Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
She gave me a look. “What’s the point of having a TV producer for a big brother if he can’t help out family members trying to get a job in media?”
Where did I begin…
I dipped down as if I were going to whisper something in her ear. “He can. He just won’t.” Then I straightened and left the foyer for the living room.
“That’s all you have to say?” she whined.
“Give my nephews my love,” I added over my shoulder.
I smirked to myself and kept on walking.
I’d be more lenient if they ever returned any favors. Instead, my parents had raised three daughters who were all equally greedy and selfish.
I loved them. I just didn’t like them very much.
They’re greedy, selfish, stuck-up, and act superior—but you think they treated Alfie without judgment?
My steps faltered.
When you and Alfie went over to his folks’ for dinner, you were greeted with hugs, music, and genuine interest. You weren’t allowed to leave until you’d eaten so much that you could barely walk and Giulia knew everything that’d happened that week.
I glanced around me, seeing all the books in Dad’s library section, the paintings on the walls, the expensive art and rugs, the TV area, the fireplace… The mantel was the only place they had photos. My sisters and me—and all the grandchildren. One picture each, all professionally taken.
I hadn’t seen monetary value in objects until I’d moved out to LA after college. Once there, I was exposed to so many young people trying to make it in the business that I couldn’t have a meal without someone discussing money. It was too expensive to go back and forth between auditions, being forced to have three roommates, pay for acting classes or pay for food? The list went on for days.
I’d come to realize how blind I’d been to money. How spoiled I’d been—not because I’d demanded too much but because the cost of things had never existed on my radar. I’d never had to live on a budget. By the time I’d graduated from college, I’d received my share of my grandmother’s inheritance. I’d landed a fairly good job at a studio, not with the help of my family. However, because I hadn’t been forced to place valuable energy on public transit, scraping together money to pay the bills, being tired or stressed out, working several jobs to make ends meet…I’d had the privilege of focusing solely on scoring that position that would allow me to climb the ranks within my field.
Since then, I’d earned a promotion every other year or even annually.
Those were the advantages my parents denied we had. My mother was dismissive to such things, and my father hid behind his middle-class upbringing. That was his defense. He’d been born with a silver spoon rather than one made of gold.
I’d thought I’d worked past all this. I’d thought I had turned things around to appreciate my easy position as well as make sure others were given a fair chance. For instance, never letting my sisters’ friends’ children cut in line. I despised nepotism and cheating. I didn’t want it for my children. I’d donated most of my inheritance. But in the end, it was easy to donate money you didn’t use when your paycheck gave you a comfortable life. Additionally, I couldn’t erase everything. My upbringing had shaped the man I was today, and it was highly possible I still missed things that were obvious to Alfie.
No fucking matter. I had to speak to my father anyway—and then I could go back home and overthink at the bottom of a bottle.
I continued out to the terrace, where I found my parents under the canopy, eating whatever they’d ordered from their favorite lunch restaurant.
Dad spotted me first, and he looked surprised before he knitted his brows together. “Hello, son. Did I forget you were coming over?”
Mom turned around in her seat. “Oh hi, darling.”
“No, I just thought I’d see if you had a moment.” I dipped down and kissed Mom’s cheek. “Hey. That looks good.” They were eating some pasta dish with pesto and lemon.
“Want me to prepare a plate for you? I ordered extra.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m good, thank you.” I sat down next to her.
“At least let me get you something to drink. Water or lemonade?” She was already standing up, so there was no use in declining unless I wanted a spiel on dehydration in this heat.
“Water’s fine. Thanks.”
“I’ll get you one of each.” Why did she even ask?
I chuckled under my breath, knowing full well she was going to warm up a plate for me too.
Dad always had one glass of milk and one glass of light beer. If he could, he’d probably eat the same meal for lunch every day as well. Steak and potatoes. It was Mom who enforced the variety.