Page 118 of Alphas Like Us
She snatches an ice cube from a bucket and tosses it atme.
I dodge with asmile.
“You have a passion,” she says. “It’s just been disrupted for the timebeing.”
I’m aware that charity exists beyond the company I built. I can still attend functions and donate money and time. But I’m not looking to head acorporation.
“I don’t want charity to be a job,” I tell Janie. “I’d rather not set an alarm toit.”
For the longest time, I’ve chased responsibility, and I won’t stop running towards my family—I won’t slow down for anything. But with Farrow, I’ve experienced what it’s like to just take it easy, to exist and breathe, and when it comes to work life, I want the simpleenjoyment.
Not a CEO position. Not managing a hundred-someemployees.
“It’s official then?” Jane asks, setting down the shaker. Frilly sleeves of a shirt stick out from her Cheetah-print tee. “You won’t return to H.M.C.Philanthropies?”
“It feels official,” I say with anod.
A smile pulls her freckled cheeks. “In that case, you most certainly must join me inourquest to find apassion—”
“No, you were right,” I interject. “This is your thing.” I’m not sharing in Jane’s Quest for Passion because she’ll be so determined to find mine, she’ll forget her search. I see that in how excited she is for me—I can’t do that toher.
Jane looks like I punctured her grand, elaborate plans for eternal life friendship. “Moffy.”
I feign confusion. “I could’ve fucking sworn I’m supposed to be your super amazing, unbiased taste-tester for all the nonalcoholic drinks.” I gesture to the bar. “Is my drinkinvisible?”
She smiles softly. “Fine. I’ll be solo until you change yourmind.”
Last month, Jane finished her online degree and graduated from Princeton. Her deadline for finding her passion ended with the diploma. She was supposed to give up her search and become the full-time CFO of H.M.C. Philanthropies. But when I was ousted, she quit herposition.
It’s an upside that I don’t forget. Because Janie as a CFO of any company sounds like a royal circle of hell for my bestfriend.
While Jane rattles the shaker again, I catch Thatcher risking a glance at her from the very end of the bar where he’s been standing guard on-duty.
I’ve been nice to Thatcher in the past. ButFuck Himwith capital lettersblares in my head on repeat.Fuck Himfor punching my boyfriend.Fuck Himfor thinking I’d cheat and hookup with my newbodyguard.
FuckHim.
I drill a glare into his forehead, and he sees, rotating more towards the entrance. If he feels any sort of regret, I can’t tell. He just looks stern tome.
I rest my hand on my tightshoulder.
“Jane.” Jack Highland calls out to my cousin. The exec producer has a knee on the stool next to me. His frayed shorts and tank look more Long Beach style than Philly, and while he grips an expensive camera, he directs the lens at Jane. “Are you afraid that if your passion involves alcohol, the public might think it’s insensitive? Considering both of your uncles’ history ofalcoholism?”
My head swerves to Jack. “Going with the hard-hitting questions there, Jack.” He’s filming us forWe Are Calloway, and sometimes I forget he’s recording. Until the questions start rollingin.
Jack never shifts the camera off Jane. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he reminds her. “But this is naturally what people willthink.”
Jane places a martini glass on the bar. “The public will always have an opinion,” she answers to Jack. We rarely speak into the camera unless it’s a sit-down interview. “So I can’t let them decide what my passion should be. Even when it’s easier pleasing other people, I need to try to be true tomyself.”
“Plus,” I say to Jack and check my texts. “She lovesbeer.”
“Oui,” Jane smiles. “La brasserie est la semaine prochaine.”The brewery is nextweek.
No newtexts.
I was hoping for an update from Farrow. And I’m strangely all caught up on family group messages. No unread emails. Nonotifications.
It’s almost like I have all this free time and nojob.
