“Oh, surely it wasn’t that bad,” my mother said lightly. “If you really look back at it, I’m sure—”
“And he lied! When we first started dating, he said he admired my passion for design and my ambition to start a business, but five months later he was making fun of me to my face and pressuring me to quit so I could work more hours to support him!” And that was what had really stung. That not only didn’t he trust my heart, but he didn’t trust my mind—didn’t believe that I could really make a go of it with my lingerie. “He called it—” I spat the word—“my hobby.”
“Right, you’re definitely about to put Victoria’s Secret out of business,” Brian began with a chuckle, but my mother shot him a look. I would have been more mollified if that look had been more don’t mock your sister and less Brian, honey, remember what Kate did to the good china last time you made a joke.
“So how is your little ‘business?’” my dad asked, trying but failing to keep from pronouncing the little quote marks. “People, uh…liking it?”
“Yes, Dad,” I said, trying not to clench my jaw. “I have several return customers, and word of mouth is increasing them.”
“Still,” he grunted. “Can’t really meet a man that way. Not the right kind of man.”
“Now, now, Fred,” my mother interjected. “This will all make a nice story someday. Katherine’s always been rebellious—oh, I remember when I used to dress her up so nicely for church on Sunday, in those little pink frocks with all the ribbons, and she would rip them right off and go streaking through the park in her birthday suit!”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said sarcastically. “I really appreciate you putting my grown-up business venture on the same level as embarrassing stories from when I was four. That really makes me feel like you believe in me.”
“I’m so sorry,” my mom said, drawing herself up and trying to look serious. “Do tell me all about your latest—Brian, what on Earth are you doing? You’ll get whiplash.”
And just like that, we were off the topic of me and my life, and back to Brian. Not that I’d particularly enjoyed being condescended to about all my life choices, but honestly, some days that’s all the attention I can get from my parents. And doesn’t every kid crave their parents’ attention?
“That’s Asher Young,” Brian was saying, and I snapped back to attention. Brian was craning his neck to watch Asher, who was crossing the room with Brody to their own table. “I heard he comes here sometimes, but I didn’t think we’d really get to see him!”
Meanwhile, my parents were hanging on Brian’s every word, as if Brian were a naturalist who had spotted a very rare eagle in its natural habitat, and was doing a David Attenborough style narration of its habits.
“Name sounds familiar,” my father grunted around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Didn’t that fella invest in some computer thing? Make millions before he could legally drink?”
“Billions,” Brian corrected in the awe-filled voice he usually reserved for Bill Gates profiles in Time Magazine. “And he just keeps doing it! They say he has a golden eye; you remember that Schumacher debacle? Nobody thought that company would go anywhere after the investors bailed, but Asher Young had a couple of meetings with the founder and before you know it, he’s invested ten billion and the sales figures are off the charts. Any company he touches, you know it’s going to be a success!”
“It’s funny you should say that,” I said, turning back to Brian so it didn’t look like our whole table was gawking at Asher like tourists at the zoo. “Because Asher offered to invest in my business.”
I don’t think anyone has been the focus of such intent looks of disbelief since Moses came down from the mountain with some rocks and said, hey, guys, I’ve got some new rules.
“Uh, Kate,” Brian said with an amount of fake pity you usually only saw in celebrity photo ops with starving children, “that’s Asher Young. If you’re going to be desperate enough to lie about your business, maybe set your sights a little lower so it’s actually believable.”
I saw red, every single shade and variation of it. “Excuse me?” I asked, a jagged buzzsaw edge working its way into my voice. “Did you just accuse me of lying? I’ll have you know, Asher has been in my studio twice in the last week offering me business advice.”
“Business advice?” Brian asked. “Actual advice, really. Or did he see your silly little lingerie line and offer you ‘business advice?’ The kind that comes with a bottle of red wine and an invitation to his penthouse suite?”
That stung, mostly because it was true.
“I’ll have you know,” I began in a hot rage, “that some people actually think I show some promise!”
I didn’t care about the truth anymore, I just cared about wiping that smug little smirk off my asshole brother’s face, and wiping the matching looks of pity and disappointment off the faces of my parents.
“Asher offered to invest a half million in my ‘silly little lingerie line!’ He thinks I can be in stores within a month, and making a profit within another month! We’re having a meeting this week to see if our goals line up and to work out stock options, so you can take your condescending attitude and shove it so far up your ass it comes out your nose when you blow it!”
My family’s eyes had been getting wider and wider as I delivered this stirring speech; I assumed because of the combination of wild claims I was pitching out like baseballs and my increasingly unladylike language. But then—
“Speaking of that meeting, Kate, I’m going to have to reschedule.”
Asher’s voice, coming directly from behind my shoulder.
I felt all the blood in my body drain into my feet.