Page 82 of The Good Girl Effect

Bea and Camille are out of the apartment when I pass through the lower level toward the front door. When I reach the street, starting on my short walk to the club, I pull out my phone and check my notifications. There are things from Phoenix and Matis and Julian, but more importantly, there’s a text from my mother.

It says nothing more thanCall me.

With a tense sigh, I hit the Call button and wait as it rings.

“Hello, my love,” she says as she picks up the call.

“I was wondering when you were going to catch wind of everything,” I say without greeting.

“Catch wind of what?” she replies.

“What happened last week at the club.”

She lets out a sigh, and I wait for her response. She might try to deny she knows anything. My mother likes to pretend I can do no wrong, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she avoids the conversation altogether.

“Technically…” she says. “Ronan told me last week.”

“I knew it.”

“What kind of mother would I be if I called my son, who lives on another continent, to lecture him about his job?”

“So you do want to lecture me?” I reply with a chuckle.

“No, I do not. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

My mother is one of the strongest, wisest, most fiercely independent people I know, but she never fails to handle conflict with such grace, and to be honest, it irks me to no end. Especially when I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind all the time.

When Em died, I just wanted to lash out at the world. I was so wild with grief that I could hardly hold myself together, and I envied my mother to the point of bitterness because of it. Why couldn’t I be more like her? I’m her son. I should have been stronger, like her.

“I’m okay,” I say flatly, hoping it convinces her.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say as I reach an intersection, waiting to cross.

“Emerson and I did not always see eye to eye. I had a certain way I thought things should be done, and he fought with me a lot on those things. We were two very stubborn business partners, and sometimes we butted heads so much, I thought the club would have been better if I just ran it alone.”

“Is this the part where you impart some great wisdom about how I get over this feud with Julian?” I ask as I cross the street toward the club.

“Nope,” she replies. “Because I don’t have the answers, and some days, running that club was just hard. Emerson and I weregood friends, and still we struggled to work together. But the club always came first. At least we had that in common,” she says. I can hear the sound of dishes in the background, and I wonder if it’s either of my other parents in the kitchen beside her.

“Well, that’s the difference,” I say with a sigh. Reaching the club, I stand out front to finish my conversation with my mother before going in. “Julian doesn’t give a shit about the club. He never did. You know what Matis said the other day? That Julian is purposely sabotaging it to make me look bad to Ronan. Can you believe that?” I ask.

“Is that what you think he’s doing?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I reply.

“Why would he do that, though?” she asks. “Julian has a good relationship with his dad. Ronan gave that boy the world growing up. Why would he need to sabotage you?”

“Hell if I know. He just hates me.”

“Julian has never hated you,” she says, and I freeze, furrowing my brows.

“What are you talking about? Yes, he did. Ever since we were kids.”

“He adored you, Jack. You were much older than him, and he looked up to you. But for some reason, when you two grew up, you had this contempt for him. Maybe it’s because Ronan adored him so much, and until Julian came along, you had Ronan to yourself. In fact…it would almost make more sense foryouto want to sabotagehim.”

I’m standing on the sidewalk outside the club, staring at the trees blowing in the breeze as I let my mother’s words filter through my mind, hunting for truth in them.