KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(62)

I’m starting to think Geoffrey might be right. Mum and Dad really have no idea what declaring bankruptcy means.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Mum says. “There are some employees, all over the world, who have been with us for decades.”

“How many storefronts are there?” Emmy asks. “Sorry, I don’t know much about business, but I’m curious.”

“There are twenty-five stores and around two thousand employees.” Geoffrey shrugs. “It’s a massive company. Granted, Tiffany’s has three times as many storefronts and employees, but they’ve cheapened their brand over the years. The King’s Diamond has remained the highest class store in the world.”

Dad clasps his hands and exhales loudly; clearly Geoffrey’s words have struck a familiar chord. “The world told Tiffany’s what they wanted. Cheaper and faster. Less quality. They want to pick out an engagement ring on the Internet and drop it into a virtual shopping cart. Geoffrey decided to follow suit.”

“We’re not fighting again at this meal,” Mum says, shaking her head. “Enough.”

The table goes silent, everyone seeming to absorb Mum’s words.

Finally, Geoffrey speaks. “Sorry, Mum,” he apologizes, dropping his head, as if the literal weight of this conversation is too much. “I’m sorry for mentioning it here. I know how hard this is.”

I have a sudden flash of memory—of when I voluntarily left for rehab. Geoffrey was in the car with Dad and me, shaking his head as the car stopped. As I got out of the car in the lonely countryside where the clinic was situated, I felt like such a fucking asshole.

And I remember the way Geoffrey shook his head that day, like I was such a fuck-up he couldn’t even look at me.

But now I wonder if I read that whole exchange wrong. What if he was saving me from more shame by dropping his eyes.

The same way he’s been trying to salvage Dad’s company. The same way he called me in Vegas a week ago, demanding I let Mum know for certain if I wasn’t coming. Maybe he didn’t call to be an ass; maybe he called to preserve something for Mum. Protect her, because he knew how much me not showing up would hurt her.

I watch him now, head bowed, reaching for Fiona’s hand across the table.

I don’t understand my family at all. Probably because I haven’t been around often enough to learn anything about them.

But as Fiona smiles tightly, her hand in my brothers, it’s as if I literally feel something pass between the two of them.

Maybe there’s a reason—other than being a complete prick—that Geoffrey hasn’t proposed for a decade. Maybe there’s a whole lot I have no fucking clue about.

“Everything okay?” Claire asks.

“I just need some fresh air.” I stand, dropping my napkin, not having an appetite anyway. “Just give me a minute.”

I leave the table and practically run outside. Memories stir inside me: me leaving home the first time, the second, the tenth, the twelfth, the twentieth. Always me leaving. Always Geoffrey staying.

I feel like an ass.

Worse than an ass, I feel like a fuck-up and a fool.

I don’t want to talk to Geoffrey, but I know I need to.

I start down the driveway, not having a clue where I’m going, just knowing I need to get out of the house filled with people I’ve let down, that I’m not good enough for.

Dad. Mum. Geoffrey. Claire.

Claire.

“Fuck,” I shout into the void of the dark sky. I’ve spent so long being this player in Vegas that I’ve forgotten who I am.

“You okay, there?” Geoffrey asks, running to catch up with me.

“Really?” I ask. “After all this time, now you come after me?”

“Fuck you,” Geoffrey says, shooting straight. “You’ve never wanted me around; I can take a fucking hint.”

I stop at the end of the driveway. The road forks to the left or right, and I have no idea where to go. Turning to Geoffrey, I ask the first thing that pops into my mind.

“Why are you marrying Fiona?”

“Because I love her?”

“Is that a question for me?”

“Of course not.” Geoffrey scowls under the light of the streetlamp at the end of the drive. “I do love her.”

“Why now, though, do you propose? After I show up engaged.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“Too bad. You followed me out here, obviously you have something you want to discuss. Let’s start with this.”

“I haven’t asked sooner because the truth is ... I wanted to be more situated before I proposed.”

“You, more situated? What the fuck does that mean? You’ve worked for Dad for years. Surely you have a house and a boatload of cash.”