Neil shook his head. “I can’t meet her in person,” he mumbled, the panic evident in his voice. “Christ, can’t you find a way to talk her out of such a harebrained idea, Jack? Throw some more money at her, promise her whatever the hell she wants - a car, a nice vacation, a brand new wardrobe. Her mother would have insisted on all of that and more.”
Jackson gave the other man a disgusted look. “And I’ve already told you - multiple times - that Scarlett isn’t like that. Not even a little. She isn’t going to be swayed by money, can’t be bought off. The only thing that’s going to get her to agree is for you to meet her face to face. And for fuck’s sake, Neil, you owe her at least that much, don’t you think?”
The scorn in his voice was strong enough to cause Neil to visibly flinch. ”I guess,” he acknowledged sullenly. “If you’re positive there’s no other way.”
“Absolutely positive,” replied Jackson cheerily, enjoying seeing his brother-in-law squirm with an almost sadistic glee. “Let me call and make the transportation arrangements, and tell Scarlett when and where we’ll meet her. Then you and I can come up with a plausible reason for leaving town for the day.”
Neil’s scowl deepened. “She’s probably going to spend the entire time scolding me or something, call me every vile name she can dream up.”
“I doubt that,” replied Jackson calmly. “Frankly, I think what she really wants is a few answers. So if I were you I’d start thinking up some replies. Now, let me make those calls. And don’t even think of sneaking out.”
Reluctantly Neil remained in his seat as Jackson took care of their travel arrangements. Predictably, Neil had been overjoyed to learn that Scarlett was a perfect donor match, and, just as predictably, panic stricken to hear the conditions of her willingness to actually agree to the donation.
“I’ll do it on one condition,” Scarlett had told him after they had received the results from the blood test. “I want to meet my father face to face. It doesn’t have to be a long meeting, just an hour or so over coffee or lunch or something. But that bastard isn’t going to wriggle his way out of this without facing the consequences of his actions. I don’t expect he’ll tell me anything I haven’t already figured out on my own. He might not even apologize or seem contrite. But it will sure as hell be fun to watch him squirm.”
She had sounded a little too bloodthirsty for Jackson’s liking, and the gleam in her blue eyes had made him shudder just a bit. But since he figured Neil more than deserved whatever his neglected, impoverished daughter chose to dish out, he hadn’t tried to dissuade her.
And impoverished was probably putting it mildly, he thought grimly. When he had taken her home that first night after dinner, Scarlett had reluctantly allowed him to walk her inside the rather dilapidated old house in a similarly questionable neighborhood that she shared with what seemed like eight or more roommates. Inside, the place was equally shabby, with worn carpets, peeling paint, and a very odd assortment of furnishings.
The room Scarlett called her own was located at the top of a narrow, rickety staircase and built under the eaves of the attic. It had neither a door nor a proper closet, though she’d rigged up some sort of drapery rod across the doorway and hung a sheet to give her at least a bit of privacy. Inside the cramped space she had squeezed in a twin bed, a battered dresser, and had improvised storage space by nailing shelves against the wall as well as a series of pegs to hang clothes. There had been a scant two-inch clearance between the top of his head and the dormered ceiling, and he’d fought off a growing sense of claustrophobia.
She’d swept her arm around to indicate the almost nonexistent space. “Home sweet home. Nothing fancy but at least it’s the penthouse, right?”
Jackson had given her a stern look. “Scarlett. You don’t have to live like this. All you have to do is say the word and you could be a very wealthy young woman. We haven’t even discussed a dollar amount, but - “
She had forestalled him by slapping a hand over his mouth. “And we won’t. I already told you - more than once - that I won’t take money for helping my own sister. What sort of mercenary bitch would do that?”
But the more he had seen of how little she owned - a sparse wardrobe, what looked at first glance to be an ancient, battered laptop, precious few other possessions - the more his rage and sense of indignation had grown. He knew better, however, than to argue the matter any further with the maddeningly stubborn, independent Scarlett, but had privately vowed that he would do whatever was necessary to make sure her days of living in near poverty and deprivation were numbered.
At his prodding, she had told him that her tuition and school fees were covered by a scholarship, but none of her living expenses, which was why she worked three different part-time jobs. Rents in Berkeley were shockingly expensive, even for a rundown place like hers, and in spite of splitting expenses with several roommates. Jackson figured she also had to pay for a monthly bus pass since she didn’t own a car, along with food and toiletries and her cell phone bill – the phone another old relic that badly needed replacing. She couldn’t be making much more than minimum wage at any of her jobs, and thus there would be very little leftover for anything but the bare basics.
It was grossly unfair, he thought now, that she had to live in such conditions when every single member of his family enjoyed such a lavish lifestyle. Even Neil’s family - parents, siblings, nieces and nephews - had a much higher standard of living than Scarlett. Though nowhere near as wealthy as the Gilmores, his family all lived in nice houses in good neighborhoods, drove newer model cars, dressed well, went out to dinner several times a month, and on vacations two or three times a year. It was a travesty that one of their own had to fend for herself, live in a tiny attic room, and not always have enough to eat. One way or another, thought Jackson savagely, that sad state of affairs was going to change dramatically no matter what.
Jackson set his phone down. “All done. I made our flight arrangements, rented a car, and let Scarlett know when and where to meet us. Now comes the tough part - figuring out what to tell the others for why we need to duck out for a day. And without arousing any suspicions.”
Neil sighed irritably. “This is all so unnecessary. She’s just doing this to be ornery, to get payback or something. Meeting her isn’t going to accomplish a damned thing. That girl ought to be ashamed of herself for expecting me to leave my sick daughter alone so I can pander to her selfish little demands.”
Jackson stared at the other man in stunned disbelief. “Are you even human, Neil? I mean, do you hear - or care - what you’re saying? First of all, that girl has a name. It’s Scarlett. And like it or not, deny or accept the fact, she’s every bit as much your daughter as Hannah is. And as far as I’m concerned, she’s more than entitled to as much payback and revenge as she desires. For the way you’ve neglected her all these years - while you lived in the lap of fucking luxury - you owe her big time. So suck it up and grow a pair, will you? If anyone should feel ashamed right about now, that person ought to be you, not her.”