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“Son?” I mutter to myself with disgust. I’m sure Emmett thinks nothing of it, but I know it’s a subtle psychological jab. Theo is playing on his lack of a father figure. Even going so far as to make an entire damn car company, just like he inherited from his father before it was taken away.
“I’m so glad you came,” Theo turns to me with his big, sneaky grin that always makes my stomach turn.
“Don’t be too glad,” I scoff. “He practically had to drag me here kicking and screaming.”
They both ignore my comment and start walking inside. The building is massive with big corrugated metal siding and smokestacks up above that remain still and empty for now. There’s a big emblem being raised to the side with a crane, promising what’s to come.
I follow them through the doors and marvel at the big machines as we go. Emmett grabs a hard hat and hands me one as well. I like seeing him look like some kind of working professional, and he seems comfortable in this environment. For as much as I’ve heard him talk about his father’s business, I’ve never actually gotten to see him in action firsthand.
What I don’t like is seeing him walking side by side with Theo. One of my biggest fears is that he’s going to get Emmett’s hopes up with all of these big promises about what his company can be. And then the FBI swoops in and shuts the whole thing down. It’s hard to imagine my father pulling off anything legit and legal.
He ushers us into an office towards the back of the warehouse, which is a lot nicer than I expected. There are two corner offices with a big conference room between them. The carpets are a sleek black, which goes nicely with all of the modern décor and furniture. It’s minimalistic and chic. There are large windows with an impressive view of Jameson as sunlight streams through.
“This is awfully nice for a start-up,” I mention as we sit down at the big marble tabletop.
“We have some very generous, optimistic investors,” Theo boasts as he spreads big rolls of paper out before us.
“Should they be so optimistic?” I say. “Can you actually deliver on the promises you’ve made to everyone wrapped up in this?”
Theo laughs, looking surprised. “Should I put you in touch with the finance department?” he taunts. “Would you like to see the financial plans?”
“Yes,” I shoot back coldly, looking at him with dead serious eyes to call him on his sarcastic bluff.
He straightens up, spreading his hands across the table with an insulted and offended smirk. “Well, I’ll see what I can do,” he answers dismissively.
“Please do,” I add boldly. “You seem to think Emmett needs to take care of me. So if our futures are going to be depending on this in some way, I think I have a right to know how you’re running things.”
Emmett shuffles his feet awkwardly, directing his attention back to the plans. “This is what I wanted to show you,” he blurts to break the tension. “This is the machine that will be manufacturing the first model I’ve designed.”
He points out the different features and how it functions, pointing out the area of the warehouse behind us where it will go. I see his eyes light up with excitement as he talks. Something I’ve only ever seen when we were discussing our plans for the future.
As they drift off into their own discussion about what still needs to be done, I find myself looking around the office again. There are computers along one wall and printed research about production laying around. There are a number of electronic devices that look super expensive and like something I probably have no idea how to work. Drafting tables line the other wall.
“Emmett’s been an invaluable asset in getting all of this set up,” Theo brags, slapping him on the shoulder again with a proud smile. “Most of what you see here was his doing.”
“I thought you were just sketching out a design for a car,” I gape. “I didn’t even know you knew how to do all of this.”
After the two ramble on about all of the manufacturing plans and designs, we take another walk around the big open warehouse. Theo tells me all about the layout in great detail, and I can’t help but feel slightly impressed. Even if I am still picturing men in black suits swarming the place as they shut it all down.
The space is open and well-lit, and nowhere near as dirty as I expected it to be. The floor is still scattered with shelving, pallets, hoses, valves, and an assortment of other tools as workers busy themselves with assembling everything. There’s a painting booth and a plethora of safety signs, most not hung up yet.
Theo leads us up a spiral staircase in the far corner of the warehouse, which goes up to a metal walkway, allowing you to observe everything happening on the production floor below. The two men lean over the edge and look down with hopeful eyes. As skeptical as I am, I can see what they see. I can imagine the hissing and whirring of machinery echoing throughout while supervisors circle the room. There’s already the faint smell of grease and motor oil in the air mixed in with the scents of Styrofoam and all the fresh and shiny things being unpacked.
After the tour, we go back into the fancy offices. I take a seat at the big table again, unsure of what to say. They’re both so confident and excited, and I hate to burst their bubble. I couldn’t care less about Theo, but I can see now just how much potential Emmett sees in all of this. I just don’t want my father to disappoint him in the same ways he has disappointed me.
“I bought this just for your visit,” Theo tells us excitedly as he pulls a bottle of champagne out of the mini-fridge.
I know nothing about champagne, but Emmett reacts strongly to the sight of the bottle. “That’s an awfully nice one,” he says, looking thrown. “You don’t have to open that for us.”
“You always seem to forget we’re underage,” I remind him, remembering our visit with cocktails when we saw him on our pointless search for Bernadette.
“Ah,” he grunts and waves. “Who cares about those dumb laws? A little champagne never hurt anyone. Especially when it’s celebratory.”
I want to remind him of the kind of trouble ignoring rules and laws has got him into before, but I stop myself. Once again, I’m suspended between wanting to take Theo down a few notches and not wanting to spoil everything for Emmett.
He pops the bottle and pulls out three glasses. Each one fizzes to the top with the hissing, amber liquid as we clink our glasses together. I make a point to cheers with Emmett, avoiding Theo’s glass as much as possible. It may be petty, but that’s what I’m apparently reduced to now.
“So when does this whole operation officially launch?” I ask after taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. “You’re a lot further along than I expected.”
