“That, too,” Ryan had said before mussing her hair and telling her to go take a much-needed shower. Funny how some moments stayed vivid in a person’s memory. She credited every success she’d had, from finishing college to getting a job for a large retail chain, to that pep talk from Ryan.
When she’d needed someone, the most support came from family, not her other relationships. Family carried a person through and even gave a person a kick in the ass when needed. They were what mattered. I learned that I am stronger than anything life can throw at me and, God willing, I’ll show Skye that she is, too. Hailey looked into the sweet, sad eyes of Ryan’s daughter and said, “We’re going to be okay.”
Seated on the very top step of the Kukulcán pyramid at Chichén Itzá in Mexico, Spencer Westerly took a moment to appreciate the early-morning calmness of the ancient Mayan site. The view of the Temple of the Warriors against a backdrop of jungle never became less awe-inspiring. There were tweaks still left to be made, but the stone beneath him was warm to the touch and the breeze increased in force the higher one climbed while containing precisely enough humidity to allow for comfort as well as authenticity.
Spencer stood on the plateau of the pyramid. “Run conference type E. Connect Cohen.” Slots on the wall opened and a table and chair were realistically represented via the combination of hologram and physical planks. A business partner, Jordan Cohen, appeared beside him. The two had been friends since high school, and their shared obsession with coding had blossomed into WorkChat, their virtual reality software design company.
Over the past year, their goal of getting contracts in New York, California, and London had been realized. Beijing and Australia were next. Already expectations were rising as clients began to integrate the simulators into their daily routines. What was considered a breakthrough one day could be considered mediocre and subpar a month later. In the world of big investors, perfection was not only expected but vital for a tech company’s survival. Others were attempting what WorkChat was already bringing to the market. It was only a matter of time before the playing field would be crowded with competition. Building a reputation for excellence as well as solid infrastructure was imperative. Spencer often reminded his lead team that almost anyone could make a computer, but most consumers purchased only a handful of brand names. Reputation and infrastructure. Companies bought technology that was reliable, connected, and cutting-edge. They invested in programs that increased productivity, especially in a global community where traveling was becoming an inefficient use of time and resources, increasingly dangerous, and costly.
With WorkChat, the physical location of employees didn’t matter. As long as simulators were available at each site, teams from around the world could conduct conference meetings anywhere—even from the top of a Mayan pyramid. WorkChat, though, wasn’t simply about making it appear as if people were in the same location; it was about fooling their senses into believing they actually were. Easier to achieve until one had to cycle back in the practical aspects of conducting business, but they were doing it. If he seemed hard on Jordan, it was only because everything they’d worked for was suddenly within reach. “It shouldn’t be this windy in the conference area, and the temperature needs to lower gradually. No one should feel as though they stepped in front of an air conditioner. Make it seamless.”
“I always do.”
Spencer paced beside the conference table. “We do this one right, and Bylon in Australia is next to sign on.”
Jordan leaned his chair back and stretched. “We’re good. Relax.”
Slapping his hand down on the table, Spencer said, “Good is not good enough. It never has been.”
Rather than looking intimidated, Jordan propped his feet up on the edge of the conference table. “Here we go. What has you all wound up today?”
There were days Spencer regretted working with someone who had known him long enough to have no fear of him. He rubbed a hand over his throbbing forehead. Hangovers had become the norm, but they still sucked. “Nothing.”
“You look like shit, so I’m guessing you went out again. I ran into Jade at the bistro. She was looking for you. I told you not to go out with her a second time. She thought you were dating.”
“I told her I don’t do relationships.”
“How can you be such an ass to women and get laid as often as you do?”
“Can we talk about something that matters? Like our looming deadline? I need to know I can step away and not have this project go to shit. You have two weeks to polish Chichén Itzá if we plan to upgrade the systems this summer. It’s time to get serious.”
“Serious? I all but live here already.” Jordan dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward on the conference table. “So do you. Lighten up. You sound like your father.” Jordan never missed a chance to call him on his shit, another benefit of knowing him for so long.
But on this one he was wrong.
Dereck Westerly is not my father. Spencer’s hands fisted, but he kept his gut reaction to himself. Jordan didn’t know the truth. No one outside of Spencer’s immediate family did, and that was how Spencer wanted to keep it. Anger about unchangeable past events distracted him from the one thing that did matter—WorkChat. Logic couldn’t be applied to the drama that lately came hand in hand with spending any amount of time with his family. Debugging, tuning, and designing required a clear head.
Avoiding his family didn’t fix anything, but he was in survival mode. He couldn’t handle hearing his mother apologize again for not telling him that his biological father had been her second husband, Mark, and not her first as she’d led everyone to believe. Affairs happen. People get lonely. Her justifications were limitless. What neither her apologies nor her explanations did, though, was give him a chance to have one final son-to-father conversation before his real father died.
He didn’t have the stomach for another round with Rachelle, his older sister, as she explained again that good people could make horrible mistakes without it making them bad people.
The definition of a good person is someone who doesn’t selfishly fuck up other people’s lives; a good person doesn’t confess to lies only when they’re caught.
The one he felt sorry for was his younger sister, Nicolette, because she was still wrestling with uncertainty when it came to having her own paternity confirmed. Not knowing was torturing her, but she feared the truth would be something she wasn’t ready for. Feeling sorry for her, though, didn’t mean he knew what to say to her or that he wanted to talk about it again.
His brother Eric chose to hide in Europe rather than get involved. That much hadn’t changed.