Chapter 17 - Max
Even though we didn’t discuss the intricate details of our arrangement last night, I still get my lawyer to draft up a contract. I send it to Naomi for her to review, with a note saying to change anything that might jump out at her.
Once it’s signed, our agreement will be legally binding. She’ll be pretending to be my fiancée for one month, with the option to extend for another month. I’ll pay her three hundred thousand dollars the first month, and two hundred and fifty the second.
It feels strange to send the contract to her. Last night felt almost like a date, and now I’m sending a cold, emotionless contract. I can’t make sense of it in my brain. It’s like the two images just don’t fit together.
I wanted to kiss her goodbye last night, but we agreed to keep physical contact to a minimum. I lean back in my chair at the office, interlacing my fingers behind my head and thinking of her face when I dropped her off.
“Well, thanks,” she’d said, smiling shyly. I’d nodded, and then she’d stuck out her hand. We laughed when we shook hands, and then she turned around and went up the steps to her apartment.
I jump when my assistant opens my office door.
“You have a call on line two,” she says, and then chews her lip.
“What is it, Allie?”
“It’s your mother.”
“Right,” I sigh. “Thanks for the heads up.”
She nods and slips back out the door. I take a deep breath, checking my computer to make sure the contract has gone through to Naomi, and then I pick up the phone.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Max, how many times have I told you not to call me that!”
“Well, you are my mother, aren’t you?”
“You’re irreverent.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I hear her take a deep breath, and I imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose with her perfectly manicured nails. She lets the breath out slowly, and when she speaks, her voice is calm.
“I’d like to take you and Naomi out to dinner. I think it would be good for us all to get to know each other better.”
I’m not so sure about that.
“She’s pretty busy these days, the clinic is—”
“Just ask her, Max. I have a reservation at Per Se for tomorrow night.”
“Right, so you’re not really asking me, you’re telling me that we’re going out to dinner.”
She sighs again. “This is important.”
“I’m sure it is,” I say. “I gotta go, I’ve got a meeting to get to.”
I slam the phone down, pushing my chair back and standing up. I pace back and forth, trying to let the frustration dissipate. This is typical Carol Westbrook! She just bulldozes everyone and everything around her to get what she wants. No doubt we’ll end up going to the fancy French restaurant tomorrow night, and she’ll grill Naomi on her entire life story.
It’ll be uncomfortable and unnecessary. This whole thing is unnecessary! There’s no need for me to get married so quickly!
I glance at the phone on my desk again, frowning. Walking back to the other side of my desk, I dial my father’s phone number.
He picks up on the third ring. “Hello, son.”
“Dad,” I say, almost breathless. “I need to talk to you. Are you free?”
“Well, I—”
“It’s important.”
“I was just going to go up to Konnect to hit a couple golf balls. You can meet me there if you want?”
Typical. The only way my father could get away from my mother long enough to do anything in New York was to play golf.
“I’ll meet you there.”
My dad can find a golf course anywhere—even in the middle of Manhattan. The indoor golf center is just around the corner from the Rockefeller Center, and it doesn’t take long for me to get there.
When I arrive, he’s already whacking golf balls and drinking a tumbler of bourbon, surrounded by some of his friends and business associates. I imagine many business deals happen in places like this, under the guise of some leisurely golf practice.
My father’s cheeks are rosy, and the tip of his nose is red. That’s probably his second or third bourbon. He sees me and spreads his arms, beckoning me forward.
“Max! Max get over here,” he booms in the voice he uses when he’s surrounded by people who admire him. “Fellas, I want you to meet my son. If he’s lucky, he might be where I am now in a couple years.”
I stretch a smile over my face and shake hands with the men, trying to remember which one is Jim, or Bill, or Jerry. We exchange pleasantries until I can pull my father away from them. I lead him towards the bar, and we slide onto bar stools before beckoning the bartender over for another round of drinks. My father stares at the amber liquid left in his glass, and then turns to me. He stares at me through one eye and then huffs.
“So?” He asks.
My heart starts thumping, and I hate myself for being nervous to talk to my dad. I take a deep breath, accepting the drink that the bartender places in front of me and turning to my dad.
“Why are you so desperate for me to get married? I mean, showing up at my house on Sunday? Coming to the city on such short notice? Staying in the city? What’s going on?”
My father purses his lips, glancing towards the booth where his friends are laughing and patting each other on the shoulders. He turns back towards me and nods his head towards them.
“You see Jerry over there?”
I try to remember which one Jerry was, and I nod.
“We’re in the middle of an important acquisition. Jerry’s company is going to become our new international oil and gas materials division. I want you to head it.”
My eyebrows shoot up and I snap my jaw closed, trying to erase the shock from my face.
“I… what?”
“You’ve been doing well. Everyone can see it. Your numbers this quarter are the best we’ve seen in years. You’re ready.”
“Two days ago you were threatening to fire me, and now you’re telling me you’re planning to promote me?”
None of this makes sense. The acquisition, the pressure to get married, none of it.
My father takes a deep breath, as if he’s explaining something to someone incredibly dense. He might as well be, because I don’t exactly feel bright right now.
“Son, this position will have you traveling all over the world. You’ll be meeting diplomats and dignitaries, and business leaders from all over the world. Do you know why there hasn’t been a President without a First Lady?”
“Because we live in a nation with backwards ideas about family and success?”
He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
“It’s comments like that that make me doubt your abilities as a leader of this company, Max. I haven’t worked my whole life to watch you tear it all down.”
“I’m not tearing anything down, Dad,” I respond. “You’re a businessman, not a family planner.”
“Single men aren’t accepted in these circles,” he says, frustrated. He looks me square in the eye, taking a deep breath. “You don’t have to love her. I mean, lord knows I’ve had some trying times with your mother. But she does have to be there. She’s just as important to the success of this company as you are.”
“So this… this is business?! All this pressure to get married?”
“You’re only realizing that now?” He shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “Welcome to the real world, son.”
I say nothing, and my dad takes his drink, nodding to his friends—business partners—whatever they are.
“You want to hit a couple balls before you go back?”
“Nah, Dad, I’m good,” I say, finishing my drink. “Lots to do at the office.”
“Of course.” He pauses, turning back towards me. “Your mother has a dinner planned tomorrow night. You understand that we need to make sure she’s a suitable match, don’t you?”
Anger burns inside me. A suitable match? What is this, the fourteen-hundreds? Am I the fucking King of England or something? Last time I checked, it was the twenty-first century! Since when are wives necessary for high-ranking positions?!
I leave some money on the bar and try to stalk out of the golf center. My dad calls me over, slapping his hand on one of the guy’s back. I think it’s Jerry.
“Max, come over here!”
“I hear you’re celebrating your new engagement, congratulations,” Jerry says, eyeing me with a sly grin. “Hope she’s a good one.”
“Otherwise she’ll make your life a living hell, believe me,” Jim—or is it Bill?—guffaws. The men laugh, and a tendril of disgust curls in my stomach. I grin, tolerating their pleasantries for a few more minutes before excusing myself.
I’ll walk back to the office. The fresh air and noise will help drown out the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head. All this pressure for me to get married, all the phone calls and badgering I’ve endured—it’s all because of a business deal?
I’m not entirely surprised. This company is my parents’ entire life. But I’m supposed to just play along with their plan?
I hate myself for agreeing to this. I hate myself for stringing Naomi along with me, and I hate my parents for forcing me into this. But at the end of the day, I know I don’t want them to cut me off. I don’t want them to shut me out of my entire inheritance and the entire society that I’ve grown up in.
I need to play along, at least for now.