For five years I was as vital as he was in taking the company public and expanding globally.
“Yeah. I ignored him and almost did the same with my replacement. Guess his name?” I toy with the rim of the shot glass.
“It’s a guy?” She’s surprised, and I quirk a brow like she even has to ask. “Of course…Whitney.” Lips twisting at her mention of Ross’s wife.
“His name is Rupert, and as much as I want to hate him, he sounds like a nice guy. My complete opposite. He won’t challenge anything and will do as he’s told.”
“You’re way nicer than me. I wouldn’t have called him back. What did Rupert want?”
I chuckle. She so would have called him back or answered the call on the first ring. She really is nicer than I am.
“Oh, you know…everything. The lowdown on our, I mean their clients. How to best work with Ross. What does he like? What things to avoid?”
“So basically, he wanted all your secrets.”
“Pretty much.”
“Did you help him?”
“Yeah.” I blow out a rough breath. “I didn’t want to be a bitch. It isn’t his fault Ross is an ass.”
“Oh, Pru. I want to slap some sense into him. I can’t believe he caved to Whitney. He’s going to miss you in no time flat and probably already does, and CE will suffer. Just wait until Johannes or Fatima meet Rupert. They’re going to demand Ross get you back.”
I smile even as it hurts to think about the business relationships I formed and cultivated. It was me, not Ross, who spoke with them on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis.
It doesn’t matter that I got an obscene severance package, including stock options in the millions. Money can’t buy you happiness.
“Rupert will do a fine job.” I don’t sound convincing even to my own ears, and she releases a disgruntled puff of air.
It’s been a week, and I already miss the business. As much as I want to be the bigger person and wish CE much success…I agree with Harley. I hope the company feels the aftershocks of my dismissal for a long time.
I almost have a mind to demand Edwards be removed from the company name. But no, it’s my legacy, and he can’t take it away from me.
“Whatever.” I wave my hand as if easily erasing any residual pangs of loss. “At least I’ll be busy even if it isn’t a real job.”
“It is a real job.”
“It’s only for eight weeks.”
Her forehead furrows. “Seriously? He couldn’t even get you a long-term job?”
The jackass called in a favor with his famous director brother, Bryce Carmichael, or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever.
Bryce, normally in Los Angeles, is in New York filming a movie that includes several scenes in Spanish and Russian. The movie had a foreign language dialect coach, but something happened, and Bryce was scrambling for a replacement.
“It was only to appease his guilt.”
“Idiot. Well, it may be short-term, but you’ll kick ass.” She must see something in my expression when she asks, “What’s wrong?”
“You mean besides losing the company I built and having one of my closest friends stab me in the back and fire me?”
“Sorry, that’s a lot. But there’s something else.”
We stare at each other, and the laughter and music around us fades. How does she know I’m hiding something?
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the colossal leap I’ve taken off a cliff. It’s too early to tell if I’ll land safely or go splat, leaving nothing but a messy pile of goo. But if I can tell anyone, it would be my best friend.
“Do you need money?” She’s impatient for my response. “Did Priscilla cut you off?”
“No.” I bark out a laugh, welcoming the release. “Money isn’t a problem. Mom couldn’t cut me off even if she tried. I moved out of the loft.”
She pales. “Ross kicked you out of the company loft?”
“No. He said I could buy them out, considering I purchased and furnished the place, but I didn’t want it. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Pru, I hate this. Where will you live?”
“The El Dorado.”
Her eyes widen, knowing it’s a big deal for me to stay at my mom’s. I’ll do anything to not take from her even if the penthouse will eventually be mine.
“You are? What did Priscilla say?”
“You know, she’s so happy I’m making use of her place. No one is ever there, blah, blah, blah.” I shrug, trying not to think about the awkward call where I had to tell Priscilla Edwards, career woman extraordinaire, I’d lost my job.
She never supported CE, even when my investment in the firm—the one and only time I dipped into my trust fund—tripled in the first year. Yeah, I was kind of smug when I shared that with her.
“If that isn’t it, then, what’s wrong?”
I hadn’t planned on saying anything tonight. I’m supposed to be drinking away my worries, not dredging up the past. This topic is a surefire way to kill any buzz.
“I’m looking for my father.” I swallow the strange lump in my throat.
“Really?” For all we have in common, Harley has an awesome father.
“I’m scared shitless, but I’m tired of not knowing.”
“I get it, and don’t take this the wrong way because I’m glad you’re doing it, but why now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of what’s happened with CE. I’m tired of losing people or having to leave things and places behind. Or maybe it’s because I have time on my hands.”
“Okay, so where do you start?”
My father is a mystery. When Mom got pregnant at thirty, she took a sabbatical from her high-powered job and returned to New York, living with her parents until my first birthday. Then she packed our suitcases, and we left the city. She hasn’t stopped moving since and refuses to talk about my father no matter how much I beg.
Priscilla is a vault.
I’ve tried to deny there’s another half of me out there, but I can’t any longer. I want to know him. My mother and I aren’t close, and my grandparents knew nothing about him.
“I’ve hired a firm, specializing in cases like this where they don’t know who they’re looking for.” My nervous energy causes me to swing my dangling feet.
“You’ve already hired them?” She frowns and I nod. “I could have helped.”
“Hey, I did it before I talked myself out of it.” My laugh is a strangled croak. “I’m both excited and scared.”
Harley’s arm snakes around me, and I raise a hand, flagging the bartender for our bill. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Yes. Have you told your mother?”
“No way.” I whip my head in her direction. “If she knew, she’d shut this down faster than she can say my name. My mother can’t know until I’ve found him.”
“Let me know how I can help.”
We settle the bill and head outside. The warm late-May breeze is a welcomed change from the stale boozy air inside, and the sky is quickly drifting from the purple slate of twilight to the dark coal of night.