Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Is that why you’re here?” Nadiya asked, curiosity clear in her voice.
“Is this whole trip a convoluted way to work out all your issues with Mom and Dad? Because there are easier ways. Like therapy. Or kidnapping.” They both started laughing, and it felt good.
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s time.
Tell them how you really feel. Let it all out.
Who knows when this opportunity will come back?
Unless you plan to lure us all to Antarctica next Christmas. ”
“It is one of the most isolated places on the planet,” Sameera mused. “Nothing to do but talk.” Nadiya groaned, and Sameera smiled in the dark.
“They asked about you all the time. They knew I was in touch with you,” Nadiya said. “I know they missed you, and while I don’t condone this trip to Alaska, in some very twisted way, it is quite the compliment that Mom and Dad would go to so much trouble.”
Sameera wondered what her life would have looked like if they had simply had the hard conversation from the start, if they had fought and screamed and railed and then made up.
If she had been brave enough to trust that they would still love her, even when she disappointed them.
Guilt rose up, but she pushed it down. She could do nothing about the Sameera she had been in the past; all she could do was try not to let her choices be ruled by fear and resentment again.
“What do you think about Andy?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“I don’t have to think about him; Andy thinks enough about himself for all of us,” Nadiya said tartly.
Her sister wasn’t going to say more on the subject, and they were both tired.
Nadiya soon drifted off to sleep, but Sameera stayed up a little longer, turning the events of the day over in her mind.
Exhaustion soon made it all a muddle in her head until she fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.
Sameera jerked awake at 7:00 a.m., disoriented, until she remembered she was in Alaska, and the sun wouldn’t rise for hours.
Her body was awake, conditioned by too many years spent working sixteen-hour days, the early-morning hours sometimes the only time she had to herself.
Her sister was still fast asleep, exhausted from her transatlantic trip.
Trying not to make any noise, she fixed herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen and took it outside, along with a blanket against the chill.
She would never get used to the lack of morning sun in Alaska, and she was grateful for the coffee, which warmed her hands as she stared into the dark stillness.
She heard movement, the crunching of boots on snow, and then Andy eased into the patio chair beside her, cradling a mug of something warm in a travel thermos. “My favorite type of lawyer is the kind with insomnia,” he said conversationally. “They come by their workaholism honestly. Like me.”
She tried to ignore him, but Andy was hard to tune out. It wasn’t just that he was charming, or that he fairly vibrated with energy; it was more that he had a charisma that was hard to dismiss. Like a crocodile.
“I think your sister put a spell on me,” Andy said now. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Is she single? It doesn’t really matter, but dealing with husbands is such a bore.”
Sameera shook her head, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
“Like a third bankruptcy,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee and eyeing her over the top of the rim. “Okay, fine, I’ll play. Pitch me.”
“What?” This conversation was giving her a headache.
“You want to be my counsel, my right-hand woman, the person to whom I confess my deepest, darkest legal sins. Why should I trust you with my business?”
Andy really was unbelievable. “You made it clear that lying to Tom was a condition of any job offer,” she said stiffly. Though she had made up her mind last night, she couldn’t help a pang at Andy’s words.
He shrugged. “I like to be entertained while I drink my caffeine.”
Sameera stood, irritated now. “I’m not an app, something to distract you for a minute. And I’m not going to lie to Tom just so you can buy a town.”
He shifted to look up at her, unimpressed, and she had a feeling that he was used to people yelling at him. “I bet you made a PowerPoint,” he said, meditative. “I hate PowerPoints.”
“My slide deck is amazing, but you’ll never get to see it now,” she snapped. After a moment, she resumed her seat. Andy was aggravating, but she had come out here first. He could leave.
“Tell me why you think I should hire you,” Andy pressed. He must be one of those men who only tuned in when faced with opposition.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want to work with you,” Sameera said tartly. “I’m thinking of pivoting to content creation instead. A channel that’s all lawyer jokes, all the time.” She was kidding, of course, but she also wanted to mess with Andy.
“I’d subscribe,” he said, coaxing a grudging smile. “Come on, Sameera. Since it won’t count for anything anyway, don’t you want to know what I think of your pitch?”
She did, actually, if only because she had spent so much time preparing it.
She tilted her head at an angle, examining him closely.
She also knew his type; the only way to really get his attention was to go for the jugular.
It might be amusing to watch Andy in the hot seat for a change, especially since they both knew the outcome was inevitable.
After everything this spoiled man-child had put her through, she deserved to have some fun.
“You said your assets are closer to six hundred million,” she started. “Except I read a profile on you a few years ago that definitely pegged your fortune at the billion mark. That’s a substantial loss. Some would even say embarrassing.”
Andy’s smile dimmed at her words, and he took a sip of coffee. “I liked it better when you were trying to impress me,” he said before nodding at her to continue.
“I’m sure you’ll blame the pandemic for your fall in fortune, but come on—you’re Andy Shaikh, wunderkind.
Here’s what I think really happened: You’ve reached a plateau in your expansion, and you’ve been unable to meet new market demands.
When your bubble tea business first burst on the scene, you were called a bold visionary.
” He smirked, but she continued, relentless.
“But lately your business decisions have felt conservative and tired, two things Andy Shaikh is not.”
He seemed intrigued by this. “Why do you think my fortunes have fallen? Relatively speaking, of course. I can still buy and sell this town.”
She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Your constant boasts make me wonder if you’re compensating for something.
” She continued while he squawked in outrage, “You’re overinvested in retail and underinvested in hard assets, plus the market has become saturated.
If you had played your cards right, if you had been a better friend instead of a bully, I could have helped you chase after what you really want. ”
Andy’s gaze held a gleam of interest now. “I want Cooke Place.”
She shook her head. This next part was a gamble, but talking with Nadiya last night had reminded her that she could be bold. “I mean, what you really want.”
“And what is that?” he asked.
Sameera thought about how Tom had described his friend: relentless, ruthless, ambitious, and never satisfied. “A new industry to conquer from the ground up. I think you’re feeling restless, unchallenged, and you work best when you’re building something.”
To her surprise, Andy grinned at her. “You’re right.
I’m bored. That’s why I’m here, trying to buy Cooke Place and build a ski resort on a scale not seen before in this region.
Lake Tahoe and Whistler will have nothing on my plans.
It’s not too late, Sameera. You could work on this project for the rest of your life.
Think of how much money you’ll make. Think of the job security. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
It would have, two weeks ago. Right now, the thought of selling out Tom to work for Andy just made her want to take a shower.
And yet there was something cheerfully villainous and inherently likable about Andy.
Give him a week, and he’d have them all thanking him for the pleasure of his hostile takeover.
Everyone except Nadiya, of course. Her sister would never.
The thought of her sister made her pause. Even Andy deserved a fair warning. “To answer your earlier query—my sister is single, but she would rather eat raw goat brains than go out with you.”
Andy shrugged. “I’ve had goat brains. They’re a delicacy in some parts of the world. I’ll grow on her.”
“Like a fungus,” Sameera agreed, and he grinned again.
“You’re a lot funnier than my current representation. Better looking, too. Too bad you’ve discovered principles. Not convenient in a lawyer, Sameera.”
“You’re trying too hard, Andy,” Sameera said. “I’m starting to question your whole persona. I don’t buy the whole evil-rich-guy schtick.”
Andy shrugged. “Every successful CEO industrialist needs a good mythology. You know my story—second-generation immigrant, working-class parents, put myself through school. I took chances and struck gold, but still attend jumah every Friday with my dad.”
“Any of it true?” she asked, remembering what he had said about his father when they were skating.
“Some of it. That bit about jumah was my publicist’s idea. I haven’t talked to my dad in two decades, and the mosque isn’t really my scene.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Sameera asked.
“I think we have a lot in common. We’re both workaholic insomniacs on the outs with family, and we don’t know how to be happy. We both like Tom, even when it feels complicated.”
Sameera blinked at Andy’s frank assessment. “You’re the last person to lecture me on my feelings for Tom. You don’t set the standard on friendship,” she said.
“Stand down, Malik,” he said pleasantly.
“You’ve made your position clear. So, let me make mine crystal: This whole place will belong to me soon enough, one way or another.
” He winked at her and stood up. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your coffee in peace.
Oh, and from one lapsed Muslim to another: Merry Christmas. ”