Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
GATSBY
A m I a stalker?
Probably. Maybe I haven’t reached that status just yet.
For the past few days, I’ve spent most of my time researching MarkTech and the founder, Maia Ocampo. Everything I’ve found is what everyone knows so far: She’s been kicking ass since the age of twenty-six with her app, Market Express .
That might be one of the most used applications, next to Hook—a matching app used just for hooking up.
It’s all about pleasure and feeding your needs. Hook feeds those who need sex. Market Express does the rest.
When you’re hungry, what do you do? You Market it. Maia made it a verb, like Google, Twitter, and so many other brands.
My brothers and I use it often when the young ones don’t want to pick up food or cook. I also use it when I’m working late, or when I don’t feel like going to the grocery store.They not only do the shopping for us, but they make sure that everything is fresh and to my liking.
MarkTech has other apps and also different subdivisions. One of them is an investment company that helps college students develop their ideas.
Maia is probably grooming the future generations.
However, there’s nothing specific about what she does with those innovative ideas .
Most information about her company and herself is guarded.
She’s tweaked her past too. According to Wikipedia, she was born and raised in Colorado, but I know she was born in Miami and raised in San Diego.
Her company started in New York, but the headquarters moved to San Jose eighteen months ago. I couldn’t find where she lives, and I promised I wouldn’t hire a PI to find out that information. That would make me fall into that stalker pile, and I’m not that desperate. Yet.
It’s bad enough that I’m following her on social media—with a fake account. What else can I do? She fucking blocked me fourteen years ago from everything that was available at that time.I called her office to request a meeting and her assistant told me she’s busy.
When Aslan, my brother, requested an emergency meeting for Spearman LP, I accepted immediately. I’m not a fan of meetings, and I can always tell him that I’ll join via teleconference. However, it’s the best excuse to head to San Francisco and figure out Maia’s game.
I mean, if we’re in some kind of war, the least I should know is why it’s happening, and most importantly, what are the rules?
Also, I should learn what the winner gets.
A night with her?
A lifetime?
Do I even want that?
Twenty-year-old Gatsby is still in love with Maia. At thirty-four, I’m practical when it comes to matters of the heart. When the person I’m destined to be with arrives…well, I hope it works out. In the meantime, as my brothers say, I’ll stay a fucking monk. But that’s a story for another day.
My private jet lands at seven o’clock in the morning. I barely slept, but I’m restless. It has nothing to do with my family and everything to do with Maia Ocampo. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t figure out her endgame.
Crazy.
What are you up to, Little Blue?
I should know. I used to know her so well. As I swerve through the San Francisco traffic, a million thoughts swirl in my mind. After Dad’s death, I felt lost, confused, and angry. If it hadn’t been for Lysander and Aslan, I would’ve been lost.
Being a triplet is a blessing. Our friendship is strong and we’re always there for each other. It helps me on days like today, when I feel…disoriented. But, if I tell them what’s going through my head, will they understand?
They don’t know much about Maia. I told them some, but not everything. She’s a hard subject to discuss. Almost as hard as talking about Dad’s death and the fire that destroyed the vineyard.
As I drive toward the underground parking lot of my company, I look at the twenty-one-floor building, its glass walls glinting in the sunlight, and I marvel at how we were able to keep our father’s legacy alive despite everything we faced after he died.
Mom fell into a catatonic state because she’d lost her soulmate.
We became our brothers and sisters’ parents, rebuilt the vineyard—Dad’s dream—and ensured Spearman LP continued.
I park in my spot and take the elevator to the twenty-first floor where the conference room is located.
At least, I think that’s where it is since Aslan decided to rearrange the executive offices.
I still don’t understand why he had to spend thousands of dollars to ensure he worked next to our chief of operations, a.k.a. his fiancée, Keaton.
I’m surprised when I notice that the boardroom remains the same as it’s been since Dad was in charge of the company.
It’s an enclosed room with glass panes, furnished with a long glass table and swivel office chairs.
There’s a large projector in front of the room.
It still has the same old boring, plastic plants my grandfather put in when the company opened.
Lulu, Aslan’s assistant, comes out from her office. “Good morning, Mr. Spearman. You’re thirty minutes early—as usual.”
I grin. “Aslan hasn’t arrived yet.”
She scans the area and whispers, “Ms. Nealy and Mr. Spearman have been here since seven. I assume they’re…busy since your brother asked me not to bother them.”
Her face is almost scarlet red. Lulu is in her late forties or early fifties, and though she isn’t old enough to be our mother, she could be like a fun aunt.
“You should stock his office with condoms,” I joke, heading toward the conference room.
“You don’t pay me enough to deal with you.”
“I’ll talk to my brother about that, Lu.”
Twenty minutes later, Aslan walks into the conference room alone.
“Where’s the fiancée? Did she realize you’re too much work and dropped your ass?”
He glares at me. It’s so easy to ruffle his feathers. “What? Am I right? You two broke up? I doubt it since you spent the last twenty minutes fucking in your office.”
“We were working,” he lies.
I chuckle. “On making a baby?”
Before he can answer, Keaton walks in along with Fern.
“Hey, Gatz,” Fern greets me, hugging me before taking a seat next to me. “Did you call Mom to tell her you’re in town?”
I shrug as if saying, I’ll call her later . She gives me a disapproving glance. She’s three years younger than us, but sometimes, it seems like she’s the oldest.
“Hi, Gatsby, I didn’t know you were back in town.” Keaton gives me the same look she gives Aslan or Lysander when we piss her off.
“What did I do now?” I glance at my brother, asking for help.
“I sent you an email last Thursday, and you haven’t responded to it yet,” she says as she takes a seat next to Aslan.
Fuck, how can I forget about that email? Mom’s birthday is coming up soon, and they want to throw her a surprise birthday party. I don’t even know what she wants from me. “Sorry, I’ll look into it later today or early tomorrow.”
She nods, satisfied.
Fern looks around. “Where is everyone else?”
“I’m here,” Cory says, rushing toward me. “You’re home!”
Out of everyone, she gives the best hugs. “Hey, squirt. How are you?”
She takes a seat on the other side of me and, like usual, begins to talk at a hundred miles per hour. “I’m doing great. We might sign a deal with a tech company that will distribute our drinks. Jason is looking over it, but I might come to you to see what you think.”
I understand why our cousin Jason is helping look at the contract. Though, she should contact a lawyer. However, a tech company interested in her products sounds weird. “Are you sure it’s an IT company?”
Aslan clears his throat. “If you don’t mind, we need to start. We don’t have all day.”
“Where is everyone else?” I ask. “In case you haven’t noticed, Heathcliff, Caspian, Huxley, and Lysander are missing.”
Aslan growls at me.
Keaton shakes her head, scoots closer to him, and whispers something. He smiles back like a fool in love. Then, when he looks at me, he answers like a human being, “Heath is in the hospital doing his rounds. We will have to record this and send it to him and Caspian, who is stranded in Canada.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Stranded?”
“Stranded, busy…it’s all the same,” he rumbles.
“He’s packing his shit and moving this week.
The number one procrastinator decided to look for an apartment just last week.
He hired the moving company today, or he’s looking for one.
I don’t care. All I know is that he has to be in Oregon by the end of the week. ”
I roll my eyes. This is why I was in charge of the schedules when we took over the roles of parents to our younger siblings.
Neither Lysander nor Aslan give a shit when it comes to details.
Caspian is meticulous with everything that has to do with his hockey career.
Evidently, moving out of Vancouver wasn’t as crucial as training every day and winning games. At least, he’s moving closer to home.
“Is he at least joining us on a video call?” I ask as I pull out my phone to send him a text.
Knowing him, he’s sitting on the floor, looking at the three hundred cardboard boxes he bought, holding the tape dispenser, and wondering if someone is going to come and help him move out. Why didn’t he ask for help?
Gatz: Do you need help?
Casp: With?
Gatz: You’re moving out.
Casp: Oh, that. I got it, don’t worry.
I narrow my gaze at the phone. That doesn’t sound like the Caspian I had to haul from practices to school to more practices since he was fifteen. I had to make sure he didn’t lose his hockey equipment and that he finished his homework and studied. It was a pain in the ass to be in charge of him.
Gatz: Are you sure?
Casp: Don’t tell Aslan, but I’m in Portland already. I just didn’t feel like flying in for the fucking meeting.
Gatz: You’re in Portland? You did it all by yourself?
Casp: Dude, I’m twenty-nine, not fifteen. Give me a little credit.
Gatz: Was the lie necessary?
Casp: Yes, I don’t want to go to San Francisco. I have a week off. The last thing I want is to sit down during a boring meeting and then work for Lysander at the vineyard because he thinks I have nothing else to do.
Gatz: Fine, but you owe me.
Casp: Whatever.
“Gatsby, are you with us?” Aslan asks.
I lift my gaze from the phone and nod. “I was just making sure we didn’t have to fly to Vancouver. I don’t want him to lose his contract with the Orcas because he’s stranded.”
He shrugs. “Casp said he had it under control…well, as under control as he can have things. You know he can be irresponsible with things that have nothing to do with hockey.”
“Obviously,” I say. “Huxley and Lysander?”
“They’re getting coffee for everyone,” Cory says.“Can we point out that you have coffee available for your employees—and snacks—but you don’t have shit for us?”
Aslan grins. “We have it, but isn’t it fun to make them go and fetch shit?”
Fern and Keaton sigh at the same time. “Men.”
When Lysander and Huxley join us, Aslan begins the meeting. My phone buzzes, and I check it because what if Caspian was lying and he needs me to help him move out of Vancouver. I’m wrong. It’s a notification.
MarkTech to acquire Haux Drinks…
What the fuck?
Suddenly, Cory’s comment about a tech company offering her a deal and this headline click. Is Maia trying to fuck with Hux and Cory’s business? I’ve let her get away with a lot, but this is where I draw the line. No one messes with my family—not even Little Blue.