He skimmed the message, muttering as he read parts out loud. “One building…future of this building…ideas you both may have.” Liam looked up. “Are you going to pitch him one of your recent ideas? I mean, you have to, right? That has to be what he’s looking for.”
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and shrugged. “Maybe? I have some ideas in mind if that’s the direction the meeting goes, but I want to get a feel for Golden Falls first and see what he has to say. I don’t want to pitch something and it ends up being the wrong idea.” Hal knew I worked for Nelson Group, but I doubted he knew the type of work Iwantedto be doing.
“Dude, this could be good. I don’t think you need to,butthis could be a way to get your dad’s attention and do more of the work youwantto be doing. You pitch the idea,” Liam said, ticking off the point on his finger. “Get the building.” Another finger. “People love it, and it becomes a success.” Third finger. “Boom. Tangible proof that this type of work can be beneficial to people and profitableandyou have evidence your dad can’t dispute.”
I scratched the back of my neck, leaning back in my chair as Liam’s words sunk in. It might be my last chance at having a future at Nelson Group. Because if this didn’t get me noticed, nothing would. While I would be fine working for someone other than my father, I knew the resources and contacts Nelson Group had. If I could turn things around and use those connections, I’d be able to make positive change on a big scale. Bigger than if I were to step away and try this on my own.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, nodding. “I think you’re onto something. I’ll have two to three ideas ready depending on howthe meeting goes and go from there. Maybe I could even try to buy the building outright.”
“You have options. I have a good feeling about this.”
“I’m feeling better about it,” I agreed. Or at least I felt better about the business side of the visit. The rest caused a knot in my stomach that I couldn’t shake.
“And if it all goes well and you’re feeling extra ballsy? You can tell your dad to shove his ego and the non-compete up his ass, because you’re getting a lawyer to get you out of it.”
“I had the company lawyer look at it a while back. There’s nothing I can do about it. My only hope right now is getting that building.”
After Liam and I finished dinner, I drove to my apartment, intending to finish the proposal my father wanted, even if I didn’t agree we should move forward with it. Getting an extra hour or two of work done tonight would make my life easier tomorrow and ahead of the weekend.
When I walked inside, I was greeted by my cat Beans, who brushed up against my legs. “Hey, buddy.” I crouched down, petting the top of his head as he nuzzled into my hand. Beans was a twelve-year-old tuxedo cat I adopted about four years ago. With my work schedule, it didn’t make sense for me to adopt a kitten who had high-energy and needed constant attention. Beans, while affectionate, enjoyed his alone time and spent the day sleeping while I was at work. I had plenty of toys, windows, and perches for him to enjoy.
Beans had a better setup than me. Apart from his various toys and furniture, there was little in my apartment that made it clear someone lived here. I had my TV, couch, bed, and enough food to get me by. At least the floor-to-ceiling windows gave me a great view of Lake Michigan.
If anything, my apartment felt more like a second office that I happened to sleep in than a home. I could add photos and other personal touches, but…it didn’t seem worth my time. I could be getting work done instead.
I collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with an exhale. Beans quickly trotted over, hopping onto my lap and making himself comfortable. As I was about to reach for my laptop, my phone vibrated in my pocket. My mother was calling, as expected. I inhaled deeply before picking up the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Can you believe your father?” My mother greeted. “He’s threatening to cut me off, and I just got here!”
After my parents split when I was sixteen, my mother decided to use the money from the divorce settlement to travel. That was still what she was up to. I didn’t see her often—which, honestly, was fine, since my relationship with her wasn’t great either—and she was rarely in one place for longer than a couple of weeks. It was more common for me to get a call from her after she’d talked to my dad. That’s all we talked about. There was noHow was your day, Gabriel?orWhat’s new with you, Gabe?
Beans stirred on my lap, a low growl rumbling in his chest at the sound of my mom’s voice.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, no. I didn’t know that. He didn’t mention to me that he was going to do that.” I had no idea how to respond to her or what type of response she wanted. What I truly wanted was to ask her to stop involving me in these conversations because I had bigger issues than if my father was going to cut her off. One, she’d be fine. And two, she could useone of his other cards. “Uh, can you remind me where you are again?”
“Bali!” she said with an exasperated sigh. “I told you. Do you not listen to me, Gabriel?”
Listening to her wasn’t the problem. It was keeping track of her various locations, and frankly, caring about her trips when she couldn’t care less about anything I had to say. I’d truly tried over the years to have a relationship with her, to have real conversations, but it was never reciprocated.
“I listen to you, Mom, but I don’t think you updated me on where?—”
“Of course, I told you,” she snapped. She paused for a moment, clearing her throat, her voice softer this time. “Will you put in a good word about me to your father? I can’t stay here if he cuts me off.”
Ah, so that was why she was calling. There was always something. I didn’t realize it as a kid, but my relationships with both of my parents was as transactional as it got. The relationship that I saw between them was transactional, too. Unconditional love was the biggest fucking myth.
“I really don’t think I should be getting involved.” I dropped my hand and checked the time on my watch. It was inching closer to ten. If I wanted to work on the proposal and get some sleep ahead of the morning, I needed to wrap up our call. “Mom, I’m sorry, but I still have some work to get done tonight. Could I call you tomorrow about this?”
Her exhale was so loud I had to pull my phone away from my ear. I knew what was coming before she even said it. She’d been telling me this my whole life. I also knew the look she had on her face even though I couldn’t see her.
“Gabriel, you are so selfish. You’re just like your father.”
Before my parents divorced, I thrived on hearing them both tell me “you’re just like your father” or “you’re just like yourmother.” I thought it was a compliment. I wanted to see the ways I was like them because they were my parents—my role models.
That phrase quickly turned from compliment to insult after the divorce. Now, the words sliced through, reopening old wounds each and every time.
I worked too late and was too focused on success? I was just like my father.
