“I hate this,” she offers, her tone softening. “Have you talked to either of them?”
“No and it wouldn’t change anything if I did.”
“Dec...”
“Is that why you called? Because if it is—"
“It’s not—I just want to see you. We all do. You know how I feel about what’s going on…”
Yessssss. I’m still her favorite brother.
“I do, Case. And I appreciate it. And I’ve told you it’s not necessary for you to feel anything about it. Because I’m fine. It is what it is. I’m just busy with work and I can’t make it home. All there is to it.”
“Not even for dinner on Christmas Eve?”
“I can’t leave town—there’s a lot going on. I’m working straight through the holidays.”
“How can they make you do that?”
“Nobody’s making me do it. I’m the general counsel. Of one of the top real estate firms in the city. We have nine offices—none of them will be closed over the holidays, and it’s my job to oversee all legal matters.”
This is technically true. Our offices won’t be closed. Which is why I’ll be there working and so will my assistant. But I don’t have to be there working straight through the holidays. I want to. And fuck you, Catholic guilt. That’s enough out of you.
“Yeah yeah yeah, Mr. Bigshot Lawyer in the City That Never Sleeps. I get it. It sucks. But I get it.”
“It does suck.”
“But you’re coming to…” She doesn’t even finish that sentence, and I don’t need to hear the rest of it.
“Yeah. I’m not gonna miss it. But I’ll be in and out. Quick trip. How’s my favorite Jedi doing?” I change the subject fast.
“Your attempts at buying her love have paid off big-time. The presents you sent don’t even fit under the tree—you’re making the rest of us look bad.”
“So what else is new? That’s been a thing ever since I had a face.”
She laughs, but she can’t argue with that because it’s a fact. “You really can’t fly in just for dinner? You could fly back to New York that night, right? You could handle it for a few hours. Come on.”
I couldn’t. That’s the God’s honest truth. I couldn’t handle it, and I don’t want one person on earth to know this.
“I can handle it—I just don’t want to, and I can’t take even half a day off.”
“Fine. I understand.”
“Good.”
She exhales for so long it worries me. That can’t be good for her brain. Finally, she takes a deep breath and says very calmly, “I’m telling Ma.”
“Do not tell Ma—Casey!”
“Good luck explaining to her why you’re not coming!”
I slap the top of the dashboard. She’s older than me, but I hate it when she doesn’t listen.
“I will tell her myself… Case? Casey...”
She hung up on me.
That is not good.
This will not be good for me.
There’s a ninety percent chance that it was just a threat, but I am one hundred percent fucked if I don’t talk to my ma sooner rather than later.
If I call, I’ll need a plan, and I don’t have one yet.
If my ma calls, I can avoid her for about six hours, tops. Any longer than that, and I’m the least favorite son for months. She won’t be on my side, and I need the women on my side.
This is bad.
I finally realize there’s an old lady in the middle of the crosswalk and she’s flipping me the double bird. Only, you can hardly tell that her middle fingers are up because she’s wearing men’s gloves that are too big for her. I realize I’m leaning on the horn. And the old lady is using a walker.
This is really bad.
I raise my hands in the air in surrender, mouthing I am so sorry—it was an accident! And then clasp my hands together, begging for forgiveness.
That’s when someone else tosses their coffee at my car and yells “Eat a bag of dicks, you old Grinch!” Now all the cars behind me are honking because the light has changed and the old lady is still in the middle of the crosswalk, giving me the stink eye.
Old? Since when is thirty-two old? Who does that little shit think he’s talking to?
He doesn’t even help the old lady across the street. I want to get out of my car and do it, but she’d probably think I’m just trying to make her move faster. Which would be mostly true.
It’s not even eight o’clock yet, and I already hate this day.
Work.
I just need a few hours at the office, and then I’ll feel good and I’ll know my place in the world again.
Because I love my work.
Sentinel is the tenth-largest real estate firm in New York City in terms of dollar volume of listings. The properties are luxury. The offices are shiny but not as shiny as the law firm I left seven months ago. Everyone here works hard but not as hard as everyone works in Big Law. This is New York, so looking good matters, but these people aren’t too slick because no one’s the star of a reality show. Okay, maybe I’m a little slick, but only because it’s impossible to tone down my alarming good looks and impeccable style. And it’s real estate, so everyone is personable—but not as personable as your friendly neighborhood real estate agent in Ohio. Because this is New York. So I don’t have to deal with a bunch of friendly brokers all up in my face every day. They let me do my job, and I’m more than happy to let them do theirs as long as they don’t fuck things up by being idiots or doing anything illegal.
I did start in-house lawyering here so I could have a better quality of life. It’s true.
That’s why I’m the general counsel at Sentinel, as opposed to one of the top three firms.
A little less income than Big
