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“I never got to know the guy too well,” she said. “He followed Adam’s lead most of the time.”
“Well, he needs to get back and do some leading now.” I didn’t want to hear that the company was in a precarious situation. I was on the brink of creating an opportunity for myself, but I needed the company to be stable for it to happen.
“Maybe he will,” Pamela said thoughtfully, sadness still visible in the lines around her wide brown eyes.
“How’s your little guy?” I asked, turning the topic and hoping to see her smile.
It worked. “He’s great,” she said. “He’s starting pre-school soon.”
“Seriously? Is he already that big? Wait, doesn’t school normally start in the fall?”
She nodded. “Normally, yes. But they had an opening, so he’s starting in February.”
“So pre-school this year and then kindergarten next fall?” I asked.
“He’ll actually do a couple years of pre-school, so he’ll be almost six when he starts kindergarten.”
I nodded my understanding, chewing a fry as I thought about what a huge responsibility that was, being responsible for someone else’s education.
Pamela made a face. “I’m terrified, but he’s so excited. It’ll be weird not having him here at the Cody daycare.” She swallowed a sip of tea and looked at me, her eyes wide. “I fear change.” She said it deadpan, to make it funny, butI knew it was true.
“We all do,” I assured her, laughing. “But change can be a good thing, too.” I was speaking as much to her situation as to my own.
She sat up straighter in her chair. “I hope you’re right.”
CHAPTER3
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 wedon’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.”
