Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,21

and we want you to do that, to the extent that we’re not going to end up in litigation or negative press. And on that note, I’ve started working with Lucinda in PR on the releases for Friday when the Free PE campaign hits. She thinks there’s a good opportunity for us to take the high ground, and make the twins, PPBW and Free PE look really bad here.” That was Nate—all business, all the time.

“I agree.” Beck rubbed at his chin, frowning and serious as ever. “But I still can’t work out what the end game was here for the twins. There’s no version of this that doesn’t make me think that their intentions were less than honorable. Not so much toward us, but their own father and PPBW. Surely he would have asked about the origin of the idea, and for him not to realize that it was stolen, they would have needed to lie to him about it. Why would they do that, other than to make him look bad?”

“I have no idea man, but you know my family history. As fucked up as my situation is, that’s not the craziest thought to me. But then, my relatives make the Addams Family look like the American fucking dream, so what the hell do I know?” I really did have zero personal experience to draw on when it came to healthy family dynamics.

“Well, I’ve been on both sides of that equation, from hell at home to the black Brady Bunch,” Nate chimed in. “But, it still makes almost no sense to me. I mean, it’s an elaborate way to stick it to their dad, if that’s really what they want to do.”

“Sounds like something that would definitely happen in the circles I move in. I boarded with so many kids who came from families full of secrets, lies, and generations-long feuds. This kind of shit is all very much par for the course from that perspective. Wars have been started for way less.”

Of course, Dillon had personal experience of this kind of crap. From what he’d told us, aristocrats were all bat-shit crazy—possibly a result of generations of in-breeding.

“Okay, so have your people finished telling me how to do my job, or do you want to come to my office and start writing scripts for me as well? Maybe go the whole hog and come shake my dick when I pee, also.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what, Bumble?” Bumble was the name Dillon’s millions of sisters called him, which was fine within the context of family, but totally not fine when I or any of the guys called him that at work. I only did it when I wanted to piss him off, which was, admittedly, fairly frequently. The vein in his jaw pulsed, and I knew I was getting to him.

“Like a whiny bitch is what. Jesus, Raine, grow the fuck up, and take the constructive criticism for what it is.”

“I’m not taking shit from you. Call me a whiny bitch again, and we’re going to come to blows.” Nate threw his head back and laughed long, hard, and loud.

“Whatever man. I’m going to let you get on with your job, put that last comment down to the excessive stress you’re under, and pretend like it never happened.,”

“Whatever, yourself. Just stay in your fucking lane. You don’t see me coming and telling you how to charm people, or whatever the fuck it is you claim to do.” Nate balled his hands into fists.

“Jesus Christ. Can we dial back the assholery just a little, Raine? Nobody is trying to do your job, or telling you how to do it for that matter. We’re just playing to our strengths, and to remind you, yours are words and pictures. Nate’s is charming the birds from the trees.”

“Whatever. I’m out. Neil. Come on.” I waited for her to correct me on her name, but for some reason, this time, she kept quiet, but scurried after me as instructed. Again, as I made my way down the hall, she jogged to keep up with me.

“What did you think?”

“Me?”

“No, Uncle Pete-fucking-Cobbly. Who else is here? Yes you. What did you think of the meeting?”

“Oh. I ummm... I thought it was... interesting.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Interesting is one of those overused words that basically means nothing. In fact, less than nothing, given that most of the time people use it when they don’t want to be rude, but don’t have