AllFreeNovel
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I head out of my glass-encased corner office, glad to be free of my father’s reproving stare from the only solid wall in the entire room.
“I lost the Wayward account!” Allister screams as soon as I enter his office.
As usual, the place is in shambles, with papers literally on the floor, no semblance of order anywhere as he paces frantically around the massive interior. His incompetence is clear in every crevice of the office space.
“What do you mean, ‘lost’ it?” I demand, stalking toward him and stepping over several pages with my patent leather shoes. “It’s all in the system.”
“NO, FLINT! I LOST IT! They’re not going to work with us!”
I gawp at him, dumbfounded. “What? How? They’ve been investing in our projects for thirty years!” I choke. “We have…” I think for a second. “Twenty-eight projects with them.”
He blinks at my ability to recall the number so adeptly. “They said they only want to work with Dad!”
“Dad is dead,” I bark bluntly. “It’s hard to work with a ghost.”
“I told them it’s only me!” he whines.
The grinding of my teeth can be heard in my head. “Why didn’t you call me?” I hiss. “When you started having issues with them.”
He says nothing and looks away, fueling my anger.
“Shit, Allister, what else have you fucked up?”
He mewls like a kicked puppy, and I cover the rest of the distance between us.
“I don’t have time for this!” I roar at him. “The Central Park deal has me spread totally thin!”
“That’s why I didn’t call you!” Allister mutters sullenly. “You’re too busy and just going to blame me!”
I scoff and throw my hands up, whirling around as I struggle to contain myself. I have no idea what extent of damage my brother has caused, but I can already tell it isn’t good.
Nice, Dad. Great work giving this one half of the company.
I purse my lips and spin back around. “I need a full account of what you’ve fucked up, Al. An honest list of what went wrong, when, and how.”
“I don’t know…”
“DO IT!” I shout, slapping my hands down on the desk, and my brother cowers back, reading the rage on my face. My cell rings again, but I ignore it. “I’ll be in my office, and I expect an email in an hour. Don’t answer any calls, don’t talk to anyone else. Don’t even order a fucking coffee. Just get that report to me. Do you understand?”
He purses his lips, tears watering his eyes. I feel immense pity for him suddenly, and I want to give him a hug. He’s my little brother, after all. He never wanted this stupid company any more than I did.
I inhale and lower my voice. “We’ll figure this out,” I tell him, swallowing my anger. “Okay?”
Allister lifts his head, blinking his tears away rapidly, and I back away before I can succumb to my feelings of protectiveness. I’m still not looking forward to undoing his mess. Again.
As soon as the last echoes of our heated exchange fade, I make a swift decision. I can't bear another moment in this suffocating city. I stride out of my office, leaving behind the glass confines and my father's judgmental gaze frozen in a portrait on the wall. Ignoring the chaos of my brother's office, I snatch my messenger bag, barely acknowledging the bewildered stares of my colleagues.
With determined steps, I alert my driver that I’m heading to the airport immediately. My jet is already waiting because I had already planned to get home that night.
Soon, I'm at the airport, my heart pounding with anticipation as I board the private jet awaiting me on the tarmac.
As the plane soars into the afternoon sky, I find little solace in the quiet solitude of the cabin. My earlier anger simmers beneath the surface, mingling with a sense of unease that refuses to dissipate. Even as the familiar landmarks of New York fade into the distance, I remain ensnared by the turmoil within.
I can’t wait to get home to my small makeshift family.
* * *
When my plane lands, my phone begins to ring incessantly, and my irritation returns in an instant. I answer it.
