Page 56 of Misguided
I lift an eyebrow in disbelief, waiting for him to crack out the punch line. Yet he stares at me with nothing short of utter conviction.
“You fuckin’ serious?”
Derek nods. “This” —he waves his hand around at the club— “has only been the past four years of your life, Koen. Before that, you were just like me.”
“I was never like you.” I tap angrily at the cigarette in my hand, watching the ash as it flutters onto the deck.
“You know more about that business than half the old boys at the table already.”
“Only because our father forwent bedtime stories in favor of research papers and strategic planning notes.” What kind of upbringing does Derek think we had? Good?
“He prepared us for the privilege we inherit from him.”
“There’s no privilege to be found from cheating people out of the money they should be able to leave their families when they’re gone.” I pause, sucking on the cancer stick that might someday put me in a position to be one of the consumers Leidend Industries exploits. “There isn’t a damn thing on that company’s agenda that I want to be a part of.”
“So get on the board, change it,” Derek urges.
I snap my eyes to my brother’s; sure he’s playing me for a fool. The board would never implement any of the ideas I have, especially when it would cut their profit margins from seven figures to low sixes at most.
“Not goin’ to happen, D.”
He sighs, tapping a hand on his leg. “I thought you might have some compassion left in you for the old man, brother. Especially after all he’s done for us.”
“You believe that bullshit?” I ask. “Does the shit you spew taste bad on your tongue, or are you so used to toutin’ off his rhetoric without a second thought that you can’t tell the difference anymore?”
“What rhetoric?” he snaps, his voice rising. “If you can’t see the sacrifices he’s made for us, then you’re as blind as Mom was.”
He’s crossed the line. Fucking painted it blinding white and then pole-vaulted clean to the other side. I lunge out of my chair, lifting a foot as I step forward, and shunt his backward with my boot placed between his legs.
“Say it again, asshole. Disrespect our mother and see where it lands you.”
He scoffs, pushing out of his chair and straight into my chest. “You don’t scare me, little brother.”
“Maybe not.” I point to King and our biggest prospect, Digger, who stand watching from the door that leads inside. “But you ain’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. You might get away with slingin’ insults around when you’re in that goddamn glass tower of yours, but this is my house, my world you’ve stepped inside of.”
“Makes you feel big, doesn’t it?” He reaches out and plucks at the shoulder of my cut. “One pretty little picture and you suddenly think you’re a man.”
“Fuckin’ know I’m one.”
“Yeah?” Derek lifts an eyebrow, head jerking back. “How so?”
“Because real men don’t profit off other people’s bad luck.”
“Rich coming from the asshole who is other people’s bad luck.” He shoots a scathing glare at King. “You pigs going to tell me that you earn all your money legally? That you don’t profit from pain?” He grunts a laugh when none of us answer. “Exactly. We might be from different worlds, Koen, but we play by the same rules.”
He chooses the right time to take his leave, considering I’m currently mapping out where the nearest loaded gun might be. Who the fuck does he think he is to come in here and make out I’m the one doing wrong?
King lifts a hand and shakes his head to tell me to let it go as Derek disappears inside the clubhouse. He turns and follows my brother, presumably to make sure the jackass actually leaves the property.
Digger stares at me, eyebrows raised and mouth turned down.
“What?” I snap.
“Never heard anyone call you anythin’ but Dog, man.” He shrugs his beefy shoulders.
I sigh, pointing a finger his way. “Make sure it stays that way.”
“Yes, boss.” He throws me a lazy salute and heads indoors, leaving me alone with my thoughts.