Page 13 of Can't Win 'Em All
“Are you coming down with a case of the vapors?” Dad challenged. “You were always such a drama queen. Why do you think that is? I told your mother we should’ve gotten rid of you. We knew a few months in that you were another girl.” He shot Mom an annoyed look. “It took her forever to get it right and give me the son I needed. Of course, if I had to do it all over again, I would’ve asked for a different son.”
It wasn’t until I opened my mouth that I realized it was a mistake. I was still hot—we’re talking Satan’s ball sweat here—but my stomach had decided to join the party at the sauna and lodge a formal complaint. The breakfast I’d scarfed down before the meeting—an egg white omelet with spinach and mushrooms—-came back up with no warning…and landed all over my father.
For a moment, I was frozen in place, stuck between embarrassment and amusement.
Dad’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and I thought he might pass out. Instead, he looked down at his suit—he no longer got three new suits a month and had to make do with his current wardrobe—and then back up at me. “What the hell?” he practically screeched.
I blinked. Then I blinked again. The polite thing would’ve been to apologize. That didn’t happen, though, because when I tried, I threw up again.
“Ruby!” Zach was the first one to me. He ignored the puke on Dad—nobody was going to help him with that—and nudged me toward a chair. His hand moved to my forehead, concern lining his features, and he wrinkled his nose when his hand came back sweaty. “Are you sick?”
That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. “I just puked all over Dad, Zach. I think I’m sick.”
“Sorry.” He took a step away from me. “You look like death.”
“Thanks, Zach. You know exactly how to make a girl feel good after she pukes all over her father.”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Dad said out of nowhere. Nobody paid him any attention.
“Come on.” Olivia slid around Zach and put her arm around my waist. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
I didn’t argue with her. I felt like a rag doll at this point, and all I wanted to do was … well … be elsewhere. Smelling my own puke on Dad made me want to do it again. If it happened a third time, he would lose his mind.
“You guys keep … doing what you’re doing,” Olivia said as she glanced around the room. Her nostrils flared when her gaze fell on Dad. “You might want to take a washcloth to yourself or something.”
“Thank you, Olivia,” Dad drawled. “I never would’ve figured that out myself.”
Olivia merely shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
We probably looked like drunks as we staggered out of the boardroom. The office assistant Beth Kingsley hopped up when she saw us.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Are you … dying?”
“I must look pretty good for her to jump to that assumption,” I said to Olivia. Oddly, I was suddenly feeling better. “Can you get a thirty-minute bout of food poisoning?”
“Not last time I checked,” Olivia replied dryly. “Why? Is that what you think this is? Where did you eat?”
“Calypsos.”
Olivia frowned, fear tightening at the corners of her eyes. “I had a bagel from there this morning.”
“Yes, it’s all about you,” I agreed.
“Sorry.” She had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t mean to make it all about me. I just … well, I don’t want to puke on your brother. I know he would still love me and all, but what a mood killer.”
“Yes, I can vouch for that.”
Once in the bathroom, I splashed water on my face. I didn’t care that it melted my makeup. I’d sweated through half of that anyway. The cool water felt blissful. Olivia helped me check my suit for spots of vomit. I was surprisingly clear.
“I guess I have good aim,” I mused as I patted the front of my shirt. “Although, I’m betting Dad doesn’t agree with that.”
Olivia smirked. “I know it’s wrong—I really am upset that you’re sick—but your timing and aim were impeccable.”
I laughed, then frowned, my hand immediately going to my stomach.
“Do you still feel sick?” She took a step away from me. “Maybe it’s a flu bug or something.”
“It doesn’t feel like a flu bug. I mean … I don’t have a fever. At least I don’t think I do.”
