Page 109 of The Art of Almost Losing It
“Do you think this will be all right to wear to breakfast?” she asks. She’s wearing a plaid skirt and black top. “I don’t want to offend anyone.”
She looks soft and huggable.
Get a grip.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
I hear Dani moving behind me as I slowly dig through my bag.
“Paris,” I mouth when she’s gone.
I feel better when I have on my armor of the three-piece wool suit, the tie, and the three million-dollar watch. I go down the main staircase. I hear them all in the oversized dining room with the painting of the stags my mom found at a swap meet.
Dani’s telling the story about how Lulu came to be.
“And then she’s just like, ‘I can’t stand this dog. It looks just like my ex-husband!’” she says in a fake Boston accent. “It was like ten at night—poor Kraig was there too—and she’s just losing her mind about her ex.”
Kraig.
Ice floods my veins. Then boiling-hot rage until I explode.
“Kraig’s here!” Bridget waves for me to sit between her and Dani. “Did you know that Dani and Kraig work together?”
“They don’t work together,” I say coldly. “Kraig’s just a security guard. He’s replaceable.”
“Oh, Graham, don’t be mean,” Dani chides, sipping her mimosa.
“Is that all you do—drink?” I snap at her and take my seat.
My mom’s mouth is a thin line.
“Work hard, play hard.” Dani just shrugs. “Such is the life in private equity. We make you guys money, and you spend it.”
“You’re not on my accounts,” I bark.
“I’m on your brother’s account.” She winks.
“The fuck you are. I’m calling Greg first thing Monday.”
My family looks appalled.
But Dani just smirks. “Tell me the time. I’ll sell tickets. Greg’s been in a foul mood lately, I hear. I’m sure he’d love to go a round with you.”
“Don’t listen to him, Dani,” Kraig says with that shitty New-Jersey accent, like he’s some extra in a cheap ’80s movie.
I don’t want her name in his mouth.
“Graham’s never had a girlfriend before. He doesn’t know how to treat a lady.”
“So I’ve heard. Your brother’s been giving me all the dirty details about your life.” Dani wrinkles her nose at me.
“Stepbrother,” I hiss out.
“Graham,” Frank snaps. “All of you are siblings.”
I glare at him, letting the darkness—my father—rise up in my eyes. Frank doesn’t back down. But he looks a little wary. Good enough. I’ll take it.
“Dani’s always bringing me food,” Kraig tells me, needling me.
