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Greg’s such a glad-handing corporate fuckboy that he doesn’t even understand why I’d be upset. He’d behappyfor this to happen. “You’re dismantling my company and selling off our assets to random teams. I protected all this in the merger. It was in the contract.”
He takes a step toward the wall, pulling me with him. Greg gives someone a nod and a smile. Then he focuses back on me. “Listen. If I had known you were going to be upset, I would’ve sent more details about the agenda.” This quiet tone is meant to be soothing, but I’m not soothed. Plus, he’s lying. “But we followed the terms of the contract to a T. Your people will all keep the same salary, the same benefits package, and the same level of responsibility and prestige. The only thing that changes is their position within the company structure.”
This is like getting my first look at Mountain Man in the ring. It’s the sensation of being deeply, truly fucked.
Greg and his precious Hughes Industries are going to follow the letter of the contract, but not the spirit.And I already signed.We’re already in this building. I already left Bristol.
“Why would you want to split us up?” The coffee mug is about to shatter in my hand. “We were doing good work together. All the things that made you notice us.”
“It was small time.” It’s not unkind, the way he says it. Just matter-of-fact. “This is how football works when you’re in the NFL, and you play for us now. You’re our new quarterback.” Greg slaps me on the arm. “So suit up, Willie. It’s game time.”
3
BRISTOL
The thingabout ten-year-olds is that they don’t sleep in very long.
Mia and Ben are the best siblings anybody could ask for, but they’re still kids. In a few years they’ll be teenagers and wanting to sleep in all the time, which is…farther ahead than I want to think. It seems surreal to imagine that my dad could still be missing when they hit thirteen, so I don’t imagine it.
I’m tired.
They woke up just before seven this morning.
Maybe it’s because they’re twins. What is it? Do they get lonely in their sleep and wake up to talk it out? They make an effort to be quiet, but the math just isn’t in our favor. A beautifully refurbished tiny apartment is still a tiny apartment.
“Seriously?” Mia sounds half-annoyed, half-amused. “You can’t do that.”
“Those are the rules.” There’s a rustling, as if Ben has opened a guidebook. “Look. Right here. Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to know all the rules?”
She groans. “The rules always go your way.”
“Not true.”
“Sotrue.”
“Guys.” I throw my hand over my arm and nestle further into the couch. The board game they’re playing in the middle of the living room involves storytelling and math and battles, so both of them love it. I would love a nap. In the quiet pauses, I keep drifting off.
“Bristol wants to sleep,” Ben scolds.
“Go to sleep.” Mia’s voice is no louder than the breeze outside. “Take a nap. We’ll stop being so loud.”
“You guys are good kids.” They really are. I can’t imagine how stressful it would be if they gave me a hard time. If they didn’t trust me.
“Thank you,” Mia whispers. “Please stop making the fancy meatballs. They feel awful in my mouth.”
I don’t uncover my eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.” More whispering. “Go to sleep…”
The soft rustle of the guidebook and theclack-clack-clackof the dice fade slowly into the background. Building C is shitty. My heart is unreasonably broken over Will. But this isn’t so bad.
We’re okay.
For now.
I feel the dream coming on slowly, sound first. Waves rolling on the beach. Sun, warm on my face. No missing dad. No broken heart.
The doorbell rings.
