Page 72 of Heat & Deceit
My father’s face turns murderous. “What, exactly, are you saying? Are you telling me you’re out there selling our drugs on the side like some criminal?”
“Well, I prefer to think of myself as a godsend. But if we’re simplifying things, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
He shoves out of his chair and begins to pace, cursing me under his breath.
“My customer base is small, but consistent. Turns out, there’s a healthy market for reasonably priced medicine. I’ve been keeping track of profits, and while I’m selling them at a deep discount compared to what you two have decided to charge, there’s promise that, if we cut our prices here—”
My mother holds up her hands. “Stop talking.”
Turning, my father looks me dead in the eye. “Get out,” he snarls.
“I’ll head back to my office,” I say as I stand, unfazed by their anger. This was bound to happen. I’d hoped to come to the conversation prepared, but I have all the data I need to show a model that’s reasonable and still profitable, though that would mean cutting executive salaries. It’s not like my parents need the money. Our family estate is one of the nicest in the county, and generational wealth from being a royal pack has ensured we never want for a thing. “Maybe once you’ve calmed down, we can talk about pricing.”
“You misunderstand your father. You’re fired, Rome.” My mother smooths her top and brushes off invisible crumbs. “I’ll give you twenty minutes to gather your things.”
“Fired? You just said this company would be mine.” I’m not shocked. This was always a possibility, but to hear her say it out loud is strange.
“That was before you made it clear you don’t have what it takes to run a company of this caliber.”
“What are the qualifications? Must be willing to set aside humanity for money?”
“Don’t speak to your mother that way,” my father says, storming toward me.
I grind my teeth together but don’t back down. “If you do this, we’re done. No family reunions. No reconciliation.”
“You ungrateful shit. We’ve given you everything. We raised you.”
“And that entitles you to what?”
He growls and spins away from me, stomping toward the liquor cart. “Get out.”
This time, I don’t stick around to argue. My future has always included this company, but if this is how they want to run it, I don’t want it. A tiny part of me had hoped our familial bond would be stronger than their greed, and while I thought I’d prepared for the worst, turns out I wasn’t prepared for what just happened. One moment, I had a relationship with my parents, and then, within the blink of an eye, that’s destroyed.
I don’t regret taking the medicine.
As I gather my things, I try to remember my current inventory. There are people who count on me. I think I’m low on a few vital medicines. I grab a prescription tablet with my father’s letterhead on top, hoping my parents won’t notice, and decide to pay for new prescriptions to restock. Some, I can get on my own. Others, I can’t. Pausing with my hand on a drawer, I remember I’m out of heat suppressants.
I only have one client for those. I won’t be able to get the prescription for those pills without a doctor’s consent, and the only doctors I know are good friends with my parents.Fuck. I hate letting people down.
Guards appear at my office door. I glance at the clock and scowl. “It’s only been ten minutes.”
One shrugs. “We were ordered to see you out.”
“Unbelievable.” I’ve already collected my most important belongings, so I leave the rest. One guard reaches for my arm. “Don’t fucking touch me.” I give him a look, and he drops his hand. With as much dignity as I can muster, I walk out of Pierce Pharmaceutical, already planning stops at pharmacies to get what I can before my father realizes I’m using his name.
Twenty
LY
Ms. Emberly, the beta therapist, sits across from me and sighs, a long, drawn-out exhalation full of annoyance. “Why did you call me if you didn’t want to talk?”
“Perhaps I enjoy pissing you off.”
Framed crayon-drawn images hang from her wall, and to the side of the couch I’m sitting on is a large, colorful rug and a shelf full of toys. There are stuffed animals. Fidget toys. Cars. Dolls. Trains. All things meant to entice a child into sitting and talking for a while. Nothing has changed. It’s meant to be comforting.
“You’re not pissing me off.”
“My, my, Ms. Emberly. Did you just curse?”
