Chapter 71 I WILL NOT MISS THIS
I WILL NOT MISS THIS
Oliver
When I arrive back in Manhattan late Friday after getting out of jail and driving myself back across the country, there’s no one I want to see and nothing I want to do here, yet I’m immediately plunged back into a world where there’s too much to do and not enough time to do it in.
Stupid fucking decision to handle leaving the right way.
Even if it’s necessary.
Charges were dropped against me back in Colorado, and it’s unclear if it was the sheriff’s decision or if Tobias Merriweather-Brown saw that he was losing public opinion polls following the videos of our fight going viral.
I’m staying with Archie, and Daphne’s right.
He’s a dick.
He’s a dick who told Margot he was with me when he called to get Daphne’s phone number after Margot wouldn’t answer my calls.
She hung up on him and won’t answer either of our calls now.
I go see my parents on Saturday because time and distance and seeing Daphne’s father has given me perspective.
Maybe my parents aren’t awful.
Not the way hers are.
But my mother spends the entire thirty-nine minutes—as long as I last there—talking about how relieved she is to finally be able to spend money again, and my father talking about how glad he is that I understand he belongs back in the CEO seat, with neither of them saying a word about my own arrest in Colorado.
And I know.
I know that they might not be the same kind of awful as the Merriweather-Browns, but they’re also dicks who are completely disconnected from reality, and I can’t be around them for long periods of time without feeling like I can’t breathe.
Especially after tasting freedom.
Happiness.
Fun.
With a purpose.
When I’m not practicing with Archie what I’m going to say at the board meeting on Monday, I take some time to seek out the social media and news coverage of the results of all of the money Daph and I gave away, and it gives me a sense of peace that reinforces that I’m doing the right thing.
Mostly.
Possibly I’m also being a dick, considering how I’m leaving.
Possibly I don’t care on this one.
I get in touch with Carmen, and over a private dinner at Archie’s place on Sunday, I tell her my plans for the board meeting tomorrow.
Should’ve done it sooner, but apparently stress had short-circuited my brains, and it took clearing my head with the trip across the country with Daphne to realize I didn’t want to go into the next phase of my life without closing out this phase the right way.
It’s a relief to know Carmen’s in.
Her feral smile indicates she’s going to relish being involved, in fact.
And Monday—Monday arrives faster than I think it will, even though every waking minute of the weekend, there’s lingering worry over Daphne and a desperate need for me to be done here so that I can go find her again.
Archie’s put out that he doesn’t get to do this for me, but when I walk into the boardroom, dressed in a suit that feels foreign after the past two weeks of living in clothes Daphne picked for me, I have no doubts.
I have to do this.
I have to finish the job my father made me take.
I stroll into the board of directors meeting as if nothing’s wrong.
The same people who have sat there for the past four years, sometimes berating me, sometimes questioning me, sometimes praising me, are all in their spots around the table.
The only difference is that my father has rejoined the table, taking the seat I’ve occupied for the past four years as though reclaiming his former title is a foregone conclusion, even without board and shareholder approval.
A row of windows overlooks the Manhattan skyline, and I pause for a brief moment to recognize the finality of this view for me.
It’s majestic in its own way.
And I can’t wait to get the ever-loving hell out of here and discover my new life through Daphne’s eyes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may, before we begin?” I say as I stop beside my father’s chair.
There’s an uncomfortable murmur.
The kind that says my father’s been schmoozing and has made it known that he’s learned some kind of lesson and will be an even better CEO if he takes over.
The kind that says they’re anticipating a fight.
Dad looks up at me with a genial grin. “Guess you’ve been starting this meeting for a while now, haven’t you? Go ahead, son. Show me what you’ve learned. We can give it to you one last time.”
More murmurs.
I make eye contact with every last person sitting at the table, then with Carmen, who accompanied me inside and is seated along the wall beside the door with the other executive assistants, and then I begin.
“Four years ago, I walked into this office for my first board meeting, unprepared and ill-equipped to do what you were about to ask me to do,” I say.
“While no one would say it out loud, every last one of us knew that Miles2Go was in serious financial trouble, and that my ability to do the job that you had little choice in choosing me to do would determine if we survived or if the corporation my great-grandfather founded would become a footnote in history.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” my father grouses.
I ignore him. “In the years since, the world has come to regard me as a success, which is one more lie to have come out of this company. Yes, our profit margins are poised for growth. Yes, our franchise owners are the happiest of all major convenience store chains. And yes, this will be the year that shareholders quit holding their breath and see that all of the changes these past few years are paying off.”
A few nods happen around the table.
Someone mutters something about me needing to address my arrest last week.
I ignore that too.
“But here’s the lie—I haven’t been running this company.
Every decision I’ve made, with the exception of two, has been at the guidance of Carmen Miller.
I am not the CEO of Miles2Go. I’m the man who insisted we keep selling corn dogs, the man who insisted that all profits be diverted to philanthropic endeavors, and the man who did everything else exactly as Carmen advised me to do.
Therefore, I’m tendering my immediate resignation from the company, with my full endorsement behind Carmen for the role of the next CEO of Miles2Go. ”
Everyone around the table sits straighter.
There are the expected whispers between the people you’d expect to whisper to each other. A broad grin or two from the people who probably suspected this truth all along. Bewilderment from the two or three people who will be loyal to my father forever.
My father bolts to his feet. “Who do you think you are—”
I cut him off. “Following the shareholder vote to confirm Carmen, I will also be distributing my twenty-five percent share of the stockholdings of Miles2Go to the individual franchise owners across the North American continent, putting more control of the company directly into the hands of the people who interact daily with the customers who keep our business running.”
The murmurs become a swell of voices.
“Are you mad?” Davinia Kasper, the company’s CFO, asks me.
I smile at her. “I was. Very angry, in fact, for most of my tenure here. Happy to report I’ve found a new purpose in life and will be leaving Manhattan permanently very soon. I trust you’ll be in good hands with Carmen.”
“He’s lost his marbles,” someone I can’t identify says. Probably Jerry McFee. He’s always thought there was something wrong with me.
“Thank you for your belief in me and in the company my great-grandfather founded,” I say to the room.
“As I’m no longer your CEO, I won’t be staying.
But if I could ask for one favor—it would be an honor to see the philanthropic efforts continue when I’m gone.
I spent the past two weeks traveling the country and seeing for myself the difference we’ve made, and I believe the company will only benefit from continuing to be a good neighbor to the world. ”
I nod to the room. “Thank you. Enjoy your meeting.”
I don’t take questions. I don’t address my arrest—public sentiment was so firmly on my side that it wouldn’t have been an issue even if I’d wanted to stay.
I don’t shake anyone’s hand.
Except Carmen. I stop, thank her personally for everything she’s done the past four years, shake her hand, and wish her luck.
She’s the second person with my new phone number.
She’d be the third, but Archie’s a dick who hasn’t gotten me Daphne’s phone number.
Also, I don’t think she’ll use it.
She doesn’t need me.
Archie’s waiting for me in the lobby of the building. “Someone live streamed that,” he tells me as we stroll outside to his waiting car.
“Klein’s assistant. Figured he would. Might have said the right thing to the right person to make sure it happened.”
“Still live streaming. Want to see?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Truly don’t give a single fuck what else happens there.”
“Even if it’s—huh. Weird.” He pauses and waves his phone at me. Margot’s calling him. “This might be for you.”
I wince.
The dickhead grins, then answers. “Morning, Margs. What brings you into my ear today after ignoring me all weekend?”
He climbs into his car.
I follow him. He’s giving me a lift to my car, so I have to, unless I want to experience New York City taxis.
Could be fun.
But I’d rather have fun with Daphne than do this on my own.
“Uh-huh,” he says into his phone. “Sure, sure. Understood… Great. See you then.”
He hangs up and grins at me. “Have an extra twenty minutes?”
I drop my head back against the seat. “Gonna have to sooner or later.”
We detour on our way to my car, and I’m honestly not sure what to think when Archie’s driver takes us into the parking garage beneath a hotel under renovation.
“Are you in cahoots to murder me?” I ask the man I would’ve called my best friend right up until this exact minute.
He grins, all of the mischief reminding me so much of Daphne that it hurts.
I miss her. I miss her more than I’ve ever thought I could miss another person.
“Absolutely not,” he says. “I don’t have any other friends who are nearly as entertaining as you are.”
His driver parks us about four levels underground beside a black Rolls-Royce Phantom with tinted windows.
Archie steps out of the car, and Margot slides into his seat.
She looks the same as she did last month, but nothing about this is the same.
“I hear you’ve been looking for this,” she says, handing me a folded note.
I peek at it, see Daphne’s name and a phone number, and it takes every ounce of control I have to not hug her. “You couldn’t have—I mean, thank you.”
“Had to make you earn it.” She quirks a half smile that’s far more like Daphne’s grin than Archie’s grin was but quickly sobers. “You’re walking away.”
“Entirely.”
“Saw the live feed. Do me a favor?”
I brace myself.
I don’t know if I’m talking to Daphne’s sister or to the business shark who’s going to one day run half of this city. “Yes?”
“Stall on distributing those stock shares.”
“Shareholder meeting’s not for three weeks.”
“I might need six or seven.”
“For…?”
That smile is the shark smile. “Something you’ll approve of. Assuming you’re headed where I think you’re headed?”
“I’m headed where you think I’m headed.”
Her eyes narrow.
“And I’m sorry,” I add quietly. “If this hurts you. I truly am. That was never my intention.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Just be good to my sister.”
I eye her warily. “Not even a little mad?”
She smiles. Once again, I’m not sure which smile I’m seeing. “So long as she never tells me I need to be. I’m positive I don’t need to tell you the hell I would rain down on you to make you pay if you hurt her.”
“You do not.”
Her smile relaxes. “We’ll talk more later. Stall on that distribution. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
And then she’s gone.
Archie climbs back into the back seat beside me, and the car immediately shifts into motion.
“Looks like you still have your balls,” he says.
I look behind us.
Margot’s car is already gone.
“She’s somehow the nicest person in the world and also the most terrifying at the same time,” I say.
“What’s she up to?”
“I have too many guesses to settle on a single one.”
He nods to the note in my hand. “That Daphne’s phone number?”
“That’s what it claims to be.”
“Do I need to plug my ears while you call her?”
I glance at the number, and then up at my friend.
And then I’m the one smiling.
“No. I’m doing something way better than calling.”