CHAPTER SEVEN #2
“Our name, Callahan. Not just yours.” Ford glances over to Ledger and then back to me.
“We’ve been busting our asses for the past six months trying to keep all the plates spinning and fill the void Dad left.
And you? You’ve been nowhere to be found.
You walked away from jobs half done, from deals half made.
You fucking vanished to go have a pity party.
Well guess what? He was our dad too, but we didn’t get to leave.
We didn’t get to walk away from the responsibility that is paying your paycheck.
So you’re goddamn right we’re pissed. You sit on your ass, collecting the same salary we do.
We’re sick of it. You’re either part of this company and pulling your weight or you’re out. ”
I hate that they have a valid point. I did leave. But . . . I also hate their logic. And what it means.
“So, pulling my weight to you means sending me to the failing resort and expecting me to turn it around? Ignoring that it’s a shitty economy and that the resort needs a major overhaul?” Fuck. “You’re setting me up to fail.” How did we get to this point?
“Isn’t that the same thing you did to us?” Ford asks. “Set us up to fail when you walked away?”
Motherfucker.
I stare at my brothers and all I see is my dad. And feel the brutality of his absence.
“You backed him on taking this deal when we opposed it,” Ledger says.
“The majority owner of this company at the time wanted to buy the property, and I encouraged him to do what he wanted.”
“The majority owner—Dad—was old with the beginning stages of dementia. The owner was trying to screw him. I saw it. Ford saw it. Christ, our lawyers saw it. But you were so goddamn occupied with trying to close the deal so you could fuck the owner’s daughter that you didn’t care.
” Another fist on the table and Ledger steps into me so that we are chest to chest. “You were supposed to protect him, Callahan. Protect us. Protect the fucking company. But you didn’t.
Now we have a resort that closed escrow a month after Dad died and it’s been failing ever since.
So yes, you’re goddamn right this is your fault. ”
They weren’t there.
They don’t know.
And even when I’ve tried to explain it to them, they don’t understand.
“Always thinking the worst of me. Right, Ledge?”
“As of late? Yes.” He nods. His eyes are pained, upset about what has transpired, but not regretful. “But we’re not Dad, Cal. We love you, but we’re not blinded by your bullshit. We won’t look the other way and make excuses for you.”
I move to the wall of windows, hands shoved in my pockets, and stare at the nameless, faceless people below and wish I were one of them right now.
They want me to fail. To kick me out.
Isn’t this what I wanted? To be free from the burden of being a Sharpe? To pick a dot on a map and go there and explore? Hell, I don’t need the money—none of us do—as our accounts are large enough to live ten lavish lives on . . . so tell them to fuck off, Cal. Tell them you win. Tell them . . .
I can’t.
This was our dad’s. He built it from the ground up and as much as world domination isn’t in my blood like it is in theirs, I can’t walk away just yet.
This is the only piece of him I have left. How dare they use it as an ultimatum?
I’m damned if I do—flip the resort and be miserable in the process. And I’m damned if I don’t—fail at turning it around and lose all that I’ve known. My brothers aren’t going to change from self-righteous assholes, even if I stay for this fight.
“You wanted me back. In person. Hands-on. You’ve got me back.
” I look at both of them as I try to figure out how this happened to us.
How our dad’s death six months ago caused this huge divide.
“I’ll go down there. I’ll see what the issue is.
Then again, maybe I won’t. But you’ll have someone there with the Sharpe name so you can rest easier at night.
” I emit a sarcastic chuckle, take a grape off the fruit platter in the middle of the table, and pop it in my mouth. “Be careful what you wish for.”
I make my way toward the doors, toward freedom, but his words stop me dead in my tracks.
“And here we thought you’d want to step up, that you’d want to honor Dad’s memory, by making the last thing he bought with your blessing, thrive.” Ledger tsks. “Clearly you don’t fucking care.”
I don’t turn around. Can’t. It hurts just looking at them. At seeing the bits and pieces of my father in them. The parts I never fucking got.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t been around.
Maybe that’s why it’s better to get that adrenaline rush than to waste my days in a goddamn suit and office with the one-hundred-eighty-degree view of Manhattan.
“I’ll forgive you for saying that. Just this once.” It’s all I say before I storm out of the office.
Fuck it.
Fuck them.
Fuck my dad for dying.
I’ll go to the Virgin Islands. I’ll go because they think I won’t.
I’ll figure out what the fuck is wrong with Ocean’s Edge and make it better solely in memory of Maxton Sharpe.
And when I’m done, I’ll walk away from this fucking company and live the life my dad never got to because he was so busy working.
I refuse to allow Sharpe International to own me.
I refuse to allow anyone to own me.