“I’m not following anymore,” I say. “Not to your office. Not to hell.”
I suck in air and he levels me with a stare. “In my office, son.” He turns and walks into his office, and that’s when the hacking ensues. Deep, gut-wrenching hacking. I can feel Emily staring at me, willing me to follow him into the office. Damn it. I walk forward and find him standing almost in my face, anger burning in his bloodshot stare. I shut the door and he blasts me. “We don’t talk this kind of business in front of others. Even if you’re fucking her.”
He’s volatile in a way I do not know him to be. Vile, yes. Rude, yes. But not volatile.
“That proposal,” he continues, “offered you good, clean business the way you like it.”
“But what you’re using it for isn’t good and clean, now is it?”
“Why will it matter once I’m gone?”
“That’s not a no,” I say. “And it matters because whatever deal you’re using it for will still exist. Besides, a deal that big will take investors.”
“Just sign the damn paper.”
“Does Mike know about this?”
“No one knows about this but you, and it needs to stay that way.”
“You think Mike won’t approve.”
“I don’t care if he approves.”
“You want to own him and his vote.”
“Just sign the damn papers, Shane.”
He walks to his desk and when he faces me again, I say, “I’m not doing anything to give you all of the power.” I face the door, my hand going to the knob.
“I have investors to do this on my own. I will do it on my own.”
The meeting with the bankers that never happened. He’s bluffing and I’m done being a token in his game. I exit the office and shut the door. Emily looks at me, and the moment she sees my face, disappointment fills her. I think she’s fallen into the same trap I always have. The one where I think my father will change but he never does. I give her a nod. The door behind me opens and I start walking, but right as I round the corner, I hear my father ask Emily, “How much influence do you have over him?” and I stop dead in my tracks.
One hell of a lot, I think, but she replies, “Seriously?” as if he’s crazy, before laughing and asking, “How much do I have over you?”
“Some,” he says thoughtfully, “or I wouldn’t drink that damn tea you bring me.”
“You ask for that tea,” she points out.
“Because you made me drink it the first time, and no one but Maggie makes me do anything. So I ask again: How much influence do you have over my son?”
“I couldn’t make Shane drink the tea.”
She knows damn well I’d drink the tea if she wanted me to try it, but her loyalty to me shown in this response is golden in ways no one else in my family is. And my father is no fool. He knows she’s loyal to me, not just because she told him she is, but because it shows in her actions and words. And yet, curiously, he wants her by his door. I cut through the lobby and exit, quickly grabbing an elevator alone, repeating that thought. He wants Emily by his door. It speaks of him protecting me, but my father protects no one but himself. “What are you up to, Father?”
Exiting the elevator, I punch in Seth’s number, and he answers on the first ring. “You need to sweep my office,” I say.
“I swept it yesterday.”
I enter the elevator to the garage. “Well then, it got bugged last night,” I say, punching my floor.
“I won’t ask how you know,” he says. “But I can’t get there anytime soon. Right now, I’m meeting with the team we discussed last night, but I have another situation. I don’t have a certain woman under control. She’s not taking my calls. I’m hoping she’s sedated from the stress. Once I finish this meeting I’m headed there.”
“Keep me posted.” We end the call and I enter the garage, already dialing Mike’s office, but I hang up before I get an answer. There is more to the story with Mike Rogers than meets the eye, though the man is a damn ghost as of late. That in itself is a signal of a bigger picture. I slide into the car, and dial my mother, who doesn’t answer. I don’t leave a message. I’m not sure why I don’t leave a message. Something is bothering me that I can’t quite nail, and when I get these feelings, there is always a winning play within reach.
EMILY
The energy Brandon Senior brings to the office when he’s in poor health makes me wonder what this place must have been like when he was in his prime, and certainly explains how it became a big success. The morning plays out with him barking orders, and the phone ringing off the hook with what feels like a million questions about the board meeting, as well as me juggling yet more changing arrangements. Come noon, I try to get lunch for Brandon Senior, concerned that he refuses to eat considering his blue suit and yellow tie look like they were made for his big brother. The man is dying and I have gut-wrenching moments when I think about how soon he may be gone from this world, and Shane’s life, that always seems to trigger memories of my own father.
It’s almost time for Shane’s mother to arrive for our lunch, and I dart into Senior’s office despite him being on the phone and set the file he’s been demanding on his desk. I’m about to head back to my desk when he ends the call, and surprises me. “Is that a new dress, Ms. Stevens?”
“It is,” I say, feeling awkward about this leading to Shane, but instead he says, “About damn time. Funeral black does not suit me and that’s all you ever wore.”
He’s wrong on my wardrobe, but I say, “No black. Duly noted. Are you sure you don’t want some lunch before I leave?”
He leans back in his chair, ignoring my offer of food. “That’s right. You’re lunching with my wife today.”
“I am. I hope that’s okay?”
“As if I’d have a say in the matter. This is my Maggie we’re talking about.”
“I kind of like that she’s the only person who can get her way with you. It’s rather romantic.”
“Do you get your way with my son, Ms. Stevens?” he asks, bringing us back to the earlier conversation about my influence on Shane. “Would he drink the tea because you told him to, as I did?”
“We’re back to tea?” I ask, finding it such a weird analogy, but clearly it’s some sort of head game.
“Yes,” he confirms. “Tea. Would my son drink the tea if you told him to?”
“I don’t even know if he likes tea,” I say, trying to beat him at his own game.
“Assume he doesn’t. I sure as hell don’t.”
“I fear I am going to disappoint you, but it’s very doubtful he’d drink the tea.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “What would you have done today with Derek had I not appeared?”
“Told him my boss is an asshole and that I had to get back to my desk.”
He shocks me and laughs. “Shane would drink the tea.” He waves me off. “Now go have your lunch and get it over with. I have work for you to do.”