CHAPTER THIRTEEN - DEAN
Seven Years Later
Two years after opening my company, Evans Construction, I finally landed a meeting with my dream investors. They were a conglomerate in Atlanta, Georgia, who I knew would thrive off investing in my company. They were always looking for a new business venture to support and mine was already one of the most successful construction companies in the industry. Plus, my market was a bit different from what they were used to and they were eager to diversify. After only two years, I managed to dominate the market and change the way my competitors handled their businesses. My specialty was ranches and ranch resorts. I had taken my lifelong love of horses and made it my purpose. I was living proof that you can take the man out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the man.
I was on fire as I strolled through the door and made my way to their conference room. The AI conglomerate handled more business than I could count, and mine was about to be their newest partner. If they invested with me, they would see a return within six months. That amount of time was unheard of for a company as new as mine.
My entire body vibrated with excitement as I stepped into the conference. My people had been there for hours, setting up the presentation and prepping the executives of AI for my entry. When I walked in, the executives were seated around the table with their eyes trained on me. I smiled and waved as I moved to the front of the room.
“Good morning,” I said, making eye contact with each person in the room individually.
A few people smiled back at me but most looked wary of my confidence. I expected this. People often found my confidence to be a turn off, since they assumed it was false and undeserved. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know my background. They had no idea where I came from, so they couldn’t possibly know that I never faked anything.
“I’ll just dive right in,” I said without pause.
The executives sat up straight while I began my pitch. While most of them had seemed bored and annoyed when I stepped into the room, they all warmed to me quickly. Once I proved that my confidence was well-deserved, they listened to every word I said with rapt attention. When the pitch ended, I opened the floor for questions and settled back in my chair.
“My only question,” the man closest to me said, “Is how you managed to turn these kinds of numbers so soon? You’ve only been in business for, what? Two years?”
“Just under,” I said with a nod. “Right now, we’re estimated to bring in three hundred million dollars this year alone.”
“Three hundred million?” the man asked. I nodded. “Wow, that is impressive.”
“It’s not really,” I said with a shrug. “The truth is, I just pay attention to what matters: the workers.”
“And how exactly do you do that?” a woman seated down the table asked.
“By focusing on their needs,” I said. “It wasn’t that long ago that I myself was a construction worker. I worked for a great man who taught me how to be a boss. From him, I learned that if you treat the little guy with respect and loyalty, every project will go smoother. The higher ups are important. But, it’s the workers who get things done. Without them, nothing can get built.”
“I like that,” the woman said with a smile.
“It’s a mind-set that not many have,” I said. “For me, it works. My numbers don’t lie. The way I handle business is successful, and I know, with your support, I’ll continue to grow those numbers exponentially.”
I fell silent and looked around the room. Everyone was mulling over my pitch, exchanging looks that were mostly smiles.
“Well,” the first man said. “Mr. Evans, we’re all very impressed by your presentation. Let us deliberate and we’ll get back to you soon.”
“Perfect,” I said. I stood up and shook each person’s hand before leaving the room.
I stepped back outside with a huge smile on my face and walked straight to my car. Despite how much money I’d made over the past two years, I still felt shocked whenever something went my way.
After I was released from prison for good behavior, I tried everything to make my life better. My original sentence was five years but they let me out after three. Then, I got a job working for a construction company. I worked my way up to manager and soon, started my own company. Even I was shocked by my company’s success but I knew it was deserved. My entire life was about my job now, and I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
Deep down, I still felt like that poor kid from Austin. I barely spoke to my brother, and I never talked to my mom. They were both distant from me and I liked it that way. I felt like I was finally carving out a path for myself—a path I created all on my own.
It was a goddam miracle that I made it this far. When I was released from prison, I never thought I stood a chance. It took months to even find a job and when I did, it took even longer to prove myself. With a record, I was seen as nothing more than a criminal. I had to work three times harder than as everyone else just to make ends meet.
I was driving through Atlanta, Georgia, in a luxury vehicle with more money than I knew how to spend. I couldn’t live easily, not yet. My company was still new, and if I slacked even a little, I knew things could fail. No matter what, I couldn’t let that happen.
When I pulled up to our current job site, I did what I always did: made the rounds. I checked in at every station, talking to my foremen and making sure everything was going well. My guys talked to me about their issues, and I quelled every concern. A few guys had to bail out early for family reasons and I told them to go—I would pick up the slack.
This was my routine. I knew what it felt like to be those guys, to struggle and constantly fail, to never have enough fucking money or food. I knew exactly how that felt and if I could help them, I always would. My life had been hard enough that I was determined to make my guys’ lives easier.
Because of that, they worked harder than any other construction crew. Our jobs were finished in half the time with almost no money wasted. We never threw away our materials, always finding a place for them. As I looked around the site and slipped into my office, I smiled to myself. My life hadn’t given me very much to be proud of but lately, I was. I was proud of myself, of my success, and of my company.
“Messages,” Tricia said, laying a few sticky notes in front of me.
I sighed and sat down at my desk, pulling the notes toward me. All the messages were expected. Some were from suppliers, others from clients, and one from my distribution guy. Just as I grabbed my phone to return the calls, it rang in my mind.
I glanced down to see a familiar number flashing across the screen. It was a Texas area code, one I hadn’t seen in a long time. For a split second, I considered ignoring it. I knew who would be on the other end, and I didn’t want to deal with her alcoholic ass. Still, I knew I couldn’t ignore it. With a deep breath, I answered the phone and pressed it to my ear.
“What is it, Mom?” I asked, already impatient.
“Dean,” she said, sniffing loudly. “I need you to come home, son.”
“Why?” I asked. I already knew my answer would be no. There was no way in hell I was going to return to my childhood home. No fucking way.
“It’s Daniel,” Mom said. My stomach dropped as I listened to her broken voice. “He’s sick, Dean. He’s been in the hospital for a long time now and there’s just a lot going on. He’s really sick, and he needs you. I need you. We both need you.”
Her words hit me like a brick. I felt my stomach drop to the floor and my heart begin to race in my chest. This was the last phone call I expected to receive but I wasn’t surprised. Daniel had diabetes and he often forgot to take care of himself. Things had been rough on and off for years but I had no idea he was in the hospital. I didn’t even know how long he’d been there.
“What can I do?” I asked weakly.
“Just come home,” Mom said softly. “So, we can figure this all out together.”
I was nodding but I still hadn’t made up my mind. On one hand, I couldn’t just leave my work behind. Those investors were still deliberating, and I needed to be in town in case they wanted to meet with me again. But on the other hand, this was Daniel. My little brother. The kid I spent most of my life taking care of. The guy I went to prison to protect. How could I just turn my back on him now?
The answer was simple, I couldn’t. I promised my mother I would fly out as soon as possible and hung up the phone. Without another second of hesitation, I booked my flight and drove home to pack. Within two hours, I was at the airport, going through security with fear burrowing its way into my chest.
When I got on the plane, I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. I hadn’t returned home since I was released from prison. The day they let me out, I grabbed my stuff and bailed. I hadn’t looked back since.
Now, I was on my way back to Austin. Back to my childhood home. Back to the place I was arrested. Back to the last place I saw Caroline Michaelson.