Page 126 of The Disasters of Dating
She gives my mother a level look. “I’ve come to collect Alice.”
My mom blinks at her. “Collect her for what?”
“We have a contract,” the man behind her says.
My mom’s head shakes. “No, Alice.”
“I was understanding with Sadie and that boyfriend of hers. But Alice is unattached. She’s younger than Dorian wanted, but we’re both willing to make concessions.”
Dorian? “Wait, is this the guy you tried to pawn off on Sadie?”
My grandma glares at me. “No one was being ‘pawned off’.” She turns to my mom. “It’s an advantageous deal for her, and I don’t intend to let her flush it away as Sadie did.”
“You will not force Poppy to do anything,” my mom says with her hands on her hips.
“We have a contract,” Dorian says again.
I narrow my eyes. “Let me see this contract.”
“No, Poppy. You don’t have to.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’d like to see what Grandma thinks we’re worth.”
My grandma flinches slightly at my words. “Really, Alice. Do not speak in such a vulgar tone.”
I raise my brows. “I want to see this contract.”
She waves me away. “You’ll hardly understand it, dear. It’s full of legalese. You can trust that I’ve looked out for your interests.”
“You’ll excuse me if I look out for my own interests.”
Dorian steps forward and lays a paper on the counter in front of me. “Here’s the contract. I think you’ll see everything is in order.”
I open the paper and laugh.
“What is sofunny?” Grandma Alice asks.
“The first request. Two thousand dollars a month? Are you kidding me? That’s chump change.”
“Alice, your language,” my grandma scolds.
“And a million-dollar home? When was this contract drafted? In the 1900’s? A million dollars doesn’t even buy a McMansion these days.”
I quit reading and hand the paper back. “This is a hard no.”
“What?” Dorian sputters. “But it’s been signed and notarized.”
I shrug. “Not by me. And as I’m a legal adult, my grandma has no right to sign anything on my behalf.”
“Alice.” She’s using her stern voice to try to frighten me. “I know what’s best for you.”
I shake my head. “No, you don’t. You know nothing about me. Maybe if you’d taken even a modicum of interest in our family, you would know a small amount about me. But you never have.” I’m proud of the evenness of my voice.
“I know plenty about you,” she scoffs.
“Oh? What’s my favorite color?”
“Favorite colors tell nothing of a person. And they change so frequently.”
