Masterson

ELIZABETH

MY NEW COUSIN MAKES ME anxious. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He's managed to shower, dress and smell absolutely amazing in less than fifteen minutes, and he's keeping a close watch on me out of the corner of his eye while he drives. Gosh, the man even drives with swagger. Looking sexy as hell as he leans slightly back in his seat with his left arm guiding the steering wheel and the right stretched across the back of my seat. His hand is so close to the back of my head, I find myself sitting here waiting for him to start running his fingers through my hair.

"Where are we going?" I ask nervously.

"By the art museum," he says in a serious tone.

I turn my head to look square at him. "That's where I used to live."

"I know. Joseph told me you still have a few boxes in the basement and that you haven't received your security deposit back yet?"

I pick up my iPhone and play aimlessly around with the arrangement of my apps. I'm embarrassed and a little annoyed that my uncle has sent Roman to handle business that is my responsibility without even consulting me. I wonder if my mother told them about everything that happened, because she clearly must have told my aunt and uncle something. Of course even she doesn't know everything.

"Why do you call your father Joseph?" I ask changing the subject.

"The same reason why Juliette wants you to call her Juliette. They don't want to feel like they're old enough to be somebody's father or aunt."

"But they clearly are."

"They sure as hell are, but what can you say to the delusional?"

We both laugh at the same time and my eyes lock with his for a fleeting moment.

"Are you and Joseph close?"

"Not exactly."

"But you work together right?"

"Yes, but it's not like you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"That I wanted to follow in his footsteps, be a part of the family business, or some shit like that."

"Then what is it like?"

"It's more like I didn't have a lot of options, and I took the simplest path."

"Seems like a profitable path though. This is a very nice car, and I hear you live in some fancy apartment on Chestnut."

We were riding in a freshly washed, black Range Rover SUV with tan leather interior and some sort of navigation system that looked like it was designed by a NASA engineer. And I couldn't help but overhear Juliette bragging to a girlfriend on the phone the other day how she's so proud of Roman, and how he lives in a great building with a doorman at his age.

"We already had money, Elizabeth," he says flatly.

"Your father did, but Juliette says that you earn your own money. That they don't give you a dime."

"Does money impress you?" I detect a tone from him that suggests that me liking money is a bad thing. Like perhaps I'm some sort of shallow person, when I'm far from that. I'm just impressed by his success. His and Joseph's. Everything they've seemed to have accomplished. I want to be independent and an entrepreneurial success like they are. I want people to remember who I am, or at least what my contribution to this world was, and I certainly don't want to have to live in my aunt's guest room while I do it.

"There's nothing wrong with money, but that's not what motivates me if that's what you're asking."

"What motivates you?"