interview, I had to know what the outcome would be.
Most simply covered the ballet. With a few lines about the opening for a new dancer at the company and that despite my fast rise and subsequent departure, I’d merited a spot in the history books. However, The Times and The Herald both chose less-flattering stories. At least dear old Mary had some substance to her review. Scott Foxton ripped my performance to shreds before insinuating that my lack of perseverance at the top was a result of my insecurity over my ability, coupled with an ‘entitled millennial attitude’.
“What happened?” Landon’s eyes flash to mine as if accusing me of doing something wrong.
Were any of my siblings at my final performance? No. They weren’t. Probably because they've always thought my chosen career was more of a passing phase or hobby. They've never understood or appreciated how hard I had to work to accomplish what I did. And while each sibling is successful in their own right, none of them would have been able to do what I have done.
“Nothing happened, Landon. And you’d have known that if any of you had bothered to see me.”
“I’ve only just flown in, Persephone. And I’ve seen you dance plenty of times before.”
“Then why did Scott Foxton write you up as if you were a newbie dancer in her first show and call you a whinging millennial?” Ivy criticises.
“And you’d choose to believe whatever crap a Foxton wrote about me? Thanks for the sisterly love.” I shouldn’t have to defend myself to my family. I thought Ivy was cross on my behalf when she raised this with Landon.
“Her performance was flawless. Like always. Don’t give her a hard time.” Neve surprises all of us.
We all whip our heads around to where she’s helping herself to a drink at the bar. She must have snuck in when we were bickering. I've not spoken to her in months, but it's touching that she took the time to come and see me, even if I didn’t know about it.
I mouth a ‘thank you’ towards her and give her a small smile.
“I want you to rip that so-called journalist a new one, Landon. You more or less control The Herald now,” Ivy snaps.
“No, I don’t. Not yet. I’m not the CEO, and the deal isn’t finalised. Ivy, you know this,” Landon admonishes. His surly voice cuts through the room as if he needs to silence us all.
As usual.
He’d already left for university when I was a toddler, so I didn’t have the pleasure of witnessing his temper until I was an adult, and I was glad of that. Ivy's always told me of how overprotective and controlling he was when she was growing up. I've always had enough of that from Daddy. And being a ballerina didn’t leave much room for anything else in my life.
“I’ll take care of Foxton. It’s just like that snake to do something like this.” He slams his tumbler down on the top of the piano. “I won’t have him tarnishing the Broderick name.”
“Except it isn’t the Broderick name he’s tarnishing, Landon. It’s mine. My professional reputation, my career. So, I will take care of this myself.” I stand up to him, feeling both humiliated and furious. Firstly, Foxton prints a diatribe of a review with no merit or foundation, and now my brother and sister think they can come swooping in and brush it all under the carpet? Well, they can’t. I’m not the baby anymore, and I will fight my own battles.
“Ivy, Neve, between you two, can you get me Foxton’s address?” Ivy's an investigative journalist, and Neve can do far too much with a computer. I've always wondered if her job is strictly legal. It’s such a mystery.
“Ohh, that’s more like it,” Ivy encourages.
