I narrow my eyes to take in his appearance. He still looks as bad as he did when I picked him up from the airport yesterday morning. This is the worst shape I’ve seen my friend in for years. He’s lost weight; his hair needs a good cut and he’s wearing don’t-give-a-shit clothes.
“You want me to drop you off at her house?”
“That’d be great.”
We haven’t had a chance to talk yet. I’m hoping his mother might talk some sense into him, but in the meantime, I need to know he’s travelling okay. “I’m concerned, Jack. What the hell happened in LA?”
He watches me for a beat. “You want coffee for this?”
I nod and he pulls another mug from the cupboard. “Do you ever wonder how you ended up where you are in your life, Ashton?”
I think about that for a moment. This is important to Jack and I want to give him the most honest answer I can. Finally, I nod. “Yeah, some days. Actually, a lot more lately than ever before. Not to do with my work, though. That has been a carefully planned strategy. But the rest of my life feels a little empty these days.”
He passes my coffee, and I slide onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter while he stands on the other side.
“Do you remember back when we finished school? You and I had so many plans. I don’t feel like we achieved any of the important ones.”
I frown. “What haven’t we achieved, Jack? We’re both doing work we set out to do and, hell, we’re both successful at it.”
He shakes his head. “No, not work. We always said we’d give back once we made our millions. We always said we wouldn’t become our fathers, and yet we both have. We’re workaholics who are too fucking busy to look beyond ourselves. Well, I’m done, and I’m ready to get back to basics.”
“I give time to a business group and donate to charity. What else can I do?”
“I’m not talking about giving cash here. I’m talking about changing the fucking world.”
Fuck, he’s on about this again.
Jack always did have aspirations to change the world, and he’s right—I wanted in on that endeavour when we were younger. These days I live in reality and understand that concept is futile. “You can’t change a world that doesn’t want to be changed.”
“Fuck, Ashton, when did you become so negative?”
“When I realised the truth in life.”
“And what’s the truth?” His voice is full of scorn and I do my best to ignore it, but I’m feeling agitated with this conversation. I just want him to work on himself first, and then I don’t give a flying fuck if he dedicates the rest of his life to being the next Mother Teresa.
“The truth is that the challenges facing humanity are insurmountable unless people open their eyes and take a long, honest look at it all, and sort the bullshit from the facts, all without being led by powerful people with hidden agendas. And then there’s social media that drains people’s attention and encourages superficial engagement with life. Shit, these days people think that supporting a cause is as easy as giving a fucking like on Facebook or sharing a post. If you want to change the world, you better be ready to yell long and loud just for a few to hear you.”
He stares at me as if I’ve got two heads. “So much cynicism, my friend. I’m not talking about reaching billions all at once. I’m talking about changing one life at a time.”
I lean forward. “Well, I know one that you can work on first,” I say softly.
He processes that and then nods. Draining his coffee mug, he rinses it and places it in the dish rack before saying, “I’m working on it.”
I watch as he leaves the kitchen. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Not the way I wanted to start the day.
* * *
After I drop Jack off at his mother’s house, I steer the car towards Willow Street. It’s just after nine and I’m hoping to catch Lorelei there. It takes me nearly half an hour in traffic to reach my destination, and after I cruise the street a few times looking for her, I decide to park my car.
The street is busy today and it takes me a good ten minutes to find a park. By the time I’m standing in front of her building, my patience is fraying. But one glance at the empty retail shop I know so well soothes my irritation as the memories come flooding back. It’s been a good fifteen years since I’ve been here, but it feels just like yesterday.
“That shop isn’t for lease anymore,” a woman says from behind me. “I’ll be opening a florist there in a few weeks.”
I turn to see a plump middle-aged woman eyeing the shop with excitement. When her eyes finally meet mine, I say, “What about the shop next door?” Lorelei’s building houses three retail shops, of which two are currently vacant.
She shakes her head. “Nope, it’s taken too. A café I think, which is a perfect match for the hairdresser on the other side and me.”
I have to agree. Grouping businesses together that women frequent, rather than slotting in a male orientated business, should give them a fighting chance at success.