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Chapter 3
Oliver
Rob didn’t give up. I had numerous messages from him each day first asking, then pleading, and finally demanding that I come back. I resisted for two more weeks and then finally gave in. But I wasn’t going back to work. I was going to put to bed any delusions he had that I might.
“You wanted me here, I’m here.” I stood in the center of the room, my best friend and CFO staring at me from behind his desk as West LA spread out below him like a glowing map through the windows.
“I thought you might wear a suit back to work.” Rob shook his head at me, looking exhausted.
“I’m not ‘back to work.’ What do you want?”
“Oliver.” He shook his head again. “I am sorry about what happened. But it doesn’t erase our responsibilities. I need you to sack up and get back here. For real. I tried sympathy, but you don’t want that. I tried to give you time, but we don’t fucking have any more. Now I’m just giving you the truth. I want you back at work. I need you back here.” He’d stepped close to me as he spoke, was practically in my face but then took a step back, wrinkling his nose. “Fuck, man. Did you douse yourself in whiskey?”
I shrugged. Rhetorical questions seemed like a waste of time.
“Shit, Oliver.” He dropped his gaze to the floor and then leaned heavily against the front edge of his desk, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need you to put on a tie, grab your laptop, and come back to work. Get your head back in the game, man…I mean, it’s been a while. I don’t believe for one second that you’re gonna sell and let this place sink, and I can’t keep it afloat on my own.”
I shrugged, surprised at how few fucks I actually had to give to help save the company Adam had built, to the fact that I’d abandoned my best friend at the helm, and left him here to try to hold the place up on his own.
I sighed, trying to tamp down the anger that was my constant companion. “I’m here now. Was there something specific you needed my help with?” I didn’t even recognize my voice as I spoke these words, didn’t recall actually deciding to say them.
Fuck, I sounded cold. A year ago, I would have kicked my own ass for talking to Rob like this.
“No,” he said, his voice sharp with hurt and anger. “I don’t need help with one specific thing. I need the fucking CEO to sit his ass down in his gold-plated leather chair and get the fuck back to work!”
I stared at him. I wanted to tell him I could do that, I could come back and just hop back into the stream of life and work. But I decided to be honest instead. Because honestly, I had no clue how to make it happen. Everything I’d understood about my life and myself had exploded eight weeks ago. For a month I had tried to pretend it didn’t matter. For two weeks after that I buried myself in women and alcohol. And now? Now I was just fucking tired.
“You’ve been gone the better part of a year,” he said, his voice quieter. “How much longer do you need? You don’t really have the luxury of playing confused playboy anymore, Ollie. Adam’s gone and you have to step up. Even if it is just to oversee the disassembly of everything we built. Man, I know this has been impossible. I know this place has to remind you of your dad every time you’re here…”
His words were like a knife. In a way it was a relief, feeling something. Even if that something was a glint of sadness followed by an all-consuming—and potentially irrational—rage.
He stood and approached me warily, as if I might tackle him. “Ollie.” His voice was softer, pleading. “Let’s go grab a drink tonight, talk about things…I’m worried about you.”
I shook my head. “Can’t tonight,” I said, turning to leave.
He dropped a hand on my shoulder. “This is a disaster. It can’t go on. The board is nervous. They know you’re not around. With no one steering the ship, man—they’re already talking about selling. If you don’t manage all this, we’re ripe for a takeover.”
I wasn’t sure I cared. I just wanted it gone. If Cody Tech was off my plate, I could move on, put everything my dad and I had built behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut and then shook his hand off my shoulder. “Sorry,” I tossed back, hoping it sounded sincere.
I heard him exhale in frustration, the breath sounding pretty close to the word “fuck” as I left the office, but then he was following me out, his footsteps right behind me.
“Hey!” he barked.
I spun, aware that he was about to lose his shit all over me, and not caring. That was the thing lately. I didn’t care. About anything.
“You don’t get to just pop in and show your pretty face and then walk away again,” he shouted.
His secretary quickly gathered her purse and muttered, “Leaving for the night.” She slipped past us and disappeared, and we were the only ones in the room.
“You don’t get to show up when you feel like it, when the rest of us are here all day and night, every fucking day and night, trying to save the company that you built. The company you’re supposed to care about!”
Another door opened and our lead counsel, Tony, stepped out. “What’s up, Oliver?” He looked bored, and for some reason it pissed me off. I was angry—not at these guys, exactly, but everyone here was so interwoven with the pain and anger I carried around that they were as good a target for my rage as anyone. And for a brief moment I was glad I’d come in. At least here I had someone to yell at. Here I could actually see that I still had an effect on people. Sometimes after going weeks without talking to anyone at all I wondered if I might be fading away entirely. It felt good to know I was visible, capable of creating a reaction in other people.
“What’s up?” I yelled it, mocking him. I didn’t really plan to yell. I still felt like I was watching myself from above. I knew I was acting like a crazy man, but it was a fucking fascinating show. “From what I hear you and Robbie are so incompetent without your fearless leader, Adam, that you’re letting the goddamned company sink under the fucking waves! You assholes are in charge now. Can’t you fucking manage to maintain the status quo? How hard can it be?”
Tony ran both hands through his hair and sighed deeply. “It’s not that simple—”
“It is fucking simple!” I was pretty much having a temper tantrum at this point, so I decided to go all out and take it full asshole. I picked up a potted plant from Rob’s secretary’s desk and hurled it at the wall. The pot smashed with a very satisfying crash. “What’s so complicated, Tony? Why don’t you explain it to me?”
