Page 96 of Ink & Ambition

“Let’s just say for argument’s sake, you don’t go into the family business. What would your dream job be?”

“Margot.” Now I’m warningher. But she’ll have nothing of it.

“What? It’s just a question,” she says, raising her hands defensively. She looks back and forth between all of us but finds one mute, one enemy, and one reluctant ally. “Fine, forget it.”

Margot sip her water and takes a small bite of her mashed potatoes. The room is pregnant with awkward silence. I’m notsure if I should offer a change of subject or just let the silence continue.

I feel like such a coward that I can’t support her in her defiance of my father but when you’re lived under the man’s thumb for as long as I have, I’ve learned it’s very difficult to speak your mind without risking the consequences. Whether that be a cut off of family funds or a swift smack, neither of which I was keen on. Looking over at Drew’s forlorn expression, I know he feels the same way.

“I feel lucky that I get to follow my dreams of being a journalist. Back home in South Carolina, my brother’s working in a factory to help sustain our household.”

I’m not sure what prompted her to say it and I’ve never, never, ever been ashamed of Margot from where she’s come from–in fact, I’ve openly and endlessly admired her for it–but I could see the bullet she just shoved into her own chest when my father grinned a shit-eating smile.

“So, you’re poor. That’s why you’ve latched yourself onto my son.”

Margot chokes on her water. “Excuse me?”

“This is all finally making sense. You coerce my son into doing this podcast with you so you can get in his good graces, make him fall for you and then steal his fortune. A gold digger. I should’ve smelled it on you.”

“What the f–”

I shove away from the table. “Margot, let’s just go.” Margot looks up at me from her seat and the expression on her face breaks my heart. She wants me to stand up for her. And I want to. There’s nothing on Earth I’d rather do. But if I stand up to him, he’s not going to take it out on me. No. He’ll take it out on Drew. I can’t leave my brother here defenseless. This has gone on long enough.

Taking her hand, I pull her from the table. She lets me. Margot drops her napkin on the table before following me to the door. I have her car door open before she can say another word. Walking around to the other side, I sit in the driver’s seat and pull out of the driveway before someone comes out to change my mind.

Our ride is silent and if I know Margot, I know she’s got a battle going on in her head. She wants to fight me but she also wants to commend me.

“Just say it,” I sigh, pulling onto the highway.

“You cannot let that man control your life.”

“It’s not like I want him to.”

Margot lets out a frustrated breath. She looks out the window, then back at me, then out the window again. “Out with it,” I prompt her again.

“Now that I see what he’s really like, we need to go full steam ahead with this plan. We need to get Drew as far away from him as possible, and you need to pursue your own goals.”

My knuckles are white on the steering wheel. What a dream. I would love to do both of those things. But she doesn’t understand how vindictive Oliver can be. When he sets his mind to something, there’s nothing that can change it.

Margot is looking at me and when we stop at a traffic light, I meet her gaze. Her eyes are daggers as she keeps mine and then she utters two words I never thought I’d hear her say.

“Fuck. Him.”

The sound of the expletive leaving her lips makes me want to pull the car over right then and there and have my way with her. She clearly cares a lot about my future and I have to thank her for that.

“Do you want to get away with me? I mean, I know we’re away now but this weekend, do you want to go some place? Just you and me?”

Margot reaches across the car, placing her hand on my upper arm. “Yes.”

If we had bags packed, I’d go right now. But we didn’t plan to stay at my father’s house. So, I drive Margot to her apartment, assure her I’d be back in thirty minutes and then I go to my house.

Kai and Keith are watching TV when I come in. Their parents live across the country so they don’t usually travel on these holidays. In fact, in the past few years they’ve been coming to mine for Thanksgiving but neither were upset when I said I was bringing Margot instead.

“Hey, man, how was—”

Their greeting gets cut off as I take the stairs two at a time. I have a bag packed and ready to go in twenty minutes and I’m heading back downstairs when I hear a knock at the door. Unless they ordered delivery, there’s only one person that could be right now.

Keith rounds the corner and I yell for him not to open the door but it’s too late. Oliver steps into the entryway, his hands full of tupperware containers. He spots me on the bottom step immediately.

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