“You can’t kick me out,” Ryan challenges, but he doesn’t sound so sure of himself.
His father’s been known to teach him some pretty hard lessons. I wouldn’t put it past him to make Ryan wander around Manhattan in the cold just to prove a point. Conrad’s authority is absolute. No one gets away with defying him, especially his closeted gay son.
I could speak up for Ryan, but it wouldn’t do any good. Conrad would only shift his simmering rage onto me, and that’s the last thing I want. There’s something I need to talk to him about once this little spat with Ryan plays out.
“Get your coat, and get out.” His verdict rendered, Conrad moves his chair closer to the table, pretending like nothing happened as Ryan continues to stand there, glaring at him.
“You can’t do this. The temperature’s going down below zero tonight.” Ryan stamps his foot, begging his father to see reason.
But Conrad pushes his plate aside and acts like Ryan isn’t even there. “Coffee and dessert. Now.” He snaps his fingers at a member of the household staff stationed against the wall, who jumps to attention eager to leave the room and fulfill his boss’s demand.
“Dear, why don’t you take a moment and reconsider?” My mother makes a valiant attempt on Ryan’s behalf, even as she slurs every other word.
“And why don’t you get out of my sight?” Conrad clearly has had enough of his mandated family time.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Ryan lashes out before striding out the door, my mother trailing unsteadily in his wake.
I wait a beat, giving him a chance to sip the coffee that was just placed before him. “Pathetic, aren’t they?” I comment, refusing all eight variations of pie being offered on a silver tray by a flustered new employee, who is blushing profusely.
Conrad’s not going to like that. Above all else, he favors discretion. He doesn’t take kindly to being reprimanded by the scarlet cheeks of someone on his payroll.
“Two of a kind,” Conrad concurs, giving me an appreciative glance, failing to even raise his eyes to the server next to me.
“Maybe seeing firsthand the effects of his deviant lifestyle will scare some sense into him,” I murmur gently, reaching for the tumbler brimming with soy milk.
“I couldn’t agree more. Let him go huddle with the queers in Chelsea where he belongs. I wash my hands of him.” Conrad spears the crust of his pumpkin pie, clanging his fork down hard against the plate. “He’s no longer a son of mine.” He daintily takes a bite, savoring it like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
His utter detachment to his own flesh and blood is chilling. But I shake it off. We have more important issues to discuss. I can’t get cold feet now. He has to know. If word gets out and he realizes that I didn’t warn him, there will be hell to pay. It’s always better to be honest with Conrad. Keeping secrets from him isn’t wise. He always finds out—always.
“Speaking of knowing your place, our favorite swim coach might be thinking about coming clean.”
I observe Conrad’s reaction very carefully. I’m treading on extremely dangerous ground. This subject is beyond classified—just bringing it up is suicide.
“Leave us,” Conrad snarls.
The help immediately flees the room, closing the door softly behind them.
Great. Now I’m sealed in with the king of Wall Street himself. But I think I can handle him. He needs me. I’m one of the few who can keep his dirty little secret hidden. All I have to do is assure him that his damning actions will never see the light of day.
“You said that girl’s under contract to finish the screenplay. So what’s the problem?” He taps his spoon against his saucer, hunting for details before ratcheting up his anger.
I have to remember that he’s a rational predator. He only attacks when he feels threatened. He conserves his energy for when the time is right. Now he’s just feeling me out. I have to let him know that I have the situation under control, even if it doesn’t sound like it.
“She’s in the middle of a difficult pregnancy. There’s always been a contingency in place in case she’s not able to finish it. But the benefits of her writing it clearly outweigh any temporary delays. I’m confident we can ride out the storm, get her to fall back in line.” I fold my hands together and sit back in my chair.
Conrad always appreciates a display of confidence. I can’t go groveling at his feet and turn into a nervous wreck just because everything’s falling apart. If I show strength, he’ll respond in kind.
“Lauren, I hate having to repeat myself. Like I said before, what’s the problem?” Conrad’s eyes darken as he pushes away from the table and crisply crosses his legs.