Rich Kids of Instagram: A Novel by The Creator of Rich Kids of Instagram & Maya Sloan

Author:The Creator of Rich Kids of Instagram & Maya Sloan [Sloan, Maya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2014-07-08T00:00:00+00:00

Find an environment more fitted to her unique needs,” quoted Dad. Your needs, Des. Those were his words. I was in his office and he was pissed. The school meeting had tanked worse than his postapocalyptic Oklahoma! revival.

He wasn’t angry at me, of course. Never!

And I said, put it to me straight. Fuck the rigmarole, I got a meeting. So he goes, “One more Warning, she’s out.” And I go, “What constitutes a warning? This I gotta hear!”

Dad kept talking. That was his thing, never shutting up. I’d seen him do it at Sardi’s for a table of clients. Close the place and then keep going in the limo ride after. Grandpa was the same, I guess. Before running the show, he’d been “Joke-a-Second Goldberg,” Vaudeville’s Top Second Banana.

As for me, I’d heard enough.

C’mon, Des, said Dad. Don’t cry.

Sure, Montague was yucksville, but what I hated even more was rejection.

I can’t help it! I sobbed. I despise it there!

They said I was bad! I wailed.

Who gives a rat’s ass what they say? So you bit someone? Big whoop.

She stole my LEGOs when I went to pee-pee! They were mine and she took them!

I know the type, said Dad.

She was a bitch!

They usually are. He’d sighed and leaned back. Over his head, the Tonys and Drama Desks sparkled on their build-in shelf.

I told you I didn’t wanna go!

You don’t need that crapola, he’d said. And I sure as hell don’t, what with this show. And you bet your bottom dollar I told that headmaster. I mean, I got time for this hoopla? Forty grand I’m paying those ninnies. Get off your ass and educate, that’s what I said. And forget about those opening-night tickets for your silent auction! So here’s the thing: forget that place.

I’d stopped, looked up. I knew that voice: the no-more-fucking-around one. Just the week before, I’d heard it on a conference with Julie Taymor. A puppet does not a plot point make, he’d said, mega for reals. Put the animals in little clothes or something. It’s called theatricality, honey. Don’t like it? Go back to that experimental shit. I’ll even get you the venue. Know a great alley in the East Village.

We’ll get you a tutor or something, he said, all producer mode. Or better yet, another nanny. Fuck this shortage bullshit, I’m not buying. We’ll get a nanny/tutor combo, textbooks, the whole chasarigh. How’s that sound?

I looked up, smiling. That’s what I wanna see, he said. Know what I’d be doing if I’d followed the rules, honey bunch? Hocking shmatas in the garment district for four-fifty an hour. What does some teacher know, anyway? She put on six hits on Broadway? And forget the school BS, I never got a degree and look where that got me!

He’d opened his arms wide, and I could see his point. Eleven-room co-ops didn’t come easy, especially ones with Park Avenue views and wraparound balconies.

Forget them, Des. You come from Goldberg stock. And what are Goldbergs?

Legends.

You got it. He smiled big.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.