“I hope,” she said, “that you didn’t create any unrealistic expectations.”
“It wasn’t me creating anything” he told her. “The extravagence was all Blake.”
“Well, he’s your friend. Your drinking buddy.”
“It’s not like that. I was hoping we’d get in and out really quickly.”
“But you had to down a $100 shot of whiskey and put on a show for Blake and your daughter?”
“A show? What the Hell?”
“I’m just tired. You drink. You don’t work. You don’t bring anything in. You just waste. You waste our money.
“You waste our time.”
He was shocked.
“Nobody is buying houses!” he yelled.
“So you say.” Her mouth pinched tight. She always did that. It kept her from yelling. Her ability to stay calm and firm just pissed him off more.
“This is bullshit.” he was standing now. He was a good foot taller, and he relied on that height advantage to make his point.
“Really? Bullshit, really? I was getting really tired of the ‘networking’ hangovers, but at least you were only oversleeping. But screwing around with that rich asshole in the middle of the day? Showing your daughter how the other half live, what it’s like to have playtime all the time, and ridiculous toys? Don’t make my job with her harder.
“Don’t waste my time.” She was yelling now.
“Glad to know that’s what I do.” He grabbed his keys, pushed by her, and marched down the stairs toward the garage. He glanced at the living room. His daughter sat on the couch, the mac in her lap. Her eyes were red.
He pretended not to hear her, and headed out.