Thirty-four
Austin
I rub my temples, the throb behind my eyes a testament to the hours I’ve logged for EnergiFusion as Steve drives me back to the loft from the airport. Since we’ve been served with the lawsuits, I’ve been back and forth twice to Detroit to meet with lawyers, and Grantham has warned me that I may need to go back again next week. Why can’t we meet over the phone or through videoconference? Why does it have to be in person?
My gaze flickers to my phone for the umpteenth time. The screen is devoid of life, save for the damning row of blue bubbles—eight unanswered text messages to Danica.
“Come on, Danica,” I mutter under my breath, as if her name could summon a reply. It’s been three weeks. I know my mother is behind this, but at least Danica could give me a chance to beg for forgiveness.
I should stop by the office, but it’s a graveyard of paperwork and half-empty coffee cups. Lately, though, it’s not the mountain of tasks that has me feeling like I’m drowning. No, it’s the unsettling quiet from Danica that pulls me under. What happened?
I call her number, and it rolls to an automatic voicemail that recites the number in a droning voice. She even got rid of her sweet message. Not being able to hear her voice only makes me miss her more.
When the beep sounds, I leave my message. “Hey. It’s me again. I’m on my way home, and I’m coming to you. Detroit was exhausting. I realize you may not want to see me, but I need to see you. We at least need to talk about this. I miss you.”
The rain peppers the window as I swipe through the digital clutter of my phone and find the latest reminder of my mother’s visit, a six-figure credit card statement glaring up at me. A bitter laugh escapes me. She never does anything small. But this time, it’s more than just extravagance. It’s sabotage. She knows how much Danica means to me, and yet here we are, with Danica silenced, likely because of something Mom said to her.
“Typical,” I scoff. Maybe Mom did have a point about my choice in women in the past, but not this time. I know Danica, and she’s different. She’s…
The memory of my mother’s disapproving glare at the mere mention of Danica’s name flashes before me. It’s always been like this, with me the sole focus of her universe. Of course, there were others before Danica, girlfriends who faded into obscurity under my mother’s critical eye. None measured up.
Each former flame flickers briefly in my mind’s eye, but they all pale in comparison. Danica is different. She’s passionate, unpredictable, and damn it, she sees through my carefully constructed fa?ade.
If only she’d answer my texts or call me back. If only she knew that despite my cool exterior, I’m anything but calm inside. The weight of being the perfect CEO, son, and inventor all while keeping the peace… It’s suffocating. I don’t feel like myself.
The car remains silent and my phone, stubbornly unresponsive.
Steve drops me off, and I stride through the lobby of the condo building, my steps echoing off the marble. I’ve rehearsed this conversation with Danica a dozen times in my head, and it still doesn’t feel right. The party was a disaster. I ignored her, lost in work and those damned lawsuits, with Grantham biting at my heels. But none of that is an excuse for not being there when she needed me, not defending her from my mother’s rudeness.
I punch the elevator button more forcefully than necessary. It dawns on me that Danica’s silence might be more than just my mother’s doing. Maybe it’s my own neglect that’s pushed her away. My hand hovers over my phone, itching to send another message. But what’s the point if she’s not responding? I’m going to pound on her door and sit in the hallway until she comes home.
The elevator dings, and I step inside, hitting the button for our floor. Instead of walking to my door when I arrive, I knock on hers and wait for her to answer.
“Come clean, man,” I mutter to myself.
There’s no answer, and I consider the possibility that she’s not home or, worse, that she’s avoiding me.
“Danica, it’s Austin,” I call, pressing my ear to the door. “Please, we need to talk.”
Silence greets me, and the weight of the situation settles on my shoulders. She’s not home. Could she be out with Marisa or maybe a date? I return to my loft and spot an envelope on the floor. My heart races as I open it, hoping it’s from Danica. Instead, it’s from the head of the HOA. I scan the letter. Apparently, one of my guests caused a scene earlier this week, pushing all the buttons for the units and yelling that she had a code to access my place and it wasn’t working. She screamed when they refused to admit her to the building. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m sure this is Sandrine. I changed my door locks and code entries on purpose. She is not part of my life any longer.
I photograph the letter and send it off to Jim so he can research what’s happened. I sit down on my couch and quickly realize I don’t want to be here alone. If I can’t be with Danica, maybe Rhys and Theo are around.
I text them, and thankfully, after a short rideshare journey, I’m using tonight’s password to gain access to Bourbon and Branch, a San Francisco speakeasy.
Walking through the crowded bar, I grab a bourbon from the bartender and make my way to where I know the guys are hiding.
The mahogany door of Bourbon and Branch’s private library squeaks slightly as I push it open. Rhys and Theo have claimed spots in the worn leather armchairs. They each raise a glass in greeting as I step in, loosening my tie with one hand.
“Finally,” Rhys says. “Thought you were going to start looking for a new crash pad in Detroit.”
“Naw. I’m determined to kick these lawsuits to the curb.” I sip from my glass. The amber liquid feels smooth.
“Brian Kelly’s statement,” Theo starts without preamble, always the one to cut through the pleasantries. “You saw it?”
Brian Kelly from the NHTSA loves the spotlight.
“Hard to miss,” I respond, placing my glass on the table. “The judge is requiring me to meet with the Big Three automakers, though I’m not sure why. He won’t let them or the vehicle owners move forward with their lawsuits until the NHTSA finishes their investigation of EnergiFusion and issues their report. So there’s nothing to work out. All Brian is willing to do is confirm we’re cooperating.”
“Which we are,” Rhys adds. “But the way he said it—like we’ve got something to hide.” He rolls his eyes.
There’s a beat of silence as we consider the implications. My mother’s words about Danica echo in my head, but I brush them aside. This isn’t about personal drama. It’s about the company.
“Turner,” I say, shifting gears. “We need to talk about him. He’s been emailing and calling me daily. He wants to work for us. I think Crystal got him thinking he could take the CEO job.”
“What?” Rhys says. “He’s not a fit for us in any role. And with this investigation…”
“Liability,” Theo finishes for him. His gaze meets mine. “We can’t afford missteps right now.”
I nod, relieved we’re all on the same page.
“Did you see Dr. Allen at the party?” Rhys interjects, brows furrowed. “Acting all strange, saying he doesn’t feel appreciated for all he did for us? He was our advisor and organized a showcase. We paid for our own lawyers.” He shakes his head. “But I guess he’s bitter because we haven’t thrown any money at him.”
“Dr. Allen has always been about the science, not the paycheck,” I counter, feeling frustration rising. “Have we forgotten to acknowledge him? Or is he just getting greedy?”
“Let’s check with Mason,” Theo suggests. “Before we start thinking he’s overstepped, let’s get an expert opinion.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Let’s get Mason’s take.
Theo fires off a text.
“Balance,” Rhys says, shaking his head. “That’s what we need right now.”
“Yup,” I agree. The weight of the unknown presses down, but in this room, with these guys, there’s a semblance of control. At least for the moment.
Theo’s phone pings. “It’s Mason.” He reads his response aloud. “In my experience, some people give shares to advisors, but it always seemed like it was because they had a real hand in development through suggestions and comments.”
We look at each other. Dr. Allen did nothing like that for us. And again, we don’t have shares. Are we just supposed to take up a collection?
“Dr. Allen doesn’t fit that role,” Theo says, looking up from his phone.
“Not even close,” Rhys agrees.
I nod. “Agreed. Tell Mason we all thank him.”
I swirl the remnants of my bourbon, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. Rhys and Theo’s voices fade into the background, blocked by the haze of my preoccupation.
“Hey.” Theo nudges me. “Are you just exhausted, or is something else on your mind? What’s going on with Danica?”
“I haven’t talked to her since the anniversary party.” I glance up, finding concern on his face. “Mom said she left with some guy.” The words taste bitter, even as I know there’s more to that story.
“Your mom is wrong,” Theo says. “I saw her get in a taxi, alone.”
Am I surprised? No, not really. I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Maybe she’s better off without me.”
His eyes widen. “Why would you say that?”
I snort. The list is long. “Seems like maybe that’s what she wants. Tomorrow will be three weeks since the party. We’ve not connected at all. She doesn’t respond when I reach out. I’m treading water, and right now, I feel like only my nose is above the waves.”
“So you’re just going to let her go?” Theo asks.
“Seems wisest…” I suppose.
“Can I ask her out then?” Rhys teases, but likely testing the waters all the same.
“No! You can pound sand,” I shoot back.
He raises his hands in surrender, and I sigh, regretting my harshness.
“Look, man…” Theo shakes his head. “I know you’re close to your mom, but don’t let her mess this up for you. Maybe it’s time she understands how important Danica is.”
They’re right. I know it. But when I reach for my phone, there’s still silence from Danica. That’s the piece of this I can’t figure out. What it means or what to do about it.
I stand up, feeling lost all over again. “I should head home.”
“Think about what we said,” Theo calls as I stride toward the door.
I raise my hand in a wave as I exit. When I hit the sidewalk, the City hums around me, alive with energy, but inside, I feel hollow. Thoughts of Danica, my mother, and the tangled web I’m caught in spin through my mind. I know my friends are right. I can’t keep letting my mother dictate my life.
As I make my way home, I realize it doesn’t matter whether Danica is talking to me or not. I have to make the effort to set things right, for her, for me. Even if she and I don’t have a future, I need to face the truth about myself. Maybe I’m the one who’s been far too silent all along.