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Andrew shakes his head. "That's where you're wrong. Your fire is gone, man. I'm just hoping there's a few embers left that we can fan and turn into flames again."
"That's fucking dramatic."
"Just man up and tell me what's wrong," Andrew says.
I decide that now's as good a time as any to pull out the bottle of whiskey that I keep stashed in my desk drawer. "Want a glass?"
"Fill 'er up," Andrew says.
I pour two ribbons of the amber liquid, one in each glass, and slide one over to Andrew. I take a gulp, allowing the liquor to burn a fiery trail into the pit of my stomach.
"I think Ben Danvers is up to something."
Andrew laughs. "Nothing new there. When is that bastard not up to something?"
I shake my head. "No, I mean, I think Ben is plotting against me … with Athena."
Andrew releases a shrill whistle between his lips. "Well, now. That changes things. What exactly do you think is going on?"
"It's not worth talking about," I say, shaking my head. "It's a non-issue now that we have an investor."
"It is an issue … if you love Athena."
When Andrews says the word 'love' I feel a sharp stab in my chest. I pour myself another glass of whiskey, and drink it, trying to dull the pain I feel.
If this is what love feels like—a stabbing, sinking, aching feeling—I never want to fall in love again.
Not now.
Not ever.
Andrew eyes me critically, and he instinctively knows there's more I'm not telling him, but he has the sense enough to not prod me any further.
"Let me just remind you of something," he says. "You got this far—to this corner office at the top of this fucking skyscraper in the middle of this glorious city, by being one thing."
"What's that?"
"By being a risk taker, man."
As soon as Andrew says this, I know he's right.
That's it.
I need to take risks.
The question is: How much risk am I willing to assume?
22
Athena
Sometimes I think that part of me is just too manly. I mean, the first thing I do when I hit a rough patch is head straight to the closest bar and order a martini. Thankfully, I’m never alone when that happens.
“You did what?” Julia asks me, her jaw dropping so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if it hit the floor. “Please, tell me I’ve heard wrong.”
“No, you’ve heard right.”
“Are you insane, Athena?” Julia continues, that tone of complete disbelief coating every word that leaves her mouth.
