Chapter 16
Jackson
I holdthe manila folder I just picked up as I enter the restaurant to meet my dad. It contains everything there is to know about Zara Hathaway, and I feel a little stupid for having assumed she was a journalist targeting me for a story.
”Oh, Zara Hathaway.” I shake my head as I think about her and her beautiful brown eyes. ”So you’re not a journalist. And as far as I can tell, your little newspaper column is for dating advice.” I chuckle. She doesn’t seem the sort of woman to give anyone dating advice, especially not good dating advice.
I feel that honesty is the best policy when dating. She hadn”t even told me that she had two kids. A part of me thinks I shouldn”t have expected her to tell me. We”d both gone into the night knowing it would only be a one-night stand. Yet I’m disappointed that she kept that from me. I am happy that she’s not a journalist. At least that assumption had been incorrect. She’s not deliberately targeting me so that she can get a story. That makes me feel better about the whole thing. It almost makes me want to have another night with her. Almost.
Now that I have her folder, I have her phone number and address. I could call her, text her, or show up at her apartment if I want to. Not that I want to show up at her place. I can still picture her shocked face when she saw me at the interview. I groan as I think about how I”d gone on about the fact that she couldn”t get an Oscar because of her bad acting. She hadn”t been acting. I step into the restaurant and look around. I see my father sitting in his regular seat at his regular table, and I head over toward him. He stands up, and I notice for the first time that he looks older and grayer. His mortality is speaking to me now, and there”s a thud in my heart that I”ve never felt before.
”Jackson, so good to see you,” he says, holding out his hand.
I”m glad he didn”t go for a hug. There are some things I don”t think I’ll be able to take from him. ”You too, Dad,” I say. ”How are you feeling?”
”I”m okay,” he says, nodding. ”I feel like I”ve been given a new lease on life.”
He sits back down, and I wonder if this is all part of some game plan or if the words are actually true. ”How have you been?”
”Good. Business is good.”
”I see that.” He nods. ”You and Ethan are doing really well.”
”We are.” I nod.
”Rosser International is one of the top companies in the world for a reason, nearly as high up as Pruitt Holdings,” he says. I watch him with suspicion. ”But we won”t get into that now,” he continues. ”Would you like a drink? An old-fashioned?”
”Sure,” I say, leaning back. I place the folder on the table, and he looks down at it with questioning eyes.
”You have papers for me to sign?”
”No.” I shake my head. ”Just some business I picked up from the HR office on my way here.”
”Oh.”
I don”t want to get into it, but for some reason, I find myself explaining more than I normally would have.
”I”m looking for an executive assistant, and I had an interview yesterday. Someone I thought may have been a plant for the New York Times trying to get a story on me and possibly you.”
”Oh,” Hiis face constricts. ”And?”
”And I was wrong,” I say, shaking my head. ”She”s not a journalist. Well, she has a little column on dating, but she”s not a hard-hitting journalist.”
”So, she was just there for the interview?”
”Yeah,” I say. ”She was.” I don”t go on to tell him that I actually met her previous to the interview, or that the interview had gone poorly, or that I’m thinking about calling her to see if she wants to have a second night with me. That”s none of his business.
”Okay then,” he says. ”Well, I”m glad to hear that my news is not out though.” He pauses. ”It may come out sooner rather than later.”
”Why?” I say. ”Are you going to issue a press release or something?”
”No,” he says, ”My business is my business, but people might start asking questions if…” He pauses, and I frown.
”If what, Father?”
”If you become the new CEO of Pruitt Holdings.”
”I”m not about to become the new CEO of Pruitt Holdings. I don”t even work for Pruitt Holdings,” I say, shaking my head. ”You know this, Father.”
”I know, but I would like to step down,” he says softly.
I’m shocked. Never in a million years would I have thought that my father would willingly say he wants to step away from the business he put his life and soul into, the business that cost me my childhood and my mother her marriage.
”You look surprised. I don”t blame you,” he says. ”Your mother thinks I”ve gone crazy.”
”Have you?” I ask him. I’m grateful when the waiter brings me an old-fashioned. I pick it up and take a long gulp, thankful for the smooth liquid as it hits my stomach and warms me up.
”Nearly dying has given me a new perspective on life,” he says. ”I enjoy business. I”ve enjoyed it, but I”ve pushed your mother away. I”ve pushed you away. I”ve pushed my own desires away.” He looks me in the eye, and he sighs. ”I know you”re surprised. I know you never thought you”d hear Cornelius Pruitt talk about feelings.”
”And I don”t really want to hear Cornelius Pruitt talking about feelings right now,” I say, my heart pounding. This kind of talk is making me uncomfortable, and I want to leave the table. My father and I don’t have conversations like this, and at that moment, I”m grateful that we don”t. My heart is constricting, my head is pounding, and my hands are clammy. I don’t like this feeling; it’s like I”m having an existential crisis. My father is making me uncomfortable, and I know I can”t just get up and walk away.
”I guess I understand what born-again Christians feel like,” he says, laughing.
”What are you saying? Have you found Christ?”
”I”ve always known Christ,” he says. ”Okay, maybe I haven”t been the best Christian, but I”ve been a Christian. You know that.”
”I mean, I know you”ve gone to church on Sunday, and I know that you tithe, but I can”t say that I think you”ve done much for those less fortunate than us.”
”I know,” he says. ”In fact, that”s what brings me to my next point.”
”Your next point,” I say, taking another gulp of my old-fashioned. I look over at the waiter, point to my cocktail, and nod at him, signaling that I want another. I”m going to need many drinks today.
”I want to start a nonprofit,” he says.
”A nonprofit? You?” Shock and humor have replaced my feelings of discomfort. My father is not the nonprofit sort.
”I”m not going to run it,” he says, shaking his head. ”I”m not going to be involved day-to-day. I”ll hire people for that, but I do want to invest in lower-income communities. I want to invest in bringing educational resources to school districts that do not have the same amount of resources to buy their textbooks or pay their teachers better or?—”
”Okay, and you wanted me to help with that or something?” I cut him off. ”Is that why I”m here?”
”No,” he says, ”you”re here because I want you to take over Pruitt Holdings. You”re here because I don”t want you to make the mistakes I”ve made in life.”
I take a deep breath. ”Dad…”
”Listen to me,” he says, shaking his head. ”You”re single, and I know you”re living a great life. You”re successful without me, without the company, but are you happy? Are you fulfilled? Do you go home at night and…”
”And what, Dad? Do I go home at night and wish I had someone there with me? Do I go home at night and wish that I could bang someone? Because you know I”m not a monk; I”m getting laid.”
”It”s not about getting laid, son,” he says, shaking his head. ”It”s about waking up and seeing kids and hearing laughter and living a full life.”
“Kids? Ugh.” I groan. I can”t stand bratty-ass kids. I think about Zara and her two kids and the mess and noise they made. I think about her son splashing me in the water fountain. I want to laugh at how absurd it had all been.
”I know you think you don”t want kids, son.”
”Oh, no. I know I don”t want kids. It”s not me thinking anything.”
My father takes a deep breath. ”Just think about it.”
”Think about what, Dad? You want me to think about getting married and having kids? You want me to think about taking over Pruitt Holdings? You want me to think about what?”
”All of it.”
”What are you going to do with the rest of your life, Dad? You didn”t die.”
”I want to become a golf pro,” he says.
”What?” I stare at him. ”Please tell me you don”t think you”re going to be Tiger Woods.”
”If I would”ve started when I was younger.” He grins, and I roll my eyes. He laughs then, and I look at him in surprise. I”ve never heard my dad laugh like this before.
”You know I”m just joking, right?” he says. ”I”m going to go and play golf, yes. But I don”t expect to be playing in the Masters.”
”That”s good.”
”Thank you.”
I nod my thanks to the waiter as he brings me another old-fashioned.
”Would either of you like to order something to eat?” he asks.
”Yeah,” I say. ”I”d like a Monte Cristo and some fries.”
”I”ll take a Waldorf salad,” my father adds. I have never seen my father order a salad before.
“I’m trying to stay away from red meat,” he says by way of explanation, because he knows I know that he always gets a steak. I nod. Maybe he is a changed man. The waiter walks away, and we sit there looking at each other for a moment.
”I want you to be happy, son,” he says.
”I know that.”
”I can”t reverse time and give you back all the years you missed, or be a better father, or even make you forgive me. But the one thing I can do is try to alert you to the fact that I made mistakes. I”m aware of them, and I regret them. And if I were to do it all again, I would definitely do things differently.”
”So why do you want me to take over the company you regret running so hard for so long?”
”Because you”re a better man than me.” He nods. ”And you”re in this for more than the money.”
”I”m totally in it for the money, Dad. I don”t work at Rosser International for free.”
”I know you don”t work there for free,” he says. ”And I know you have plenty of money without the family money, but I also know that you have a conscience, and I know that you put people first, and I know?—”
”Okay, Dad, you don”t have to tell me all the things you know. This is just a lot for me to take in. You know that, I assume.”
”I know,” he says. ”I just wanted to have a conversation with you. I wanted to apologize in person.”
”You don”t have to apologize to me, Dad.”
”I do,” he says. ”I know you”re a grown man, and I know that everything I”m saying isn”t going to change our relationship, but I hope to get to a point where it can. I hope to get to a point where I can be a grandpa, who is a better grandfather to his grandkids than he was a father to his son.”
”Dad, I”m not having kids.”
”You don”t know that,” he says.
I shrug because the truth of the matter is anything can happen in life, though I don’t see kids or a wife in my future, whatsoever.
I look down at the folder on the table and think of Zara. I wonder what she”s doing at this moment. I wonder if she”s looking me up on Google. I wonder if she wishes like I do, that I had closed that door and just taken her.
Hard and fast. Because as I sit here, I don’t care that she never mentioned her kids. I don’t care that her son splashed me. All I care about is having one more night with her so I can hear her saying she would give me the Best Lover of the Year award if she were handing out the prize.
“By the way, I can’t chat all day and night. I’m meeting my friend CK at a private club tonight, so I need to leave soon to do some work.”
My dad nods, and I’m grateful that he gets the hint. I’m not here to talk about starting a family, and I don’t want to talk about it any more than we already have.