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What the hell Jamie, the last thing you need to do is get involved with Rockstar Elliot Whittaker.
Chapter Three
-Elliot-
Present Day
“So how big of an idiot am I being?” I leaned back in my office chair, raising my hands behind my head as I grinned at the computer screen.
Once a week I had a virtual meeting with Clay. He would start by going over any finances and accounts that needed to be handled, but it would always turn into us rambling about whatever we were up to. In less than a year, Clay had become one of my best friends. It didn’t matter that he lived in New York, and three time zones separated us, he knew more than my bandmates. Possibly knew more than Milo.
His glare shot through the screen, aimed directly at me. I justwidened my smile.
“I cannot stress enough . . .” he began, keeping his teeth clenched as he grumbled at me. “If you accept that offer, you will go bankrupt and lose everything you’ve worked for.” He put his right hand on his forehead. I couldfeelhis stress through the computer.
“I’m not saying I’m selling to Anthony. I’m just saying IthinkI want to sell. Anthony just put it in my head.” I put my feet up on my desk—true relaxation at its finest.
“How much did this ‘Anthony’ offer you?”
“Half a mil.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
Clay let out the loudest groan I’d ever heard, and I chuckled as he dropped his head and hit his desk. Behind him, Ophelia came into view. Those two were attached at the hip now. He ran his growing business from home, and Ophelia had moved one of her desks in his office. If he was there, she was with him, sketching away. If she was at the boutique, he worked from the studio that was above the warehouse. I’m not sure how they weren't sick of each other yet, but wherever one was, the other wasn’t far away.
“Hey, Ophelia!” I shouted.
She arched her back and dropped her pencil, turning towards the computer. “Hey, Elliot, please stop trying to give my husband a heart attack.”
“Yeah, can we talk about that again.”
Shortly after Milo and Madeline tied the knot, Clay and Ophelia did too. A private ceremony the day before her boutique opened. They still hadn’t told many people, but since Ophelia insisted I sing their song at the ceremony next year, they spilled the beans to me. I wasn’t mad or annoyed that I wasn’t there, but that wasn’t to say I wasn’t going to give Clay grief over it. He was fun to tease.
Clay’s head rose and he twisted his torso to face his wife. She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her drawing. Using his left hand this time, he ran his fingers through his hair, his black wedding ring hitting the camera just right. I smiled. I loved that they were finally living their lives together.
“I told you . . .” Clay started, “. . . we’re having a ceremony . . .”
“I know, I know. And I’ll be there to sing that song . . .”
“It’s calledGrave!” I heard Ophelia shout from the background.
“I know,” I whispered into the camera with a grin. “I just like giving her hell.”
“Well stop. I gotta live with it so, stop. When you finally get married, I’ll make sure to give your wife a hard time over everything,” he grumbled, his voice low enough to make me think he was keeping it secret, but high enough to know that Ophelia was listening to everything. “But seriously you are not selling your business for only half a million dollars.”
“Well, that's why I brought it up, isn't it? To figure out how much I can sell it for.” I pulled my feet down and leaned on my desk.
Clay blinked a few times before his eyes began to move. The man worked off of one computer, always working in the background as he had a video call up. I knew he was pulling up my file and, after a few moments of silence, he heaved a sigh.
“Your stocks alone are worth more than half a million, and still tend to do relatively well. If you give me a few days I can contact an appraiser and we can work on getting it up for sale, but . . .” He ran his hand over his face, “Have you talked to your dad?”
“My dad doesn’t even know who I am.” I sighed.
“Your mom then. I understand you have total control over the company and its assets, but it was fifty years of your dad’s life. It may be a good idea to at least get their approval before you sell.”
I took a deep breath, running my hands against my desk before flopping back into my chair with my exhalation. I bit my bottom lip, looking away from my computer to the frames along my wall—my dad with his first design as an architect, him and the building when they first opened, the new office, and finally, me and him the day he retired.
I got a degree in business for this. This was supposed to be my life; even though it wasn’t what I wanted. I had worked with mydad for three years now and had been the CEO of the company for, going-on-two years, although I still wasn’t sure if I could really keep doing this. So, when an offer appeared out of nowhere, it was almost as if a light bulb went off. Selling the company seemed to be a way out for the family—a way out forme.
“I’m going to mom’s tonight, I’ll talk to her,” I finally said.
