My Big Fat Fake Wedding - Lauren Landish Page 0,137
composes herself and smiles politely, dipping her chin at the people who look her way. See? She’s already ready for this—professional, strategic, thoughtful, analytical. With several more years at Dad’s side and his admittedly excellent mentorship, she’ll be a fantastic leader.
“As for me . . . well, in all honesty, as I wrote this speech, a lightness came to my heart. Because I realize that there’s something more important to me.” I don’t say her name, but it’s readily apparent who, not what, I’m talking about. Dad blinks rapidly a few times before his eyes narrow as his lips twitch. I wonder what Mom’s told him about my conversation with her. Does he know that he was right, after all? That his ‘suggestion’ that I settle down might have gone so shockingly wrong, but also so amazingly right?
“So effective immediately, I’m resigning from both the board of this company and as a vice president. I thank all of you for your years working with me and wish this company success in all its future endeavors. I am looking forward to setting out on my own and directing my own future where I see fit.”
Without taking any questions from the board, most of whom look more than a little shocked, I walk out and go back to my office. I’m surprised to see Abi in my seat, her feet up on the wood and her lips pursed.
“Falling on your sword?” Abi asks, taking her feet down. “Didn’t think that was your style.”
“Guess you watched it, huh?” I reply, sitting down on the couch Violet ordered. She was right, of course. Even unfinished, the casual seating area does make my office feel more welcoming. Too bad it’s coming right as I’m leaving. “What’d you think?”
She shrugs evasively and gets up to pour two glasses of scotch. She hands one over and sits down beside me. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning, Abs. A little early for scotch, don’t you think?” Even as I argue, I take a small sip and swirl the liquid, looking for answers in its amber depths.
She takes a sip too, though she winces, and I remember that she’s not much of a drinker to start with, so straight scotch has got to be downright disgusting to her. She’s doing it for me.
“It’s to celebrate,” she says, lifting the glass to clink with mine. She looks for someplace to set the drink down. “You need a table.”
I huff. “Violet ordered one. I think it’ll be here next week, not that it matters. Celebrate what?”
She side-eyes me. “You finally stood up to Dad. It’s about damn time.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Abs? I argue with Dad all the time. It’s literally what we do most here, lately. I’m just taking my ball and leaving the playground.” I shake my head, sure I’m doing the right thing by leaving the company but in shock that I actually did it.
“God, you are so blind sometimes. Please promise me that you won’t go open some hot-shot venture capital day trading multi-marketing pyramid scheme. You’re not cut out for it.” She rolls her eyes, and forgetting, takes another sip of scotch. She hisses out loud this time.
I don’t have a chance to argue because Courtney pops into the doorway. “Celebrating or commiserating?” she asks, lifting her chin toward our drinks.
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly.
Courtney pulls a chair over to sit across from Abi and me. The new ones haven’t been delivered yet. “I think you probably gave me the biggest endorsement ever,” Courtney says, her face a mask of confusion. “Why’d you do it? You could have just said fuck this place, popped a peace sign, and walked out without a single fuck given.”
“I could have,” I admit, “but I do care about this place, and about Dad and you, Court. And I meant every word I said. I would have even said more, but I didn’t want to spend ten minutes kissing your ass in front of the board. A big brother’s got to have his line in the sand. Simple truth . . . this company’s in damn good hands when Dad steps down.”
“Weren’t you just saying you were taking your ball and leaving? It doesn’t sound like it to me,” Abi says, inserting herself into the ‘Courtney’s the best’ lovefest.
Court looks at me, fury in her eyes. “Is that what you think you’re doing? For the love of fuck, Ross. How stupid are you?”