He took my hand and held on, petting it as if I were an injured child. “Don’t worry for a second. We won’t let them get away with what they’re trying to do. I have all my best lawyers on it.”
“Are you referring to the tagalongs you have here?” my mother asked, eyeing everyone behind him. She went over each one before frowning and looking back at him. “I am not impressed. I hope this is the B team.”
“Mom, why don’t we go upstairs first and then talk,” I injected quickly before she tore them down and left them weeping in some nearby supply closet, wondering why the hell they went to law school.
“I see you are up to your theatrics, as usual, Wilhelmina.”
Oh, God, no! Why?
“You haven’t seen theatrics yet, Yvonne,” my mother said as I turned around to the blonde-haired, big-boobed, blue-eyed Barbie who was my stepmother, Yvonne Wyntor, dressed in an all-purple power suit. Behind her stood her own team of lawyers.
“I think you’ve seen too many performances. You’re supposed to watch the play, Wilhelmina, not steal the costumes.”
“Says the seventy-year-old woman dressed as Barney.”
“I am not seventy, you—”
“Okay! Okay!”
I turned to see my half sister, Augusta, appearing out of nowhere and grabbing her mother just as I grabbed mine. We both gave each other a quick look of understanding before focusing back on her parent. You would have thought they’d be over it by now. But no. For some reason, they just couldn’t leave the past in the past. It was ridiculous how we were often left to play referee between them. And even more so how people always just watched. I could see the small circle gathering and the phones already in hand, ready to be lifted. Apparently, rich women fighting was all the rage now on social media—it trended as fast as the Kardashians.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. No need to hold on to me,” my mother muttered and gave me that look, the mother look. After almost twenty-seven years, you’d think the power would have worn off.
“We forgot something. You all go up first,” Augusta said, forcing a smile.
“Good idea,” I said to her and linked arms with my mother, then without letting go, we turned from them. I nearly dragged my mom from the lobby to the elevator.
Mr. Greensboro let us inside first, but only he followed. The lawyers my mother was not impressed by seemed to vanish with a snap of his fingers.
“Mom, remember the conversation we had in the car?” I whispered to her.
“She started it,” she replied as if she were six.
“Mom.”
“She didn’t have to be here, Odette. She came to fight, so by all means, let’s fight. I’m not scared of her.”
“Aren’t you two tired of arguing? Dad isn’t even alive anymore. Let it go.” For the love of God, please let it go!
“Odette.” She looked over at me seriously. “I’m not the one holding on and fighting for myself. She is making us do this. All of this could have ended peacefully. But she had to come up with some fake excuse to keep you from your inheritance. Your father specifically left it to you. And she can’t stand that. She wants us to beg her for the rest of our lives. I’m fighting for you.”
I was sure she really believed that.
“We’re here,” Mr. Greensboro said as the elevator doors opened nearly at the top of the building.
My mom adjusted her coat, lifted her chin, and walked out with pride. I had only taken a few steps before I felt my phone vibrate.
Meet me in the bathroom. —Augusta.
“Excuse me. Where is the restroom?” I asked Mr. Greensboro before he could show us to the conference area.
“It’s at the end of the hall. I can have Mary show—”
“I can manage, thank you,” I said quickly. I didn’t need a chaperone.
“We’ll be in the conference room,” my mother said to me.
Nodding, I walked down the hardwood floors, and I couldn’t help but notice how stressed a lot of the employees were, hunched over their desks typing, reading, calling, or doing all of the above. They looked miserable, and I respected that. I didn’t know what it must have been like to work at a job that you hated...then again, maybe they loved it. But I could never do it. I was too exhausted to try to mediate fights between my mother and everyone else to ever consider doing that for anyone else.
Entering the bathroom, I walked into one of the stalls before texting back.
I’m in here. Hurry.
Leaning back against the walls, I wished I was anywhere but here...actually, not anywhere. I wished I were at my studio. There was this melody stuck in my head, and I just wanted to play.
“I heard they almost got into a fight in the lobby,” a female voice said, entering the bathroom.
Oh, this was going to be great. Let’s hear what the gossip nymphs are saying today.
“I heard that during the divorce, there was a fight,” another one said.
False, there was no fight. My mom threw papers, but there wasn’t an actual fight.
“What?” the first woman gasped. “What’s the story behind these two?”
Here we go.
“You don’t know?”
“No!”
Why do you sound so shocked? I’m sure you’re dying to gossip and tell her everything. I made a face at the door. Part of me wanted to go out there.
“Oh, right. You’re from the east coast. But you still know about Marvin Wyntor.”
Who doesn’t know of my father?
“Of course, the black Internet entrepreneur who created Etheus, the only real rival to Google?”
Etheus is better... I’m biased, but still.
“Exactly. Marvin Wyntor was a giant of the Silicon Valley. And Etheus always made sure to have the most diverse teams. They said he wanted the best minds from around the world. People loved him, especially black people. But then he married Yvonne Ford. He got a lot of flak for marrying a white woman, especially during those times. I think it eventually got to him. He cheated on her with Wilhelmina Smith.”
Again false. They didn’t cheat. My dad and Yvonne were already separated by then.
“She was a beauty queen, right?”
“One of the first women of African-American descent to receive both the Miss America and Miss USA titles.”
She was the first, actually. They are two separate pageants.
“Wow, she is still gorgeous. She’s a model too, right?”
I’m sure she will be thrilled to know you think she’s pretty after gossiping about her.
“Right, but not pretty enough apparently. Marvin left her to go back to Yvonne.”
So, because my parents divorced, my mom isn’t pretty enough? Have you seen my mother?
“So, that’s where the bad blood came from.”
No, they were born with it. I could feel my whole face cringe at them.
“Yep, and now that he’s dead, they’re fighting over his fortune.”
How long are bathroom breaks here?
“I thought they both signed prenups?”
They did because, apparently, my father knew them both well.
“Yep, but he has two surviving daughters. Augusta—that’s Yvonne’s daughter. And Odette, who’s Wilhelmina’s.”