I could hardly tolerate Simone when she disrespected me, but I couldn’t tolerate it at all if she disrespected Monroe. “This is a two-way street, Simone. I can make your life a living hell too. Keep that in mind.”
Monroe greeted my brother. “I hope you had a great time on your honeymoon.” She shook his hand, being polite without being overly affectionate.
“We did,” Coen answered. “Thank you.”
Monroe turned to Simone next, but she didn’t recoil in fear like most other women would. “Nice to see you again. The Bahamas gave you a perfect glow.”
“That glow is just from happiness,” Simone said. “Not the sun.” She hooked her arm through Coen’s and stepped farther inside the apartment.
Monroe turned to me, her eyebrow raised. Then she mouthed, “Bi-otch.”
I tried not to laugh.
Mother noticed the exchange but didn’t comment on it. “What smells so good?”
“Cauliflower rice.”
“Good,” Mother said. “One of my favorites. I should have recognized it from the smell.”
Monroe headed to the bar and started serving drinks. “What can I get you? We have red, white, scotch—”
Simone cut her off like she was an incompetent waitress. “Water with lemon.”
How did she manage to be a bitch all the time? Had she been that bad when we were together? “I’ll get it, Monroe. Everyone else will have white wine.”
4
Monroe
Simone was a bigger bitch than I remembered. Now that she was officially Mrs. Remington, she didn’t seem to care about hiding her true colors. She displayed them brightly, like they were the hues of the rainbow—except they were ugly shades.
Now I really did think less of Coen for putting up with a woman who became a snob overnight. I hardly knew her, and even I could tell all she wanted was a life of luxury and riches. She didn’t bother showing any respect to his own family, like they were beneath her the second she took his name.
My eyes kept drifting back to Slate, knowing he was counting down the minutes until this horrifying dinner was over. All Simone did was complain about how dry the chicken was, and then she bragged about how nice their honeymoon was, even though she didn’t spend a dime on it.
If Slate and I, as well as Slate’s mother, could see her true nature, how could Coen be so blind to it?
My sympathy was starting to wane.
Once dinner was finished, I cleared the plates and took them to the sink, mainly just so I wouldn’t have to hear Simone’s obnoxious voice so loudly. Once I was confined in the kitchen, the echoes of conversation drifted away slightly, allowing me to hear my thoughts once again. They said money changed people, but I thought money only enhanced people. She was always a bitch, but now she felt like she had enough power that she didn’t need to hide her true self anymore.
Poor Slate. All of his fears had been warranted.
I rinsed the dishes just so I had something to do, anything that could stall for time. It was the middle of the week, so his family couldn’t be staying here that much longer.
“Don’t you have a maid for that?” Simone’s obnoxious tone came from behind me as she placed her water glass on the counter beside me.
“I don’t mind helping.”
She leaned against the counter and looked at me, her arms crossed over her chest. “I fired Coen’s old maid. Took orders from him a lot better than she took them from me.”
“Well, maids aren’t supposed to take orders.” I kept my eyes on my hands as I rinsed the crumbs down the drain. “They aren’t slaves, Simone. They’re human beings…in case you haven’t noticed.” Growing up poor my whole life made me despise women like Simone. They didn’t want money for security, just to oppress those with no power. She got off on it, inflated her ego.
She watched me with the same sinister expression a snake would display. “I’m guessing Money Bags bought this little ensemble for you.” She pointed from my shoulder down to my feet. “Those boots alone are at least twenty-five hundred dollars—and I suspect you don’t have that.”
“I suspect you wouldn’t either—without Coen’s money.” Maybe Slate had to be civil to her, but I certainly didn’t. I wasn’t going to let a bully walk all over me and put me down like she had the right.
Her eyes darkened. “Stupid people are always brave.”
“And arrogant people are always careless.” I turned off the faucet and faced her head on, unintimidated by her beauty and confidence. “The least you could do is treat Coen’s family with respect. You aren’t even trying—and that’s just cold.”
“You aren’t his family.”
“I’m not talking about me, blondie,” I snapped. “You’re making it so obvious that you’re only with him for his money. If you’re willing to ruin a man’s life and reputation just for cash…then nothing in this world will ever truly make you happy. And you know what? I feel sorry for you.” I turned away and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher.