While my father and I had had many disagreements over how I should live my life, the one area we’d always seen eye-to-eye on was money. When I’d made my fortune, he’d suggested that I put the majority of it into a family trust that would pay out a substantial allowance every month. I’d agreed because I could see how the investment would benefit me and, after having my lawyer look it over, I agreed to the set up.
"Jimmy, do you remember the last time you picked me up at the airport?" I asked as I poured myself another scotch and leaned back in the leather seat.
"That would have been April 4, 2006, Mr. Jackson," Jimmy replied without taking his eyes off the road. "You were home after you graduated. I took you back to the airport the next day."
"Mmm-hmm," I nodded as I looked out the window, recalling the trip that had ended after my father and I had disagreed about my post-graduate path. I'd told him that I wasn't going to follow in his footsteps and join the family business, and he'd told me that I was ungrateful. I could have a year to travel and sow my wild oats, but that if I didn't come back and join the company after that, I would no longer be welcome in his home.
At breakfast the next morning, I'd told him there was no way I was going to be tied to a business that had no corporate vision and that refused to come into the 21st century. He had ordered me to leave. My mother had stood by as I packed my things and waved goodbye as Jimmy drove me to the airport to catch my flight back to Barcelona.
I wondered if Jimmy remembered the way that visit had ended. I thought about asking, but as I swallowed the last of my drink, feeling it burn its way down my throat, I decided that I really didn't want to know.
I leaned forward to pour myself a third drink. Jimmy's eyes flicked up to look at me in the rearview mirror.
"You might not want to do that, Mr. Jackson," he said quietly, staring forward. "Your mother is going to need you to be on top of things today."
"Good point, Jimmy," I said, feeling the shame rising in my chest. It was like my father was reaching out from the grave to remind me of all the ways I was still failing him. I grabbed the bottle and poured a third drink muttering, "Fuck it. It's not my funeral."
I felt the alcohol work its magic. It loosened my limbs and relaxed me as it bolstered my courage. I'd go to the funeral, pay my respects, say goodbye to my mother, then get the hell out of the city, and never look back.
Chapter Four
Leah
"Riley! Get down here now!" I yelled up the stairwell. "I've got to be someplace in an hour, and I don't have time for this nonsense!"
"Leah, don't yell at me!" Riley hollered back as she tossed her backpack over the upstairs banister before racing back to her room for one more thing. I ducked as the pack came flying down the stairs and hit the bottom step with a loud thud.
"What is in this thing?" I muttered as I lifted it off the stair and carried it to the front door.
"Leah, where the hell are you going?" my mother yelled from the kitchen. She was hungover from the previous night's drinking and was in a foul mood as usual. "I told you I didn't want you girls making noise this morning! I need peace and quiet!"
"I'm working on it, Mama," I called as I watched Riley descend the stairs. I looked at Riley and mouthed, "Ready to go?"
She nodded as she grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. From the back, she looked like a middle school boy. I wondered if she cultivated this image to keep the world at bay or if it was simply the most honest expression of herself. I worried about what was going to happen when she got a little older and the expectations were that she’d mold herself into a girl, but for now, I did my best to just let her be.
"Mama, we're leaving now!" I called as I grabbed my keys from the front hall table and shouldered my purse. I took one last look at myself in the hall mirror and shook my head. I was dressed for a funeral and felt frumpy.
"Who died?" my mother yelled. "I hope it was some rich relative who left us a ton of money!"
"No, Mama," I called back. "It was my boss, Mr. Yates. You remember him, don't you?"
"Was he the asshole that refused to promote you because you're an Irish girl?" my mother asked.
"No, Mama, he's the one who gave me a job when I was in high school," I said as I stepped into the doorway between the kitchen and hallway. "You remember him. He's the nice man who always gave us a turkey for Thanksgiving."
"Oh, right," she grumbled as she looked up at me. "God, what the hell are you wearing? You look like a slut! You'll never attract a decent man that way, Leah! What is wrong with you?"
"I'm not looking to attract a man, Mama," I said, biting my lip and hurrying out of the room. "I'm going to a funeral."
"There are always decent men at funerals!" she yelled as I shut the door and headed to the car.
I ignored her as I leaned against the door and tried to let go of the pain she'd caused. My goal had always been to protect Riley as best I could, but sometimes it was difficult.
"She said something about how you're dressed?" Riley asked as I slid into the taxi’s back seat beside her. She dug into her backpack and came up with a bag of Skittles. I nodded, but said nothing. Riley opened the bag of candy and held it out to me, shaking it as she insisted I take a few
. I put my hand out, and she poured the rainbow into my palm saying, "There. That'll fix it for now."
"Thanks," I smiled as I popped the handful in my mouth and chewed furiously before giving the cab driver the address of Riley's school.