Page 76 of Push & Pull
“…And proving to everyone that you’re really ready to take on more work.”
There it was. The real reason Simone wouldn’t be donning her original mantle in the company anytime soon.
“Probation,” she snapped. “Call it what it is.”
“If it were a proper probation,” Astrid said through gritted teeth, “you wouldn’t be back full time with a paycheck and benefits. Probation is a gradual return.”
“Is that not what you’re offering?”
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, Simone did. “You don’t trust me.”
That sigh wrinkled the bust of Astrid’s dress.Don’t take that motherly tone with me. You are not my mother.Astrid was barely older sister material, let alone a stepmother. “I appreciate the difficulties you have faced these past few years. It’s no small feat what you’ve accomplished with your recovery, but…”
“Drop the patronizing tone, please. All you’re doing is pissing me off.”
Astrid did not apologize, but she granted Simone’s request.
“Surely, you understand the circumstances of my last trip to rehab. I went along with it because I knew it was best for my long-term recoveryandmy image in my family’s company. It’s always been my intention to be as mature and reasonable about this.” Even so, why were Simone’s throat tightening and her mouth turning to cotton? “The mistakes I made in my adolescence will not follow me into my adulthood. I’m as interested in throwing everything away as I am damning myself to certain death. The few vices I have left aren’t exactly anything to write home about. Certainly, nothing that compares toyourvices, Astrid.”
Did those words surprise the woman formulating a response? Oh, of course. They also knitted her brow and promised to haunt Simone for such insubordination.
“My vices. That’s funny, Simone.” They both knew what she was talking about, but Simone was grateful they didn’t have to say“kink and younger girlfriends”in front of each other. “I don’t recall my ‘vices’ ever getting in the way of work or harming the company’s image. Those are the two things the president cares most about.” She straightened her back, both legs primly pressed together. “The same for me, actually. As much as I’m devoted to your father’s vision for you and the legacy he left behind, I will not do so at the expense of our employees or their own livelihoods. I do not doubt that if he were alive today, you’d have all the leeway you desire.”
“If my father were alive today,” Simone curtly interrupted, “you would not be vice president, and I would not give a single damn about you or what you think.”
The thing that always further infuriated Simone wasn’t Astrid’s composure. She could handle Astrid if she committed to being a solid, unshakeable rock of gold-digging contemplation.Go ahead and be the evil stepmother. Put me in my place and tell me I have no right to anything. Not even birthright.Except Astrid always showed her human side when Simone slashed her with sass. The curling mouth. The widening eyes. The slight slip of posture. They all happened in a flash, but Simone still caught them. She saw that shocked humility that rippled through Astrid Evans, a woman who shouldn’t have ever acquired that name.
That’s what Simone hated her for. That reminder of her humanity – the reminder that even she could be hurt by Astrid’s words.
See? This is the me you didn’t see, Petra.She hadn’t seen the rolled-back eyes and drowsy illusion that came from a bender, either. Or the manic energy after sharing a line with the Marseille sisters. Petra had witnessed Simone’s fantastical escape from reality on a nightly basis, but it was something she had participated in. Willingly. Even if they felt hungover in the morning, it was from the frenetic moment they shared together. Nothing else.
It had been a lie, though. Like most of Simone’s adult life.
“I’d apologize for that,” she said, abandoning the cup of coffee on the silver tray as she stood up, “but I wouldn’t mean it. You know that.”
“No. Of course not.”
“I have done all that has been asked of me. I’m supposed to be in a place where I can move on with my life. Well… here I am.” No, Simone could not conjure the positivity that might have sold that sentence. “I’ve been sober from drugs for far longer than ever before. I’m not even on medications any longer. An event like what happened here a few months ago won’t occur again, either by accident or my own volition. Believe me, if you want. I know you don’t want to. I merely want to feel useful again.” She didn’t dare look Astrid in the face when she said that. Simone was already too vulnerable and too exposed.
“I’m glad you’re still around and want to help with your family’s company,” Astrid said as Simone headed for the door, folder in hand. “It was one of your father’s wishes, you know. He wanted you to succeed with whatever career you pursued.”
How dare you bring up my father.While sitting in his office, no less.I remember coming in here to play when he was on phone calls or drafting letters with his secretary.The couch young Simone fit perfectly beneath, where she sometimes read books and played with dolls, was now gone. So was the painting of two children dancing in a golden yard, which had been a gift from Elizabeth to her husband. Simone barely recognized the room now. It had wholly become Astrid’s. Like so much of this house.
“I hardly think my father’s wishes matter anymore.” Simone held the folder to her chest as she walked away. “Neither do my mother’s.”
Astrid said nothing as Simone showed herself out. At the end of the day, their spines were only as strong as Simone’s fragile happiness.
She sat in her personal parking garage, unable to get out of her car.
All I want is for things to move forward.It may not have looked like it to others, but Simone had done the best she could, from disconnecting from numerous acquaintances to sticking with therapy while people continued to not believe in her.Forever the fuck-up heiress.The grand disappointment while also being totally understandable – after all, didn’t most heiresses throw their privilege and their lives away?
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Simone had someone to rely on. Someone who was in her corner, and waited for her with a smile and opened arms.
Except Petra had been a lie as well, and Simone was truly embarrassed for thinking it could have been anything but a ruthless fling. So what if Petra made love like a feisty angel? It had all been to get something out of Simone. Even the sex was part of the grift.
She pushed back her driver’s seat and stared at her phone – herrealphone, not the cheap one that had gotten her through the past week. The push notifications from apps and news that she didn’t need filling her head now filled her screen. What annoyed her most was the collection of texts from so-called friends who only ever wanted something from her.
