Page 38 of Takeover

We finish dinner, and Vickie decides to sleep over. We spend the rest of the night on the couch talking and not paying the least bit of attention to the movie we put on. All throughout, I sneak peeks at my phone, and other than another missed call and a text message from Michael, the phone remains silent.

24

“Are you sure, Lindsey?” I ask my ex-wife. I tune her out as she goes into a long explanation. Hunter sticks his head in my office and mouths ‘five minutes.’ I resist the urge to give him the middle finger. I know my conference call is in five minutes. I don’t need him to remind me.

“My wrist feels better, and Phyllis will be here all weekend to help, but I can take care of my son.” This time, I can’t help the eye roll. Sure. You can take care of him except for when you left him right after he turned one. Or all the times you cancel after making plans to pick him up. “I can tell you’re rolling your eyes at me. I’m going to do better, Ethan.”

“Great. Do better then. Feel free to go pick him up any time. I’ll let Carla know you’re coming.”

I don’t wait for her to answer. I end the call, unable to take the sound of her voice for another second. I busy myself until it’s time to dial in for the call. Hunter walks in, doing an exaggerated tiptoe and drops a portfolio on my desk, puts both hands up as if in surrender, and backs out of my office.

“Grow some balls!” I yell.

I guess Hunter hasn’t missed out on the fact that I’ve been in a bad mood for the past two weeks. Since I left Tara’s apartment to run to Vermont because Lindsay was in a damn skiing accident. So much for that mind and body retreat in Sedona she told me about. No, she went skiing with friends but called me when she was in trouble because the friends didn’t want to miss out on their fun getaway by sitting in a hospital with her.

Never mind that she got hurt while skiing with them. It wasn’t a clean break and she needed metal screws in her wrist. It was no surprise that Lindsay called me. Everyone in her family is just like her. Self-absorbed and unable to see past their own needs.

I run a hand through my hair and check the time. Only halfway through this workday, and I’m ready to call it quits and go home.

I pay as much attention as I can to the meeting on last quarter’s sales figures and do my best to keep my mind from wandering to her. We said it was only going to be a weekend, and that’s all it was. Not that she’s called. I take out both cell phones, and neither has any recently missed calls.

I don’t even think she has my phone number. But I have hers. The next forty-five minutes is an exercise in patience as the CFO drones on about cash flow and return on investment. I close out of the teleconference as soon as it’s over and lean back in my chair. Hunter comes in with my lunch, and I make a face at the broiled chicken and broccoli in front of me. I have a sudden craving for dumplings.

“For you, boss.” Hunter drops something on my desk. It’s a chocolate chip cookie from the bakery in the building.

“You know I don’t eat that stuff.”

“Well, you need it. I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass, but maybe a cookie will do you good.”

“Get out of my office. You’re fired.”

“Again?” He puts both hands on his chest. “You already fired me today. And you can’t fire me. I need the benefits. I’m getting a crown next month.”

I ignore him, but he doesn’t leave my office. He takes the seat across from me and pulls out his iPad.

“You have a meeting with mergers and acquisitions at three. That’s scheduled for two hours, but it’s your last meeting of the day. You have a couple of messages from the New York Philharmonic about your donation this year, and a call from Mr. Vincent’s school. It’s almost as if that fifty-thousand-dollar tuition isn’t enough.”

“Fifty-five thousand. The tuition has gone up since you worked there,” I say between bites. “Donate the same as last year to the Philharmonic. And tell M&A they can send me the minutes of their meeting.” If my son will be gone all weekend, I want to spend a few hours with him before he leaves.

“Does that mean you’re starting your weekend early?”

He crosses his fingers and closes his eyes, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Nope,” I lie.

“Damn.” He finally stands up to leave. “Whoever she is, go see her so you can be back to normal on Monday because I can’t take another week of this. And neither can Amelia. That’s why she took a sick day today.” I arch my eyebrow at him, and he says, “What? I know women problems when I see them.”

“Except you’re gay. What do you know about women problems?” He gasps loudly, throws himself on my couch, and covers his eyes with his arm.

“I have three sisters, a mother, a stepmother, two grandmothers, five aunts, and twelve female cousins. I practically have a Ph.D. in women. And shh. I haven’t come out to my Catholic grandmothers yet.”

“Mmhmm. See yourself out. Call my driver and let him know I’ll be ready to head home in an hour. And don’t come back on Monday. You’re fired.”

He gives me a fake salute and leaves the office. As soon as he’s gone, I devour the cookie. As if Hunter knows me better than I know myself, he returns to my office ten minutes later, grabs my empty plate of food, and leaves another cookie on my desk.

This is why when we’re alone, he acts like more of a friend than an assistant. We first met at Vincent’s school. He was filling in for the office manager while she was on maternity leave. I watched one morning as he juggled a stream of phone calls due to a disgruntled employee sending out a flaming email to the parents. He did it while holding a screaming baby in his arms. In all the phone calls he never broke a sweat. To this day, I don’t know where that screaming baby came from or why Hunter was holding him.

I gave him my card and told him to come to my office that afternoon for an interview. He started working for me two weeks later. The school tried to hire him back, but I paid more than they ever could.

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