“And Emma?” He turns towards me. “Don’t worry so much. You’re the best damned student I have ever had. You got this!”
Then he turns around and leaves. I hold on to the business card while I watch him disappear into the crowd.
“Holy shit, Em, did this just happen?” Marc pulls my arm as if he’s trying to wake me from my trance. “Durst fucking Inc? THE Durst Inc? Only the third most successful business in Boston!” Marc starts doing a happy dance, and the ironic thing is that not a single person notices him as being weird. The venue is full of ecstatic people. I must be the only one to just stand there without moving.
“Girl, let’s blow this place and go get a drink. You clearly need something to wash down the awesome news.”
Marc knows me well enough to recognize that I need some time to digest the news. I’m no fool. I know that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. And of course, I’ll go for it. But what if I can’t do it? I’ve loved animals and plants since the day I was born. I’ve practically swallowed every book I could find on wildlife preservation and ecologic balance, and I’ve loved every second I got to spend studying animals and their natural habitats.
But that’s not the same as being a professional and getting paid for creating the best environment for a flock of animals. I’ve done hours and hours of studying, but to be fair, I still don’t know if I can turn all the theories into practice.
I look at my watch. A quarter past four.
“Sorry, Marc, no can do. I have a really strict manager, and he’s offered me a night shift which starts at five. I got to go home and change and then to work,” I say and pretend to be disappointed.
The truth is that Marc offered me to take the night off so that I could celebrate graduation with my friends. I told him no. I don’t need to go to a bunch of graduation parties and get wasted and do stupid things. I prefer to have things nice and quiet and stay in control. And I can think of no place safer than the coffee shop.
“Alrighty, your call,” he says and walks me to my bike.
My stomach turns a bit when we leave the party. I guess a tiny part of me would’ve liked to stay and party with the rest of the class. Just to let go and celebrate. But I can’t. When you’re protecting a secret, you can’t just go get drunk. I have to stay in control.
Besides, something broke inside me all those years ago when I did what I did. Heck, I just really wanted to make some money so that I could go to college. Really, I’m not like that. I don’t do stuff like that. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to go to college. It’s as simple as that. Those days are over now, and my life is so much different. I just pray that nobody ever finds out.
3
BLAKE
“Good morning, Sir.”
The security man in front of our headquarters nods respectfully and opens the door so I can enter the Durst building quickly and without any strain. He follows me into the lobby and strides with me across the large, open vestibule with glass walls and high ceilings.
It’s too early in the morning for the receptionists to be there. The only sound comes from my footsteps crossing the hallway.
"Let me get the elevator for you, Mr. Durst."
The security man, Mr. Hanson, has been with us for as long as I can remember. When my grandfather built this company more than 50 years ago, he started up in much more modest facilities. I was too young to know exactly what kind of a businessman he was, but I know that he was a kind, gentle, and warm grandfather. Over 20 years, he managed to turn a bright idea into a multimillion-dollar business.
For as long as I can remember, I've been used to walking in and out of the grand building, and I was a teenager before I truly understood the magnitude of the business he created.
Ding! The elevator doors open.
"After you, sir," Mr. Hanson says. He stays behind as I leave the elevator on the 18th floor and walk to my office.
I put my briefcase down on the huge mahogany table in the middle of my office. 06:45 a.m. I still have 15 minutes before Tony and my dad get here.
I take off my business coat, my cashmere scarf, and my leather gloves and hang them all neatly on a hanger. I catch a brief glimpse of myself in the mirror. The reflection reveals exactly how long ago it was that I was a little kid who admired my grandfather. Fine lines are starting to show around my eyes, and exercising has gone from being just a hobby to something I need to do to stay in shape. It never used to be that way. Before I would work out just for the fun of it.
I take a deep breath to take in the silence. How I love these quiet mornings. My days are so hectic, and there are always so many people around me. Business partners, service providers, staff. I couldn’t do without them, I know, but it is such a luxury for me to have quiet mornings and just for a few minutes not have to make decisions.
I look out the huge panorama windows in my office. I have the most beautiful view of the city. Boston is magnificent. In my time, I have traveled the world, visited chic European capitals and mysterious Asian metropolises. I've loved almost every minute of my travels, but nothing makes me calmer than being back home in Boston.
"Good morning, Blake," a voice sounds behind me. Tony is here. "So what's the rush? Did something happen?"
"Good morning, Tony," I reply. "Coffee?"
"No, thanks, I'm good,” he says. "I grabbed a cup to go from the coffee shop in front of my home before I left to get here. I had a feeling that I would be needing some caffeine for our meeting."
I laugh on the inside. Maybe he's right. We've discussed what I’m about to bring up before, and I already know that he completely disagrees with me. A couple of years ago, I let him talk me out of going through with it, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I'm not going to let the same thing happen one more time. So yes, he might be needing his coffee.
"Please, sit down," I say and point towards the meeting table. "There is something I want to discuss with you, but I've asked my father to be here too. Let's just give him a few minutes before we start…"
I barely get to finish the sentence before my father steps into the office.
"Good morning, gentlemen," my father says, impeccably dressed as always. He doesn't wait for us to reply, but walks right to the conference table and sits down.
"Blake, I know it's early, and you're the boss now. But I have somewhere to go and don’t have a lot of time on my hands. Let's get straight to the point and get this thing done. What is it you want?"
He never changes. Although he left the executive management of the company to me almost 20 years ago, he still likes to act like he's the one in control. He's retired, for God’s sake. I don't know what he's so busy with.
Well, who cares.
"All right, gentlemen," I say and start to explain. "Since the foundation of Durst Inc. in 1940, three generations of Dursts have managed to turn this company into a very successful business. My granddad started in simple surroundings, and it has taken a combination of skills, connections, and a pinch of luck for us to be sitting where we are today. I have the deepest respect for all the business decisions that have been made over the years in this very office. By him, by you, dad, and for the last two decades also by me."