32. Alex
Alex
Ever since I met the kids officially, Chanice has been freer with her time.
Inviting me to the movies with them, or to just see the Christmas lights and holiday market on Oxford Street, it’s clear that she is trying to include me in all of their lives.
It’s only been a couple of weeks of me being a part of theirs, and it already feels like I was always meant to be here.
Especially as we sit on the floor of my living room, eating Chinese food and playing board games.
As I look at all of them, they look like what’s been missing from this place.
“I don’t think this game is fair,” Jamal says as he stares at the board.
So far, Gabby, in all her tiny glory, has secured two monopolies on the same side.
So going down that street is like a death wish.
She has already taken out Imani, and the only reason Chanice and I are still in the game is because we both have hotels on our properties.
Honestly, Jamal is only staying in the game out of some crazy luck that has him skipping everything.
“What’s not fair about it?” Chanice asks.
“Well, she just smiled and acted like she didn’t understand the game, and you guys all traded with her, and now she is playing dirty.” He huffs and crosses his arms. Gabby cackles and rolls around, clapping her hands.
“That’s life, sir. Sometimes people outsmart you in business deals, and you have to try to find a way to stay afloat. She played the game the way it’s intended to be played. Now you know for next time,” I say.
His little brow furrows, and he finally picks up the dice and throws them. When he lands on her highest property, that is the end of him.
Like most kids, he doesn’t take losing well and pulls on his sister’s ponytail. That just causes her to laugh harder.
With him out of the game, it was only a matter of time until she took us out, too, so half an hour later, we’re packing it away. Gabby and Jamal are arguing as Chanice takes them to the kitchen to get ice cream, so it’s just Imani and me sitting against my couch, watching them.
“Your house is nice. Usually, posh people have boring houses, but yours has character.” She looks around, and her eyes land on a new sculpture I’ve added in the corner.
“Thanks. Growing up, the house I lived in was like that. All the artwork was stuff just to impress other people, and the furniture was monochrome and dull. I didn’t want that for my place.”
She crosses her legs, sitting forward. “When I finally get my own flat, some hole in the wall where I can damn near touch every side of it while standing in the middle, it’s going to scream my name when I walk in. I plan on wasting a lot of money on clothes and house stuff.”
I look at her outfit and see a style that is the type of look fashion houses will steal. Streetwear that they say the streets of London inspired, when really it was this teenaged girl on the tube. She is all flair and originality.
“Do you like art?” I ask her.
She looks around the room again. “Yeah.”
“Okay, follow me.”
Usually, I don’t like to show my work. It’s too personal and feels interwoven into my opinion of myself. But I want her to glimpse this side of me.
I open my workroom and flick on the lights. On the easel is the painting that I did of Chanice when she sat for me a few months ago. I turn it towards Imani so she can see it.
“Holy shit,” she says while walking closer. Her eyes roam up and down the canvas, taking in all the details.
The vibrant colors of Chanice in front of the black-and-white rendering I did of the couch, as she stares at me with a look of adoration. The details are etched and painted in a way that hopefully highlights all of her beauty. I hope she sees her sister the way I do in this image.
“You did this?” she asks.
I nod and step back, waiting.
“Do you have more?”
I point to the wall where stacked canvases rest against it. She walks over and starts turning them around, taking her time looking at each one. The whole time, her face is stoic, and she is giving nothing away. I hold my breath and wring my fingers.
“So?” I finally ask.
“You got talent, kid,” she says while slowly clapping.
I chuckle and do a bow.
“Can I have one for my room?” She picks up a painting of a man staring off into the distance. His features are blurred, so you can’t discern exactly what he feels. But the way the color gets brighter the further you are away from him, you can guess at a feeling.
“Yeah, of course.”
She tucks it under her arm, but doesn’t move towards the door. Instead, she stares at me head-on.
“So far, you seem decent. I like you for my sister. But we’ve seen what men are capable of when they don’t get what they want. I say all of that to say this: If you, at any moment, think you are so entitled to her that you can cause her harm, I will ruin you.”
She looks so serious, I take her at her word. As young and ill-equipped as she is, I know she will still find a way to do it, and I admire that about her.
“I won’t, I promise.” I offer my pinky out to her, and she takes it. Squeezing tight, she gestures between her eyes and mine before letting go.
Rejoining the others in the living room, they gush over her new art for her room. Of course, that makes the other two want one, so I tell them to go and pick something out.
Once back, Jamal eases down next to me.
“Can you paint a portrait of us as a family? Like some medieval type stuff.”
“I would love to be a princess.” Gabby twirls around, holding on to the edge of her shirt.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Cool.” He goes back to eating his ice cream while beaming.
“Does this mean you’re finally ready to share your art with the world?” Chanice asks.
I shrug, but she doesn’t leave it alone.
“Why won’t you?”
A million reasons, but the one that stands stark against my mind is that I don’t feel like I can be the artist and the CEO. If my artwork is what my associates and competition are coming to look at, it will impact the way they see me in the boardroom.
I shrug again, but it doesn’t look like she accepts that answer. So when the kids are sleeping in my guestrooms, she brings it up again while we drink wine on the couch.
“So, I know you’ve said that you have to run your family’s company. But if you could do anything else in the world, what would you do?”
Her question reminds me of when I asked Elizabeth the same thing, and now that I’m the one having to answer, I want to be as honest as possible.
“I would love to be an artist. I would love to travel for fun and not work, and I would love to just be able to live my days as I want.”
“And you can’t do both?” She leans her body against mine and rests her hand on my chest.
Putting my arm around her shoulders, I pull her tighter to me. “If only it were that simple.”
“Who do you feel like you owe this to?”
“You know my father is dead. That’s why I’m running the company now.
My mother has as much say in how things are done as a random person on the street.
But I still feel the same weight they placed on my shoulders when I was five, and they wrote down on my homework that I wanted to be a CEO when I grew up.
I don’t know how to walk away from a destiny that was hand-picked for me.
Especially since it’s one my grandfather wanted for me as well. ”
The same thoughts that always run through my mind at that statement make their appearance, as I battle with what I think I know and what I’ve been informed.
“From what you’ve told me about him, I don’t think he would have picked this for you. I think he probably had every art project you ever did hung up on his fridge in his house, and he would have bought the first piece you made. I think his love would have outweighed his expectations.”
It sounds so definitive when she says it, like it’s all a fact. Even though he hung our art in his office, he also took me to work in the summer and introduced me to everyone as the future of this company. So, in the end, I’ll never know.
“I’m thinking of walking away,” I say, if only to hear the words out loud. Never having spoken them to anyone, I give voice to my hidden thoughts.
“This is your one life. You have to do what feels right to you. When the end comes and you’re thinking over your mistakes and regrets, do you really want one this big?”
I choke on her words as they shove their way into my chest. I don’t breathe for the full two minutes that we sit in silence. There are no words to express how much that reality scares the hell out of me.
She yawns, making me realize how late it is. We both have to work tomorrow, and she has the added responsibility of making sure the kids are ready in the morning. So I lift her in my arms and carry her to what I hope one day is our room.
The next morning, the kitchen is filled with so much chatter I don’t know if I can go back to the silence that usually starts my day.
Chanice is singing as she cooks breakfast, and Imani and Jamal are arguing over his homework answers.
I’m talking to Gabby, who has a story about every single person in her school.
She seems to know everyone, and is somehow best friends with each one of them.
So it comes as a surprise when she announces that she doesn’t want to go today.
“You have to,” Chanice says.
“But I never miss, and it’s Friday. Can I please miss today?” She looks at her siblings for backup, but Imani throws her hands up and looks back at Jamal’s paper.
“I want to go to school. I have a test today,” Jamal says.
“I have to work. There would be no one to watch you.” Chanice plates up the food and passes it to her, like that is the end of the conversation.
Gabby begs through the whole meal, and by the end, Chanice is sighing out loud.
“Please,” Gabby says one last time. She looks so distraught, it’s absolutely adorable. I can’t watch her hope be crushed.
“She can come with me to work,” I say before Chanice can say no again.
“What?” Chanice turns towards me and puts her hands on her hips.
“Our company has a policy against meetings on Fridays. I have a pretty open day so I can take her with me.”
“Won’t that be boring?” Jamal asks.
“Not for me. Can I please go?”
Chanice looks back and forth between us before her eyes lock onto mine.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
My nodding seems to be enough for her. They take off to go to their places, and I take Gabby in my car with me.
The whole ride, she talks about how excited she is, and I can’t help but feel the same way.
I wonder if this is how my grandfather felt when he would take me, like he was letting me into a part of his world that no one had seen.
I just hope she sees the office the way I did before I realized it was going to be my future prison.
She at least seems to look at it as an adventure as I bring her in and show her around. The breakrooms with free pastries and tea entice her, even though she just ate. But I let her indulge in a chocolate croissant.
After she is done, I introduce her to some execs and my assistant, whom she quickly charms. Talking to each person we come across, she soon has friends popping in and out of my office just to talk to her.
It takes an hour for things to calm down, and once it does, she turns all of her attention to me.
“So what is it you do to have such a big office?” Walking around the space with her arms thrown out, she stops in front of the wall of windows and stares at the skyline.
“Well, I run the company and manage its success.”
“How much does something like that pay?”
“A lot. Too much, honestly.”
“I want to know more.”
She keeps looking out while I try to break down my day-to-day tasks. Using kid-friendly terms, I set out the role and its expectations.
“I think I would like to do something like that,” she says, finally sitting down.
“Really?”
“I like bossing people around, and I think I could make some good deals. Plus, I don’t want to be poor ever again.” She juts out her chin and lifts her head.
Her usual sunny and carefree demeanor is gone, and in its place is a determination that is so reminiscent of her sisters’.
“I think you would be really good at it.”
This gets her smiling again, and soon she is ready to keep learning.
I spend the day showing her tasks that she can help me complete. When I have to knock out some emails, she sits next to me on my personal laptop and writes me up a cover letter for why I should hire her. It’s so good and well outlined that I promise her an internship as soon as she turns sixteen.
We eat lunch, do some more exploring, and soon it’s time to go home. I wish I could have her here with me every day, even if I barely got anything done.
“Thanks, Alex. I had a great time.”
“Me, too.”
“I hope I can be the CEO one day.”
Something tightens in my chest enough that I have to grip it.
What a novel concept. Having someone I love to give this empire to.
Finding a child who may want it. Of course, she can change her mind, and I would never hold her to it, but what if Gabby took over the company and continued on our family in a way I would want?
“You can be. Just wait until you’re eighteen to tell me, and I’ll make it happen after you finish university.”
“I will, but I want to. I’ll be the best.” She holds out her hand for me to shake, solidifying our deal. With it, she creates a new dream for me.
If I marry Chanice, she will be my child, so I will have fulfilled my obligation. All while never having to compromise my values. Without knowing it, Gabs helped me come to a conclusion.