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Clay gave me a single nod. “That’s all I ask. Text me an update.”
“It’s date night!” I heard Ophelia yell.
I smiled at him.
“I may not answer,” Clay responded.
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” I chuckled. “If I don't text you tonight, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You’re playing this Friday, right? How are the guys?”
“They’re good, and not this Friday, next week. Craig has been hinting that a talent scout may show up one night, but nothing yet. We’ve been practicing, doing sound checks on the new songs and fine tuning them.” I sighed, folding my arms over my chest. “They’re secretly hoping we will get signed to something huge.”
“That's what you want right?”
“Well, that's the ultimate dream, but who would handle my finances?”
“Elliot,” Clay groaned. “I know you very, very well. When you are in rockstar mode you drop one-hundred-dollar bills on the counter like they are candy . . . even if you get signed, I will still handle your finances.”
“Damn straight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
Clay gave me a smile and nod. “Talk tomorrow.”
I waved at the camera and closed the meeting.
Silence filled the room. Heaving a sigh, I stood from my desk and stretched my arms to the side, arching my back. It was a motion I had seen my dad do numerous times after a meeting—a way to pull him back to the here and now. For me it was simply copying his mannerisms; I wasn’t hunched over at a desk all day, so there was no need to really stretch my back, but here I was, twisting my torso just like Dad.
The rest of the day went by in a blink. I sent a few more invoices Clay’s way and showed a new client the building. Everyone loves the design floor, and I especially love it when there are architects working there as I lead the potential client through—being able to show them our process, and then landing their business before they leave.
But they always leave, and so do all my employees, while I’m always the last to leave the building, making sure to lock the doors on my way out. The lights that hit the glass make the smaller building shine even when the winter weather keeps the natural light away.
The cold air hits my skin as I pull my coat to my neck, readjusting my bag on my shoulder. It’s only the beginning of the year and I’m already done with the winter. I’m ready for Spring—for longer days and the warmer weather. I’m ready to leave this behind and move forward.
I just need to take those steps.
And Clay, as much as I hate to admit it, is right. I need to talk to my parents before locking this building for the final time.
After scraping the ice off of my windshield, I sat in the cold Jeep. Shivers ran down my spine as I reached for my phone. A message had arrived when I was out in the cold, and it was my brother who wanted my attention.
Jacob:You’re coming to dinner right? Mom has news about dad.
I sighed.
Dad.
Ever since he was forced into retirement he had gone downhill faster than the doctors expected. Even Jacob, with his Ph.D., was baffled that his memory had faded so fast. Whenever I visited my dad, I had to remind him who I was. He called our mother the name of his old secretary, and my sister was nowhere to be found in his mind. Normally when mom had news on dad, it wasn’t good. Thelast time we all sat down to dinner, she told us she was moving him into a home for constant care. My mind automatically went to the worst.
Me:I’m on my way now, is everything ok?
Jacob:Everything is fine, Sydney’s already here so we’re just waiting on you.
Me:On my way.
I pulled in the driveway thirty minutes later, my siblings had left me with just enough room to squeeze my Jeep in between their cars and the road. Making my way into the warmth of the house, I rubbed my hands together, instantly regretting leaving my gloves in the car.
“Elliot’s finally here,” I heard my sister, Sydney, call from the dining room.
“You’re staying too late at the office honey,” my mom’s voice followed.
