Chapter 79
T he weekend came and went, but for my spot in life, Saturday and Sunday held the same schedule as Monday and Tuesday. The only difference was that the rest of the world also followed my schedule on Saturday, which made coffee shops and restaurants a real pain in the ass.
It was Monday morning, and like the previous few days, I woke up without an alarm.
I only had a few emails, no missed calls, and only a couple of casual, playful messages from Layla that I quickly responded to.
I moved about my morning routine of brushing my teeth, showering, eating breakfast, and watching TV at the world’s most casual pace.
My shower must have lasted about fifteen minutes, which wasn’t the most ecologically or financially friendly move ever but sure was relaxing.
Eventually, around eleven in the morning, I got bored and headed down to a coffee shop with my laptop and my phone, in the idea that I would do some work.
But what?
Like I had discussed during my visit with Layla and had thought many times before, I didn’t really have anything to fight against any longer.
There weren’t any chances I had to take in the world of business; my spot on the board for Hunt Industries was just a few weeks away, assuring my financial and working future.
I wouldn’t have to work that hard, especially since I knew board roles were often glorified, soft landing spots.
I suppose I could have done more work for Rising Sun and Virtual Realty, but both companies were growing and doing just fine without my hands in the middle.
Rising Sun, especially, had made something of a stunning comeback; little gave me as much pride as seeing Claire rise above the dirty tactics of Edwin Hunt to make the software company viable once more.
It wasn’t at its peak from before, but it was growing, it was financially viable, and it had a brighter future ahead of it.
Virtual Realty was doing just fine on its own; Andrew no longer complained to me about Edwin interfering.
In fact, Andrew had actually asked me if I knew anything about Edwin, given his lack of communication.
I had just said that he had chosen to transition into retirement and take on a more passive role in the industry.
All of this left me with a black coffee in my right hand, my email open on my laptop in front of me, empty chairs on both sides of me, and a whole lot of uncertainty as to how long I could just take this inaction.
It was one thing to not have any work to do.
It was quite another to not have anything to do in its place; there were only so many TV shows and so much I could consume before my natural instinct to fight took over.
I supposed I could better empathize with those who had retired, but what the fuck was I supposed to do?
Move to Florida and into a retirement community so I could play bingo with all the old ladies there?
There was really only about one person I could trust who knew how to handle this crisis of work and meaning, and he wasn’t even a perfect match, given that he was still working and bound to be working a lot more soon.
But an hour later, Morgan was seated in front of me on his lunch break, dressed from head to toe like the Manhattan business professional that it was.
Given that I had on gym shorts, a hoodie, and sandals, the contrast could not be any larger.
“Jesus, did you just roll out of bed?” Morgan asked as he took his seat with his latte.
“Don’t hate just because my bed clothes and my work clothes are the same,” I said, even having already asked him over precisely because I had no need for work clothes.
“I do have to admit, I think one of the first things I do when I take over Hunt Industries is to institute casual Fridays,” he said. “Edwin has fought against that idea for so long, I don’t think anyone at the company has ever thought it was possible.”
“You mean to tell me the old fart can’t change with the times? I’m shocked. Fucking shocked, I tell you.”
“Hey now,” Morgan interjected. “The old man is still my father. He may have done a lot of shitty things and screwed up in a lot of ways, but he’s still my Dad.”
I bit my tongue. I could never hope to understand Morgan’s admittedly complicated relationship with his father, and so when he made comments like this, I just kept quiet and didn’t say anything else.
“Anyways, what’s up? Sounds like you want to come work at Hunt Industries. I can make you my CFO.”
“Hah, we’re trying to give you Hunt Industries, not make you burn to death by taking it on,” I said. “No, I just… I don’t think you and I have talked big picture much, you know?”
“We’re two guys who have a habit of being closed off,” Morgan said with a chuckle, though he was completely accurate.
“I try and keep plans and things close to the vest, you throw yourself into projects or women aggressively so you don’t have to ask those questions.
Other people might pull it out of us, but we’re terrible for each other. ”
“Are you saying you’ll have to break up with me?
” I said with a smirk. “But seriously. We’re both going to be enormously wealthy soon, if not already.
When your father does die—sorry, but it seems like it’s closer than further out—then we’re both going to be billionaires.
Not only will neither of us have to work, neither of us will have to have our kids or our grandkids worry about working. And… I fucking hate it!”
I laughed as I saw Morgan recoil at the strength of my words, but damnit, I meant it!
“I thought that being able to sit on my ass and watch cartoon reruns all day would be fine, but it’s just so damn unfulfilling.
I don’t know what I want to do, and I know that this is like the ultimate in first world problems. I know that so many people would kill to be in my position.
But, fuck man, I don’t know who else to talk to. I’m just curious for your thoughts.”
Morgan didn’t sigh, look exasperated, or lean back. Instead, he looked very contemplative and very serious.
“You’re dealing with the same thing, huh?” I said.
“Not really, to be honest,” Morgan said.
“I’m going to be the next CEO of the company when Edwin steps down.
I suppose I’ve kind of thought about it when I considered not taking the role of CEO, but I don’t think there’s anyone who better understands what aspects of my father are good for the business and what aren’t than me. ”
You mean very little and almost all of it?
“I dunno, man, working for me isn’t about the money, it’s about the value,” he said.
That’s nice to hear from a Hunt.
“What’s the value I supply to others, you know? That’s something that’s become really apparent with everything going on recently.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “Fucking Ed… sorry.”
Morgan didn’t say anything about it.
“I wish I could give you some profound advice to tell you what to do right now,” Morgan said. “I really do. It sounds like you’re starting to go a little stir crazy. You could find more companies to invest MCH in?”
“Yeah, I could,” I said. “But the thing I’ve realized with MCH?
I did that as a direct fuck you to Edwin.
I did that in the hopes that MCH would outgrow Hunt Industries, never thinking I’d get a spot on the board or see Edwin retire at the age he is now.
And now that I’ve accomplished that? Well, MCH is your baby too, so you could do something, but—”
“I can’t, actually,” Morgan said. “The board won’t let me be CEO if I’m also running MCH. I have to agree to sell it to you.”
“Shit, really?”
“Yeah, just pay for my coffee one day and it’ll be fine,” Morgan said with a shrug.
“But—”
“It’ll be less of a headache if you do that than if we try and evaluate it fairly,” Morgan said. “Especially since I’ll be CEO real soon. I’d rather just get rid of that than try and extract some thousands of bucks from you.”
Holy shit, Morgan…
And to think, I thought at one time you weren’t on my side.
“You’re the fucking man,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no sweat,” he said. “But if you’re not going to do anything with that, what are you going to do? I couldn’t tell you. I can only say take your time.”
I laughed.
“Sorry, it’s just, that’s sort of a theme for me right now,” I said. “Taking my time. Taking… my time…”
Morgan looked at me in anticipation, knowing I had something more to say.
“It came up on my date with Layla on Friday.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s not happy about it. She said something about how she’s not going to wait forever.”
Morgan seemed nonplussed about it. That wasn’t hugely surprising; I knew Morgan didn’t have the greatest opinion of Layla either. It had improved, but he still felt I could have done better.
I supposed that I could find someone who had a better degree or a higher IQ or even a better body, but what really would have been the point? It was unlikely I would have found someone whom I had such a strong and good connection with.
“I figured,” Morgan said. “She’s all about you, Chance. But I don’t think she’s the only person who’s all about you.”
“I know,” I said, but I wasn’t interested in diving into the weeds on this one. “Regardless…”
“Take your time,” he said, checking his watch. “Hey, I gotta run back. Sorry I couldn’t be much more of a help—”
“Shut it,” I said with a smirk. “Just the fact that you recognize what I’m going through is enough. That, and taking my time.”
Fuck, “taking my time.” Is there anything in my life that such advice isn’t going to apply to right now? Sure doesn’t seem that way.
“Alright, I’m sure I’ll see you soon bud.”
Morgan patted me on the shoulder before shaking my hand and heading out.
It was a brief visit, all things considered—no longer than twenty minutes—and yet, thanks to my new motto, it seemed to be the kind of thing that had become less of a mantra and more like something tattooed on the front of my skull.
“Take your time.”
I looked at my laptop for a few more minutes, but I just found myself browsing through ESPN and other sports pages mindlessly. I was less engaged with the content in front of me and more just passing time.
I closed my laptop, dropped it off at my apartment, and decided to spend the day just strolling alone. It was a path very similar to the one I had taken with Layla.
But right as I got near Shake Shack, I decided to take a detour. I wanted to take a trip down memory lane.
In that time, I saw three companies within a twenty minute walk, all of them meaning something to me, for better and for worst. One was Hunt Industries, the place my brother would soon take over.
One was Burnson Investments, the firm that had first employed me and started this crazy, crazy period of my life.
And the other was Layla’s old firm, the place her uncle, Craig Taylor, ran.
It was strange to realize that for all of the bullshit I’d experienced in the past few months, for all the shit I’d had to dodge, confront, and encounter, it all took place largely from the operations of three different buildings.
It felt like the world to me, but even just the world of Manhattan, let alone the actual entire world, went about largely unaffected by my actions and my circumstances.
I obviously cared about myself, but the world didn’t care about Chance Hunt, Layla Taylor, Edwin Hunt, John Burnson, or anyone else of interest.
It was a strangely sobering and freeing feeling.
I didn’t have to live life like Edwin Hunt, constantly chasing.
Most of the world was too busy chasing its own goals to care, and even if the world temporarily took notice of me or someone else in my circle—as the papers did when Edwin Hunt announced his resignation—the attention was extraordinarily short-lived.
I sat down by a bench outside Hunt Industries, taking a break from walking and checking my email. I didn’t expect to find anything that would have mattered.
Instead, I found an email that, somehow, I knew was real the second I saw it.
“Hey Chance!
Long time no talk. Hope things are well. I’m going to be in NYC this weekend. Would you like to hang and grab coffee?
Best,
Sarah Hill”