Chapter Seven
Julian
“I think they’re trying to poison me here.”
What?
I glanced over at Lorena to see if she was serious. My sister, the eccentric artist of the family, sat up in her bed and crossed her arms. She pointedly stared at the food in front of her. It looked decent enough to me, albeit a little bland.
“Relax, Lorena. You’re in the top rehab facility on the east coast, not with Nurse Ratchet.”
She sneered.
“Well it feels like I’m in the loony bin. Look at this stuff! It looks like lettuce with a bad perm!”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s kale, Lorena.”
She waved me off as if I wasn’t making any sense.
“I can’t fit into any of my old clothes either,” she said, redirecting her glare to the overflowing closet, grimacing at the piled garments she hadn’t cared to hang up after trying them on.
“That’s a good thing,” I assured her. “You were way too skinny before. A little bit of added weight means you’re getting healthy.”
For a long time my family never spoke of Lorena’s drug problem. The hints and warning signs were dust to be swept under the rug, along with the other skeletons that my mother believed should be kept locked away in the closet. Lorena would have probably sought help years earlier if only she could have spoken up about her problems.
“I brought you something,” I said, reaching for the brown bag behind my chair.
Her hazel eyes lit up and I knew I’d done the right thing by bringing her a gift.
She made grabby hands as I handed over the large bag. She ripped it open without hesitation and pulled out the large black frame I’d picked up on my way over.
There were three photos framed side by side. One photo was of the two of us when we were little, all big teeth and dirty faces. The second photo was of the two of us the year before at Christmas. The third was a photo of our father and us before he’d died. I’d purposely picked photos that didn’t include our mother.
“Aw, I love it!” she said, holding it out in front of her for a better view.
I took in the sight of her for a moment. She’d been in rehab less than a week and she already looked better than she had in years. Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy glow and she’d started to put a little meat on her bones.
I promised her I’d hang the frame on her wall before I left, knowing it would add some personality to her room. Each "guest" at The White Dunes had their own small room. It was the most expensive rehab facility on Long Island, but even her lavish room still looked like a sterile cell, and I knew that to Lorena, it felt like one as well. The walls were white. The linens were white. The desk, doors, and dresser, all white. The colorless aesthetic was not her style, and I intended on helping her decorate as much as I could.
“Now enough stalling, how’s my company?” she asked, dropping the frame on her lap and staring at me with expectant eyes.
“I’m in the process of cleaning house,” I declared, cutting through the bullshit. For the last year, she’d done everything in her power to run her company into the ground. If there was any hope for revitalization, it needed a major overhaul, beginning with the staff.
“Geoff? What about Gina?” she asked with hope in her eyes.
“Everyone will be replaced.”
I had zero remorse for the employees I’d already let go. There were only a handful of them, all under qualified, all enablers of Lorena’s drug addiction. Their expulsion from the company had been a long time coming and she knew it.
Lorena rolled her eyes and went to work twisting her hair into a knot on top of her head. She’d taken the brown hair we shared and bleached it a pale blonde, verging on white, a few months back. Her roots were showing now that she was stuck in “rehab hell”, but I knew she’d color it back as soon as she could.
“And my space in Brooklyn? Are you planning on dumping that as well?”
I frowned, unsure of how honest she wanted me to be. I had plans to overhaul her entire company, to get rid of the employees and slim down on expenses. I’d wanted to step in years ago, but it was Lorena’s baby, and I respected her need to make decisions on her own. At the same time, I owned 49% of the company and that 49% was about to be worth nothing if something drastic wasn’t done.
“The Brooklyn warehouse is still under lease for the next two months, but I’d like to move the company to a space in Manhattan.”
She groaned, but I pushed on.
“While I’m running the company, I’m not commuting out to Brooklyn every morning. I’ll find a space in Manhattan and set up shop there.”
“And you’re the only employee right now? Just great.” She threw her hands in the air in defeat.
“No, actually. I hired someone just this morning.”
She slid her gaze to me, curiosity and skepticism fighting for control over her features.
“And who, pray tell, did you hire to help run MY company? Some idiot straight out of fashion school? So help me god if they think they can come in and take over my designs—”
“Relax. I hired someone you’d like. Her name is Josephine Keller—”
“Wait. Josephine from What Jo Wore?”
“You know her?”
Lorena nodded. “I don’t live under a rock. She’s that pretty blogger chick from Texas, right?”
I hesitated before nodding and then told myself I was only confirming that she was from Texas, not that she was pretty, though she was. Gorgeous even, but I shook the thought away.
“She’ll be my assistant, but she’ll also help me with the branding and marketing side of things.”
“Where will the two of you work while you look for a new place?” she asked.
I swallowed before answering. “My hotel.”
Lorena nodded with an arched brow. “Interesting. I mean, convenient.”
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Do you have any office spaces for me to take a look at yet?”
“I’m meeting with a realtor tomorrow morning. I’ll bring over information about the prospective properties after that.”
“Assuming I’m still alive tomorrow.” Lorena frowned just as a knock sounded from her door.
A moment later, a “recovery and wellness concierge” popped her head in and smiled. “The group activity is starting in the main room in fifteen minutes. We’ll be screening Sixteen Candles while lighting sixteen lamps filled with different aromatherapy oils.”
She smiled and closed the door after her announcement and Lorena’s eyes widened in horror. “Do you see what I mean? They’re poisoning me with cheesy 80s movies and yucky lettuce.”
I laughed and stood to leave. My baby sister had made her bed of kale, and now she had to lie in it.