29. Haze
29
HAZE
The first few weeks of February have felt very strange. I’d never noticed Imry working, so I assumed he did so while I was at work. But there were middays when he’d be home and entire days during the week when I was supposed to be working, and we’d be together instead.
Something changed in February. He’s working all the time now until the late hours of the evening. I don’t think I’ve seen him before eight any day this week.
I’ve tried to learn more about what ‘ contracts ’ involve in lawyer-speak but he can’t talk about it because they’re confidential. Which I understand. I swear, a lawyer’s entire life is confidential.
But that’s the thing, right? He works in contracts. Even if I take it as complicated as I can even imagine it would be, he’s reading contracts. Looking for legalese that’s misleading or illegal, right? Why in the world does he stay until eight? What kind of contract can’t wait until the next day? How long is this contract that we’re nearing three weeks into the month, and he’s spent probably seventy to eighty hours a week going through it?
It’s not just Imry, either. Avory, Ellory, and Myro are all working on the same contracts. Even Loren’s been going into the office to work on them, which Oakley finds curious and yet, not enough that he does more than shrug. Now that I think about it, Daddy Jalon’s working on them too. I asked him about researching the Van Dorens, and he agreed, but said he couldn’t talk about it for a while since he’s tied up with some contracts while he looks for the key to the archives room.
Why does it bother me? Because I miss Imry! Talk about a shock when I realized. But it’s true. Our texts are fewer now because he’s so busy. He comes in late at night, and he’s so tired that we don’t talk much. He falls asleep in my arms almost instantly when we sit down to watch television.
I hate that he’s so tired. Not because I’m feeling neglected—though to be fair, it’s been weeks since I’ve been choked. But because he’s going to burn out. He looks visibly tired.
I climb the stairs to the fourth floor and knock loudly on Honey Bee’s bedroom door. She won’t break any confidentiality, but I know I can pick her brain, anyway.
She opens the door with an eyebrow raised. “Why are you pounding on my door?”
“It’s a big room. I wasn’t sure if you’d hear me.”
She rolls her eyes and takes a step backward to let me in. “I’m not going to be late. I don’t have to leave for another ten minutes.”
We’re having dinner together, all six of us, on the front porch of the big house.
“I know. I wanted to ask a question about work on the way down.”
She grabs her sweater and slips into her shoes while she nods. “Sure. Shoot.”
“Do you see the triplets around the office?” I ask.
When we moved to the Van Doren Estates, Honey Bee took a job at the office onsite working for Van Doren Technologies in their legal department while she confirmed she wanted to continue in the lawyer field.
“Yep. He’s not cheating on you.”
My feet stop moving as I stare at her. “What? Why would you even say that? What’s going on in the office?”
“Whoa,” Honey Bee says, grabbing my hand. “I said he’s not . I don’t know what you’ve heard?—”
“I haven’t heard anything at all, so why the hell would you lead with that? What have you heard? What have you seen that would make you say so?”
“Calm down. I’m sorry. Absolutely nothing. I just feel like that’s the first place people’s minds go when their partners suddenly begin to work late.”
“On contracts,” I mutter, scowling. Maybe he’s?—
“He’s not cheating on you,” Honey Bee insists. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I promise, he’s in a conference room with his brothers and father almost the entire time he’s in the office. They have food brought to them. I’m pretty sure there’s a bathroom attached to the conference room, since I never see them come or go the entire time I’m there.”
I frown. “That makes my original concerns more founded,” I say.
She sighs. “I’m sorry. Also… what concerns?”
“They’re working on contracts . That seems like a weird thing for five, sometimes six, of them to be holed up in a conference room over, doesn’t it? One of them being Daddy Jalon!”
Honey Bee shrugs. “I don’t know anything about contracts. Sorry. That’s not where my interest lies.”
Huffing, I nod. “Fine. I didn’t actually think you’d have anything useful to tell me. Except make me worry my boyfriend might be cheating on me.” She smiles and I think that’s a very strange reaction to what I just said. “What?”
“You called Imry your boyfriend. I’ve never heard you refer to him as such before.”
“Okay…?”
She shakes her head, linking her arm through mine. There’s still a smile splitting her face as we step outside to where our friends are waiting.
“What has you so smug?” Brek asks.
“Hazey has his first boyfriend,” Honey Bee says.
I groan and shake her off me. “Seriously, you’re insufferable today.”
She grins, shrugs, and takes her seat between Oakley and Brek. I don’t miss the way the rest of my friends are looking at me, though. All wearing big, stupid smiles.
“I’m going to eat alone if you’re going to focus on this,” I warn, pointedly not taking my seat.
“How’s work?” Levis asks. “You find something to research?”
I sit beside him and reach for the rolls sitting in the middle of the table. “Yes, actually. The Van Dorens have been on this land since the 1800s. Arguably there’s something interesting to learn about their pasts. I asked Daddy Jalon if I could research the family and maybe have an official history published about them for their 150 th year on this property.”
“That’s really cool,” Oakley says. “I can’t wait to hear about what you learn.”
“What have you found so far?” Levis asks.
“Not a lot yet. I’ve been to local historians, archives, and libraries to dig up what I can. Daddy Jalon says the family has an archive, but he’s not sure where the key is, so once he’s finished with the contracts everyone’s working on, he’ll look for the key.”
“Key?” Oakley asks, looking perplexed.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Is the archive on the property?”
I shrug. “I imagine it is. They have their own village here, so it seems weird that it would be anywhere else.”
“Then… why can’t he just add access to your identification card?” Oakley asks.
The entire table stops moving as we consider his question. I hadn’t given it much thought because it didn’t sound unreasonable. If you don’t access some places often, losing track of the key is likely enough. I lose my earbuds if I don’t use them for a couple days.
But he’s right. Everything, and I do mean everything, on the Van Doren Estate is accessed via electronic security.
“That’s a good question,” Honey Bee muses.
I glance around the table, wondering if I’m the only one who’s now feeling very curious about this. I’m surprised when I see a wary look on Briar’s face as he looks at Oakley.
“You ever get the impression there are secrets hiding right under our feet?” Brek asks, leaning forward and lowering his voice.
“Like a doomsday shelter city?” I point out.
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to go all conspiracy theorist on you, but what if Oakley’s right, and he can just give you electronic access? What if he just needs time to remove anything incriminating before he lets you in?”
I glance at Briar, and he’s still looking cautious as he takes a bite of his roll. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles, but there’s something cagey about it.
“There’s almost 150 years of history in the archives. If you’re right, I’d be willing to bet he can’t get it all out. We also know he’s actively working on contracts, so he’s not personally cleaning the archives out. Neither are any of the Van Doren sons or siblings,” I point out.
“Is Voss really in New York?” Brek asks, narrowing his eyes.
Briar rolls his eyes. “He is. Noaz has talked to him and his old colleague over the phone at the same time. The colleague who is located in NYC.”
“It could be a conference call,” Honey Bee points out.
Briar sighs. “It’s not. You can tell when they talk over each other that they’re sitting beside each other and not digitally cutting over the lines.”
I have a strange vision of Imry fucking me on the hassock while I play games with my brother and his friends. Is that how Voss and this colleague of Noaz take calls?
“Anyway,” I say. “Work is good. I have something to look forward to researching. It’s the first thing that I’ve felt even mildly interested in since I started at the college.”
“Cool,” Levis says.
Our conversation stops as the kitchen staff brings us our food. We thank them graciously and excessively. Honey Bee tried to tip them a few times when we ate somewhere they don’t usually deliver food, and they were slightly offended. They get paid well, and this is simply part of their job.
Now Honey Bee brings them flowers and shit. I brought them pucks from the Carolina Blue Hawks that I asked Oren to send as a thank you. I think the others have been doing the same. It’s nice to be appreciated. Especially when someone goes above and beyond what’s required of them.
“So, I got some tea,” Brek says, once we’re alone again.
“What’s that?” Honey Bee asks.
“So, the Van Doren Estate backs up against private land that used to be part of a reserve, but the owners are selling it and not to the reserve that’s been using it for wildlife refuge,” Brek says.
“That’s… weird.”
“It gets more interesting. Daddy Jalon’s buying it. At first, I thought it made obvious sense because he doesn’t want neighbors. Privacy and whatever.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Levis agrees while I nod.
“Right. Except that he’s already got some licensing happening for what looks like a fucking campus of some kind,” Brek says. “There are stipulations built into the sale. Of the one-hundred-and-nine acres, only three percent can be developed, including the little shacks already in existence. He’s petitioning for building on nine acres and in exchange for the granted expansion, he’ll plant eight trees for every one he takes down. He’s also promising green, sustainable buildings, and to keep the land a refuge for wildlife.”
“That’s…” Honey Bee trails off.
“Interesting,” I agree.
“What does he want to build that takes up nine acres?” Oakley asks, perplexed.
I look at Briar, and, unlike the last topic, he’s genuinely curious about this one. It’s news to him. However, the potential secrets in the archive are not . Hmm. Perhaps I need a private conversation. Maybe he’ll spill what he knows.
“A campus of sorts,” Brek says. “I said that already.”
“Maybe he’s going to move the business campus off the primary property?” Levis suggests. “Keep this space personal?”
“And do what with the building? Leave it abandoned?” I ask. “That seems counterintuitive to everything we’ve learned about how Daddy Jalon conducts business.”
“Fair point,” Levis says.
“Are you talking a business campus or a school campus or…?” Honey Bee prompts.
Brek shrugs. “The prints I’ve seen aren’t labeled. There’s just a basic layout of architectural landscapes and buildings.”
“This family belongs in a Sherlock Holmes book,” Oakley says, shaking his head.
“Do you think he’ll lease the space out?” I ask Levis. “You’ve been working in the office for a while.”
Levis is already shaking his head before I get the first question out. “Nah. I can’t imagine him doing that. He has some really high standards about his empire’s carbon footprint and how to treat employees. Can you imagine him leasing to someone and them turning out to be the exact opposite?” He shakes his head again.
“Oh yeah. Nope,” Honey Bee agrees. “Daddy Jalon doesn’t conduct much business in the legal offices personally, but even I see those ideals echoed through the building. I can’t imagine he’d compromise them.”
“I’m dying to know what’s going to happen,” Brek says. “I’ve been watching it closely.”
“Are you handling the sale?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. But Daddy Jalon asked me to accompany him to the property the other day as a new set of eyes on the project and asked if I had any concerns regarding the land.”
“Did you?” Briar asks.
Brek shakes his head. “It’s empty land. There are two shacks on it and what was probably once used as a research studio, but is now in ruins. Looks like it was taken out by a storm, which also seems a little weird, but whatever. I did poke a little with questions, asking if there’s electricity, sewage, plumbing—that kind of thing. The new campus would be right off the edge of the current estate. We drove in on the path he’d tie into the existing roads of the Estate. It’ll be accessed via routes 64 and 180; the access to the Van Doren Estate would be private access only, so it’s definitely intended for public use of some kind.”
“You’re right, Oak,” Levis says. “This belongs in a book. I’m intrigued.”
“You know, we could probably just ask him,” Briar says. “It doesn’t have to be a mystery.”
“I think I’ll start with asking Loren,” Oakley says. “I can tell by his response whether it’s worth asking Daddy Jalon about it.”
“Ohh, I’ll ask Myro. Haze, you ask Imry, and Briar can ask Uncle Noaz. Then we can compare our answers,” Honey Bee says. “Just for funsies.”
Briar shakes his head, amused. “We’re making this into something far bigger than it is,” he says.
As our conversation drifts to a moment of silence, and we concentrate on eating, an enormous vehicle pulls down the driveway. It’s one of those giant truck beds that’s been made into an SUV. It pulls up alongside the stairs to the big house.
We all watch, fascinated, as the engine shuts off. Like a fucking space car, the two back doors and the trunk slowly open. Massive wolves jump out and run around to the driver’s door.
“Some of the Van Dorens are weird as fuck,” Brek mutters.
“The word you’re looking for is eccentric,” I offer.
“That’s Rhodes,” Briar says as the man steps out. He looks like a younger Jalon in the way he dresses and holds himself. It’s almost uncanny.
I met him briefly at Thanksgiving and Christmas. He sat on Imry’s other side during Thanksgiving dinner, but we didn’t chat much.
“Relation?” Honey Bee asks as the man climbs the front steps. His attention turns our way. His stride falters, and he heads in our direction.
“Cousin,” I say. “Though I don’t know what that means exactly.”
Our conversation stops as he approaches. When he stops, he removes his sunglasses and sticks them in his front chest pocket, his eyes scanning the table. I gotta say, this man is definitely good looking. Especially when the corner of his mouth ticks up in an almost teasing smile.
“Hello,” he says, his eyes landing on Brek. “Hellloooo,” he repeats, drawing the word out a little. His voice is lower, unmistakably flirty.
Brek looks at him somewhat blankly. “Hi?” he answers.
Rhodes’ smile climbs.
I try to hide my chuckle by taking a sip of my water. Our poor, sweet, somehow oblivious friend.