30. Truth Zone
TRUTH ZONE
CHELSEA
By the time we say our goodbyes and Brett has the Lamborghini pointed home, I’m tired and a little antsy.
I fiddle with the fancy radio dial a bit before settling on a song. Leaning back against the black leather bucket seat, I stare out the window at the lights. Portland is a beautiful city.
“What is this?”
I angle my head to face Brett, and I can see the disgusted curl of his lip in the glow from the dashboard.
“Country music.”
“It’s like a car accident for my ears.”
“They’re not going to let you back in Montana if you keep talking like that,” I warn, turning it up a little, partly to tease him, but mostly to drown out my own thoughts.
Something weird is happening. I’m starting to want things. More family dinners with Brett. His and hers betta fish in matching bowls. A rocking chair. A reason to need a rocking chair.
And that's no good at all.
He’s a professional athlete in his prime. Women throw themselves at him. He has this whole other life in Portland. An awesome family who obviously love him. For the first time, it occurs to me that he’s probably not even planning to spend the off-season in Missoula.
“You okay?” he asks, glancing over as we stop at a red light. “You’re awfully quiet.”
I smile through my gray thoughts. “I’m good. I had fun tonight. Your family is amazing.”
“Yeah, I like them. Most of the time. I’m glad you got to meet them.”
“So am I.” It’s humbling, the way he seems to want to show me off to the people who mean so much to him. It’s not something I can reciprocate, because my dad is his boss. Because my dad is my boss.
I hate that things are so complicated back in Missoula.
Or maybe I just make them that way.
Brett steps on the gas when the light changes.
“I think I hate my job.” The words come out of nowhere and earn me a glance from the man in the driver’s seat. “That makes me a horrible person, doesn’t it? You’re judging me, aren’t you? I can feel you judging me.”
“Why would not liking your job make you a horrible person?”
“Because I do charity work.”
“Okay, so break down the play,” he counsels. He reaches out and cuts the volume on the music. “You could do anything in the world. Why do you do this?”
Brett flips on the signal light and hangs a right-hand turn onto a residential street.
“Because I like helping people.”
“Nope. No bullshit PR answers. Respect the sanctity of the Lambo. This is a truth zone.”
I drop my head back against the leather seat. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“You’re talking to a guy who dropped five grand on a day-old baby because…”
I lift my head and stare at him. “Because?”
“Shit. You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?
“Truth zone,” I remind him. “You gotta respect the Lambo.”
Brett scrunches up his face, and I’m charmed by his sheepishness.
“I bought all that stuff because I’m afraid that Coop and Lainey aren’t going to have time for me now that they’ve got a kid.
I’m trying to bribe Chloe into loving me so that I’ll still have a place to come home to.
And saying that aloud is twenty-times more embarrassing than I thought it would be, so now you have to tell me yours. ”
Tenderness swamps me. “She’s going to love you, with or without the gifts. You were pretty incredible with her tonight.” I reach over and squeeze Brett’s thigh, and his big hand covers mine, holding it there.
The gesture gives me strength to make a hard confession of my own.
“I started doing charity work because my mom left us. And no matter how much I try to forgive her, I still blame her every day for being selfish. I guess I always felt like I had to be selfless to make up for it. That doing things for other people made me her opposite.”
The tears trying to manifest sting like they’re made of acid, and Brett’s grip on my hand tightens.
“And now that I’m so lost at work, now that I’m bored… What if she felt like this too? What if she was tired of giving everything to her family? And what if I’m just like her?”
I shrug helplessly. “I used to love my job. I used to think I was making a difference. But my brother got that promotion over me and now it’s just…” I trail off, unsure how to articulate what I mean.
“Okay, I’m going to say something super controversial right now, but even if it makes you mad, please remember that I’m operating the vehicle you’re riding in and killing me would not be in your best interest.”
I pull my hand back. “Uh-oh.”
“Maybe your brother got the promotion because he’s better at the job than you are.”
Uh…
Okay, yeah. That makes me a little mad. And it’s so much better than being sad, and lost, that I cling to it with both hands. “What are you talking about? He barely pays attention to the particulars. He’s always schmoozing with donors and working the room instead of focusing on the details and…”
I trail off. Well, damn. Maybe Andrew isn’t such a screw-up after all.
“I met your brother at the silent auction. He smiles and bullshits with the best of them. Knows how to charm big dollars out of donors. He’s the game. You’re the one behind the scenes, doing all the heavy lifting, running drills. You’re the training.”
“I’m the boring part?” I thunk my head back against the bucket seat as Brett turns into the driveway.
“You’re the part that matters. You’re the part that separates the great players from the not-so-great players. Look, as someone who’s done a lot of charity gigs during my time, I’m going to tell you a secret. Stuff like that gala? That’s the boring stuff, and you know why?”
I can’t even muster any outrage at the summation of my work as I watch the garage door rise. “Why?”
“Because that’s eating dinner with rich people.
And don’t get me wrong, it raises buckets of money for great causes.
You should be proud of that. But the best days aren’t the ones where I have to put on a suit and smile.
The best days are hanging out with the kids at the Children’s Hospital.
Or when we get to visit schools or run hockey camps or help build houses. ”
Brett guides the Lamborghini to a stop inside the garage and cuts the engine.
“So maybe you don’t hate your job at all. Maybe you’re just sick of eating dinner with rich people, you know?”
I catch my breath as something inside me sparks at the thought of adding more grassroots events to the Foundation’s schedule—not just raising money for worthy causes, but actually getting out into the community and making a difference. Such a small shift, but what if it changes everything?
It’s worth a try, anyway. Because the truth is, I don’t want to quit. I just want to make the job mine again.
I undo my seatbelt and lean across the console to press a kiss to Brett’s cheek.
“What was that for?”
“To say thank you. You’re pretty wise for a dumb jock.”
“Or I really hate wearing a suit and going to fancy parties,” he counters with a wink.
He kills the lights, reaches for the door handle, then glances at me.
“Let’s go inside. There’s something I want to show you.”