Page 133 of Whirlwind

“No. I’ve never told anyone that. Please don’t start with ‘this is the 21stcentury, Violet.’ I know it is. But there’s a lot on the line here.” She let out a breath. “This is my dad’s dream project, and I’ve been a part of it from the very beginning of that vision, from when I was a kid. The company is my legacy too, and this is a huge opportunity to do something important for our community, for all the Black Hills before big out of state, if not foreign corporations, come in and snap up whatever is left and wreak havoc. It’s been a long process securing funds, getting approval, planning out the designs and—”

“What about your work? Your once in a lifetime vision?” Hadn’t we had this very same conversation five years ago?

“I’ve been shooting on the weekends, whenever I can, in between—”

“In between, on the side—is that enough? Because I think you’re chomping at the bit to do it all the time, make it your primary focus.”

She slid back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. Was it the sun’s glare or irritation with me? “It’s easy for you and someone like Tag to say that.”

Irritation.

I poured myself coffee. “Tag made all his success happen for himself. It wasn’t easy, even though it looks that way online. When he dropped out of high school, his dad flipped the fuck out and cut him off. His parents didn’t have much to begin with and suddenly, Tag literally didn’t have a penny in his pocket. He made all this happen on his own. He found a way step by step, kept at it, didn’t give up, and look at him now. Living his dream his way.”

“He was lucky too. His timing was spot on, social media blew up at the same time that he…”

“It was way more than luck and timing, and you know it.”

“He’s got charisma, good looks, creative ideas, social media smarts—”

“Yes, and he brought all those things together and hit it with everything he had. Still does, every day.”

She put her fork down. “What are you saying, Beck? I should take off and travel the world with Lars and Tag? Go with you and Freefall on tour?”

“Get that “should” out of there. But yeah, great fucking ideas. Absolutely.”

“Right.” She put her fork on her dish. “You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me.”

“I didn’t grow up like you did, Beck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. A rock and roll star dad, that whole L.A. lifestyle. And a mom who’s avant-garde and unconventional by Meager standards.”

“Standards, huh?”

“I grew up in a very conventional and conservative small town with very conventional and conservative families on both sides—with several exceptions, but…”

“Violet, stop.”

Her lips pressed together. She said nothing. She was making excuses and she knew it.

“There’s something else, babe. I know there is. Something that keeps you tied to that project.”

She took in a breath and her back hit her chair. “I had a brother. A year older than me. He was the Hildebrand prince for my dad, for my dad’s parents. Marshall the fifth. We called him “Five.”Big personality, very good looking. Athletic. A star player of the football team—until he got kicked off the team.” She picked at another croissant, ripping off the pointy end.

“He was screwing the coach’s underage daughter, getting high, and he was also the ringleader in an exam cheating scandal. Then there was a tiny issue with gambling.”

“The prince was a problem.”

“Five had a personality disorder that, at the time, was difficult to diagnose. Once he finished middle school he changed. He’d get very aggressive off and on. Unpredictable. Mean.

“We were in high school, Jessa in middle school. Mom was working with Dad at the time. One Saturday night, my parents had to go to some fancy dinner in Rapid. Dad was the mayor of Meager back then. That same night there was a big party that both me and Five wanted to go, but my Dad had grounded him after finding pot and Ecstasy in his car. They’d been fighting all freaking day, it was awful.

“Dad insisted I stay home to keep on an eye on him. Which wasn’t anything new. So Mom and Dad went to their dinner and the three of us stayed home.”

She dragged the tines of her fork along the table.

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