Page 51 of A Fool's Game

“Which will hopefully be in just a few days, right?” my dad asks me pointedly.

My annoyance flares, and I can’t contain it in time. “That depends, Dad. Did you send in the paperwork last week or not?”

A hush falls over the table, and I’m left holding my fork, glaring down the table at my elderly father while everyone stares at me.After a long moment where I realize not only am I the asshole, but his silence definitely means the answer is no, I sigh and look down at my plate, stabbing a powdered sugar covered dough ball far harder than necessary.

When I look up, people have shifted back to eating in silence, but my mother is still glaring at me, tears brimming in her eyes like I just ruined everything.

Always the asshole.

But someone has to be. Someone has to ask the hard questions and do the damn work. It wouldn’t have to always be me if someone, anyone, would just step up and help for once.

“One time, there was a wedding at The White Sands, the resort my dad owns, where they flew in baby tigers.”

I look up to find him watching me. Seeing me.

I look quickly back at my plate.

“Like in the Tiger King?”

“Exactly like the Tiger King. I mean, without all the drugs and racism and stuff.”

“Did you get to hold one?”

Gem grips her gifts in one hand as she accepts a hug from each and every member of my family. Ainsley, giftless, but still clearly the favorite today, gets a round of hugs as well. I wait out on the porch, arms crossed.

“Well, that was…something,” he says once we’re finally seated in a booth on the ferry.

I just huff, arms crossed once more.

“What were those pancakes called again? Able skivers?”

“Cut the shit, Ainsley. My family has problems, okay? Sorry breakfast was such a bummer.”

“No, man. That’s not what I said at all. Breakfast was great. And all families have issues.”

“Oh, really?”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? My mom died when I was a toddler, and I was raised by four bachelors. There was a stripper at my eighth birthday.”

“They hired a stripper for your eighth birthday?” Gem chimes in, scandalized.

“No, no. She was one of my uncles’ dates. He swears he didn’t know, but you never can tell with those guys.”

I’ll be goddamned if the guy hasn’t made me feel better again. Jumped in with humor and distracted me from my own problems. If I didn't know better, I’d say he was doing it on purpose.

“I may not know what was going on in there, but I do know that most problems have at least something to do with money. So, if there’s ever anything I can do to help?—”

“We don’t need your money.” The response is so automatic, I don’t even recall telling my mouth to speak the words.

He just shrugs, fully expecting me to say that. “I’m just saying. If there’s ever a reason to use my family’s mostly unearned fortune for something good, I’m here for it.”

The world in front of my eyes threatens to fade to black as I consider what he’s saying. That this guy could write one check, or make one phone call, and everything that I’ve sacrificed my life for would just be taken care of. Just like that. The unfairness of it all turns to bile in my stomach.

“Pass.”

He offers another carefree shrug.

Maybe I will actually punch the guy.

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