years have been kind of a crash course in parenting a girl in the modern world. I see all this . . . shit she tries to live up to. Already! Like, she wants to wear all this makeup. For what? So she can look like she’s twenty-five? We had a major blowout this past Halloween because she wanted to be an angel and I stupidly agreed, not realizing that what she actually wanted to be was a Victoria’s Secret angel. She’s eleven! Where is that coming from?”
“The patriarchy.”
He barked a surprised laugh but she was right. He wouldn’t have said it like that, but watching—watching closely—as Gabby grew up had opened his eyes to a lot of shit he had not seen when he was just her semiabsent big brother. “So anyway, with the Fitbit, I thought no way am I giving her anything that’s so . . . prescriptive, you know? That tells her to be a certain way or to do things a certain way?” God. He needed to stop talking. “Listen to me. I’m—”
“A good brother. A good surrogate father.”
The ugly-nailed hand was back on top of his, squeezing this time.
He’d been going to say “an idiot,” but hell, he’d take her assessment, even if she was incorrect. He was trying to be those things. Did that count?
Leo cleared his throat and pulled his hand back. “Anyway. We were supposed to be talking about your watches. Maybe you should consider making a smart watch.”
Marie nodded. “And selling our products online. Or at least letting retailers do so. That was another thing Marx was upset about.”
“You don’t sell your watches online?” That was hard to believe.
“Most luxury brands don’t.”
“Is that some kind of weird exclusivity thing? Because no offense, that’s just dumb. I’m the last guy to climb on board any tech trend. I still read the physical newspaper and listen to records—and not in a hipster-ironic way. But I’m not your market. How much do your watches cost?”
“They start at around ten thousand US.”
He snorted. “And where do they end?”
“The top model right now retails for four hundred thousand US.”
He blinked. This was where the term sticker shock came from, he supposed. He had an idea that there was a category of watches—like Rolexes—that were really expensive, but he’d had no idea. “Well, to my mind, not selling your stuff online is stupid. Stubborn-mindedly ignoring a huge market. It’s like . . .” He cast around for a metaphor. “I don’t know, it’s like the Islanders not selling Islanders merchandise.” He pointed at his hat, which was lying on the table next to her.
She burst out laughing. He laughed along with her. It felt good.
He simply wasn’t capable of wrapping his mind around spending so much for a watch, even if you had that kind of money to burn. “No offense, Your Exalted Loftiness, but in my opinion, this is all a load of shit.” He reached for her hand. He’d noticed earlier today that she was wearing the same big watch as yesterday. It was a good-looking watch, silver—platinum?—with a few small diamonds on the face, but not worth anywhere near what it no doubt retailed for. “This is a watch, not the cure for cancer. You can’t just—oh, shit. How did it get so late? I have to go.”
Goddammit. It was nearly quarter to one. He had to get up to Gabby’s school. He was cutting it close, but if he left right now, he’d be fine. Probably. Thankfully, Dani was on Toto chauffeur duty today, so he didn’t have to stop home first.
“Of course.” Marie pushed back from the table. Leo felt bad that she’d barely made a dent in her sandwich, so he hustled to the counter for a take-out container and boxed it up for her. Outside, he paused, trying to think what the most efficient way was to get her back to the hotel. Uber there, drop her, and then go back for his car? Or go to his car first?
His indecision must have betrayed his anxiousness, because she said, “I’ll get a cab from here.”
“No, you won’t.” It wasn’t her fault he’d gotten carried away rambling about Fitbits and age-inappropriate Halloween costumes. “Come on. The car’s on our way. I can drop you and probably still make it.”
“Probably?” she echoed. “No, thank you. You can’t miss this play.”
Her bossy tone was sweet but also a little irritating. “I won’t. Come on.”
Marie dug her heels in as Leo tried to