The Devil Wears Black(103)
“Mom is getting the estates, twenty-five percent of Black & Co.’s shares, and all the family jewels.” Katie looked up from the paper and squeezed Mom’s hand.
“Shit, I only came here for the Tiffany necklace. Well, that was fast,” Julian said, pretending to stand up from his seat. Mom slapped his thigh and guided him back down. They shared a tired chuckle. I appreciated that Julian reintroduced sarcasm into our daily post-Dad routine, but I wasn’t in the mood for laughs. Katie’s eyes returned to the page. The paper quivered like a leaf in her hand. She cupped her mouth, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“I inherited all the vintage gowns Black & Co. owns that were made or used by fashion icons. Fifteen percent of the company shares. And the loft!” But I knew what was making her cry. The dresses. They meant the most to her. We had a Black & Co. museum uptown, containing famous historical dresses she loved. As a kid, she’d visited there almost monthly. I wondered if Mad had ever been. I wondered if I could take her. I wondered if she would let me.
“Julian, you’re next.” She leaned forward, squeezing his knee. If there was one positive thing about the aftermath of Dad’s death, it was the fact that Julian had been given a second chance without really asking for one. It was both universally and silently agreed that he was a world-class idiot who’d acted like a douchebag of enormous proportions for the past few years, but karma had fucked him so hard—so dry, sans lube—that none of our family members felt particularly passionate about ruining his life further. Let me amend: I would never pass on a good opportunity to torture Julian, but I no longer wanted to ruin his life.
“Julian gets twenty percent of the shares, both properties you reside in with Amber, the Edinburgh castle, and your Dundee childhood home. There is also a personal message.” She cleared her throat, peering at him worriedly. Julian lowered his head and clasped it in his palms, his back quivering. He was sobbing. The Dundee home was a nice touch. None of us had known Dad had even kept it. We’d always assumed that since Dad managed Julian’s inheritance, he would sell the house. It seemed more practical. Julian also got more shares than Katie, proof that Dad had not been bullshitting. He really did consider Julian a son.
When Julian looked back up, his eyes were red and wet. “A personal message?” he echoed. “How come you and Lori didn’t get them?”
“We did. Privately,” Mom explained from her place on the couch. “I have a feeling whatever he has to say to you is meant to be public and heard by all members of the family.”
“Okay.” Julian hesitated. “Let’s hear it.”
“He said . . .” Katie trailed off, frowning. “Okay, this is verbatim, so don’t kill the messenger: ‘Dear Julian. Are you out of your goddamn mind? You have everything a man could dream of, and you’re throwing it away for more work, more headache, and more responsibility? Start focusing on the important things. Money, status, and Amber were never a part of those things. I love you, son, but you are a complete pain in the ass. If you don’t get your priorities straight, you are banished from heaven. I’ll make sure of it. Trust me when I say you will not like the alternative. Make wise choices, and love hard. Dad.’”
The entire room burst out laughing. The first time we’d laughed since Dad had died almost two weeks ago. Katie sent me a sideways glance, lifting her manicured fingernail in warning. “I would not be so gleeful if I were you. You’re next, bro.”
“Lay it on me.” I sprawled backward on the damask settee, jesting.
“Twenty-five percent of the shares,” Katie said simply.
“That’s it?” Mom raised her eyebrows. I reverberated the same question in my head but obviously wasn’t enough of a brat to utter it aloud. Another 15 percent of the shares were locked up with external shareholders.
“No, you have a note too.” Katie grinned, enjoying herself. I got the fewest material things. Which suited me fine, since I’d never cared for them.
Julian passed me an imaginary item from across the couch. “Your lube, sir.”
I pretended to grab it. It was just like old times. When I was a kid. “A good brother would offer to apply it too,” I noted.
“Seems fair, seeing as kicking your ass at chess is my favorite hobby.”
We stared at each other dead in the eye for a second, then burst into laughter. Katie shook her head, used to her older brothers’ antics.
“Dad’s message to you is as follows: ‘Dear Chase, if you’re sitting here without Maddie under your arm, you’ve failed me and, frankly, all men as a gender. Go and rectify the situation immediately. The woman brought you back to life after years of being a shell of your former self. I’m not sure what she did, or what made you this way in the first place, but you cannot afford to let her go. Love, Dad.’”
The words sank into the room, inking themselves on the walls. Katie gave a curt nod, as if agreeing with the sentiment, then continued. “‘I left something for Maddie. It’s in the safe. Kindly give it to her at your earliest convenience. PS: If you fire your brother, you, too, are banished from the heaven mansion I am currently building.’”
I turned to Julian, handing him his imaginary lube back. “Looks like I’m going to be your boss for a long-ass time. I believe you’ll need some lubrication for that too.”