28. Jude
My co-founders used to be my best friends.
My family.
The one I got to choose, not the one I couldn’t leave.
And yet sitting with them at the table, trying to ease the strength of my discomfort with even stronger bourbon... I’d never felt more alone.
Aaric looked at me with pity, like a broken thing to be pieced back together.
Cruz avoided eye contact. He was all about having a good time, and this infighting was the opposite.
Quentin tried not to get involved in office politics, which meant he was pretty much ignoring me unless he needed something.
And worst of all, Bryce saw me as an enemy. A devil beyond redemption.
Maybe I was. I definitely had earned the reputation.
Alone in the safety of the back seat of a town car with my thoughts blurring at the edges, I texted her. My salvation. The one luxury I couldn’t afford but ineffably craved.
Jude: Can I come over?
But she read my message and didn’t reply.
Jude: Please?
I wasn’t above begging.
Another read.
And more silence. Not even the text bubbles of unspoken words.
Anger born of injustice, of crippling envy, ripped through me. Why was I continually the one falling on the sword while everyone else got what they wanted?
My phone rang with a call, and my heart quickened with idiotic hope that it was her. But then I saw the name on the screen. Aaric. The peacemaker, here to tug the group back together once more.
“Yes?” I answered roughly. Lights flickered in through the windows, casting orange lines across the dark leather in front of me. I watched it while listening to his reply.
“Jude, I’ll be direct because I know that’s what you prefer.”
Just him saying he’d be direct was, in fact, indirect, but I didn’t point that out.
“Why did you try to vote Bryce out?” he asked.
The words wound into my ears and through my skull like needles. Too fine to destroy, but sharp enough to cause a searing, lingering pain despite all the alcohol I’d consumed. “I’ve told you, he was distracted. The app is the most important part of the company, and we need someone dialed in.”
“You’re lying.”
My head jerked back in surprise, almost wondering if I’d misheard due to his accent. But he stood firm, silent in anticipation of my response.
When I didn’t speak, Aaric asked, “What’s the real story, Jude? You can tell me.”
I ground my teeth together, giving only a portion of the truth. “What percentage of the voting shares does Simon have?” I paused while waiting for him to respond.
I answered after a few moments of silence.
“Thirty.” It was stupid deal we entered into in order to fund MyHome, still wet behind the ears, especially without a succession plan.
But here we were. “So if Simon’s three children each get 10% voting shares, and four of us have 17.
5%, instead of five with 14%, do you think we have a better or worse chance of overpowering them? ”
“So we need three of us on board instead of two to overpower them,” Aaric argued. “We could still come out on top if we remain a team, whether there are four or five of us.”
I sighed at Aaric’s persistent positivity in a world that showed me hope was a fool’s mental salve. “We’ve disagreed before, and Simon’s children are experts at manipulation and division.”
Aaric countered, “It seems we’ve divided ourselves just fine on our own.”
“Then thank me for using the vote to keep them from voting one of us out for the next year and a half,” I snapped.
When Aaric didn’t reply right away, I said, “Good night,” and hung up.
I threw my phone down at the chair. No matter how much I might want to, I couldn’t tell them the truth behind my actions without putting Twyla at risk. As soon as I heard she existed, I knew the only way to keep her and her mother safe was getting as far away from them as possible.
That meant Bryce needed to leave. Father would seek revenge if I was voted out and find a way to punish me if I resigned. Having a son at this level meant more to him than I ever did.
Pressure built in my chest, rising to sting my eyes, and I inhaled sharply. “Take me to the hospital where Simon’s staying,” I said to the driver.
He confirmed the change in destination and drove toward the hospital, where my surrogate father lay in a hospital bed. I hadn’t been able to visit, being in Prague, but since getting home this morning... I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
What would I see when I arrived?
Ever since Simon told us of his prognosis, this fear had gripped me. That I’d lose him as a father figure. That fear warred with unbridled rage that he’d force me into a dangerous decision that couldn’t be undone.
And yet, in a twisted way, he was all I had left of the original MyHome right now. Bryce was more enemy than friend, and the others weren’t happy with me either. Yet, Simon had been with us all along as a mentor and a supporter, sturdy and unwavering as his last name implied.
The driver let me out in the front circle, and I walked inside through the sliding doors where a security guard was stationed.
“I’m here to visit Simon Stone,” I announced.
The guard eyed me. “You been drinking?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. “No.” I slid them across the counter.
After pocketing the money, he clicked on his computer with all the boredom of someone settled in for a long night shift and then said, “Password.”
I rattled off the string of numbers memorized from the group chat, and the guard replied, “Follow the blue line to the elevator. Second floor.”
Each step closer to the elevator, closer to Simon’s room, felt like one taken through thick, wet cement. My chest got tighter, fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides with the build of adrenaline.
I pressed the elevator button and read the guide, seeing it was just a regular room, not the intermediate care unit like he’d been in before. That had to be a good sign.
Feeling more confident, I walked to his room number. I half expected him to be asleep already, but at the door, I heard... the sound of conversation coming from inside.
“Remember that vacation we took to Spain?” one person said, and I recognized the voice instantly. I froze in the doorway, listening to hear what came next.
Simon’s raspy voice responded, “I’m surprised you remember it. You were on your phone the entire time.”
“Taking pictures for social media!” she defended with a laugh. “How would I remember the trip happened if I don’t have the proof?”
It was the first time I’d heard a pleasant conversation between Aleyna and Simon without an angle or argument. Was this an act? And who was the act for? Everyone else? Or Simon?
“I wish I’d taken more pictures,” Simon responded sadly. “Remembered more.”
“Well that’s okay because I have enough for both of us.” Her voice was teasing before she paused. “Let me see… Here’s the album.”
There was a tenderness to Simon’s tone as he said, “That’s a good one of you and your brothers.”
Conflicting feelings rose up in my chest, and I had to get away. On swaying legs, I turned and walked away from Simon’s door.
He was already with his family.