Page 79 of Neat
“That position wasLogan’s,” I said, pressing my index finger on the top of his desk like I was pointing at indisputable proof. “And you know it.”
Dad rolled his eyes. “Cut the theatrics. This was a business move. We can’t have a Becker running an entire department, let alone the most importantlocalone, lucratively speaking.”
“Why?” I asked, tossing my hands up in exhaustion before they fell back to my thighs with awhack. “What is your vendetta against that family? They lost their father in the one and only fire our distillery has ever had. We owe them. Besides, Papalovedtheir grandfather. They were partners.”
“They werenotpartners,” Dad said, nose flaring and face reddening. “That was never officially written on any paperwork.”
“It didn’thaveto be written. They knew it because they were friends — youallwere. I remember Papa telling fond stories of Logan’s dad, John. How much he saw him as a son. And I also remember seeing pictures of you and their mom, Laurelei, when you were high schoolers. You two seemed like friends then. What happened?”
Dad slammed his fist on the desk, his face so red I thought he’d burst a blood vessel if he didn’t calm down. “That’senough. What decisions I make for my business are just that —mybusiness. I don’t owe my daughter an explanation.”
“You do when it concerns me!” I argued. “When it’s my life, my job, my friends—”
“Logan Becker isnotyour friend.”
“You’re right. He’s more.” I stood tall, swallowing down whatever hesitance I’d had before that moment. “I love him, Dad. And I don’t care if that’s notpermittedin your mind. And I also don’t care what you had in plan for me at that distillery, because I’m done. I’m quitting. And you’re going to give that position to Logan.”
Dad watched me for a long, slow moment, blinking several times before he let out a bark of a laugh. Then, he gave in to a whole fit of laughter, swiping at tears coming from his eyes before he spoke again. “Oh, child. Your spunk is so adorable.”
“You will give that position to Logan,” I said again, not backing down. “Because he deserves it. Because he’s the right one for the job. Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“I will not.”
“Youwill,” I said again, folding my arms. “Or I will go see your favorite journalist at theStratford Gazetteand tell her everything about that night when I was fourteen, when our police chief sexually harassed me and my father did nothing about it.”
All the color drained from my father’s face.
Miranda Hollis loved to publish scathing articles about my father and the distillery. It seemed her mission was to get Scooter Whiskey out of Stratford, to disconnect the town from what she thought was agarbage business. Since her father was involved in politics, Dad had never been able to silence her.
Much to his dismay.
And he knew as well as I did that if she got this story, there would be a shit storm for him, for our family, for the police chief and the entire town.
He placed his palms flat on the desk, stood very,veryslowly, and waited until he was towering over me to look me dead in the eye. “You will do no such thing, young lady. Now, I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but if you remember right, it’smewho pays the bills on that little studio you love so much. It’smewho bought that apartment above it where you sleep every night. And it’smewho can take all of that away,” he said, snapping to illustrate the point. “Just like that.”
“Fine,” I said, shrugging. “Do it. Take the studio, take the apartment. I have my car, and my dignity, and that’s fine by me.”
Dad laughed, shaking his head like I was delusional. “You’ve lost your mind, little girl. You’ll be excommunicated from this family, from our money, fromeverything— and that shop is gone. That’s not a threat. That’s a promise.”
I shrugged, though my heart squeezed painfully in my chest. I knew this was how he would react, and I knew when I walked out of my studio this morning that the dream I’d built inside it would be gone.
It was a sacrifice worth making, because this was the right thing to do.
“That’s fine, if that’s your choice,” I said calmly. “But this is mine.”
Dad shook his head, face screwed up in confusion like I was certifiably insane. And maybe I was. All I knew was I could never live with myself, playing a part in his game just to have a studio that I could maybe have on my own someday. It would take longer. I’d need a loan, and a business plan, maybe some investors. It wouldn’t be easy.
But nothing in my life had been.
I knew one thing for sure — I never wanted to be in debt to my father, and I never wanted to be a part of any plan that hurt the man I loved.
“I know you don’t want another scandal rocking this family, and Idefinitelyknow that with everything in the news right now, with the way companies and celebrities are getting shut down by women coming forward with their stories, this is the kind of scandal you never want to leak. So, if you want me to keep my mouth shut, I will. But you have to do this for me.”
Dad’s jaw clenched, face red. I gave him one last pointed look before I turned and crossed the office, opening the door that led to the hallway.
“Make it right, Dad,” I said. “You have until New Year’s.”
Then, I slammed the door on the devil, and vowed to never make a deal with him again.
