Jane takes a deep breath, and Thatcher whispers in her ear. She nods repeatedly. “We’ll take this very seriously then.”
We waste no time. We fit on our helmets, and I take Maximoff’s hand in mine. Being pulled out of events and everyday things has always been Maximoff’s normal. And it’s become mine.
I’ve grown used to all the rainchecks, but I’m still on edge. Because the entire time I’ve been on Maximoff’s 24/7 detail, Lo has never asked his son to fill in for him.
Not once.
7
MAXIMOFF HALE
“Maybe he just had a stomach bug.” It’s a stupid theory, but my dad getting the shits before a mega important meeting is better than the worst scenario popping into my head.
Which would be my mom or my dad on the brink of relapsing. They’re strong. Over the years, they’ve found ways to keep from spiraling. My dad could just need a break from work stress.
I’m happy to take over.
Farrow plants his concern on me as the elevator ticks up towards one of the top Hale Co. floors. He chews gum slowly. “He did sound like he was in a hurry. Could be a ‘stomach bug’.” He uses air quotes. “Stranger things have happened.”
I glance at him quickly and back at the elevator numbers. “You’re just trying to placate me.”
“Man, if I were trying to placate you, I wouldn’t have given you a word-by-word replay of the exact conversation.”
He did do that in the parking deck here. I asked for every detail about the phone call, and then Farrow said he made a mistake. By not putting it on speakerphone.
But I would’ve cut into the conversation, and there’s a strong probability my dad would’ve told me to stay put or said something like “never mind, I don’t need you.”
I’m glad it didn’t go that way.
I’m glad I’m here in this elevator, ready to help out and remove stress off him. Because if my parents aren’t doing well, I only want to make their lives easier.
I grip my motorcycle helmet, knuckles whitened.
Farrow adjusts the radio on his waistband and edges towards the elevator doors. We’re almost to the floor. I move up next to him. Side-by-side.
He holds my hand.
Oxygen floods my lungs, and my eyes meet his strong gaze.
“You okay to do this, wolf scout?”
I nod once. “Yeah.” I am.
My shoulders ache from my strict posture. I can’t relax.
I’ve been in corporate meetings before, and I’ve sat in the Hale Co. boardroom, invited as a shareholder of the company.
But I’ve never sat in for my dad during a random business meeting, and in this instance, I’m acting as CEO until he returns. I’ve wanted to take over the family company to honor him—because I love him. But he’s always said, no.
Not now, not yet.
Am I just older, and he’s ready to give me this monumental responsibility? Or is he just not doing well, and he needs me?
I don’t have the answers, but right now, I can accomplish whatever needs to get done without them.
Elevator doors ding open, the marbled hallway empty. I’m in eyeshot of glass-walled cubicles and larger, window-view offices for higher-level employees.
Quickly, I locate my dad’s receptionist outside his office: Steven, a scrawny curly-haired man with a grayed mustache and goatee.
I set my helmet on a chair.
Offices to H.M.C. Philanthropies are located in this building, so I’ve been here in the recent past. I’m used to the brief glances before employees concentrate on their day, their own work. The novelty of my celebrity status has worn down. For one, long-time employees have seen me in this high-rise since I was in diapers. For another, I’m not as famous as my dad.
But today is different.
The brightest spotlight heats my back, my head, every damn body part. Eyes pin to me, and somewhat to Farrow too. My brows furrow in a bucket load of confusion.
Dear World, why is everyone looking at us? Sincerely, a baffled human.
Steven holds up a finger, slightly flustered. “I’ve got the memo notes Loren left you, one second.” He sifts frenziedly through papers.
“Steven.” I still look around. “Why is everyone staring at me?”
He glances up. “Hmm?”
“Employees are staring at me,” I tell him again.
Horn-rimmed glasses frame his round face. He peers over my shoulder, his neck flushing a splotchy red shade. “I suppose it’s because they’re not used to you coming here with a partner.” His eyes soften. “Most of us remember you playing with Marvel action figures on the carpet over there.” He points to a spot in my dad’s office. “It’s hard to believe you’re all grown up…about to get married.” A warm smile spreads across his rosy cheeks.
Farrow is grinning.
I relax only a fraction. Just glad that they’re not staring for other reasons. Like maybe I grew two horns or a tail in the middle of the night.
Jokes aside, I’m happy that my hand is still in Farrow’s. In an alternate universe, he’s not with me, and I’m here with a stoic bodyguard who barely speaks.