The Hating Game
Page 85

“Thanks,” Mindy replies. She looks at her wedding ring again and then at Patrick with such helpless devotion I look at Josh sharply. If ever he was going to react badly it would be now. He smiles, looks at his plate, and then looks at me. He kisses my temple and I’m convinced.
“How have you kept Lucy a secret from us all?” Mindy says as she cuts her grapefruit.
“Oh, you know. I keep her in my basement.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. He’s made it comfy down there.” Everyone laughs, except Anthony, naturally.
I have a refreshing realization. I’m not trying. It explains why I’m so comfortable sitting here, eating with strangers. If they like me, fine. If not, I can live. But I feel the same relaxed slouchy feeling I get when sitting with my family. If I tilt my head just right, I can’t see Anthony at all.
Mindy lists some of the other gifts they received. Patrick’s new gold band winks in the pale sunshine filtering in through the clouds, and he occasionally curls his thumb in to touch it. Mindy watches him, tenderness in her eyes.
Josh’s breakfast is two poached eggs, a slice of wheat toast, and a heap of wilted spinach. He drinks his coffee in two swallows. I look at my own plate and pinch my stomach under the table. His body is a temple. Mine will be a hut made of butter at this rate.
“More coffee?” I get up and decide to bring myself back some more fruit. I can’t just sit there eating pastry. He snags my wrist and looks up at me.
Stay, his eyes tell me. I pat him kindly and he reluctantly relinquishes his mug.
“I’ll be right back. Anyone else?”
I take my time fiddling with the coffee machine. Everything’s a little stilted and it does occur to me that I’m essentially an intruder. I’m the only one at the table who’s not a Templeman.
As I struggle with the long plastic tongs to get another slice of watermelon, I am dimly aware of sharp tones. I’m piling my plate with a bunch of grapes when realization dawns. Oh shit.
I hurry back to the table and put down my plate and Josh’s mug. Mindy is frozen, eyes frightened, and Patrick looks resigned.
“But what I want to know is, why would you throw away premed? Any monkey can get an MBA.” Anthony has laid aside his breakfast reading and is staring down Josh, gimlet-eyed.
Seriously, I was away from the table for maybe two minutes. How did this escalate so quickly? I suppose a nuclear bomb has one red button, and that doesn’t take long to press. I put my hand on the back of Josh’s neck, like I’m holding an attack dog by the collar.
“For fuck’s sake. If you knew anything about it, you’d know it’s almost impossible to complete an executive MBA while working full-time. And I did it. And I was in the top two percent. I got four job offers, and two of those companies still call me.”
“I’m surprised you finished it, if it was so hard,” Anthony says. “I thought your favorite hobby was quitting.”
“Hey,” I blurt. I’m still standing, and I realize I have a hand on my hip.
“Lucy, they’re just . . .” Elaine is unsure of what to do. “Maybe you should talk to Josh outside, Anthony.”
People at nearby tables are all sitting with cutlery lowered in various stages of avid interest or awkward avoidance.
Josh laughs meanly. “Why, so we can have a good old-fashioned fistfight? He’d just love that.”
Anthony rolls his eyes. “You need to—”
“Toughen up? Is that what you’re about to say to me? What you’ve said to me for as long as I’ve been alive?” Josh glances up at me in exasperation. “Now can we go?”
“I think maybe you should talk this out.” Another five years might go by.
“She’s one of those touchy-feely types,” Anthony says to Elaine. “Fantastic.”
Josh’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Don’t talk about her.”
“Well, she can’t resist bringing herself into it.”
“Be quiet,” Elaine says to Anthony. She’s furious. “All I asked was for you to be civil. Keep your mouth shut.”
I look at Anthony and he looks at me. His eyes are full of derision as he runs his eyes from the top of my head, down. Then he sniffs and looks out the window, obeying his wife, mouth pursed shut.
Oh boy. I’m not putting up with this twice in my life, and certainly not from another Templeman. My temper snaps.
“Your son is incredibly talented. Focused. Ridiculously intelligent. He is instrumental in keeping a publishing house running.”
“What, licking stamps? Answering phones?” We lock eyes.
I bark a laugh. “Is that seriously what you think he does?”
“I’m not going to sit here and be spoken to like this by you, young woman. I’ve seen his email signature block. Assistant TO the CEO. I don’t know who you think you are.”
He’s attempting to reestablish his authority. Maybe I’ll sit down and be a good little girl. Josh’s instinct to protect me is making him rise up out of his chair but I wave him back.
I got this.
“I’m the person who knows your own offspring better than you do. He’s the person the finance and sales divisions report to. They’re scared fucking shitless of him. I once had a forty-five-year-old man beg me in the hall outside the boardroom to pass on the documents so he wouldn’t have to attend. I’ve seen entire teams scurrying like ants, double-checking, triple-checking their figures. Even then, Josh will always find the mistake. Then usually someone takes a stress day.”
Anthony begins to bluster something, but I cut him off. I’m so worked up I could strangle him. Honestly, I could wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze.
I am Lara Croft, guns raised, eyes blazing with retribution.
“The reason Bexley Books didn’t completely implode before the merger is Josh recommended that their workforce be reduced by thirty-five percent. I’ve hated him for it. It was cold-blooded. And he can be, you have no idea. But it meant another one hundred and twenty people kept their jobs. Paid their mortgages. So don’t you dare try to make out like he’s nothing. Oh, and I know for a fact Josh was integral in the merger negotiations. One of the corporate lawyers told me in the kitchen he was, quote, ‘a fucking hardass.’”
I can’t seem to stop. It’s like I’m purging something.