Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
ASLAN
K eaton is one of the most thoughtful people I know.
She’s patient with everyone who works under her.
If they need anything, she does her best to provide for them.
Several times, she’s reached out to the Spearman Foundation so they can help our employees.
I don’t understand why she didn’t reach out to me if she had financial problems.
When I have issues, she’s the first person I reach out to. She finds solutions faster than…well, almost anyone I know. I’m not exaggerating.
She’s always helping everyone, and I want to do the same for her, but how? Every time I offer to pay for our lunch, she’s uncomfortable. If I offer to pay for her mortgage and utilities, she might quit and stop talking to me. I can’t afford not having her in my life—but I have to try something.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Thank you. I got it.” Her voice is neutral. Her eyes remain glued to her phone. I bet she’s doing some research or trying to figure out how to get out of this mess on her own.
I admire her problem-solving skills. They’re one of the reasons she got promoted to the VP position last year.
“Keaton, let me help you.”
“Unless you have a lawyer who can help me declare bankruptcy for my mother, so the bank can’t kick me out of the house…I doubt you can. I appreciate the thought, though.”
Where is her mother? It might be an important question, but I won’t ask since she’s closing herself off. Not that I’ve ever seen her do that before, but Fern, Cory, and Lysander tend to shut down everyone when they feel like the world is about to squash them.
None of them listen to ideas or accept any help.
They have to swim against the current and save themselves.
How dare someone offer them a life jacket.
Keaton might not want my help, but I’m an expert at rescuing people.
It comes with the territory of having a brother who can go deep into the dark side.
“Keaton, what’s happening?”
“My sister’s call was pretty self-explanatory, don’t you think?” she snaps.
“Can you be a little more specific? I heard about the power, your mom being evicted, and the foreclosure notice. Where’s your mom living?”
“I don’t see why you’d need more specifics. It’s pretty obvious that I’m poor and about to be destitute.”
That’s yet another part I don’t understand. I pay her a competitive salary. Do I need to pay her more?
“Why isn’t your sister helping?”
“She’s eighteen. She has a job, but it only pays for her expenses.”
If her mom is in a long-term facility, it’s safe to say that Keaton is in charge of her little sister. Eighteen is still young. The tone of the conversation makes more sense. She’s a teenager—a child. “Why is your mom in a long-term facility?”
She glances at me and shakes her head.
“Keaton?”
“She’s sick.” She presses her lips together. “Too sick. It’s been going on for years. I thought she was better, but it seems that she wasn’t and now she has cognitive impairment. Savannah was seventeen when I had to move back home. She disappeared for a week.”
“Where was your mom?”
She shrugs. “We don’t know. We found her in a hospital.
She was supposed to recover but…my sister begged me to move in with her instead of selling the house.
It seemed like the best thing to do at the time.
Her mother was sick…her childhood hadn’t been easy.
Unfortunately, during those days, Mom made many bad decisions—and I didn’t know about them.
“She wasn’t well enough to tell me much about her financial situation.
She didn’t tell me she was drowning in debt, or that the house had two mortgages, or that she didn’t have good insurance and a lot of unpaid medical bills.
Because of the dementia, I became her guardian.
That makes me responsible for her and all her debt.
“Most of my salary goes to pay for her care, some of her debts, and the mortgage. Four months ago, Savannah was in a car accident. My insurance didn’t cover it. Since it was her fault, I had to pay a lot of money to get her out of trouble.”
Well, that explains what happened to her car. It wasn't about saving the environment.
I want to pull her to me and assure her that she’ll be fine. But she sits on the other side of the bench, almost cowering against the door.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“You’re my boss.”
“I thought we were friends too.”
Does she see me as her friend? I trust her almost as much as I trust my siblings, but it’s clear it’s not reciprocated. I don’t know much about her family. Everything between us is either about work or my family. She’s never mentioned anything about her personal life. Why have I let that slide?
It’s not important. All that matters is her well-being.
“How can I help you?”
“Well, your friend and employee is screwed, and she has no idea how to fix this mess.”
“You should let me lend you a hand.”
She presses her lips together, and after a long pause, she says, “Buy the house before the bank takes it away from us. That might give me enough money to pay Mom’s care facility and the down payment for a home in Arizona. Once we move…the cost of living there is so much cheaper.”
But I don’t want to let you go. I want to yell, but I remain quiet. This is a great opportunity for her. A good boss supports the growth of his employees.
“I don’t have any use for a house. Why don’t I lend you the money?”
“How am I going to repay you?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“No, friends don’t owe friends money.”
Then let me gift it to you. I press my lips together and don’t say a word.
The car stops, and Tim says, “We’re here, sir.”
While he opens the car door for Keaton, I rush toward the door and scan through the foreclosure notice.
I take a picture of it. The name of the bank is there, along with the account number.
For fuck’s sake, anyone could walk by, get the information, and probably steal Mrs. Nealy’s identity.
I send what I scanned to my cousin Jason, who is my financial advisor.
I ask him to pay for the delinquent mortgage, and at least six months in advance.
“What are you doing?” Keaton mumbles as she opens the door.
I put away my phone, entering the house. “Nothing.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to fix my life. I appreciate it, but I can’t repay you.”
“We’ll find a way. For now, let me take care of this. None of my employees should be going through the stress of paying their rent and figuring out how to eat. We have to discuss your new salary.”
“Not until I move away,” she argues. “Plus, I’m not the only one having these problems. You should check on the rest of your employees—maybe the world.”
“We have a foundation that tries its best to help others in situations like yours. Now, why don’t you take my credit card so you can pay for the utilities?” I pull out my wallet, handing her my platinum card.
She stares at it, terrified. It’s worse than if she had seen a spider.
“Keaton, please do this one thing for me,” I say, placing the card on the coffee table.
The moment I head to the kitchen she says, “Don’t go to my fridge.”
“I never stop you when you go to mine, do I?”
“I’ve been at your house a handful of times, and the only fridge I open is the wine fridge.”
“Have I ever stopped you?” I open the door. “Too late.”
“Aslan Spearman!”
As predicted, the refrigerator is empty. Unless I count the container of baking soda. “Keaton Nealy, you need to let me help you. My house manager can come and take care of the basics.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“Then work for it,” I suggest.
She releases a humorless laugh. “I think I work enough hours. You want me at your office twenty-four seven? I need time to sleep.”
The main door opens, and a pixie-like teenager enters the house, running toward the stairs. Though, she comes to a complete stop when she spots me. She walks toward me, pulls my tie, and checks the suit. “Expensive taste, and you are?”
Keaton marches to where we stand and stares at the pixie. “I thought you said you’ll be out.”
“Is that why you brought your boyfriend?” After seizing me again, she extends her hand, palm up and fingers wiggling. “You’re hot and obviously rich. Can you spare a twenty so I can get some lunch? I got fired and we’re poor.”
“Savannah, don’t be entitled,” Keaton chides her.“And what do you mean you got fired?”
“Does he know we’re broke?” Savannah ignores her question.
Keaton’s face blushes. “What happened to the money I gave you yesterday?”
“I had to eat yesterday. It’s what people do, eat every day. You should try it, starving because you wanted to pay the bills didn’t work.”
I pull out my wallet.
“Aslan, do not engage.”
“Here, make sure you fill the fridge with it.”
She stares at the four one-hundred-dollar bills. “Umm…we could pay some of the utilities with this. Like the power. We could replace the water heater too.”
I stare at her, pressing her hands between mine carefully. “This is for food, do you understand? I’ll take care of the rest. I promise.”
She nods. I release her hands and she leaves the house again.
“Why did you do that?”
“She seems like a reasonable person who would accept my help.”
Thankfully, my phone rings. I’d usually let the call go to voicemail, but I need to remove myself from Keaton while I figure out how to convince her to let me help her.
“What can I do for you, Ferny?”
“You’re bringing your fake girlfriend to Hawaii? Did you lose your ever-loving mind?”
My mother called her favorite child to celebrate. Why am I not surprised?
“Was I supposed to ask for your permission to bring her? Mom’s been nagging for the past six months. I can’t ignore her anymore.”
“She’s fake. You can’t bring a stranger with you.”
“I have a girlfriend,” I lie.
“No, you don’t. You don’t date. Why would you keep up this lie?” Ugh…I forgot about Fern’s habits. She’s like a second mother to all of us. She needs to find herself a hobby or adopt a few children to keep her entertained and off our cases.
Convincing her that I’m in a relationship might be a little more complicated, but no one can say I didn’t try. “I didn’t lie.”
“Aslan, don’t be obtuse. You’re too old to have imaginary friends—or girlfriends.”
“She’s real. I just want to keep her away from you,” I assure her.
“Is she now? Who in the world would want to put up with you? Why haven’t we met her?”
“Oh, she likes me a lot. My overbearing family, not so much. Hence, why we’re keeping it under wraps.”
She huffs. “We’re the problem?”
“Always,” I answer playfully.
“She knows us?”
“Listen, I can’t discuss this,” I whisper. “It’s a secret.”
“Aslan Gregory Spearman, are you dating one of your employees?”
That’s a great idea. My sister is a genius.
If I claim it’s one of them, they’ll understand why I’m keeping it away from everyone—even my family. If Keaton was in a better place, she’d be able to help me but…
“Well, it’s none of your business.”
“We have rules. Please tell me you signed the HR paperwork before sleeping with her.” I don’t understand why she’s worried about the paperwork. It’s so unlike her to be a stickler for rules.
“We’re taking things slow. I’m not going to HR until we’re sure about each other.”
“Don’t be stupid, please go to HR tomorrow morning, or I’ll be in your office making sure that you follow your own rules,” she orders.
“Fine, I’ll do that,” I say and hang up before she tracks me down and drags me to the office to do as she says.
Keaton stares at me—arms crossed, foot tapping. “You’re going to do what with HR?”
I grin because I just got the best idea in the world. “Tell them that we’re dating, babe.”