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“Look, Rachael.” I straighten up. “I don’t have time for this. You need to leave…I need to close up.”
“I saw the line, during the afternoon rush,” she says ignoring my request. “It took some time before you were able to clear them out.”
“Were you watching me, Rachael? Didn’t you have any customers to attend to? Any at all?”
The sly smirk falters from her face. I struck a nerve.
“Looks like you’re having a little problem getting customers to stay with you. I wonder why.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Rachael waves around. “It’s human nature to gravitate toward something new. You know, people say new is always better. That’s the concept playing out here. But we both know it isn’t going to last.” She angles her head, pouting. “You’re struggling, and we both know it. It’s not everyday big sister Elena will be able to come and bail you out.”
I stare at her with a smile curling up my lips. She really has been watching me, and that can only mean one thing:
“You’re scared.”
“What?” she asks dryly.
“You’re worried that your customers are really gone, and you don’t know what to do. That’s why you spent so much time watching me today.”
“You give yourself way too much credit.” She chuckles and rolls her eyes.
“Whatever you say then.” I shrug with a smile.
“Whatever this is.” She waves her arms around the shop. “It’s a fluke. When the customers see that you can’t cater to them all, they will come to someone who will.”
“I don’t think so, Rachael.” I lean forward. “I may not have all the up-to-date equipment and help you have, but believe me, I’m working towards it. And when I get it…well, let’s just say you might have to find a new career path.”
“Hmm.” She nods slowly, looking up to the ceiling. “And when you say working toward that, I assume you’re talking about the grant from Andrews & Sons.”
My breath hitches as a wide grin appears on her face. She turns to her pink leather purse and pulls out a folded paper. She hands it to me. I unfold the letter, my eyes darting left and right as I read aloud.
“Dear Rachael Summers, you have been selected for the Andrew & Sons business funding…” I trail off, dropping the letter on the counter.
It’s…it’s not possible.
They chose her over me. She’ll get the funding. My only hope to stabilize my business is going to Rachael.
“So you see.” She picks up the letter, returning it to her purse. “There’s nothing you can do. You can’t beat me.” She steps back, turning towards the door.
“You might as well give up!”
I watch the doors close, plopping down on my stool as the tears fall in heavy streams.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Ian
It’s been hours since Mom left Dylan’s. I didn’t leave when she broke the news. The same news I’ve anticipated ever since I found out that the person, I called Dad wasn’t actually my dad. Knowing it would satisfy my curiosity and make me whole. I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my entire life. Barret Andrews is my father, the same person responsible for stealing my first startup idea, back when I was in college. The man who terminated workers and made it impossible for them to find good jobs in tech because they called him out on his bullshit. That guy is my dad.
“Fuck!” I place both my hands on my face, resting back on the couch. How on earth can that person be my father? Of all people? How did this even happen? Mom said it was a one-night stand during one of the times when she and her boyfriend – now her late husband – broke up. I don’t know if she told me that to make me feel better, but if that was the plan, it was counter-productive. Nobody likes to be told that they’re the product of a one-night stand. Heaving a soft sigh, I turn my gaze to the wall clock overhead. My eyes are fixed on the second hand, ticking and ticking.
Now that I know that Andrews is my father, what does it change?
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “The guy’s a jerk, and he deserves everything he’s going to get. He fired Gina; she wouldn’t have gotten another job if I hadn’t given her one in my company.”
There are many other people like Gina, and sadly they don’t have people willing or able to fight for them. Barrett Andrews can’t keep getting away with every shitty thing he does, and the fact that he’s my father doesn’t change one single thing. He’s going to lose everything. I’m going to make sure of it.
My phone buzzes on the couch, pulling me out of my thoughts. I grab it and peer at the screen. It’s a Dylan. I pick up the call, placing the phone to my ear.
“Hey, what’s up?”
