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Chapter 1
Oliver
Maybe coming back to the company had been part of my plan all along. When I’d left, it felt like there was no plan, like for the first time in my life I was doing something spontaneous, something that surprised even me. As I had prostrated myself to the triple deities of sun, surf, and utter irresponsibility, I’d envisioned coming to some definitive understanding of myself. It would be like a bright light, a certainty about who I was meant to be, what I was really meant to do.
I imagined I’d be standing on my surfboard, riding that razor-thin edge between exhilaration and disaster—the water about to crash over my head, my board always milliseconds from toppling off the crest. It would be at that impossible moment, hanging between ecstasy and utter destruction, when something would come to me. I believed that my subconscious mind had been busy, even while I propelled myself through clubs and bars, drinking and dancing, surfing during the day and flirting as the sun fell and came up again. I honestly thought my psyche would assemble every past experience, every inkling of who I’d ever been, into a logical map to show me where I needed to go. Where I wanted to go. Because up until then, I’d never wanted anything I’d been aware of. My life had been perfect. So perfect I’d had to rip it away in order to step back and evaluate it.
“You’re doing what?” my dad had asked, incredulous, as I’d handed him my letter of resignation. “Oliver, the CEO doesn’t just resign.”
“Most CEOs aren’t born into their positions, Dad. I need to know I have the option.”
“Okay, you have the option. But right now? We need you here, son.” Dad had looked confused, distraught.
“I’m not sure you do.” Dad had made me CEO, with the board’s approval, as soon as I’d graduated from college. I’d known that was the plan since I’d graduated from high school. I’d never had the option, and since I’d been CEO of Cody Technology, I wasn’t sure I’d actually done a damned thing. I hadn’t done anything myself, anyway. Dad was always there to help, to steer, to guide.
I’d walked away because I’d needed time to float. Time to be lost.
Celia had been even less pleased than my father. “Ollie, wait. What?” Her perfect face had formed into a mask of utter shock, and the tears had been immediate, almost theatric. “But…the wedding?”
We’d been engaged less than a month. Maybe that had been the catalyst that had launched me toward this journey. How could I get married if I didn’t even know who I was? Celia had been a setup, the daughter of a board member, one of my dad’s best friends. She was gorgeous, had all the right credentials, and was perfect in every way. But maybe not perfect for me.
“I’ll be back,” I told her. But I didn’t tell her where I was going or ask her to keep in touch. And I hadn’t spoken to her in the six months I’d spent crossing the beaches of the world.
A shadow had fallen across my face as I’d lain dozing in the sand, my board plunged into the white grit next to me and the waves crashing ceaselessly at my feet. A masculine voice pulled me back to consciousness, the now-familiar South African slang for “bro” directed at me. “Ag, boet. Phone call.”
I’d squinted my eyes open to find Bergie from the resort standing above me with a cellphone. I hadn’t brought my own phone overseas. Only my mom knew where I was, and she’d promised to give me time and space. My dad might have known, but since he wasn’t speaking to me, I didn’t need to worry about him calling. I was twenty-six years old, but I still felt obligated to let Mom know I was safe. I owed my parents that much at least.
“Thanks,” I said, sitting up and reaching a hand out as I steeled myself to speak to my mother, Sonja. She had called only once so far. I smiled as I lifted the phone to my ear, shaking my head. I still felt lucky, and that feeling flooded me as I thought of my parents that day. Even if I felt an inkling of itchy annoyance that Mom needed to check in from halfway around the world, I was lucky she cared enough to do it.
I’d been smiling as I’d said hello, staring out at the vast open ocean and wishing in some strange way that Mom were actually here. Maybe just for a couple days. Maybe I’d suggest they come visit. The time away from everything hadn’t gotten me closer to figuring out what it was I was supposed to be doing with my life, but it had made me realize what a rare gift I had in my relationship with my parents, and I regretted the way I’d left things with my father.
Now that I’d hoisted off the weight of their expectations and made them understand I couldn’t stay in the mold we’d each had a hand in creating for me, I missed them.
“Hey,” I said, anticipating my mother’s calm lilt across the endless miles between us.
It wasn’t my mother’s voice that came through the phone, though. “This is Andrew Token, Adam and Sonja Cody’s attorney. You’d better head home, son. There’s been an accident.”
If I hadn’t known who I was before that day, I sure as hell didn’t know who I was after.
SIX WEEKS LATER
I stepped out of the elevator and accidentally made eye contact with the receptionist.
She popped up from behind the tall lobby desk on the executive floor like a perky whack-a-mole. She hesitated, as if for a second she thought she’d made a mistake about who I was—I wore a ball cap low over my eyes and my hair was a long mess hanging around my neck. I didn’t look the part of CEO. But then she stepped out, clearly having confirmed my identity somehow. “Sir, there are a few messages,” she said, her fist full of pink message slips. It seemed she had a knack for understatement.
“No.” I strode past her, ignoring the hurt look on her face and instantly regretting the terse bark of my own voice.
The top floor of Cody Technology was made up of the CEO’s and CFO’s offices, along with the office of our lead counsel. Three secretaries were positioned around the circular interior, one in front of each door, sentinels guarding their respective power players.
“Is Rob in?” I stood in front of the center desk, before the CFO’s secretary.
She took her time looking up from her screen, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion as they took in the ripped jeans, faded T-shirt, and Dodgers cap pulled low over my face, which sported three days’ worth of stubble.
“You have an appointment with Mr. Eastburn?” she asked, adding emphasis on the “Mr.” part, sending me a message about his importance.
I stood silently and watched recognition clear the uppity smirk from her features. A cold apologetic fear replaced her smug smile and she sat up straighter, raising her hands in an apology. “Oh God, Mr. Cody! I didn’t recognize you, I…uh…”
I didn’t have the energy for this. I stepped around the desk and walked into Rob’s office as the woman continued apologizing outside.
