5. Sawyer
Sawyer
I drink my morning piccolo coffee, my suit pressed to perfection, and sit in my city office, where I should be ready to start my day. Yet it feels different, empty. The large bookcases from Whispers aren’t lining my walls, the musty carpet smell vacant.
I was in Whispers for mere days last week, but already, I’ve packed up and sent a few creature comforts to my new place on Billionaire Boulevard and rescheduled appointments that I had booked over the next month. All due to my new commitments in the small town I know Tanner wants me to call home.
But I’ve lived in this city my entire life.
I’m a New Yorker through and through. The honking horns, the crowds of people, the nightlife, always something to do, all of it’s in my blood.
But as I sip my coffee, the taste bitter on my tongue, I come to the stark realization that the coffee Rochelle made me at the Delish Diner in Whispers last week was better.
“Sawyer?” I look up to see my assistant, Wendy, at the door. She’s been with me for years. Almost at retirement, Wendy has been the one constant woman in my life, and I’ll miss her when she leaves.
“Hey, Wendy. What have we got going on today?” Sitting forward, I’m ready for the daily onslaught to begin.
I built my company up from scratch, and now employ over two hundred staff, ranging from attorneys for both corporate and commercial law, to criminal cases, and a small pro bono team, along with a vast administration team to support us all.
For Tanner to expect me to leave all this for a life in Whispers is laughable.
Although, my firm is a well-oiled machine and I have a great leadership team in place to manage things when I’m away. Which now appears to be often.
“Your nine a.m. had to reschedule to later next week. You have a team meeting at ten, lunch with the head of the Mets at midday, and then this afternoon, you have video interviews lined up for lawyers out of Williamstown.”
As soon as I got to Whispers, one of the first calls I made was to my HR manager to start scouting for potential staff for the Whispers office. While the town is cute, I’m not sure I can commit so much of my time there, regardless of what Tanner wants, so I need some support just in case.
“Thanks, Wendy. Tell HR to provide me with the top two potentials from Williamstown by midweek and align the Mets games with my schedule. If I can make a few games this season, I would like to. My corporate box is gathering dust at this point.”
She nods, making a note for herself, before asking, “How’s Whispers going?”
“It is what it is. You know Tanner; he loves that town. But it’s quiet, not much happening there.”
“Sounds like just what you need. Get away from this hustle and bustle for a while. Give you some space to think, to breathe. You’re too stressed here.”
“You’re the one retiring, not me, Wendy. I’ve got deals to do, money to make.”
She scoffs at me, like only my oldest, most loyal employee can.
“There’s more to life than work, Sawyer. Just remember that.” She collects some files before turning and walking out the door. My cell rings before I can respond, and she leaves me to it.
“Twice in a week, I’m feeling loved.”
My brother snorts a laugh.
“Is that all it takes to feel loved? If so, you’re clearly not with the right woman,” he jokes, knowing full well I’ve been single for a while.
I played the field in my youth, then had a few years when I worked hard and partied harder before finding a woman I thought might be the one.
Turns out, she wasn’t. After a failed engagement, I dove back into work and became more successful than I ever thought possible and have been casual with women ever since. My work always comes first.
“You tell me.” I know full well, aside from me and Mom, he doesn’t call anyone else. The ladies he indulges in are usually for a night or two, never more than that.
“Touché. You back home? Got over your little issue with the cows?”
I lean back, knowing my meeting is canceled so I have time to talk.
“I got a new suit, if that's what you mean.” I didn’t really need a new one, since I have plenty, but I ordered a full wardrobe to be shipped to Whispers, not wanting to be caught short again.
“Is there much to do in Whispers?” Sutton questions, making me pause.
“Literally nothing, unless you like whiskey, wide-open space, and the quiet of the country.” I’m honest with him, before my mind wanders back to the blond farmer I haven’t stopped thinking about.
“That sounds good about now. Things are getting a little crazy here, and I had to up my security. Last week, someone got through my gates, and when I got home, they were in my bed.”
I sit straighter at that. “What the absolute fuck?” Sutton may be as big and tall as I am, but he’s still my little brother. The same one I protected all my life and have no plans of stopping.
“Yeah. Young girl, a little unhinged.” He huffs a small laugh, one I know isn’t humorous, rather awkward or hesitant.
“What happened?” I want all the details and open my laptop to do a search online for the latest Hollywood gossip. He’s often featured, so much so, I pay little attention anymore.
“I had my security team with me, thankfully. They were helping me inside with my bags and things because I had been in Cabo…”
I look at my screen and see photos of him and some model getting handsy on a beach, and I scrub my face.
“We heard a noise, went to investigate, and there was a woman in my bed. Police were called, and security took her away.”
“What did Bobby say?” I grit my teeth, hating his agent, Bobby, who, in my opinion, is a thieving asshole. He takes too high of a percentage from my brother at every opportunity. But he spotted Sutton first, and they have a long relationship.
“Told me it was great press and to forget about it. So I hired more security, and now they always walk me inside and do a sweep of the house before they leave.”
“Good. Safety first and always, okay?” I tell him like he’s ten and walking to school by himself for the first time, instead of being the global movie star he is.
“What’ve you got lined up next? Do you still promote things on your socials?
You know, products and things?” Sutton is always jumping from one movie set to another.
Being a workaholic is a trait we both have taken on.
The fear of having nothing and the need to make something of ourselves burns deep within us both after being raised scraping by for everything we had.
“Not really, unless it’s big. I’m working with a clothing brand at the moment, so I’m sponsored to do a bit for them. Why?”
“A friend of mine has a soap business they’re trying to get off the ground.
Had some success locally, and now they’re wanting to move to a more national distribution.
Since they’re trying to get some traction, just thinking I'll send you some.” I act nonplussed about it, but the opportunity is swelling in my stomach at having my brother play a part in promoting Gertie’s Soaps.
“Who is she?” he asks abruptly.
“What?” I pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“You’ve never asked me to promote anything before.
Not even your own business. Not even Whiteman’s Whiskey, which I’m still hoping to be the face of for some commercials so put a word in.
But the last time you asked me for anything, Sawyer, was in eighth grade when you had that crush on Becca Langer and you wanted me to organize a playdate with her brother so you could walk me over to her place and see her out of school.
Which I did by the way. So, who is she?”
“No one,” I say quickly, sipping the remainder of my coffee.
“So there is someone,” he teases, and I try not to huff.
“No. You’re being stupid.” Our conversation’s turning less professional and more like teenagers squabbling.
“Does it have anything to do with you falling in cow shit the other day? Being at a farm is yet another thing you’d never do, and yet there you were. In Whispers, meeting the townspeople. On their farms!” he says like he has a gotcha moment.
“Can I send you some soap or not?” My shoulders feel tight, my brother’s teasing grinding my gears, yet I can’t help smiling.
“Sure. I’ll lather up my naked body in your girlfriend's soap. Want me to take a picture with all the suds on me? Maybe she would like to see it. I work hard on my six-pack; I should show it off…”
My jaw clenches. Clearly, I didn’t think this through.
“You’re an asshole.” He laughs, taking great delight in this conversation.
“Yeah, and you have a crush. About time. It’s been years since Mandy, and all those city girls aren’t really your style. Maybe this country girl could be just what you need.”
I think about his words. Mandy, my former fiancée. The one who left me the minute things got hard.
“It’s just soap, Sutton. That’s it.”
“Fine. You go live on denial island. I’m going for a workout. Gotta have those abs popping when I soap up. See you, bro.” He ends the call, not giving me a chance of rebuttal.
As I toss my cell onto my desk, there’s a knock at my door.
“Connor’s here,” Wendy announces, and I stand just as Connor walks in.
“Connor, hey.” Blowing out a breath, I try to get my head back in the game as we shake hands.
“Sawyer, I called the local office, and Jerry said you were back in the city. Thought I’d drop by, go over a few things with you before lunch.”
It isn’t unusual. My door is always open to him, and as we take a seat on my lounge, I wonder what he wants to discuss.
“I didn’t know you were in the city this week.” He works between Whispers and New York. His girlfriend, Daisy, comes with him for the most part, visiting her family here. The two of them are inseparable.
“Had a few team issues here I needed to fly in and sort out. But I flew in last night and want to be back tonight.”
“That quick?”
“You know I hate being away from home, and I sure as hell hate being away from Daisy.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand how a man can be so consumed by their woman that he can barely stand being away from her.”
“Nothing wrong with going home to a good woman, Sawyer. What’s the alternative? Drinks at the Polo Bar? Young girls fluttering their eyelashes at you while also tracking your jet?”
He’s right. I’ve dated for years and nothing serious ever comes of it.
Mostly because the women I meet look for my bank balance before they even look at me.
So I bury my head in work ninety percent of the time, because my penthouse, although luxurious, can get a bit lonely.
I live in one of the world’s most populous cities, yet at times feel completely alone.
“When are you flying back?” he asks me.
“Here for a few days, then flying into Whispers on Thursday.”
“Great, just in time.”
He and Tanner are always doing something, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me that they’re building a theme park next.
“In time? In time for what?” I scrub my face, knowing I’m not going to like his answer.
“Well, you’re sponsoring the junior baseball team this year, right? Their first game is on the weekend.”
“Yeah, a weekend in Whispers isn’t really in the cards for me.” I think I’ll fly in and out this time. Although, as I hear the muffle car horns and traffic below, I start to think maybe a quiet night or two might be welcome.
“But we all know how much you love baseball. Hell, you own a fucking team, Sawyer.” I think about my beloved New York Mets, the team I’m a minority owner of. I’ve been a fan of baseball since I was a kid, and I still love it to this day.
“Besides, as a sponsor, you have to be there. It’s the first game. Can’t let the kids down.” Connor sits back in his seat with a big shit-eating grin on his face, and I roll my eyes at him.
“That’s a low blow,” I murmur, not wanting to be the reason kids can’t play. As a kid, baseball was my only solace, where I escaped the daily grind and found friends, happiness, and health. “Are you going to be there?”
“Nah, Daisy and I will do our morning yoga and then go down to her new studio and start the fit-out with Victoria. But I’ll see you at the bar on Friday night,” Connor confirms, plans seemingly already in place. My usual well-planned week is now morphing into something else.
“Fine. What else did you want to discuss?” I ask, and his face turns serious.
“The Grant brothers. I heard they’re making moves.”
I nod. “Heard that too. I mean, they run a very fucking big empire; their real estate holdings are impressive.”
“We’re working with Van Cleef, and I love Val and AJ. But if there’s an opportunity…” His sentence hangs in the air.
“Van Cleef offers us a pretty good foothold. Plus, we have more meetings we want to line up with them for stocking the whiskey in their hotels.”
“Grant Holdings is global. Andre has a corporate box near mine at the games. He’s almost permanently here now.”
“He’s pretty much retired. Tyler is the man we need to talk to.”
The Grant family runs hotels and properties across the world, having started in France and worked their way around Europe before hitting the Asia region and now making moves here in the US.
“If we wanted to make a deal, what does that mean for Van Cleef?” he asks me outright.
“We have the usual competitive clauses. But… we could do it. It’s a longer-term strategy, so we’ll need to build relations, work out exactly what we want from it.
” It would mean a lot of networking and a lot of contract shuffling, but I know I can do it.
“If Whiteman’s Whiskey wants to be global, Grant Holdings is the company we need to associate with. ”
Connor’s eyes brighten. “I want to go global.”
“My favorite type of deals.”
With matching smiles, we start to strategize.