“And sleep?” Camden prodded. “Do you get your eight hours of sleep?”
I chuckled and leaned forward, checking to see if any cars were coming around the bend. “Nobody gets eight hours, ragazzo.” No one who worked, anyway. “I go to bed around three and set the alarm for eight-thirty.”
“Daddy!” Camden yelled, causing me to flinch at the volume. “You say I gotta get eight hours, but Anthony only sleeps…two, three, four—um, much less!”
“Daddies and Littles have different sets of rules,” I heard August remind him in the background.
“Oh. Right. Cuz the world’s not fair,” Camden huffed. “Anyway. I have the most important question in the galaxy, Sir. Are you still wearing the bracelet?”
“Of course I am. I told you, it’s never coming off.” I stopped at a red light and checked the time. Perhaps I was a little behind. My last class had run late, and then I’d spoken to a parent whose daughter had bipolar and struggled to express herself in her mandatory journal-keeping. I’d suggested we incorporate her piano playing into it—anything, if it might help bridge the gap between the girl and her parents, who felt helpless when they couldn’t anticipate the daughter’s needs.
It’d fueled my thinking on alternative ideas for the Initiative. When we couldn’t find our own words, chances were lyrics already existed that did it. Flash cards were used for communication on a daily basis too, though they were better suited for words. Music was, in my opinion, the best tool to translate emotions. If that parent’s daughter couldn’t communicate how she felt during her depressive periods, there were options.
“Anthony!” Camden exclaimed, bringing me back to the present. “Did you hear a word of what I just said?”
Fuck. I started driving before I could back up traffic. “Sorry, love. A lot of work on my mind. Work and missing you guys—it’s all I do.”
My lunches would have to wait. I’d eat dinner with Nicky and Gideon, and then I had to work. I wouldn’t find the time during regular work hours.
“Can I call you back later tonight, Camden? I’m almost home, and Nicky will be here any minute.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll go tell Daddy you’re working too hard. Bye!”
“I—fuck.” I was met by the sound of a call disconnecting before I could tell him not to run his mouth like that. I wasn’t working too hard—right now. And the last thing August needed was to worry about me.
Gideon was giving me even more to consider. Dinner was awesome as always, but my head was ready to explode.
We sat around the coffee table and scarfed down lasagna while Gideon presented his ideas, and he’d gone all out. He’d put together a proposal and everything.
Without looking into our numbers, he knew where to cut costs, how to save, how to expand. And he was adamant about being involved as a financier.
It wasn’t often I could tell that Gideon was autistic, but this was one of the occasions where it was clear. He was all business and spoke very frankly.
“As for tuition,” he went on. “I suggest you raise it fifteen percent more than you normally would next year, and then we’ll start a fund in the Initiative’s name where underprivileged students can apply for aid to afford classes. Not only will it make it easier for those who are already struggling—you’ll make it possible for families who didn’t stand a chance even with an affordable price tag.”
It was a lot to take in. I didn’t know how to express that I found his ideas brilliant, at the same time as the amount of money he would be forced to put down made me uncomfortable.
I glanced at Nicky, who sat next to Gideon on the couch. “Are you going to say something?”
Nicky shook his head and replied around a mouthful of food. “He already gave me the business at home. Pointed his finger at me and everythin’.”
Gideon smirked wryly. “You’re exaggerating.”
Nicky widened his eyes. “You literally dared me to label myself as stupid. You said that only people with two deep-fried brain cells would go against your proposal, and then you raised your eyebrow like you do—yeah, just like that! Madonn’, you’re merciless sometimes, papito.”
I grinned at the two, finding them sweet as hell.
Point taken too. I guess I wasn’t allowed to go against Gideon’s idea.
“It’s not my fault you and your brother act irrationally around money,” Gideon said defensively. “No one would bat an eyelash if I donated five million to a children’s hospital or a foundation that funded research for cancer. But because this is you two, because you’re taking this so personally, it’s suddenly crazy for me to help out.” Then he faced me instead. “I might as well give you the rest of my speech,” he said. “I may have worked hard to earn my position with the corporation that my great-grandfather once started, but I didn’t personally accumulate more than a fraction of what I’m worth. And for the rest of my life, I will make money in my sleep. Is that something I should just let sit there? Or should I set money in motion and place it where it will do good? Rhetorical question, for your information.” He took a breath, and my mouth twitched. He could be damn cute when he was trying to pull off stern. “I implore you both to use your brains. Nicky, your strength clearly lies in teaching and being in charge of the faculty. And Anthony, you’re the creator. When you’re not teaching classes, you need time away from the academy to explore your options online. Expand to offer classes on the internet or music programs on DVD. I don’t know. What I do know is that I would like to fund your expansion. I also know that every role in a company can be hired. If you fear you’ll be trapped in a suit, as Nicky told me, just recruit someone else who will wear the suit.” He adjusted his tie. “This is where you agree with me.”