Chapter 4 #2
Putting more pressure on Nate, work that Connor would have to do in order to compensate for his inadequacies.
“Of course, sir,” he heard Nate say in a hoarse voice, not unlike a child being scolded.
“By the end of this quarter.”
“Yes, sir.”
Connor did his best not to eavesdrop too closely–though it was not to when he shared the same office space as Nate.
He could only make himself so scant, hiding behind the bookshelf, pretending to be focused on the dead pixels at the corner of his laptop instead of the words exchanged between father and son.
Their conversation wasn’t any of his business. He knew that. Whatever relationship Nate had with his father–the father who got him this job, whose last name he conspicuously did not share while in the office–Connor knew well enough that it wasn’t his place to speculate or show any interest.
Berkshire took his leave then, closing the heavy door behind him with a little more force than necessary.
Leaving the two of them alone, Connor pretending he hadn't played witness to Nate being dressed down by his father.
“Uh–should we–uh–”
Nate was addressing him, not that he realized it at first. But when he finally did, Connor cleared his throat as he shifted out from his hiding place.
“Keep going?” He offered.
“Yeah, uh–yeah. Let's keep going.”
“You've got lunch in Fountain Valley with a new investor,” Connor reminded him as he returned to his desk and glanced over at his calendar. “That's in two hours.”
“Oh, shit. I mean, uh–” Nate grimaced. “Sorry, that wasn’t professional. I thought that was tomorrow.”
“Nope, today.”
“It’s the–the–shoot, pair of brothers, right?”
“Right. Graham Financial Services.”
Nate turned around to face Connor, rubbing at his jaw.
“What would you say if I invited you along?”
“You don’t need me for this,” Connor said with a shake of his head. “You know Venture Capitol. You’ll have plenty to discuss with them.”
But Nate didn’t seem convinced.
“I’d just prefer it if you came. If you don’t have anything else going on.”
Connor was sure he hadn’t meant it as a slight.
If you don’t have anything else going on.
No, he never did. Not unless it involved serving his principal.
But whether Nate knew that or not, it was hard not to feel a little irritated. And that irritation hadn’t faded, even as Connor found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Nate’s Hyundai.
Avoiding eye contact with Nate, just as much as he was avoiding eye contact with the crucified Christ serving as the centerpiece for the rosary hanging from his rearview mirror.
Worse still was the icon of the Virgin Mary staring wistfully in his direction until Connor flipped up the shade when he was sure Nate hadn’t noticed.
So Nate was Catholic. Not that it was any of his business, but the iconography left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Little here reminded Connor of his life in Ohio, something for which he was often grateful.
But this was different, like the Virgin’s face cast him right into the headspace of his teenage self, desperate to escape those Catholic school days long left behind.
He would have been fine ignoring Nate and his relics all the way to Fountain Valley. But Nate was never one for quiet, and he insisted on filling the silence with small talk.
Well, one-sided small talk. Connor didn’t give him much from the passenger seat.
“It’s maddening, the freeways here,” Nate complained out of one side of his mouth. “I prolly would’ve been fine never driving, but you don’t have a train system in Orange County. I mean, you do, but it’s not–it’s barely functional, you know what I mean?”
“Maybe one day,” Connor said politely. “I heard Anaheim just cut funding for their bus system.”
He tried not to notice what was clearly a couple CVS receipts on the floor of Nate’s car, just inches from his feet. The crumpled white paper bag beside it looked like the one that held prescriptions–or it would have, if it didn’t resemble a ball rolling back and forth in the footwell.
“See, it’s impossible to live here without a car. I mean, my ‘Buelo was the only one in my family who even had a license until me. And that wasn’t for fun or for life, it was for work. They had him driving trucks out of Hell’s Kitchen for a while.”
“What, like the show?” Connor asked, only half listening.
“No, the borough,” Nate said, biting the inside of his cheek. “Forget I said anything.”
Connor caught his own reflection in the wing mirror and grimaced.
He was kind of being an asshole to Nate, and not for much of a good reason. What, jealousy? Envy?
That wasn’t the most mature way of handling this, and he knew that.
Nate didn’t say much for the rest of the drive, and Connor knew he was the reason why. And when Connor felt guilty about something, that meant overcompensating in some way.
Just as he did throughout this investor lunch, taking notes, being attentive, and generally trying harder than he planned to make Nate look, well, like a halfway competent exec.
For the most part, it went well.
Norman Graham, the elder of the two brothers, had instantly clicked with Nate about the upcoming World Cup.
“You look like a soccer guy. You a soccer guy, Nate?” Norman asked. “You look like a soccer guy.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Connor wondered, something about it rubbing him the wrong way.
But Nate rolled right along, smiling pleasantly.
“You got me,” he said, holding up his hands as though in surrender. “I can’t get enough. Who do you support?”
“I like to call my team, EBG–everyone but Germany.”
Whatever the joke was, it went right over Connor’s head as Nate and Norman laughed.
Soccer dominated the conversation for the bulk of lunch, Norman interrogating Nate about what he thought about this team or that team while Randall Graham, the younger of the brothers, kept trying to bring Connor in on a conversation about Alarie’s potential ROI for Graham Financial Services.
“I can confidently say that unlike Germany, Alarie has an outstanding record of hitting our client retention goals year after year,” was about the closest that Nate got to talking about business, all the while Connor debated kicking him under the table.
What are you doing? He wanted to ask, biting back his frustration and shielding himself behind a pleasant facade.
But somehow, Nate’s methods worked.
Lunch ended with a pair of firm handshakes, Norman clapping Nate on the back with a grin.
“We’ll be in touch to formalize an agreement this week. It’ll be great working with someone who hates Germany as much as I do.”
That got a hearty laugh out of Nate, a joke that Connor still didn’t understand even as they returned to his Hyundai after lunch.
“I didn’t know you liked soccer so much,” Connor commented as Nate started his car, if only because he didn’t know what else to say.
He'd never been one for sports, unless chess counted as a sport. For Connor, it often was; his preferred technique tended to involve frustrating his opponents into a forfeit. Sometimes, that involved ignoring muttered threats, even dodging thrown pawns. Once, it had been a time clock.
So, not quite soccer.
But Nate let out a little huff of breath.
“I don’t. It’s all my step-dad.”
There was something in his tone as he said that, something Connor puzzled at.
“Your step-dad?” He asked cautiously.
Not that he’d ever pondered much about Nate’s family life–aside from the last name he didn’t share with his father.
So his parents were divorced. Was that recent? Had that happened when he was a child?
Questions Connor knew better than to ask.
“Yeah. Hector. He’s a good guy. Loves three things in life. My mom, Pérez Prado, futbol, in that order. Pretty much grew up sitting at his feet while he gave commentary on matches.”
Nate made a face as he watched his backup camera, not seeming to trust the on-screen line guides as he slowly eased out of his spot.
“You’re good on this side,” Connor said, like it would help.
“Thanks.” Nate checked his mirrors and glanced over his shoulder before straightening his car and pulling out, the conversation stalling between them.
And still, Connor found himself wondering all that he shouldn’t be wondering–about Nate, about his childhood with his stepfather, about what relationship he might have had with his biological father while another man loved his mom and taught her son about soccer.
One thing he couldn’t help but notice? Nate wasn’t on that list.