Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters 5)

Usually Maximoff is loud spoken, but he mumbles under his breath again, “I wish Janie was here.”

This was a gentleman’s golf tournament, which meant that we couldn’t bring any of the girls, not even Connor’s daughter. No one was more irate than Ryke and Rose when they heard the gender stipulation. I think my left ear is still blown out from their volcanic fits of rage.

Together, with more time, I actually believe they could’ve changed the event rules. Those two people are damn impressive.

In a few years, I might tell my son the truth here: hey, bud, girls weren’t allowed because some white-collared prick said so.

Right now, all I say is, “Me too, bud.” I scan the flat greenery, a memory sparking and inching my lips higher. I nudge his arm with mine. “You know me and Mommy used to tag along on golf trips with our dads?”

He perks up. “Really?”

“Really. We were only a little older than you.” Christ, how young we were. The long-ago memory with Lily gives me an idea. “Come here.” I scoop Maximoff in my arms and then set him on the grass. I have to retie his shoes since he undid the laces.

Then I sift in my golf bag for another club. I find a red mini-putter for toddlers. I’ve let him putt all of my balls, but we’re not close to the hole yet. I switch my driver with a much shorter club and then lead Moffy away from the golf cart, positioning him on the trimmed green.

“Alright, little man, that right there is your light saber.” I kneel in front of my son, still taller but at a much better height for him. “You hold it like this.” I grip the club like a fucking sword. “Maximoff Hale, do you want to be a Jedi Knight?”

“Yeah!” A smile envelops his face. He bounces and tries to whack my club with his, his laughter filling me whole. He’s seen enough Star Wars cartoons to know about Jedi Knights and light sabers.

I pretend to struggle. “Jesus Christ, he’s going to disarm me. Storm Troopers?!” I check over my shoulder, both Connor and Ryke watching us. “Storm Troopers,” I pant like I’ve been running ten miles. “We’ve got a relentless Jedi. You better attack him.” I wipe nonexistent sweat off my forehead as Moffy clanks his club against mine.

Connor grins, and Ryke cups his hands to his mouth, calling out, “Get him, Moffy!”

What a goddamn brother.

I love that guy.

Not long after, Moffy pokes me in the chest with his plastic club, and I fall off my knees to my back.

“He got me,” I pant. “He got me.”

Moffy jumps on my stomach, and I actually wince for real. He shouts, “Jedi Knights always win!”

I prop myself on my elbows and give him a look. “How’d you get so smart?”

“Mommy,” he says proudly.

I laugh once into a smile, choked up for a second. Just overwhelmed by my love for Lily, and she’s not even here.

I hold out my fist, and Moffy bumps my knuckles with his. Then I pick him up as I stand and toss him over my shoulder. Moffy giggles, and I slide him down so he’s perched on my waist. Just as I carry my son to my brother, my phone rings.

I set Moffy on his feet and check my phone, stepping back. I let my cell ring to voicemail.

Ryke shakes tees out of a bag. “Want to help me put a fucking ball on the tee, little guy?”

Moffy jumps towards him and nods wildly. When Ryke crouches, he favors his right knee. A shadow of a grimace quickly passes through his hard features. He can walk without crutches, without a limp even, but sometimes pain flares in his eyes.

I don’t even know the amount that stayed with him after his rock climbing accident last year. I just know that I’m selfishly glad to have my brother back—the one who wakes early every single day to run. The one who kicks his own ass as hard as he kicks mine.

The world would be a worse fucking place without that guy.

I return to my phone to check the missed caller and a new text message. Irritated lines crease my forehead. Jesus Christ.

Connor approaches me. “Work?”

“You mean the inner circle of hell? Yeah, that one.” Daniel Perth, one of the Hale Co. board members, just texted: had a meeting with advertisers for the new organic baby shampoo. Went well. I’ll send you notes.

He’s not even a part of the management team. It’s not his job or any of the goddamn board’s to take this kind of meeting.

Connor casually fixes his already perfect wavy brown hair. “Is it the people or the actual job?” If he’s worried about me and the stress of corporate life, he doesn’t show it.

“It’s always the people.” I shake my head to myself.

Halway Comics is full of creative types. I work with artists and writers to fulfill their dreams of seeing their comics in print. But at Hale Co., everyone is climbing on top of each other to reach some imaginary trophy.

“I’m not against playing dirty, but the shit that the board pulls on me is petty. Like ‘oh you missed that important, significant meeting? Wasn’t Clarissa supposed to tell you about it?’ as if the goddamn PR intern is supposed to keep me in the loop.”

I stop myself from kicking up a chunk of the green. Chances are, Moffy will copy me.

I get what’s going on at Hale Co. When my father stepped down as CEO, the board members saw me, the replacement, as a symbolic figurehead.

They didn’t think I’d actually make critical decisions. They didn’t think I’d actually do much of anything. Initially, they wanted to use my relationship with Rose—only to put her name on a baby clothing line. Then they wanted me to just stand there, to look pretty and say I’m Loren Hale. Smile. Click flash of a camera.

The minute I chose this path, I promised myself to be better than that, but I had no idea how hard they’d make it. And how much I have to remind myself not to give the fuck up—because it’d be so easy to just let them run things for me.

Sometimes I have sway, but not for things that impact the company. I’m just one voice, and they don’t treat me like the voice that’s running the brand.

“The board will let you in,” Connor assures me, “it’ll just take time.”

“Like it took you so much time, love?” I flash him a half-smile.

One afternoon, Connor let me inside his boardroom while I waited for him. Cobalt Inc. owns a handful of subsidiaries, including a company that produces paints and crayons. That day, a board member joked about naming a burnt-red color dirty whore, and with one word—one goddamn word—Connor had the board member exiting, head hung in shame.

“Leave,” he said.

That’s all it took.

I’ve been CEO of Hale Co. for only three years. He’s been the CEO of Cobalt Inc. for five, but he was respected the minute he was given the title.

I saw it.

Connor switches his club to his left hand. “I never said we’re the same. It’ll take you more time, but it never would’ve taken me this long.”

“Of course not.” I don’t take the jab to heart. It’s true. I rub the back of my neck and sigh heavily. “Things are so much easier for you.” I expect him to agree, but he wears this expression like I’m stepping over facts.

“I spent years preparing to take over my mother’s company. It’s what I aspired to do. I also make difficult things look easy. No one can do what I do, and it’s not a fault of your own but just a testament to how skilled I am.” There’s my conceited friend. “Just so you know, when I was interim CEO, the board treated me like a child sitting at the adult table. I had to win them over too.”

I wonder how he sees me.

He spent his whole life wanting to be the head of a corporation. I had no aspirations. In fact, I rejected the idea over and over. At the last minute, I fought for the position, but I had practically no competition. I’m still trying to earn my place, and I’m realizing that maybe I should have to. It’s only right.

Connor taught me a lot. I’d tell him as much, but he definitely already knows.

I skim his wavy hair, still perfectly styled, and h

is collared shirt, all six-foot-four of him standing straight and confident. I nod, more to myself. “In short, Connor Cobalt is a god. Don’t touch him.”

“You can touch me, darling.”

I suck in a breath. “Don’t give me ideas, love. I always aim to please.”

“Something we share.” He grins a billion-dollar grin.

I smile with him as we head back to my brother and son. I pocket my phone, under the new belief that respect may take years, but it’s years’ worth fighting.

September 2018

Lucky’s Diner

Philadelphia

DAISY MEADOWS

“Send me the link.” I scrape the mustard off the top of my hamburger bun. I forgot to ask for no mustard, but I easily carve out a chunk of the bread.

Daisy Petunia Meadows: resident condiment banisher. Need your mustard gone? Trying to ward away that pesky horseradish sauce you just can’t stand? Call Daisy. She has you covered.

I smile and adjust my earbuds. I currently sit at a secluded booth in Lucky’s Diner. My laptop is wedged between the napkin dispenser and mini condiment holder. I already told Willow on Skype that she’s cuddling with the ketchup and mayo.

“Okay, hold on a sec,” she says. “I’ll send it to you and then we can analyze.” In the Skype window, Willow leans closer, her finger dancing across her own keyboard. An X-Men: Apocalypse poster is taped to the wall behind her.

She’s in her dorm room, all the way in London.

I never questioned Willow’s decision to go to college out of the country. I never stopped her or convinced her to stay. I know what’s best for my best friend is what she wants, and she wanted this.

Even so, Ryke and I had a pretty deep conversation about my muddled feelings after we all said our goodbyes at the airport. It took me a minute or two, but I was able to explain them well enough.

Ryke: She’s going to come back, Dais.

Me: Yeah but I was her best friend, and in a year or two, I might not be anymore. And it’s so stupid because people make friends all the time, but it still feels like I’m losing something.