Chapter 39

Watching Tom smoke is not what Lorraine appreciated to see, at all. She hated it, even. But joined him nonetheless.

"You're a fucking sportsman and you're smoking Winchester, have shame." She commented.

"I'm a sportsman with trauma, fucking cut some slack." Tom retorted, eyes sweeping over the water as they both stand at the edge of the yacht. "Besides, you're an actress."

Lorraine rolled her eyes. "Hollywood is built on substances. The streets are full of them."

Tom hummed, looking down, where the water sprayed in foam due to the motor of the yacht.

"I feel like–" he said. "I feel like sometimes we sound like him. When he talked about business y'know?"

"No." Lorraine replied instantly. "No, we're nothing like him. Nothing. He's a sick man. God knows I wish death upon him everyday."

Tom places the cigar between his lips again, sucks in and breaths out puffs of smoke.

"Mommy dearest is selling the business for good."

Lorraine furrowed her eyebrows.

"I thought the will was on you." She