Geoff lets out a heavy sigh. “But I guess I was wrong. About everything. You killed it as an artist and didn’t get too caught up. And that brotherhood you still have going with the Reapers—even after you went legit and cleaned up your act? My branding people wish I could pull that mix of relatability and Q-factor off. But I don’t bond with people like that. And you know, after what happened with Mindy.”
Geoff goes quiet before admitting, “Work is all I have, man. That’s the real reason I was willing to do whatever it took to win this CEO position. Not because I didn’t think you were good enough. You’re good enough. You’ve always been good enough.”
Geoff rubs at his ribs. “I’ll tell you something else. This answer to Dad’s ultimatum is a slam dunk—not just because you’re going to get the CEO position. That O2 is just like you used to be before Dad and Elodie divorced. And your wife’s loyal, even when she doesn’t have to be. This family you somehow managed to pull off…they’re perfect for you. Right now, I’m not just pissed at you. I’m jealous.”
I stare at my brother, looking at him in a new light for the first time in almost twenty years.
Geoff’s confession has killed the bitter engine that’s always revving in my belly when I’m in the same room as him. But I guess I have too much Dad in me too. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
“Can I give you some advice, though?” Geoff asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
Honestly, it’s been so long since we managed a civil conversation that wasn’t about business, it feels like I’m rifling through a dusty Appropriate Responses file cabinet to come up with, “Sure.”
It’s still morning, but he looks all sorts of tired as he says, “She thinks you don’t give two shits about her. She won’t even ask you for a car to get the daughter you share to school. There’s Latham withholding, and there’s whatever the hell you’re doing with Bernice. You’re fucking this up. And my advice is, don’t. Don’t fuck it up.”
There’s a pain in my gut now. And it has nothing to do with the measly couple of punches Geoff managed to pull off after I started wailing on him.
“I hear you,” I tell him.
Then I let the rare brotherly bonding vibe hang out for about five more seconds before I add, “Never try that shit with my wife again.”
Geoff’s usual smirk replaces all his sincerity. “She’s not your wife ye—”
“Still a Reaper,” I remind him. “I will have somebody shoot you point-blank in the face behind Dad’s back, and act just as surprised as everybody else at the funeral.”
Geoff grits his jaw. “Wow, this new era with you heading up AudioNation is going to be interesting.”
We look at each other. Snort. Then burst out laughing for the first time since we were kids. Together.
But then I have to ask, “So wait, Dana quit?”
All amusement disappears from Geoff’s eyes.
“She’s trying to,” he answers, his voice becoming hard as nails.
“What the hell is wrong with you two boys?” our father booms from his doorway before I can ask any follow-up questions.
And I guess Geoff did get that memo about getting in trouble for fighting. We both slump down in our seats, like good little hoodlums, when Dad comes into the office yelling.
CHAPTER 32
BERNICE
All of a sudden, Griffin’s father of the year. It starts with him volunteering to drop O2 off at school and escalates to him picking her up from Frederick Academy and dropping her off at home before heading back into downtown Vegas to finish his workday at AudioNation.
I’m pretty sure Griffin is one of those execs like Phantom who can make his own hours, but he’s basically adding a third commute to his day. It’s a heck of an extra effort to put in, and I’m doubtful he’ll keep this up for more than a couple of days. Like that groupie told TripleX magazine, “G-Latham has zero attention span when it comes to anything outside of the Reapers and music.”
But that article was from ten years ago, and to my surprise, Griffin keeps going.
By the third day of school, instead of watching something on Disney+ with me, O2’s playing on matching Nintendo Switches with Griffin after dinner. O2 starts calling me “mom” instead of “mommy”—maybe to emulate the other kids at school or maybe because Griffin refers to me as “your mom” even when we’re in the same room. But he starts calling her by her preferred nickname, O2 instead of Olivia. Like she’s a human being—not just a chess piece to get back at me in become the CEO of AudioNation. And that weekend, when I finish my Saturday chores, I have to search all over until I find him and O2 in the rec room/gym in the basement.