Page 11 of Nash Falls
“Look, I’ll send him a nice card and flowers to the house and I’ll offer my personal condolences, blah-blah.”
“You are one heartless prick.” But then Barton smiled. “Just like I raised you.”
“Youdidn’traise me, Mom did, in case you don’t remember. And it wasn’t as a heartless prick. For that, it’s all thanks to you.”
“I was there for all the important moments. Like when I handed you the keys to Sybaritic for no good reason other than you’re my flesh and blood. You weren’t boo-hooing about me missing your ball games and science fairs then.”
“Is that all you wanted to ask me? About the funeral? You ever heard oftexting?”
When his father didn’t answer, Rhett glanced at the doorway through which the masked woman had disappeared. “Oh, I get it. You wanted me to see you can still get the job done with the young ladies? Never doubted it, Dad. I mean, you did marry a twenty-nine-year-old just last year. What was tonight’s model? Sixteen?”
His father drained his drink. “Wedoneed to go over a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Your expectations for AB,” said his father.
“AB?”
His father shook his head impatiently. “Keep up, boy. After Barton.”
Rhett decided candidness was the order of the day and said quietly, “I guess I always assumed as the eldest child the lion’s share would go to me along with the running of the companies. Beth has no interest in business.”
Barton studied him from under hooded eyes, his expression unreadable. “In addition to your younger sister, you also have two half sisters who are considerably older than you.”
“Right. But Angie has autism spectrum disorder and lives here with you. And DeeDee is a trust fund adult who lives in luxurious splendor in Paris, has never worked a day in her life, and wouldn’t know an LBO from a Ho Ho.”
“Autism spectrum disorder, my ass. Angie’s over fifty with the mind of a toddler.”
Rhett stared at his father, incredulous that he could speak about his special needs daughter with such callousness.
But then again, why the hell are you surprised? He’s the world’s biggest asshole. And you’re not far behind him.
“She’s also the nicest person in the entire family,” said Rhett emphatically. “But she’s not going to be running any of your businesses.”
Barton took a cigar puff. “It was her mother’s fault. I did nothing wrong. I mean, look at DeeDee. Girl’s got all her brains.”
“That’s debatable,” replied Rhett, who found it disgusting that his father never accepted responsibility for anything that went wrong. He only took credit for the successes.
His father eyed him over the cigar smoke. “FYI, Mindy has been making noises about wanting to hear the pitter-patter of little feet.”
“You’ll be past eighty before they’re in pre-K. And isn’t four kids enough?”
“Quality over quantity, boy. How many times have I told you that?”
His father rose and walked over to the bar to refresh his drink. “And when are you going to get married and have kids of your own? You can’t be chasing ass all your life.”
When Rhett didn’t answer, his father turned to him with hiked brows. “Jesus Christ, please do not tell me you really like men and not girls?”
“Look, leave me everything, nothing, or something in between. I don’t really care.”
His father smirked. “What? You’ll fend for yourself then?”
“I have, for a long time.”
“Then you need to knock off the coke. I did it for a few years. It’ll mess you up.”
“I don’t do drugs.”
