Chapter Twenty-six
Barrett
Any time I forget why I want to move up and become a partner at the firm, I’m reminded of Mr. Lyons’ office. Any interior designer would start drooling the second they got a look at the place—from the desk to the leather chairs to the bookshelf lined with legal books filled with historic cases, all the furniture sleek and black. Not a nick or a smudge on anything. He’s got the nicest office of anyone in the firm, maybe of anyone on this city block, and the man knows it.
Sometimes, I feel like he calls people in for meetings just so that they can ogle the place. The second you walk in the view is enough to knock you down a peg—the entirely glass walls look out over the water taxis and barges headed down the Chicago River. Not that Mr. Lyons gets to enjoy that view—his desk faces away from the windows, leaving whatever poor sad sack he’s meeting with to squint into the sun for the full duration of the meeting. Today, that poor sad sack is me.
An email from the boss popped up in my inbox last night asking me to be here at 11 am sharp. I wasn’t planning on coming in on a Saturday when I could possibly work from home, but whatever Lyons says goes. So, I left my apartment early not wanting to chance my luck with the weekend traffic. Luckily, I’m on and off the road before any of the tourists start driving into the city. I make it to the office with enough time to grab a coffee before I settle into the leather chair that faces Mr. Lyons’ desk.
“Good morning, Barrett. You’re here early.” There is no surprise in his voice; he’s simply stating a fact.
“Early is on time and on time is late, just like you always say, Mr. Lyons.”
I can almost detect a smile creeping onto his face as he thumbs leisurely through his portfolio, leaving me in anticipation as to what he needs me for that couldn’t wait until Monday.
“Mr. Roland and I spoke at length last night of the importance of your attendance at tonight’s meeting with the factory staff,” he says, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. “Having grown up in that town, we feel that your word on the takeover may be more influential than Roland’s. You’ll be a more familiar face, far more trustworthy. And if that stubborn girl running the factory is ever going to budge on signing the place over, we’ll need her whole staff on our side.”
That stubborn girl?
My stomach twists and tightens, and my hands ball into fists as I squeeze the armrests of the chair. Of all the reasons for calling me into work on a Saturday morning, this is certainly the worst. I’m filled with equal parts dread and rage. I’d rather draft and redraft a hundred new merger agreements while naked and being roasted over a fire than have to stand in front of Ava while I blatantly lie to her whole staff.
“You’re a persuasive man, Barrett.” He finally closes his portfolio of paperwork and graces me with eye contact. “And these Indiana factory men can relate to you. You’re one of them.” He glances over my suit and tie then adds, “At least, you used to be. They know you. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble getting them on board, as long as you keep it vague about the terms and conditions of the agreement.”
“Is there any possibility of modifying that agreement?” I know it’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. If I’m as persuasive as Mr. Lyons thinks I am, maybe I can pull this off. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the contract and what would be the most beneficial for all parties involved. If Roland Enterprises would be willing to keep the facility running, we could save a lot of jobs in this community. Roland could always use the factory space. Maybe we could organize an emergency meeting with Mr. Roland before he meets with the factory staff tonight. Do a bit of revising.”
Mr. Lyons shoots me his patented over-the-glasses look and the vein in his forehead throbs. I guess that’s a no.
“Barrett, you wrote the damn agreement yourself. If this was a concern of yours, you should’ve voiced it a long time ago or you should have excused yourself for conflicts of interest. Roland Enterprises wants that space for a storage warehouse. End of discussion.”
“But-”
“No buts about it.” Mr. Lyons pushes himself out of his chair and walks along the edge of his office, taking in the view outside. “Need I remind you what you stand to gain here? The corner office, your name on the door, a major salary increase. That’s just the start of things for you. This is a lot bigger for you than one silly factory. This is the future of your career.” He snaps back around to face me, his arms folded tightly over his chest. “Are you going or not?”
Why does he phrase it as if I really have an option?
“I’ll be there.”
The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. Returning to his chair, he brings his attention back to the paperwork on his desk.
“That's what I thought,” he says offhandedly. “You might use that three hours in the car to work on your speech. Good luck. I’ll expect a summary of the meeting in my inbox by tomorrow morning.”
I wait another moment to ensure Mr. Lyons is done with me, but he shows no intention of looking back up from his paperwork, so I take that as my cue to head back to my car.
Had I been given any advanced notice about this, I might have been able to drive out last night, try to meet up with Ava and patch things up a bit before tonight's shit show, but instead I’ve got five hours until the meeting, and not the faintest clue what I’m going to say to these people, or to Ava. How do I tell her that I love her and then destroy her company in the same breath?
Fuck.
I love her. So damn much.
I guess I knew, but I hadn’t admitted it to myself yet. I love her, and I’m about to let her down again.
Tourist traffic has started up, so I sit bumper to bumper with everyone else in the city for a solid hour before I make it home. That leaves me with only four hours and still no plan. Shit.
I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but before I even get out of my car, I call Nick. I’ve got to talk this through with somebody and there’s no point in keeping secrets from him anymore. He agrees to hop in his car and head over, which should get him to my apartment in thirty minutes. I spend that whole half hour pacing, looking for any way out of all of this that doesn’t end in me losing my job, Ava, or my best friend…or worse yet, all three.
By the time Nick buzzes up, I’ve tried out over a dozen different ways of bending the truth, but I know I can’t lie to him any better than I can lie to these guys at the meeting tonight.
I may get decked for it, but I’m better off just manning up and shooting him straight. Nick knocks on the door a few times to be polite, but as usual, he walks right in once he realizes it’s unlocked.
“Hey, man, are you okay?” he asks as he taps the snow off his boots. “You sounded weird on the phone.” When I shrug him off, he throws his keys on the counter and plops himself onto the couch.
It never takes much of an invitation for Nick to make himself at home. I’ve got half a mind to get a beer or two in him before I break the news, but we’re short on time. Might as well get right to it.
“I’ve got to talk to you about something.” I go back to pacing the living room, not sure if I have the balls to look him in the eye. “You're not going to like it, and I know that I’m probably going to lose you as a friend because of this. And that really sucks. But I’m going to say it anyway.”
“Barrett, chill out. We’ve been friends for pretty much our whole lives. It would take a hell of a lot to screw that up.”
I plant my feet and take a deep breath. Here comes a hell of a lot.
“I love you like a brother, man. You know that. But also...I love your sister.”
Nick rolls his eyes, relaxing back into the couch. “That’s it? So, what? She’s my sister, I hope you’d care about her.”
“No, I mean I love her. I'm in love with Ava. And I want to be with her.”
His eyes widen and lock onto mine. “Are...are you joking?”
“No.”
I can practically watch the gears in his head turn as he starts piecing things together—the moments of tension he interrupted at his parents’ house, the times Ava and I would disappear together, everything.
“So, you mean when you said you couldn’t hang out a couple of weeks ago, that chick that you had here in the apartment...was that Ava?”
Shit. Maybe I should lie and say it was someone else, pretend that nothing physical has happened between me and Ava. I don’t want to show up to this meeting tonight with a black eye.
“Barrett. Answer me. Was she here?”
I shouldn’t have paused for that long. If I lied now, no way he would believe me. Brace yourself, Barrett.
“Yes, she spent the weekend here with me.”
“Son of a bitch.” Nick leaps off the couch and lunges at me and I duck out of the way. He takes a step back, cooling down and pulling himself together as he paces the room. “My goddamn sister, you son of a bitch,” he mutters through his teeth. “The one damn thing that should have been off-limits and you can't keep your dick in your pants.”
“I’m sorry, Nick, but it wasn't like that.” Actually, that's exactly how this started, when she caught me coming out of the shower…but he doesn't need to know that. “I've had a crush on her for a while now. Years. And seeing her again...things just kind of clicked. I can’t help how I feel. If I could control it, I would. Believe me. The last thing I want to do is fuck up our friendship.”
He stops dead in his tracks, then turns back to me, his squinty eyes sizing me up. “Really? You’re telling me if you could control it, if you could turn on a dime and suddenly not love my sister, you would?”
He's got me there.
“No. No, I wouldn’t,” I admit. “You’re right. I wouldn’t give her up.”
He shakes his head and takes his spot on the couch again. “Then I guess it must be something real.”
Things have calmed down enough that I decide to test my luck and grab a seat on the couch next to him. He doesn’t immediately reach over and strangle me, which seems like a good sign.
“So, how many times do you have to knee me in the balls until we’re even?” I’m only half joking, but it gets a smirk out of Nick.
“You've got to deal with something that hurts way worse, man. The wrath of Ava. She’s never going get over the fact that you’re the ringleader in this whole takeover business. I’ve never seen her this furious.”
“Has she said anything about me?”
Nick snorts. “How the hell would I know, she hasn’t spoken a word to me since I told her she'd be better off selling.”
“You told her I told you to sell?”
Nick wags a finger at me like he’s scolding a dog. “Don’t turn this on me. You’re the one who’s been getting it on with my sister behind my back.”
“I’m not getting it on with her, Nick. I love her.”
“Shit, that sounds so goddamn weird.” He makes a face, and shakes his head like he's trying to clear a visual image.
“Well then, this next part is going to sound even weirder.” I glance at my watch—three hours until the meeting, and it’s at least a three-hour drive. Fuck. “Help me get your sister back?”
Holding Nick’s coat out in front of me as a peace offering, I watch him think it over. The whole thing is crazy, and with the news I just dropped on him, I don’t expect him to help me, but twenty-plus years of friendship has to mean something, right?
He squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a long breath, then reaches out to take his coat. “Alright, let’s do it. I hope you’ve got one hell of a plan.”
“I don’t.” I give him a wicked grin and fastball him his keys. “But just like with every game we ever played, we’ll think on our feet and I’ll make one up on the way there.”