Chapter 2 I Always Win
I ALWAYS WIN
Hobbies?
Cole: Running and rock climbing.
Bridget: Spending time with my family. Wait, that’s not a hobby?
COLE
“So, are you going to tell me?” my brother Mason asked as he stood below me on the padded floor of the gym. “Or are you waiting to make a formal announcement at Mother and Father’s tomorrow?”
I stuck the grippy toe of my climbing shoe onto the hold on the bouldering wall and scanned ahead for the next one. “I got it.”
“I knew you would.” He stretched up to pat my butt. “Another Campion enters the CEO’s office.”
“Hands off my ass,” I growled. But I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
Despite how everything had gone down today, he was right.
This week, I’d convince Bridget that the office she currently occupied as COO was as good as the CEO’s office, and by Monday, I’d take sole possession of the corner office.
In ninety days, the board’s pathetic experiment would be over, and I’d be the victor of this farce.
Sure, I’d been upset when Ned, the board member who’d brought me into Apex almost a year ago, had explained the fucked-up scenario to me.
I wasn’t proud of the mini-meltdown I’d had that may have involved kicking a chair and scuffing my left oxford.
Ned hadn’t minded, but I’d been thankful Bridget was somewhere else.
I’d have hated for her to see me lose control. I’d already made that mistake once.
The first time I’d met her, I’d been enchanted by her elfin features, the beautifully sharp expression in her teal blue eyes, the confident tilt of her chin as she outlined the changes she’d made in operations.
I’d wanted to prolong our handshake, guarding her small hand in mine as I lost myself in her gaze, but then I’d remembered that Ned had told me she was the top candidate for the CEO position.
She was the competition, and she was using her sex appeal to distract me.
So I’d ripped into her budget in front of everyone to prove—mostly to myself—I wasn’t the kind of man who could be led around by his dick.
“CEO at only thirty-four,” Mason crowed. “I was thirty-eight, and Dad was a geezer at forty-seven.” He pointed. “Not that one. Put your right hand in that pocket and pull up.”
Grunting, I stretched for it. “Thanks.” There was no need to tell my big brother the embarrassing part of the announcement.
Let him think I’d lived up to the family expectations for one more day.
I’d disappoint him and everyone else at dinner tomorrow.
“They said they’re tired of the status quo. They want fresh blood. Fresh ideas.”
Movement caught my eye, and I glanced to my right. A kid was climbing the board next to mine. I shimmied to my left to hug a sidepull.
“And since you’ve been there less than a year, that’s exactly what you’ll bring,” Mason said. “Knowing you, you’ll start blowing shit up on day one.”
“Exactly. I’ve got this great idea for a partnership with…” I squinted at the white-knuckled kid. I didn’t like the way his arms trembled as he gripped the holds. I scrambled back to the right until I was beside him. “Hey, you all right?”
The boy clinging to the wall looked to be a few years older than Caitlyn, about twelve or thirteen. His arms and legs were skinny, and they shook from the effort. Only Mason stood on the mat below. Who’d let him climb the advanced route? And why was no one spotting him?
“I…I don’t know. I might be stuck.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to fall.”
“Ah.” We weren’t too high up, but a group of girls chatted on the couches behind us, occasionally stealing glances at my new friend.
“Don’t look down,” I said, scanning his route.
“We’ll do this together, okay? And if you fall, no big deal.
My brother Mason will help you land safely.
” I glanced down at Mason, who pretended to be bored with standing in one spot and sauntered to the right until he stood below the kid. I waited until the kid nodded.
Gripping the wall with one hand, I pointed. “Grab that pinch with your left hand, pull up, and put your foot over there.” He did it, and as he climbed his route, I ascended mine, matching his pace. After a few more suggestions, he started to choose his own holds. Slowly, we crawled up the wall.
We were both sweating by the time he slapped his hands on the top hold and let out a whoop. Mason cheered from the mat, and the girls on the couches clapped. “Way to go!” I said as I tapped my top hold.
We used the jug grips to lower ourselves until we were close enough to jump to the crash pad. I fist-bumped him. “Great job, kid. Knew you could do it.” It was a lie, but what was the benefit of being honest here?
“Thanks, man.” He strutted off to chat up the girls.
“You’re better with kids than you think,” Mason said.
To hide my discomfort, I examined a split nail.
When Caitlyn was little, she was easy to please, happy for any time I could spare with her.
Now she was eight, I could only impress her if I kept up a frenzied pace on the weekends I had her.
Something her mother complained about when I returned her, overstimulated, on Sunday afternoons.
“Tell that to Zara. She thinks I’m a poor excuse for a human. ”
“No, she thinks you’re only a terrible father and husband.”
“Ex-husband.”
“All you need is more confidence.” He shook his head. “Wow, that’s a weird thing to say to you.”
“Confidence? Not something I lack. I don’t know what I needed with Zara.” I picked at my nail. Climbing was hell on my manicure. “I was never enough for her.”
“You know, they have products for that.”
“For—” I looked up from my hand to find my brother smirking. “Did you just disparage my dick, you utter dick?”
He shrugged. “If it’s not enough to satisfy…”
“It’s plenty to satisfy, thank you.” Not that I’d had much practice lately.
The CFO position had been more work than I’d anticipated.
I’d found that Apex had surprisingly low rigor in its finance department, and I’d worked hard to bring it up to the level it needed to be.
Plus, I had to get rid of a trio of dickheads who were poisoning the culture, and that required the exhausting process of hiring and training and stabilizing the team.
Between work and every other weekend with Caitlyn, I had little time for recreational pursuits.
“You, um, miss it?” Mason asked. “Being married?”
“No.” The word shot out of me like a bullet. “You and Sheila duped me into thinking marriage was this amazing partnership where we’d support each other and fill in each other’s gaps.”
“But the reality was that you wouldn’t admit you had any gaps or time to support her needs?”
“Have I told you lately that I hate you?”
He cuffed my shoulder. “Telling it like it is, bro. Come on, let’s pack up. I’m starving.”
I scooped up my chalk bag. “You might be a CEO and a paragon of family life, but you’re full of shit. The only reason you made it to where you are is because Sheila is a low-maintenance unicorn. The women I meet want more than I can give.”
He sauntered toward the locker room. “You mean emotional connection and partnership?”
“Fuck you.” I yanked open the door and didn’t bother to hold it open for him. “I have the kind of career that makes it difficult.”
He caught the door as it swung toward his face. “Plus the type of personality that makes it impossible.”
I flipped him the bird. My personality was perfect for what I wanted, which was the CEO position.
Emotional connection? Total waste of time.
The next night, I followed the ma?tre d’ down the aisle of plush patterned carpet between the rows of white cloth–covered tables at my parents’ club.
Since my parents always sat at the same table, I could have breezed past the host stand.
Though my mother would have scolded me to act like a civilized person, and I needed a strong first impression to offset the not-quite-excellent news I had to share.
“Cole.” Mother tipped her head to present her cheek, and I kissed it.
Her Givenchy L’Interdit tickled my nose and brought back memories of her bringing me here for lunch after swim lessons, tennis, and golf as a kid.
She never let me order from the kids’ menu.
Instead, I ate the fish of the day or a filet with green beans as befitted a Campion.
By the time I was eight, I didn’t even want to eat a hamburger or chicken tenders with macaroni and cheese.
I straightened and shook my father’s hand, then Mason’s. Finally, I circled the table to my sister-in-law, Sheila, and kissed her cool cheek. She never wore perfume, and I smelled only oaky chardonnay. “Doing all right?” I asked as I took the vacant chair between her and my mother.
“Fine, fine.” She sipped her wine.
“That bad, huh?” I murmured.
A faint smile creased her cheek, then was gone.
“You’re late, son,” my father boomed from across the table. His square jaw was the same as mine, though the lines around his mouth were deep. “Burning the midnight oil?”
I went through the motions of showing my teeth in an approximation of a smile. “It’s only eight thirty. I had some things to wrap up at the office.”
“I like your diligence, but delegation is what you need to cultivate to advance,” he said.
To keep from rolling my eyes, I raised a finger to catch our server’s eye.
“We ordered for you, Cole,” my mother said. “You missed the salad course.”
“Can’t disrupt the Campion schedule,” I grumbled.
“Our nanny gets double pay after eight,” Sheila murmured. “And Mason hasn’t seen the kids all day.”
A weight settled on my chest. “Sorry, Sheila.”
“Show up on time,” my sister-in-law said. “Then you can choose your own meal.” She squeezed my arm, softening her words. “I understand congratulations are in order.”