Page 64 of The End of Me

“If you want to continue this bizarre expedition, you have to stop ignoring me and disclose a lot more about yourself,” I threaten her.

She groans. “It’s a little complicated. My parents own a small publishing house. I’m the head of acquisitions. Sometimes, during our slow months, I publish my short stories.”

“When do you rest?”

She smiles. “Here and there.”

“Why don’t we go back to my place, so you can relax?” I suggest.

She laughs. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

My phone rings before I tell her that the expedition is over because it’s my turn to take care of her. It’ll be best if I ignore the caller, but Sharon never calls to check on me. She usually has an emergency.

I wave the phone, tilting my head toward the exit. “It’s my sister. I need to take this.”

“What happened now?” I growl.

“Not even a hello?”

“Let’s not do this, okay?”

“Fine.” Sharon sighs. “He wants full custody of my children.”

“Have you spoken to your attorney?”

“Ugh, of course I did. You think I’m stupid?” Her annoyance is palpable.

“What did the lawyer say?”

“I need to get a job or start a business.”

“Are you planning on doing either one of them?”

“No, but if you can lend me some money, I can pretend that I’m willing to set up an enterprise. Once I can show the judge that I’m willing to do what’s necessary to be with my children, she might give me full custody of them. We’re talking thirty thousand dollars per child until they turn eighteen.”

This sounds like a scheme and not a way to ensure her family is safe.

Clearly, her only concern is the money she can get for the next fifteen years until her youngest turns eighteen. If she were heartbroken because her soon-to-be-ex-husband threatened to keep the children away from her, I would be moving heaven and earth to help her. Knowing her only worry is the money, I try a different approach.

“Why can’t you find a job?”

She snorts. “Please, you sound like our father. He said I could start in the mailroom as early as Monday.”

I almost laugh. Did our asshole father seriously offer her a job? And… “Did you say the mailroom?”

“Yes, because I don’t have any experience.”

This would be funny if the future of three innocent children wasn’t in jeopardy. “Well, you have to start somewhere.”

“I wasn’t born to work. My parents are part of the one percent. I don’t see why I have to slum it because I didn’t sign a fucking prenup.” I move the phone away from my ear and shake my head a little.

“Keep your tone down, Sharon.”

My sister is a brat. It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her that our father was a nobody before he met my mom and became part of her family.

Also, her mother was the nanny before she slept with our father, screwing up my life. Not that classes or social status matter, but she should stop pretending that she’s from old money and should be treated like a princess.

The last name Farrow doesn’t mean shit, but Dad likes to pretend that he comes from the same family tree as the Yates.

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