She didn’t have to listen to this. Or did she? Where was she supposed to go? She was stuck in a tiny room. “Okay, story hour is over. Somehow we can’t even have a basic conversation without insulting one another. How about we just spend the next couple of days refraining from saying a single word to one another. Sound like a plan?”
“I have one final thing to say about this, because it seems like no one else in your life has the balls to tell you what you don’t want to hear. Anyone who would encourage you to get shit-faced drunk or high on pills doesn’t care about you—you’re simply the entertainment for the night. So you have money... No one says you have to act like an asshole. You could be giving. You could be generous. You could make lives better for other people. But instead you spend your time thinking only of yourself and how everything in the world affects you. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the world is bigger than the circle you’re occupying.”
WHY COULDN’T HE KEEP his damn mouth shut? Things had been going smoothly—and then he had to go and lay all that truth on her like a load of bricks. It wasn’t his job to be her Jiminy Cricket. If she didn’t have a conscience about how she spent her life or how she frittered away her blessings, that was her problem. So why did it bother him so much that she refused to see the truth? He didn’t know her, not really. True, all he knew about her was from the tabloids and maybe that was his fault for only caring to look that deep, but it drove him crazy when people did so little for their fellow man.
“You know, I’ve seen people with so little to their names that they could carry everything they owned on their person, and yet they’ll be the first to offer you something if you need it. And then I’ve worked with people who owned yachts and mansions and throw lavish parties for their dogs but wouldn’t drop a dollar into a collection cup. There’s something wrong with the world when that’s okay.”
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