Page 9 of Idle

This sucks. Fucking Father.

What am I going to do?

Peeling myself off the door, I cross the room. “Alexa, turn on the television.” I sink onto the upholstered bench at the end of my bed and wonder whether Alexa soon will be a thing of the past. Not to mention a TV.

For some reason, the last channel I was on was NewsTime, as that’s what pops up. My former Aunt Yvette, Uncle Ward’s ex-wife, is being interviewed. I open my mouth to change the station but slam it shut when she utters, “I’m going to host a blowout graduation party for my twins since their father’s under indictment and his assets are being frozen. As are those of his scumbag partners.”

So much is wrong with her statement, but my focus lands on my “cousins,” her kids, Chloe and Gabrielle. My vision flashes and it’s all I can do to stop myself from screaming. This cannot be happening!

I. Need. Out.

Jesse’s offer reemerges from the dustbin of my brain. It doesn’t matter that he’s a Neanderthal, heisoffering me the opportunity to flee the nest. Away from my bullheaded Father. Not to mention my bitchy Mum. Plus, didn’t he point out something like the cast would be paid?

I can do this. Hell, I am a twenty-three-year-old woman and already have flipped a house. Without further contemplation, I pick up my phone and text Jesse, relieved we exchanged contact information.

Meet me in an hour at Vinnie’s Place on Seventieth and Fifth.

Without waiting a beat, I press send. Bouncing my cell against my thigh, I await his reply. He’ll say yes. He has to—he needs me. As expected, his response is in the affirmative.

I’ll prove to Father I don’t need him or his dumb money.

Grabbing a lightweight sweater out of my oversized walk-in closet, complete with an island and a window, I swing open my bedroom door and proceed with singular focus toward the front door. Rather, the elevator.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Mum’s question attempts to stop my feet from moving, but fails. After pressing the call button, I cross my arms over my chest and face my parents. “Out.”

My one-word response is not well received, judging from my parents’ sour expressions. Tough. This is my life.

“Young lady, you live in our house, so we deserve to know where you are going.” Father’s voice booms.

Chloe was right. I have literally no other choice but to accept Jesse’s offer, no matter how repugnant. “I’m meeting someone.” Thankfully, the elevator pings and the cab opens. I don’t spare a glance backward as I step inside and jam the button for the lobby. Repeatedly.

On the descent, the impact of my hasty actions sinks in. While I’m not excited to spend time with Jesse and his barbaric ways, they’re preferable to sharing a roof with my parents even one more night. I raise my chin. I will get through this like I always have—with my head held high. Success will follow.

Instead of calling our vehicle concierge, I choose to walk to the restaurant. About five blocks in, I realize my folly. Despite their good looks, my shoes were not built for walking. With a sigh, I pull out my cell phone and call Jimmy. Our vehicle concierge answers on the second ring, as usual, and tells me my car will be here in five minutes.

“Thanks, Jimmy. I really appreciate it.”

While I return my phone to my purse, I consider whether Jimmy will be out of a job soon, considering he maintains and keeps tabs on our cars and drivers. This sucks. I’ve never really thought about all the people on our payroll before, but now it seems like the list is growing. We have our maid Luna, Jimmy and the drivers, and all of the caretakers for our various houses. I’m sure there are many more I’m forgetting. For the millionth time, I wonder what Father and my uncles have been doing all these years.

A limo pulls up. The driver tips his cap toward me before exiting the vehicle and opening the door. Sliding in, I offer a quick thanks then relax against the black leather interior. This vehicle is equipped with a full bar, TV, and can seat up to ten people. How much longer will this be at my beck and call?

Needing to shut down the crazy tumult of my thoughts, I instruct Google to turn on my “happy” playlist and groove to the upbeat tunes. Soon, we pull up to Vinnie’s. “Here you are, Miss Paige.”

Sliding out of the limo, I do an impulsive thing and kiss the driver on his cheek. “Thanks.” Without lingering, I cross the sidewalk and enter the darkened space.

At the hostess stand, Shelby greets me. “Hi there, Paige. Great to see you.”

I force a smile I don’t feel—I’m the “bubbly one” according to media reports. “You too. Do you have my table available?”

Shelby consults her book, her nose ring moving on a wince. She looks up at me, “Sorry. Both of your tables are taken tonight. But we do have a nice spot for two in the corner.”

Seems like everything is falling apart today. I hide my grimace. “I scheduled this meeting last minute, so I’ll take it. Thanks.”

I follow her to the sad little table shoved into the corner and pretend it’s my new favorite place in the entire restaurant.Which it might be, if the government has its way. With this grim reminder of the reason for agreeing to meet with Jesse, I choose the seat facing the doorway so I will be prepared when he arrives. Checking my cell, I realize I’m two minutes early. Better stop making a habit of this.

At the top of the hour, a sandy brown head enters the restaurant. Jesse interacts with Shelby, then turns in my direction.I won’t be swayed by those consuming khaki eyes.

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