Julian
THE PAST FEW days of soul-searching revealed yet another truth to me: My father and I need to resolve some issues between us, making a trip home well overdue. Which is why I travel straight from the airport to Hart Consulting’s headquarters in Downtown Atlanta. The building’s new guards have no idea who I am, and an ID showing that my last name is Hart doesn’t gain me entry.
A few minutes after my arrival, Nicole meets me in the lobby, the loud click of her heels warning me of her impatience.
“You could have called,” she says in a brusque tone.
“Good to see you, too, Sis.”
Her shoulders drop, and she holds out her arms for a hug. “Sorry. It feels like the prodigal son is returning, and I’m so exhausted, I almost wish you would take over the reins.”
I put an arm around her shoulder, and we walk in step to the bank of elevators. “That’s ridiculous. I haven’t been to a strip club in years, and my finances are sound.”
She sucks her teeth, a hint of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
“Seriously,” I continue. “I’m sorry you’re tired, but I’m not here to usurp your role at Hart. I never could.”
She draws back and guides me to the first elevator that arrives. “He still wishes you would, though.”
“He’ll have to deal. And if he’s hell-bent on continuing to be stubborn about it, you could always shave your head and pretend you’re me. It might be a good look for you.”
She considers me in the small car, her eyes tired and puffy, and then she shakes her head and snorts. “My wardrobe can’t compete with yours, and my head isn’t big enough, but thanks for the suggestion.”
I lay my hand against the railing and nudge her shoulder. “He has the best person in the position. We all know it.”
She gives me a reluctant smile. “Thanks.”
“How is he?”
The elevator dings and its doors slide open before she answers. “He’s fine. We’re not even talking about good days and bad days, more like weird moments. It’ll change over time, for sure, but I’m overseeing everything, and Mom’s his rock.”
I guess it’s an inevitable consequence of watching my parents age—talking about my father this way—but knowing this doesn’t make the reality of it any easier to accept. “I promise to be around more to help.”
She links arms with me and steers me through the reception area. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.” When we reach my father’s office door, she knocks twice before ushering me inside.
My father’s sitting at his desk, his thick, black reading glasses perched on his nose. He looks up, cocks his head as though he’s trying to place me, and after a few seconds, drops his jaw. “Well, this is a surprise. A good one, but a surprise nonetheless.”
“I told Mom I was coming.”
“She didn’t say.”
My mother thinks the element of surprise should be part of anyone’s tactical arsenal, and she probably thought I needed any advantage she could give me. “Might have slipped her mind.”
He avoids my gaze and glances at Nicole instead.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, her hand already on the doorknob. “How long will you be here?”
“Just the day, unfortunately. I’ve got a few important matters brewing at work, so I can’t stay longer. But I’ll be back soon and I’ll stay awhile. I’d like you to meet someone special to me.” That is, if Ashley will have me. “Maybe.”
She raises a brow. “I’m going to hold you to that, too.” Before she leaves, she gives me a hug and grabs a file off our father’s desk. “I’ve missed you. Have a safe trip back.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
When the door clicks shut, my father motions for me to sit. “I’m eager to hear what brought you from LA on a day trip. Can’t be very convenient.”
“It’s not,” I say as I settle into the tufted leather wingback that he’s owned for more than a decade. “But this is important.”
“Go ahead, then. The floor is yours.”
“I’ve been doing some mental housekeeping lately, and it led me to you.” Damn, I wish I had a stress ball in my hands.
He leans forward. “Son, I don’t bite. Say what you need to say.”
“Okay, fine. For years now, there’s been this tension between us because I chose to become an agent rather than join you here, and I suspect you’ve always regarded that decision as a rejection of you, but it wasn’t. It was a decision that made sense for me at the time. I didn’t want to be in Atlanta. I wanted my own space, wanted to define my own path.”
My father shifts in his chair and lays two fingers against his mouth, his expression contemplative. “Go on.”
“Every time you criticized my decision, I double downed on wanting to prove you wrong, figuring you’d eventually see that I made the right choice.”
He leans back in his chair and places his threaded fingers on the desk. “If you want to spend the rest of your life chasing someone else’s dream, I can’t stop you.”
I shake my index finger at him. “See there? That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not chasing someone else’s dream. I’m chasing my own.”
He purses his lips. “Carter’s the actor, not you.”
“Yes, I’m the agent. I’m the one who makes the deals. Not just for Carter but for two dozen clients total. I make their dreams happen. And I’m damn good at my job.”
He takes a deep breath. “I wish you would dedicate yourself to this business as much as you dedicate yourself to that one.”
I wave a hand around me. “This isn’t my dream, Dad. This is yours. I know nothing about company branding. I need my own goals, my own reasons for getting out of bed and wanting to show up at the office.”
He wrinkles his nose and straightens his cuffs. “And you have that?”
“That’s the other piece of the puzzle that I finally figured out. I’ve been going through the motions lately, but I didn’t want to acknowledge that work isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be, because it would have meant accepting that you’ve been right all along. But you’re not, and someone in my life helped me to see that. So the short answer is yes, I’m working on it. And you’ll be happy to know it involves opening my own agency.”
He sticks out his chest and pats it. “So you’re following in my footsteps, after all.”
I expected him to make one last run at getting me to join his company, so the fact that he doesn’t is a huge relief. “There’s something else I need to say. I won’t play a role in the business, but I’m your son, and I want to be here for you. To help you get through . . .”
He raises his chin and looks at me knowingly. “Your mother told you.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“There’s nothing to be done. It’s just something I’ll have to deal with.”
“But you won’t deal with it alone. I’ll be there for you. And so will Nicole. Speaking of which, Nicole is busting her butt trying to be the leader you need. It’s time to accept that she’s the one who’s most qualified to continue your legacy.”
“I know.” He narrows his gaze, although his expression isn’t unkind; it’s resigned. “But it was supposed to be me and you.”
“That’s a tired way of thinking about this company’s future, and you’re all about innovation and progressive thinking.” I rise. “So we’re good?”
He shakes his head, his mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “No, we’re not good, but I don’t appear to have a choice in any of this.”
I chuckle. “Now you’re catching on.”
THIS IS THE visit I’ve been dreading the most. And because the gods have a sense of humor, too, neither Carter nor Tori answers the door. Instead, a laughing Ashley swings the door open with her head still facing the person behind her.
Only a week has passed since she left my place, but it feels like months. I miss seeing her on the couch or bent at the waist as she rummages through the fridge. I miss shoving aside the toiletries she relocated to my bathroom after the first night we slept together in my bed. I just miss her, period.
When she finally turns to greet me, her eyes grow wide, but then she slips on a mask of polite familiarity. “Hi, Julian. We were expecting the pizza guy.”
“Does he have my sausage, and is he wearing white tube socks?” a voice inside asks.
Eva. One day, she’s going to make someone very lucky—and exhausted.
She appears behind Ashley, her chin resting on Ashley’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, Julian.”
“Hey, Eva.”
“We’re waiting for pizza,” she explains.
“Yeah, Ashley told me.”
Eva turns to Ashley. “Did you order an XXL? Bahahaha.”
Ashley shakes her head. “She’s on margarita number four. Ignore her.”
Next, Tori stumbles to the door. “Julian, we’re having margaritas and waiting for pizza.” She burps, ending her sentence with perfectly timed punctuation.
They all stare at me as though I might turn into the very pizza they’re obviously craving. “Is Carter here?”
Tori pulls me inside. “He’s in the theater room basking in a sentimental mood and watching early episodes of TV shows he appeared in. Gets like this whenever he’s thinking about his career.” She squeezes my forearm. “Go spend some time with your boy. As a friend.”
I grin at her. “Will do.”
Before I head back, I place a hand on Ashley’s retreating shoulder. She spins around and waits, and for a moment I’m frozen. This isn’t the time or place to tell her how I feel, but not saying anything doesn’t seem right, either.
“Can we talk later?” I ask.
She bites on her bottom lip as she considers me, and I lock my legs in place to keep from squirming under her inspection. Damn, this woman really is my kryptonite.
Finally, she says, “Okay, sure. I’ll be around. But I’m working on my second margarita”—she points a finger at me—“so don’t take forever. I won’t be held responsible for what I say when I’ve got tequila in my belly.”
I stifle a laugh. She’s going to be tipsy soon, so I better get back to her quickly. “I promise I won’t take long.”
A few seconds later, I find Carter where Tori said I would. He’s sitting in a high-back armchair with one foot on the floor and the other draped over the chair’s arm. He appears to be aimlessly pressing buttons on the remote.
He swivels around and looks up at me when I enter the room. “Hey, man.”
“What’s up?”
He returns his gaze to the television. An early audition clip is playing on the screen. He points the remote at it. “Reminding myself of the early times.”
I laugh. “The braces were part of the scary times.”
“A necessary evil.”
I have a lot to say, but I don’t know where to begin.
Carter fills the silence instead. “Talk to me, J. I get the sense you’re not telling me something I need to hear.”
I drop onto the couch. “I’m leaving SCM. Plan to give notice next week.”
He straightens in the chair, bringing his feet to the ground, and his mouth falls open. “Whoa. That’s not what I was expecting you to say. Where will you go? Worldwide? IMG?”
“None of the above. I’m going to start my own agency.”
He stares at me for a few seconds, and then his incredulous grin gradually builds into a megawatt smile. “You crazy motherfucker, that’s great news. I’m behind you one hundred percent.”
I doubt that’ll still be the case when I tell him my plans. “I’ll start small, taking on only a limited number of existing clients while I settle into my new role, but eventually I hope to hire a few junior agents and bring on new clients.”
He sits up and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “You don’t have to sell me on the idea, man. I’m there with you.”
“Here’s the thing, Carter. I think you should stay with SCM.”
The dazed look on his face guts me, but I forge ahead knowing this is the best outcome for us both. “You’re a bona fide superstar, Carter, and you need the backing of a first-tier agency to represent your interests. Plus, I can’t give you the expertise you need. But I know someone who can. Sooyin deals with multiyear film deals all the time, and there’s no other agent on the planet I trust more. You’d be in good hands. And to be honest, I don’t want to engage in a protracted battle with Quinn about poaching you. He won’t care about my smaller clients, but he’ll go rabid if he thinks you’re going to jump ship with me.”
He shakes his head. “But we’ve always been a team, and we’re on the brink of sealing a major deal. What’s changed?”
“That’s just it, man. Everything’s changed. Me. You. What we want from our careers. What we want for our lives. And it’s fine. Change is good. I want the chance to make mistakes, but I don’t want to risk your career while I do it. I know you might think I’m being an ungrateful shit for wanting to drop you, but I need to be on my own. I’ll always be around to guide you if you need it, but not as your agent.”
He does nothing but stare at me for what feels like minutes. Then he shoves his fingers through his hair and collapses back into the chair. “I’m going to tell you something, and then we’re going to be done with this bullshit. Because I don’t do maudlin moods. I don’t do angst. Not in my real life, anyway. So let’s clear the air and move on, okay?”
I nod. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
“When I realized Simon was altering my books, I wanted to leave the business altogether. It was still early in my career, and I hadn’t seen any evidence that I would gain any traction in the business. I even told my dad that I wanted to come home. He told me he’d support whatever decision I made.”
“I’m not surprised. Your dad’s always been there for you.”
He dons a pensive expression and turns back to the TV screen. “Yeah, he has. And I considered tucking my tail under me and running the other way, but then I told you what had been going on, and you dropped everything to help me. I can still picture you poring over stacks and stacks of notes, royalty checks, Simon’s emails.”
He stands and uses the remote to turn off the TV. “I still don’t know how you figured it out, but you did. And I finally had someone I trusted who was willing to dig deep. That made the difference. That’s why I stayed. I was scared shitless, but I figured if you were around, I’d be okay. So if you think you owe your career to me, I’d have to disagree. I owe my career to you.” He grins as he strokes his chin. “And to my fantastically handsome face, of course. Oh, and my unparalleled talent. But you get the big picture.” He waves a hand around the room. “All of this wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
His first agent screwed him, and it’s affected how he interacts with anyone in his life. But I never knew he considered leaving the business back then. Now all his side comments about the importance of smart choices make sense. “Thanks for saying so, man. I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do. So if you think we need to part ways, I’ll deal. Because it isn’t all about me. You need to be happy, too. Figure out what’s going to get you there and go for it. I won’t stand in your way.”
“Funny you should say that, because being with Ashley would make me happy.”
The words come out without much forethought, and I don’t regret them in the least. When I envision a future with someone by my side, Ashley’s the person I see.
He drops back onto the chair. “Give me a sec.” Then he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m so fucking confused.”
“I was, too. But I’m not confused anymore.”
“She’s my little sister, though. I thought you guys were pretending.”
“Something changed.”
“During the reunion?”
“Even before then, I think, but I didn’t want to see it. Remember when I told you I’d fall on my ass eventually?”
“Yeah.”
“It happened, and I fell hard.”
He slaps both of his hands on his chest. “Ah, God. You’re killing me here.” After a beat of silence, he says, “She won’t settle down, you know. Not yet.”
“I think you’re wrong about that. This is one time when I know your sister better than you do. But it doesn’t matter. I’m willing to wait.”
He leans forward. “Jesus, this is too much.”
“Think about it, though. You know me better than anyone. I’ll treasure her if she wants me to.”
After studying me for several seconds, he throws up his hands. “You need to be having this conversation with Ashley, then.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “You’re right about that, but I think she’s tipsy, and she needs to be sober when I tell her how I feel.”
Before I leave the room, he calls after me. “Don’t kiss her in front of me.”
I laugh. “I can’t make that promise.”
“You mean you won’t make that promise.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”