What position, heifa? What was your job title? I level a confused look at her, as does Mr. Turner. Gabriella was catapulted into her phantom position and held the title for a few days. Then she said she’d marry someone to do the dirty work for her. Not sure what she meant by dirty work, but she hasn’t clocked in an hour of analytical work in ages.
Mr. Turner invites us all into the kitchen. Out of every room I’ve seen, this one is clearly loved. A long, wooden table reminds me of spending time with my uncle’s family in North Carolina. A teal teapot is in the center of the table with fresh flowers. There are family-oriented sayings in worn-wood picture frames.
For the next hour, Steven and Gabriella talk over each other. Consequently, Mr. Turner glances at me. “Ms. Gina, you were telling me that you had a few innovative ideas. I must apologize to you all,” he stares at the husband and wife, “But I’m an attorney. Turner’s has been in my family for . . .”
“Thirty-two years,” I reply, on his behalf.
“Yes.” Again he smiles. “So, Gina, if you have any divergent plans, I’d like to hear them as well and weigh them all.”
“Actually. . .” I grin. “I haven’t finished my process. Usually, I view a business, interview staff in various positions. After an assessment of the grounds, we sit around the table to discuss my thoughts.”
“A holistic approach. I don’t even know your intentions, and already I’m sold. I have a debriefing in an hour.” He glances down at his ringing phone. “If you all give me about ten minutes, I’ll show you to the staff and let you get to it.”
When he steps out of the room, Gabriella commands the scene again. “Steven, you get a list of all the people Gina deems appropriate to interview, then interview them. Sister and I will . . .”
I run a hand over my temple. “Gabby, can you stop?”
My cell phone lights up with Santino’s face on it. My fingertips are skimming the iPhone when Gabriella grabs it and chucks it against the wall.
Steven’s sneaking out of the room as I snarl at her. “What sort of malfunction—”
“He’s cheating on you!”
Someone presses my belly and calls me Pillsbury as I giggle again. “Whatever you say, Gabriella. Pick up my motherfucking phone, or I’m liable to forget you’re my sister.”
“Alright, Gina. Give me one minute.” She slinks over to her purse. Next, she’s clutching her own iPhone in my face.
“Bitch, that’s your phone, not mine. I said for you to grab my phone in five, four, three . . .”
My voice dies in my throat as I watch a video of Santino. He’s in the center of a very lavish room, with some weird red cloth covering his dick. I want to say he’s doing push-ups, but he has one leg lifting and gyrating the ground! Oh, God, it’s the deep stroke!
He’s done that deep stroke on me.
“Okay, so he was a stripper.” We will be having a long, heated discussion about that tonight!
“He was and still is a stripper.” She shows me pictures of him on a website and shows how for $750 per hour, I can have him at my home. I snort.
“I’m a confident woman, Gabriella,” I deadpan. I’m gonna kill Santino. Kill him. Maybe ghost him for a few days, see how he likes that. Then I’m gonna forgive. Yes, ladies, forgive him. Santino’s the good guy. I remember glancing up at him, heart in my throat after learning about his mom.
My sister’s an idiot—love’s complex. It might not be rocket science, but it’s worth more than a quick goodbye.
Voice laced in sympathy, Gabriella sighs. “That’s not all, sis.”
She mentions how Shanda’s sister threw a party just last night.
“I’m so glad that I stayed home. Cora begged me to come,” Gabriella murmurs. With shaking fingers, she shows me another video. Suddenly I’m crying so hard that my chest hurts, breathing shallow.
My sister holds me tight, encouraging me. “Gina, I know you want to be loved. We all do, honey. I stopped working for Galloway because you had such a strong drive, a passion that I lacked. Dad doesn’t notice all that you do. Well, I could only wish I were like you, Gina. But you’ve done everything so far. I’ll handle this for you. It’s too close to Christmas for you to concern yourself with anything.”