Chapter Twelve
Lilah
Some of the guilt I'd been feeling since the previous evening began to alleviate. Even though I’d tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had acted, quite frankly, a little selfish and had let my own fears get in the way the night before—characteristics that were usually alien to me.
I'd made assumptions about Asher's motivation for taking me out to celebrate. It was an immature move and after some thought and an evening of beating myself up over it, I decided I had been too harsh on him. I mean, did I really expect him to buy the lame ass excuse about not feeling well?
My guilty conscience was wreaking havoc on me. I had to not only make it up to him, but give him a chance to prove that his wanting to spend time with me was not solely motivated by a desire to replay the drunken evening that ended with more than a handshake between colleagues. He deserved the chance to prove me wrong out of professional respect, and as a friend.
Of course, I couldn't deny the chemistry was there between us—but to reduce his desire to spend time with me to solely that, seemed like I had been blowing things a little out of proportion.
So I texted him and opened up the option to spend time with him—with the pretext being that of a professional context. Although it wouldn’t be a typical day at the office if we'd be the only ones there.
He'd come across as rather eager to follow up on my suggestion of Skyping my friend Alicia in Paris so, as soon as I finished reading his reply, I sent her a message asking if she was available to chat in a couple of hours. When she responded that she was, I got ready to go in to the office.
***
It was late in the evening when I walked into the building. It was weird being there on a weekend. The space which was normally bustling with activity and crowded with people was empty and most of the lights were out. It was almost like being in an entirely different building. I went straight through to Asher's office and knocked on the door.
“Lilah?” came a muffled but familiar voice from within.
I pushed the door open a little and stuck my head in. “Hi, Asher,” I replied.
“Come on in,” he insisted.
I complied. Asher was sitting in his chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head and his feet up on his desk. I couldn't help but laugh.
“Hard at work or hardly working?” I asked with a cheeky grin.
“Hey, I'm not a machine,” he replied, “even though I'm not far off from one! I've gotta kick back sometime, you know.”
“I see this. The man isn’t quite the myth the buzz around town makes you out to be, huh?” I chuckled. “I'm just kidding.”
“I know, I know. Come on in, have a seat.”
I walked in and took a seat across from him, staring over his huge desk at him for a few moments before speaking. The subtle light of his office only enhanced how attractive he was. I was finding it hard to keep my eyes off of him.
“So, your friend in Paris is ready to have a chat with us, right?”
“She is. She's waiting for us right now, actually.”
“Well, then, let's not keep her waiting any longer, shall we? Let me fire up the projector and the quadrophonic sound system. You brought your notebook, right?” he said, eyeing the carrying case I had placed in my lap. “Just hook it up to these cables, and we can get things rolling.”
We proceeded to make the call and chatted with Alicia for nearly an hour, taking notes as she responded to our questions. At the end of the call, Asher asked her for her address.
“I'm going to arrange a little something to be sent to you as a thank you gift for everything you've helped us with,” he said.
“Thanks so much! That’s very kind of you,” Alicia replied after giving him her address. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Sinclair, and it was great to catch up with you, Lilah,” she said to me. “Call me soon. You still need to come visit!”
“I will do that. Thanks again for your help, Ali. Bye,” I said, and then we cut off the call.
“Well, well, well,” Asher gushed. “That was some excellent insight into the market there. I think we've got a lot we can work with—although plenty of research is still going to have to be done to really get into the meat and bones of this. Still, we've got plenty of time to work on it. I'm hoping you'll be able to do as stellar a job on this project as you managed to do on the last one.”
“I'm hoping so, too.”
“All right, well, let's type up all the info we got from your very helpful friend. I'll create a Google Doc so that we can both edit it in real time from anywhere. We can add whatever other pointers we pick up from our research and keep fleshing it out over the next couple of days.”
“I don't know about you, since you’ve apparently been here most of the day, but I've still got plenty of energy left. I feel up to doing a little research right now, actually.”
He smiled. “Wow. Someone who can match me step for step in the race, huh? Sure, if you're inspired, I am, too. Let's get on this then.”
We got stuck in and researched the markets on our respective computers for the next couple of hours. Eventually, we were both running low on energy. Asher was the first to call it quits.
“Well, that's about it for my evening, I think,” he commented. “We've got a ton of data now.”
I stood and stretched.
“That was a productive session,” I said. “I'm already getting some pretty solid ideas on what I can do with this.”
“Excellent! But for now, let's forget about it for a while. I mean, it's already after 9:00 on a Saturday evening, and here we are sitting in the office we already spend most of our time at during the week. Jeez, I haven't even eaten dinner yet.”
“You know,” I said, not sure why I was suggesting this, but it just seemed right at the time, “I've got a ridiculous amount of Indian food left over from lunch at my place. Some friends came around to eat, but we ended up doing more talking than eating. We could head there, heat it up in the microwave, and maybe watch a movie to wind down from all this work if you’re up for it.”
“That sounds great. I'm starving. I could eat right now!”
I laughed. “I guess it works out then. I’m ready when you are.”
“Great. I'll just shut down everything here, and I'll meet you at your place.”
I asked if he remembered my address, which he did, and then I headed out of Asher’s office with a goofy smile on my face that I hoped he hadn’t seen.
***
After Asher finished off the last of the tikka masala, he sighed appreciatively and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.
“That was fantastic,” he said. “Really hit the spot. Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you. There’s no way I could have eaten all of that myself. It was good, though, wasn’t it?” I agreed as I ate the last of my naan bread. “I should eat at that place more often. The food is just divine. And the service is fantastic, too.”
“Well, what shall we do now, Lilah? I can head home if you're feeling tired. It was a pretty long evening.”
“Actually, I'm still wide awake. Still bursting with energy, really. I think I slept in too long this morning. Or maybe my mind is still kind of wired. I don't know how I'm going to get any sleep tonight.”
“So, you don't mind if I hang around for a while?”
“I’d actually enjoy the company. So, by all means, stick around for a bit. I don't have any plans this evening, anyway.”
I tried not to overanalyze if inviting Asher to stick around was a particularly good idea or not. We'd been enjoying light, easy conversation all through dinner. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, that at ease feeling I’d had the first time we went to dinner was still there. In fact, I was comfortable around him in a way that I hadn't been with anyone else for longer than I could remember.
There was also the fact that neither of us had suggested drinking—and I certainly wasn't going to bring it up—so it seemed things were safe for the time being.
“Would you like some chai tea?” I asked him. “I usually have a cup every evening.”
“Sure. Sounds good,” he said with a smile. “I do enjoy a good cup of chai.”
I made my way to the counter and started brewing the chai as we continued talking. If I were to have guessed, it seemed that Asher was just as much at ease as I was.
Somehow, as we were drinking the tea, the conversation turned to family matters—a subject I had previously touched on briefly with him, but that he had yet to open up about. A strange look crossed his face as we broached the topic. A flicker of something I couldn’t quite place—anger, regret, or merely pain, perhaps. However, as quickly as it appeared it was gone. I wondered if it was a good idea to continue with the topic of family considering how private Asher always seemed to be, but curiosity edged me on.
“So, Asher, there's something that I've been wondering for a while,” I said. “I’m curious. Control of the Sinclair Agency was given to you when you were 20, right?”
“That's right.”
“Why did it go straight from your grandfather to you instead of to your father?”
His face tightened and he looked away. I could tell it was a sensitive subject, and I quickly started to regret asking the question.
“I apologize, I’m prying, and I shouldn’t have asked,” I said hurriedly. “It's not important. I'm sorry, let's just forget—”
“You're right. It's not a subject I'm entirely comfortable talking about, but it's a subject I do actually need to talk about, as unpleasant as it is. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. It does me no good to keep these things bottled up inside.”
“Are you sure? I mean, we really don't have to discuss this.”
He looked up at me with an intense look simmering in his eyes. A look that churned every emotion inside of me.
“Actually, I’m not sure. But I want to talk about it with someone I feel I can trust, and I do feel like I can trust you, Lilah.”
His words seeped into my soul and warmed parts of me I’d forgotten about. I smiled faintly as I sipped on my tea and he began to speak in a slow, calm tone. I could sense he was doing his best to keep things together and remain collected. The story was obviously stirring some deep-seated, emotional pain. Despite that, I could also feel that he needed this, that he needed a little catharsis from the pain.
“My father . . . Well, he was not what I would call a good man,” he stated. “He was a drunk, and he was violent. I was too young when everything happened to remember, but what my father did is why I don’t have a relationship with him. It’s why my grandfather took me in and raised me. That's why I always look to my grandfather for inspiration. I modeled myself after his example when I was growing up. He was everything my father wasn't—good, noble, disciplined, hard-working.”
Asher paused and took a breath. I tried to wrap my mind around all he was saying. I couldn’t help but wonder what Asher’s father had done to cause him the chance to have a relationship with his son. As my mind was spinning with the possibilities, Asher continued his story.
“My grandfather grew up as the ninth child in a large, dirt-poor family of immigrants. When he and his family came to the United States, they literally had nothing but the clothes on their backs. And as the youngest of nine children, my grandfather rarely had anyhing but hand-me-downs from his siblings.
“But, this instilled a sense of ambition in him. He was absolutely determined to build an empire, to rise high above his humble beginnings. And, he did. He joined the army during the second World War, rose through the ranks, and left the army a war hero. Then, he started the Sinclair Agency and, through sheer grit and determination, he turned it from a two-man operation run out of a single, run-down, rented office in a slum into one of the greatest marketing firms in this city.
“He got married young. They wanted a big family, but having children proved difficult for him and my grandmother. In the end, after many years of trying, they finally had a child—my father. My grandmother considered it a miracle after all that they’d been through.
“As an only child, she spoiled him. He had little to no discipline at home because my grandfather was so obsessed with his work and always at the office or flying off somewhere on business—his only failing, I think—but a failing that turned out to have significant consequences.
“My father grew up in an entirely different situation than my grandfather. He only knew the comforts of a wealthy lifestyle and didn't have to work for anything. My grandmother, so happy that she finally had a child, lavished him with attention and gifts. From what I understand, my father grew up lazy and arrogant and, in his teenage years, began to develop a violent streak.
“My grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and died suddenly when my father was a young man. According to my father, he took it hard and turned to alcohol to ease the pain—and quickly became addicted. My grandfather was stricken with grief and became even more distant from my father. He told me once he wished he could do it over again, but life doesn’t give you that option. You have to make the most of it and do the right thing the first chance you’re given.
“The only times my father and grandfather spoke, they quarreled. My father left home with all the money he had inherited from my grandmother and essentially became estranged from my grandfather. He met my mother and married her after only a few months. Shortly after that, they had me. I never knew my mother, though—she died shortly after I was born.”
“Oh, Asher,” I breathed. “I'm so sorry to hear that.”
His face had taken on a dark, intensely pained expression.
“I appreciate that, Lilah. But, that's not the end of the story,” he said softly. “I didn't tell you how my mother died.”
I reached over and placed my hand over his instinctively. The agony in his eyes made me want nothing more than to comfort him, to shoulder the burden of the pain I saw there just so that he wouldn’t have to carry it any longer.
“He killed her.” The words drifted out in nearly a whisper, and his gaze fell to the cup in his hand. “In a fit of drunken rage, my father murdered my mother.”
“Oh my God,” I nearly gasped. I knew that Asher’s mother had died when he was young, but I hadn’t done that much research into his background. I was shocked and horrified for the hurting man sitting across from me.
“I was too young to remember, thankfully. But he robbed me of having a mother. The only times I've talked to my father have been the few times I've visited him in prison. I still can’t seem to bring myself to fully forgive him. He's going to be there for the rest of his life.”
“I don’t know what to say. I'm so sorry.” I squeezed his hand, and his gaze turned up to meet mine.
“It's a sad story, I know. But—” a slight smile pressed over his lips. “Thank you. For listening. I feel better talking about it, as dark as it is. I’ve never told anyone about it. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off my chest.”
I offered a faint smile in return, still not sure what to say. “So what about your mom’s family?”
“She was an only child. Her parents had her later in life and passed away before she graduated college. So, the only relative I had after my mother died and my father went to prison was my grandfather. He raised me—he made me the man I am today. And, of course, now that you know the story, you can see why he refused to give his company to his son. He bypassed him entirely and left it all to me.”
“That's just tragic, Asher,” I said. I could feel tears starting to burn the corners of my eyes.
“It had a happy ending, though,” he said. His lips were smiling, but I could see there was a deep aching bubbling in his eyes. “I do miss my grandfather terribly. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him.”
“I can understand. I feel the same way about my mom. And, I don’t even know much about her. I imagine it’s stronger when you have so many memories.”
Something passed between us when he looked at me—something powerful, something I couldn’t explain if my life depended on it. But whatever it was, it was intense. I looked away and Asher stood and stretched.
“Thank you, Lilah. For dinner, for listening, and hanging out,” he said, his tone different—more business-like. “I enjoyed it, but it's getting late, and I need to have a productive day tomorrow. I think it's about time to call it a night. Keep those ideas about the French campaign rolling around your head, all right? I'll see you in the office on Monday.”
“I enjoyed it, too,” I said as I stood to walk him out. “Thanks for the company.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said with one more smile. He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
And then, he was gone.