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Always.
How am I ever going to go back to New York and leave her here?
This brings me to Mark’s offer to move her there. She won’t go, of course. She and my stepdad have a life here, a good one, too. She’s a nurse. He’s an established fire chief. They both enjoy their work. The hardest part of my mother’s illness for both of them, it seemed, was not being able to fix the problem themselves. They felt helpless. So did I.
I blink myself back into focus and the here and now. I worry that Mark is going to think I took this job with Tyler Hawk as a setup for me to stay here. And maybe, subconsciously, that’s exactly what I did. Riptide is a future though, a dream job, that I am blessed to have. But I only have one mother and my savings is taking a beating.
My mind races and an idea hits me, a really good idea that’s a win-win for everyone involved. I quickly dial Mark, “Ms. Wright,” he greets, answering on the first ring. “It’s late. I expect the party went well and you have good news to share?”
I glance at the clock and cringe. It’s after eleven in New York. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t even think about the time difference. But yes, I’m calling about the party. I met Tyler Hawk. I have an idea how to make this auction he’s holding good for us all.”
“An idea,” he repeats dryly. “Do please, tell me about this idea.”
“First, I want to just remind you that Hawk Legal represents a huge chunk of country royalty, among other genres of talent, all of whom are the perfect clientele for Riptide. But the country music world especially, because it’s rather removed from the New York City scene.”
“All right,” he says. “You have my attention. Keep going.”
“The auction is this December. Tyler’s coordinator for the event took an emergency leave, much like I was forced to do. Hawk Legal is committed to a charity auction and to its donors. They have to move forward.”
“Which rules us out,” he comments. “We don’t operate that quickly. It compromises the auction numbers.”
“Understood, but I don’t think this has to knock us out,” I say. “I’m here for a few months, and I can handle their auction—they have to pay me of course, not you—but Riptide could sponsor the event as well. It’s great press with a high-profile clientele. On top of all of this,” I say, talking really fast, trying to get it all out before he says no, “I told Tyler Hawk, I’d have the right to seize and exploit all opportunities for Riptide, of which I plan to create many. So there. That’s the idea.”
“How much will this sponsorship cost me?”
“How much are you willing to pay?” I counter.
“Get me a price. Then I’ll let you know.”
“Okay,” I say. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Are you working for him or me, Ms. Wright?”
“You,” I say quickly. “Or well, I guess both of you, but I’m going to turn this into a Riptide win. I’m going to come back and make you glad you kept me on.”
“Big words, Ms. Wright. Big words. All talk and no action makes me displeased.”
“It makes me just as displeased.”
“Doubtful, but let’s see what you can do. Get me more details. Goodnight, Ms. Wright.” He pauses and adds, “If you act in fear, so will she.” With that warning, he hangs up.
I’m left to digest his words. Of course, the she he references is my mother. And his words match the words spoken to me by my mother’s doctor.
Mark Compton just read me and my motives like a book and in turn, he gave me advice, not a walking ticket. But then, his mother is sick, too. He understands what some cannot. I’m torn between two worlds, but this auction feels like solid ground, and even more so, a purpose.
Feeling motivated, I’m ready to educate myself and head in, firing hot. I key in my password on my MacBook and pull up Hawk Legal, clicking on the “About Us” button. The first thing I scan for is Allison. There’s nothing about her on the site, but then again, there is nothing about anyone who is not an attorney. There’s, of course, the founding family’s story with Tyler Hawk in a featured position on the webpage. He’s thirty-four, a graduate of Yale, and he’s worked his entire career with the firm. He represents some of the biggest athletes, musicians, and actors on planet Earth. The interesting thing is that his client list does not seem to include Dash Black. Maybe one of his parents represents Dash.
That brings me to my interest in Dash Black and how easily that happened.
I google his name. He has a Wikipedia page, which informs me that he’s thirty-six, and an ex-FBI agent turned writer. I had no idea. I’m shocked that he was an FBI agent considering his father is—and I knew this—Nathan Black, a famous author of a dystopian series that has sold millions upon millions of copies worldwide. There are comic books for his series as well, also written by him. I’m really surprised there hasn’t been a movie yet, but I’ve heard it’s been on and off several times. He wasn’t with our publishing house, but it’s a small industry. I wonder how he dealt with Dash nabbing a movie deal before he did? I mean, Nathan is known to be difficult. An asshole, actually, which oh God, what if Dash thought I was talking about his father when I said I’d edited an author who was just that: an asshole? I draw in a breath and let it out. His father has had the same editor for his entire career. He won’t think that.
