Tangled (The Tangled Series)(31)

My mother asks quickly, “Who’s Kate?”

My father answers between bites, “Katherine Brooks, new employee. Brilliant girl. And quite the firecracker. She gave Drew a run for his money when she first started.”

My mother looks at me with glittering, hopeful eyes. The way Paula Deen looks at a tub of lard, imagining the delicacy just waiting to be made. “Well, this Kate sounds like a lovely young lady, Drew. Maybe you should have her over to the house for dinner.”

I roll my eyes. “We work together, Mom. She’s engaged. To a jackass, but that’s another story.”

Another dollar bites the dust.

My sister interjects, “I think Mom’s just surprised to actually hear you refer to a woman by name. Usually it’s ‘the waitress with the nice butt’ or ‘the blonde with the big boobs.’”

Though her observation is accurate, I ignore it. “The point is, she’s a terrific example for Mackenzie of how much a woman can accomplish.” Despite her terrible taste in men. “I’d be…I think we’d all be really proud if she grew up to be half the professional Kate is.”

Alexandra looks surprised by my statement. Then she smiles warmly. “Mackenzie and I can take a trip into the city next week. We’ll get together with you for lunch and meet the illustrious Kate Brooks.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and then Alexandra says, “That reminds me. Matthew, could you escort me to a charity dinner the second Saturday in December? Steven is going to be out of town.” She looks toward me. “I would ask my darling brother to do it, but we all know he spends his Saturday nights with the city slu—” she glances at her daughter “—undesirables.”

Before Matthew can answer, Mackenzie puts her two cents in. “I don’t think Uncle Matthew can come, Momma. He been too busy bein’ * whipped. Wha’s * whipped, Daddy?”

As soon as the words leave her angelic little lips, a horrendous chain reaction is set off:

Matthew chokes on the black olive in his mouth, which flies out and nails Steven right in the eye.

Steven doubles over, holding his eye and yelling, “I’m hit! I’m hit!” and then goes on about how the salt from the olive juice is eating away at his cornea.

My father starts coughing. George stands up and begins pounding on his back while asking no one in particular if he should perform the Heimlich.

Estelle knocks over her glass of red wine, which quickly seeps into my mother’s lace tablecloth. She makes no move to clean up the mess, but instead chants, “Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness.”

My mother runs around the dining room like a chicken with its head cut off, searching for non-cloth napkins to wipe up the stain, all the while assuring Estelle that everything’s fine.

And Frank…well…Frank just keeps eating.

While the chaos continues around us, Alexandra’s death-ray glare never wavers from Matthew and me. After squirming under it for about thirty seconds, Matthew caves. “It wasn’t me, Alexandra. I swear to Christ it wasn’t me.”

Chicken shit.

Thanks, Matthew. Way to leave my ass blowing in the wind. Remind me never to go to war with him as my wingman.

But as The Bitch glower is turned full force on me alone, I forgive him. I feel like at any moment I’ll be reduced to a smoking pile of Drew ash on the chair. I dig deep and give her the sweetest Baby Brother smile I can manage.

Take a look. Is it working?

I’m so f*cking dead.

See, there’s one thing about Bitch Justice you should know. It’s swift and merciless. You won’t know when it’s coming; all you can be certain of is that it will come. And when it does, it will be painful. Very, very painful.





Chapter 12

ON MONDAY MORNING, I’m in the conference room waiting for the staff meeting to start. Everyone’s here. Everyone, that is, except Kate. My father glances at his watch. He’s got an early tee-off this morning, and I know he’s eager to get there. I scratch behind my ear.

Where the hell is she?

Finally, Kate comes barreling in with her coat still on and a bunch of folders falling out of her hands. She looks…terrible. I mean, she’s beautiful, she’s always beautiful. But take it from someone who’s watched her closely—Kate is having a bad day. See how pale she is? And when the hell did those dark circles crawl under her eyes? Her hair’s thrown up in a messy bun, which would be sexy as hell if she didn’t look so…ill.

She smiles nervously at my father. “Sorry, Mr. Evans. It’s been a morning.”

“No problem, Kate. We’re just getting started.”

As my father rattles off his announcements, I don’t take my eyes off her. She doesn’t look at me once.

“Kate, do you have those projections for Pharmatab?”

It’s the deal my father was talking to the ass-muncher about at the office party. The one Kate closed last week. She looks up, her big brown eyes making her look all the more like a deer caught in headlights.

She doesn’t have them.

“Ahh…they’re…um…”

I lean forward and announce, “I have them. Kate gave them to me last week to look over. But I left it on my desk at home. I’ll get it to you ASAP, Dad.” My father nods, and she closes her eyes in relief.