"Like chasing money, letting power go to your head, losing moral values."
I frowned. "Chasing money? All a lot of people want is just enough to be comfortable. Enough to feed themselves and their family while keeping the house warm during winter."
"When you have everything, you move the goalposts, rewrite the rules."
"You're Cameron Porter. Sounds like that description could apply to several people you know personally," I said. "And to you too."
He scoffed. "You're right, but not about me."
It was now my turn to scoff. "You're the exception? Of course you are."
"I didn't say I was, I just said you were wrong," he said as he leaned forward again. "What do you do when you finally have everything you're supposed to want? Money, love, power—what then?"
I shrugged. "Live happily ever after."
"You'd think, but a lot of people don't stop. They keep going. More money, cars, power, sex, more than they need or even want because that's what happens. At a certain point, it isn't about what you want; it's about what you're supposed to want."
"And what’s that? A life of degeneracy?"
"Sold as the ultimate destiny," he said.
This was heavy lunch conversation. It was heavy for any time of the day, but I was the one who had asked him to meet me. We had started small, me asking why he didn't want to work at the company in his father's position. He still hadn't given me a direct answer to that question. Instead, he had taken the scenic route, and we still weren't at the point.
"You sound upset about it."
He shrugged. "That's one way to put it. I'm not upset. I just want more. I want to get to the end of my life and know I lived it on my terms. I didn't lose sight, and I didn't become...that." He said the last word with so much disgust I felt like he had to be referring to a specific individual.
"So what are you going to do?" I asked. He had clearly thought about this a lot; I wanted to hear solutions. If he was disillusioned by the way money and power destroyed people, what was he going to do about it, being a man with both of those things in vast supply?
"I'm leaving."
"What?"
"The world I grew up in is toxic. My parents are probably the only reason why I went to all the parties and events, pretended to like and respect all those people. They're gone, and I don't have to be part of it anymore."
"Wait, you're moving?"
"Soon as I can."
"Wait a minute; you can't just leave. Where are you going?"
"The mountains," he said with an annoying little tilt of his head. Sure. The mountains, because people just went off the grid on a whim like that.
"Be serious," I deadpanned.
"I'm dead serious, Natalie. Hand to god. It's too much. I want out."
"For a vacation? A few weeks ‘til this bout of mania has passed?"
He laughed, which just made me mad. "For as long as it takes. You're worried about the company; I know that's why we're here. I need time to think."
"And the snow-capped Rockies are where you plan to do it," I said dryly. "Listen, Cameron. I don't know if Brett has told you already, but hundreds of people's livelihoods are now your responsibility. I can't put it any plainer than that. You refusing to run your company could mean terrible things for many people."
"What happened to all the time I had to make my decision? All the legal stuff and paperwork selling my stake was going to take?"
I rolled my eyes. "You're not still thinking of doing that," I said.
"Sure am. And I'll be doing it from my wood cabin in the snow-capped Rockies," he said, imitating me. He got up. "Don't you need to get back to work? It's getting kind of late." Fucking asshole, I thought. He had paid the check already; we had lost track of time talking.