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Sloane needed to be sober when talking to Falco about this charity event. Or mostly sober. She’d had one glass of wine, which was hardly anything. Either way, as long as she wasn’t drunk, there was a chance of conversation with him. While she hadn’t promised anything, asking on behalf of Raven couldn’t happen if he wouldn’t even talk to her.
Falco was in his office near the top of the tower that overlooked the wasteland he ruled. In the morning, the Obsidian was visible in all its disgusting glory. Both buildings that were half built and half demolished lined the streets. Sloane stared out of the window as fires raged somewhere in the distance and thick black smoke clouded the sun.
The reminder that half of the people out there lived in those half-demolished buildings and in places that were in even worse conditions made her need a drink.
A servant let her into his office, and Falco sat at his grand desk and stared at her. Papers lay on his desk in neat piles. She’d probably disturbed something, but this paperwork couldn’t have been too important since he hadn’t told her to talk to him later.
“What do you want?” he asked, clearly exasperated.
“There’s that charity event this weekend,” she started as she stepped inside. The servant shut the door behind her. “It’s to raise money for people without running water in the slums.”
“And?”
“It’s a gala, and I was thinking-”
“You want a new dress,” Falco interrupted. He rolled his eyes and picked up one of the papers before him. “Just buy it. What do I care?”
Sloane held back a sigh as she perched on the edge of the desk.
“It’s not about a dress. It’s about Raven going to a charity gala,” she said bluntly. So much for bringing it up gently. Falco’s answer was equally straightforward.
“No.”
“Come on,” said Sloane. “Raven is going to be eighteen, an adult. She can’t be naive about everything, you know.”
Falco sniffed the air before leaning back in his chair. “Are you drunk?” She wished he’d had one more drink before coming up here. He looked at the paper in his hand again.
Plucking the paper out of his hand, Sloane frowned. Making him angry didn’t help, but maybe he’d actually listen if he wasn’t looking at papers.
“No. I’m trying to have a conversation about our daughter.” Why couldn’t they discuss their daughter’s upbringing like a normal family? Why was it always such a hassle for him to consider doing something different from his perfect way of doing everything?
“She is perfectly fine inside.”
Sloane scoffed. “Raven is not fine, and we both know it.” Now she was getting older, all she did was ask questions about outside. Why wasn’t she allowed outside? What were The Lost protesting over? Why does Dad never actually spend time with me any more?
“Fine, talk.”
“You want Raven to take over the Obsidian one day, right?” she started. “She can’t hope to carry on what you’re doing unless you actually explain everything to her.”
“She doesn’t need to know all the details of this.” Falco slapped his hand down on the papers, and Sloane rolled her eyes.
“I never said she did. But the charity event to help people without water is a start, right?” Falco said nothing. This was going to go nowhere, and she’d be disappointing Raven when she, and it was always her breaking the news, told her that she couldn’t go to the charity gala. “It’s not like she needs to know everything, I can answer all those questions, she can just say we’re helping or whatever.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
Sloane frowned. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea. The best idea was for her daughter to not be a target for people who were hurt and angry and had nothing to lose. If she went to a charity gala, she was an easy target for anyone trying to manipulate her or extort them for money. Someone could kidnap her, or those frozen kids could stage another protest. Or… Or she was starting to sound like him. Disgusting.
“Yes, I do. Raven is less of a problem and a target if you actually teach her things she’s meant to know,” said Sloane. She did have to take part of the blame for that, some of Raven’s tutors weren’t the most qualified, but they seemed like good teachers at the time. Falco promised her that he’d teach her about business when she was old enough, but it seemed like she’d never be old enough. Raven had lost the childish attitude to try to help her parents even when she didn’t understand what was going on. “Besides, wouldn’t it look good?”
“How would Raven being injured by one of those Lost freaks look good?”
Sloane shook her head. “Raven Falco represents Falco Industries at Charity Gala. Raven Falco helps the less fortunate as her father pledges to rebuild the city. She is the darling of the Obsidian, everyone would love to see her actively helping her parents’ cause. Photos in the paper. We could even go as a family.” That would be nice, seeing as he was less of a dick in public, and she usually wasn’t so drunk.
Sloane tried to bat her eyes to help convince him, but Falco’s expression was stoic. Why was he always like this? He acted like nothing bothered him, how could none of this bother him?
“It’s not like we’re sending her to the slums to repair the water pipes. Just endorse it at an event with security.” But Sloane knew nothing would convince him. Heaven forbid there was an accident and Raven had to take over, she’d be helpless and who knew what would happen. She wouldn’t last a day managing any of this.
Sloane’s eyes widened as she read the paper Falco had been holding. A contract to destroy the Deep End and fill in the disused subway tunnels. Except the subway tunnels weren’t disused. He had grudges against The Lost living in the Deep End, but plenty of desperate people had made their homes down there to stay out of the wind and rain. Those kinds of people couldn’t afford Falco’s new homes because most of them couldn’t get a job in the first place.
Sadness gripped her then as she contemplated the state of the world. If she just had one drink at hand, she could ease the feeling.
“It doesn’t even have to be this charity gala.” She resorted to the fact that Falco agreeing to a future charity gala was better than flat-out refusal. “Maybe one in a few months after you actually sit her down and explain what you’re trying to do.” Raven just thought he was mad at The Lost for no reason, that he just hated homeless people and people stuck eighteen forever. He probably did, he always complained that he was getting too old. But if he explained his mysterious reasons, Raven just might listen.
“She won’t understand.”
Sloane sighed. “Then make her.” The answer was right there in front of him and he still didn’t want to accept it. “We’re not gonna be able to do this forever, she might as well learn at some point. Or do you plan to keep her oblivious forever?”
Falco’s expression said everything. Raven was his sweet, darling girl who needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap and locked up to keep her safe. That wasn’t the way the world works, and it certainly wasn’t what Raven wanted.
In a last-ditch attempt, Sloane leaned in closer to her husband.
“Oh, come on,” she said, dragging out her words. “She’s not going to like it if you say no to every single thing.”
“I don’t,” said Falco as he turned his head away. He stared out of the window at the wasteland. “I buy her everything she wants. Guitars, clothes, make-up.”
“You can’t buy her happiness,” she said. One or two charity galas every few months would probably satisfy Raven. If Falco kept saying no, she’d stubbornly find her own way of doing things. She’d find her own happiness, whether Falco liked it or not.
“The answer is no, Sloane. Now why don’t you go get yourself a drink while I work?” His words stung even though Sloane did want a drink. A glass of wine, a cocktail, even a shot of vodka would do after talking to him.
“Fine,” she said. She pushed herself off the drink and almost stumbled as her heels hit the floor. “But you can tell her why you’re saying no.”
“Are you done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Sloane nodded. “Good, now let me work. I need to get this done before Raven’s birthday.”
Yes, let’s just piss off The Lost more right before a big event. That always went well. That was what Sloane wanted to say, but the conversation had left her exhausted. Every time they talked it felt more like a battle. She got more joy out of talking to a wall, at least the wall couldn’t disappoint her, or Raven.
Sloane left Falco to do his important work and stepped into the elevator. Once Raven was eighteen, she would tell Raven about how she sneaked away at night. If she promised to keep it a secret, she could perhaps come with her. It wasn’t fair to be inside all of the time, and the last thing they needed was Raven going crazy. Sloane would have gone insane a long time ago if she stayed inside as Falco wanted. Of course, the alcohol soothed the feelings when they started to overwhelm her. But what else could she do when the world was rotting and her own husband couldn’t be bothered with her?
What was one more drink?