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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 along 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 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 apologizingoutside.
“Rob,” I barked. My best friend and CFO of Cody Technology jumped up from his desk, and I watched his face run through several expressions back-to-back. Surprise, sympathy, irritation, back to sympathy. “You left a message?”
He came around the desk and reached out his arms as if he were going to pull me into a hug, but then seemed to think better of it. He crossed his arms and ran a hand across his jaw. “Ollie, I’m so sorry, man.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want his sympathy. I didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. It was part of why I’d avoided seeing anyone I knew after the funeral. They didn’t know me, anyway. How could they, when I didn’t even know myself? The lawyer had confirmed that. “What’s going on?” I asked, my voice sharp as I stood tense in the center of his office.
“I just . . .” Rob struggled, and I watched us from somewhere above, totally removed. I’d known Rob since we were kids. I could read him like a book, and he looked like a kid now—confused and uncertain. “Do you wanna go get a drink, man? Talk a bit?”
“Let me make this easy,” I said. “Adam’s gone. I’m gone. I’m going to sell my shares as soon as I can, and you can do whatever you want with what’s left.”
Rob’s face slackened, his dark eyes widening. “What? You can’t do that, Oliver. I mean . . . why would you do that?”
“Things have changed.”
“I know you were searching before the accident, trying to figure some things out,” he said. “But . . .” He shook his head, his eyes falling to the plush carpetas if he might find the answers there in the complex weave. “This place is your legacy, man.”
His words felt like a punch to the gut and I realized how much I wanted a drink. Just not with Rob. Not with anyone who believed they knew exactly who Oliver Cody was.
“Like I said,” I told him, turning to go. “Things have changed. I’ll make a formal offer to you and Tony first, and then I’ll offer my shares to the board. After that . . .” I pushed through the office door into the center area where Rob’s secretary still sat looking flustered.
“Mr. Cody, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
I glared at her and watched her shrink from my gaze and then pretend to be busy arranging Post-it notes in her desk drawer.
“Oliver,” Rob said, following me out. His suit was slate gray and perfectly tailored, his tie in place as always. This place might have been in upheaval since my parents were killed, but Rob seemed to be cut out for the job.
“You’ve got this,” I told him, ignoring his protests and finding my way out to the elevators.
I went to a bar on Wilshire and stayed there for a couple hours, taking a shot every time my mind began to form a coherent thought. I had a fleeting urge to call Celia—I’d seen her just once since I’d been back, at the funeral. She’d given up being angry with me for leaving and breaking off our engagement, and given me the wide-eyed pity I was beginning to dread. Still, she’d suggested I call her.
In the end, I found it easier to be alone. Celia knew the version of me who’d thought going to travel was some kindof bold choice, a way to ferret out some cosmic truth about life. What I hadn’t known then, what Celia still didn’t know, was how little truth my life had been composed of in the first place. Adam and Sonja had lied to me my whole life. They’d lied, and then they’d died.
