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Thanks for the flowers.
I pause an
d reflect on what it feels like to hear back from her for the very first time. Like I’ve done something right. My life is a series of correct and awesomely profitable business decisions contrasted with astonishingly bad interpersonal decisions. The only thing I’ve done right on the relationship front is have a daughter, and I feel like I’ve been doing a fairly shitty job at being her dad.
But this feels right. I know I’m overthinking this, attaching too much meaning to all of it, but it feels like the beginning of my second chance at life.
It sinks in that everyone around the conference table is staring at me because I’ve forgotten to silence my phone.
The chairman smirks. “Urgent business on your phone, Rushmore?”
My eyes refuse to look away from Hunter’s text but I reply, “Rather urgent family business, yes. Will you excuse me?” It’s not a lie; Hunter is my future family.
He tries to stop me with a huff of displeasure and some words about priorities, but I glance up and hurriedly remark, “Fine, you don’t need me for a vote, Peek. By all means, go on and call for one and good luck. Otherwise, we’re done here. And next board meeting, all of you be ready to talk about ideas to make money, not waste it, and let’s try to avoid meetings on Sundays so people can spend time with their loved ones. Deal?”
I push out onto the balcony and leave the harrumphs mixed with chuckles behind. I hear one or two comments about my surprising new interest in family time.
Silly, I know, but I run my fingers over the screen and commit the number to memory before creating it as a new contact in my phone.
How do I respond? I don’t want to come on too strong.
This is not like writing down a price and sliding it across the table.
Certainly women are not acquisitions, but honestly I don’t know how else to get what I want.
You’re very welcome, Hunter.
I read your note. Too sweet, she texts back.
I meant it.
K… well, have a good day.
Oops. I’m losing her. Time to cut to the chase.
What do you want the most out of life?
She replies only with a bunch of questions marks.
Too personal?
No, out of nowhere. I’ve only ever wanted to act.
How can I help?
Don’t understand the question.
You are an amazing actress and singer. You’ve attracted the attention of a very wealthy man. I’m talking virtually unlimited resources and connections. So tell me, think big, how can I help you achieve your goals?
A long pause follows.
I hold my breath. I wait.
Minutes pass.
I grunt and shove my phone into my pocket and lean on the balcony railing.
Maybe I went too far too fast. Maybe my text was too long; I only recently figured out what Ridley means when she replies to me with “TL;DR.”
