“Now, I don't want to come off sounding harsh, kid,” Kendrick says. “I want you to know that I think of you like a son and that I only have your best interests at heart.”
Kendrick isn't one to soft-shoe or preface much of anything he says. His lack of filter is one of the things I admire about him. Which makes the fact that he is soft shoeing and prefacing his comments a little worrisome to me.
“I would never think otherwise, Kendrick,” I say. “Say what you have to say, hoss.”
He nods. “Okay then,” he says. “I need you to start taking this seriously.”
I cock my head. “I do take it seriously.”
“Do you?”
He pins me to my seat with that steely gaze of his – a look I was sure struck the fear of God into many a witness in the courtroom during his trial days. I shift in my seat uncomfortably and clear my throat, doing my best to hold his gaze – and failing badly.
The truth of the matter is that I'm not taking it as seriously as I should. I know it. But I hate the fact that I have to jump through the hoops being required of me to claim my inheritance. Although my parents loved me – and loved Nicholas – more than life itself, they were worried about my life choices. While not disappointed in me exactly, they were concerned about me straying off onto the wrong path. Living life as a non-stop party, rather than having solid morals, ethics, and priorities.
If there was one thing my parents taught me – drilled into my head actually – it was the importance of putting in an honest day's work as well as how vital it is to have my priorities – as well as my head – straight. They knew that as the only son of a family that was worth billions and owned half of San Antonio, that it would be all too easy to waste my life on the non-stop party circuit.
And after Nicholas was born, they began to worry even more that I was headed down the wrong path. They wanted to ensure that I set a good example for my son and that I valued the right things – hard work and family.
They thought that I might need a little guidance on the road to responsibility, which is why before they died, they re-structured their estate and tied my inheritance to a set of conditions. Right now, I receive a generous monthly stipend to live on. It's not a fortune, but it's enough to keep me and Nicholas pretty well off. It's a stipend that will continue in perpetuity – so long as KT remains a viable company – if I don't satisfy the requirements of their estate.
And those requirements are utterly life changing.
By the time I'm thirty, to receive my full inheritance, I will need to be married. My parents believed in the stability of a two-parent home. And it was their belief that a child benefitted more from having two loving parents. I don't necessarily agree – I know plenty of successful people who come from single parent families. But then, I don't really get a say in this.
The second condition is that by my thirtieth birthday, in addition to being married, I will also need to assume my role as the CEO of Keating Technologies – or KT, as we usually call it. They expect me – like my father before me – to learn the company from the ground up. To be intimately familiar with all of its different divisions and what each branch of the company does.
The problem is, I'm not my father. That man was brilliant and took a genuine interest in all sorts of things – things that bore me to tears. He was a man ahead of his time and a giant in the world of technology. But I'm not that guy. I'm not that smart. I mean, I'm not an idiot. I'm smart enough to know what I do well – and don't do well. And technological things are most definitely not in my wheelhouse. Not even close.
I sigh. “I do take it seriously, Kendrick,” I say. “But I don't know that I'll be able to satisfy the requirements of the estate. I'm just not my father. My passions aren't the same. And neither is the way my brain works. My father could look at some piece of equipment and more or less take it apart and rebuild it all again to make it better with nothing more than a box of tools. He invented some gadgets that are incredibly cool – but are also things I don't understand.”
“I think you underestimate yourself, kid,” he says. “You sell yourself short.”
I shake my head. “I don't though,” I say. “I know what I'm good at and what I'm not good at.”
Kendrick looks at me and strokes his beard again. “And, in your estimation,” he says, “what are your strengths and your weaknesses?”
“I just told you, that I'm not mechanically or technologically inclined,” I say. “I didn't inherit that gene from my dad. And I know if I take over KT, it is going to fail because I don't understand three-quarters of what it is they do there. And that isn't what I want to happen to the company my father built. That's not the legacy I want to leave behind – the man who destroyed his family's empire.”
Kendrick laughed and shook his head – which irritated me a bit. There I am, baring my soul to the man, and he laughs?
“I'm sorry, kid,” he says. “I don't mean to laugh. I really don't. But please, go ahead. I understand your weaknesses. Tell me your strengths.”
I grin at him. “Am I on a job interview here, Kendrick?”
He gives me a small shrug. “Not at all,” he says. “I'm just curious. Strengths, kid. What are they?”
“Honestly? Football,” I say. “I know the game inside and out. I sure as hell know it a lot better than Rick goddamn Dempsey. I could turn the Copperheads around and make them a winning organization again a hell of a lot sooner than Dempsey could.”
Kendrick leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers as he looks at me. “Know what I see when I look at you, kid?”
“This should be good,” I say with a grin. “Tell me. What do you see, hoss?”
“I see a man who has the world on his shoulders,” he says. “A man who thinks he has to do everything on his own. And a man who's terrified of that burden. Of that responsibility.”
“I don't know that I'd say I'm terrified –”
“I would,” he replies. “Kid, when I look at you, I see a man who is trying so damn hard to live up to his parent's legacy. To try and fit into their shoes. To be perfect. But here's a news flash, son – it ain't ever gonna happen. You'll never be perfect and you'll never fit into their shoes.”
“That's comforting, thanks.”
“But here's the thing,” he went on, “you don't have to be. And you shouldn't kill yourself trying to be. You can only control what you can control – and what you can control is you and what you do well.”
“What is it with people and the motivational pep-talks today?” I ask and smile.
“Maybe it's because some of us see the potential in you, kid,” he says. “Potential you obviously don't see right now.”
“Thanks, Kendrick,” I say after a long moment.
He sighs and leans back in his seat again. “There is, of course, the practical aspect of all of this,” he says. “I unfortunately have to remind you that if you fail to satisfy the obligations of the estate as they're laid out, while you'll continue to receive your monthly stipend, control of Keating Technologies, will pass to your sister –”
“Half-sister,” I correct him.
“Half-sister,” he says. “Tiffany Greene.”
I sigh. Tiffany was the product of my father's one – indiscretion. He screwed up. And to his credit, he'd be the first person to tell you that. He told my mother right after his drunken one-nighter with a cocktail waitress in Dallas and begged for her forgiveness. It took some time – and a lot of couples counseling – but they were able to put it behind them.
Not that they didn't still have their rocky moments now and again. Especially after Tiffany came along. My father provided for her, but because he'd chosen to stay with my mother and me, Tiffany's mother became bitter and poisoned my half-sister against him. Tiffany grew up loathing my father, and now that he was gone, that contempt has apparently transferred to me.
I know that she's next in line to inherit the throne of the Keating Technologies empire and I think because she's second in line, rather than a co-equal partner with me perhaps, it's only added fuel to her hatred. She sees me as a rival, not as family.