Private Disclosures

by Raleigh Davis

  When the door shut behind Dev, I looked at Fuchs, who was still bleeding but mostly fine, then went after Dev. But he was gone. The car was there but no sign of Dev. And then suddenly a man appeared and claimed that Dev had sent him to take me home.

  Of course I didn’t go with him, but he did wait patiently while I called Mark and told him I was in Poland and Dev had disappeared. From there, Mark took over. Turns out the guy really was hired by Dev—he’d put a security team on the house without telling me. Mark kept them there to watch Fuchs and make sure he didn’t leave.

  I came home. The jet was still at the airport; Dev hadn’t taken that either. And when I got back to Bastard Capital, I told them almost everything. Not about Dev’s parents—that was his story to tell. But about the search for Fuchs and how we found him.

  No one knew what to do. Who was going to arrest Fuchs and for what? We went around and around on that—well, they mostly did, I was too exhausted and numb to talk much—until Elliot decided that Fuchs could just stay there, watched by the security team. If he tried to leave, then we’d do something.

  Logan started a search for Dev with Paul’s help. The only thing I could do to help was tell them that Dev had had a deep emotional shock and that I was terrified for him.

  It was more than terror really. I don’t know that there’s a name for a fear that runs so deep you go numb. Maybe there is no name.

  They were all worried too, of course. They still love Dev in spite of everything. And as we all sat together, united in our worry, I realized that I loved Dev because of everything.

  I didn’t know if he would ever be the man I thought he could be—losing his parents like this, for a second time, would only drive him further into his shell—but I couldn’t deny that I loved him anyway.

  Mark promised that they’d find him soon and that I shouldn’t worry. They sent me home with my assistant, who kept a close eye on me. They must have worked something out, because they keep visiting me in shifts, making sure I’m okay. I always tell them I am.

  But it’s been three days. And the numb fear isn’t going away.

  I’m in the atrium, watching as a repairman goes through the sprinkler lines. Turns out Dev hired him before we went to Poland. He’s supposed to be the best in the state for designing and building atriums. Dev arranged for him to fly in from San Diego.

  “This is a beautiful setup,” he says as he fiddles with a sprinkler. “I can’t believe some of the orchids you’ve got.”

  “Thank you.” My manners are automatic. “I’m very proud of it.” I put more effort into that.

  “You should be.” He stands up and dusts off his hands. “That should do it. There was some air in the lines, usually not a problem with outdoor systems, but with places like these, you don’t want that. Destroys the serenity.”

  Yes, I understand that completely. I’m desperate for serenity. “I appreciate it. This place means a lot to me.”

  He glances sharply at me. “Everything all right?”

  No. “Yes. Just a lingering cold.”

  When he’s gone, I stay in the atrium for several minutes. It’s warm, beautiful, thick with life. The orchids are cheery, their blooms winking a hello at me.

  I force myself to think of only good things. Dev has disappeared before. Lost in work, oblivious to the outside world. And he always comes back. Of course he’ll need time to process what happened. And with his history, he’ll do it alone.

  When he comes back, I’ll help him understand that he doesn’t have to do it by himself. And he will come back.

  I just don’t know when.

  I haven’t said anything to the other Bastards, but I’ve started my own search for Dev’s parents. I started by searching for every ob-gyn in the Sacramento area practicing when he was born, and I’m working my way through them. Most are retired, some are deceased, and no one remembers a young woman alone, scared to be pregnant. I’m assuming a lot about Dev’s mom, but it’s all I have to go on.

  If I can find his parents, maybe that will bring him back.

  Georgia pokes her head in. “Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but Helen is here for your three-o’clock meeting.”

  Right. I’m not looking forward to this. But I head to my office anyway.

  Helen looks bad. Hollow-eyed, shrunken shouldered. She barely glances up when I come in.

  “You have bad news for me.” I decide it’s probably best to simply launch right in.

  She nods. “The subscriber base just… collapsed. And then Facebook changed their ad algorithms and we could never make up the loss.”

  “How much runway do you have?” Runway is shorthand for funds on hand—basically, how long until Helen completely runs out of money.

  “Less than a month. Three weeks.”

  That’s not good. Definitely not enough time to fix their ad problems and rebuild their subscriber base.

  “How many people have you let go so far?” I ask. We’ve discussed cuts before, and Helen agreed they might be necessary. She’s well past the necessary part.

  “None. When it came down to it, I just couldn’t.”

  She’s so miserable as she says it, I can’t be angry. I understand why she couldn’t do it. Even now, some small part of my brain is insisting there’s a way out. That some miracle could happen.

  But my role here is to be the realist. To give Helen the tough love. Sometimes a dream isn’t ready to come true.

  I take a grounding breath, bracing myself for what I need to do. “It’s time to start shutting things down. Get together severance packages for everyone. Tell them it’s time to start looking elsewhere.”

  She’s put together a great team, and they’ll find new jobs pretty easily. But the severance packages will help.

  Helen says nothing for a long time. She’s mourning.

  And so am I. I wanted so badly for this company to thrive. It had everything—passionate founder I love, serving an audience that often gets ignored—companies like this are why I wanted to become a venture capitalist.

  “I thought this was my chance,” Helen says. “I believed in this so much.”

  I did too. “I know. And you’re still amazingly talented. Sometimes… sometimes the stars just don’t align.”

  I should have that printed and hung up in my office. Because these past few days have proved how true that is. The stars are out of whack for Helen, me, and Dev.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know how much you wanted this to work out and I… I never wanted to disappoint you.”

  “You didn’t.” I’m disappointed, but not in her. I suppose I’m disappointed in fate, which screwed us all over so badly. “And when you come up with your next idea, tell me first. I want to be in from the beginning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I still believe in you.”

  The hope that brightens her expression almost breaks my heart. I wasn’t able to make her dream come true, but I made this a little bit easier.

  We arrange to meet again next week to go over closing the company. It won’t be easy, but we can make sure we do it right.

  Once she’s gone, I’m tempted to go back into the atrium and just… sit. Sit and wait for news of Dev. But I still have other companies to manage, other prospectuses to go through. And I have my book club tonight. I didn’t read the book and I probably won’t say much at all, but I want to feel normal. And I need the company of others.

  I’m not like Dev. I don’t crawl off by myself when I’m hurt.

  I force myself to go through some of my emails, trying to write more than one-word replies. When my phone rings, my first instinct is to ignore it.

  When I see that it’s my mom, my second instinct is to ignore it. But I can’t cut myself off from everyone.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  If she hears the bleakness in my tone, she doesn’t comment on it. “Hi, honey. I was cleaning out the linen closet and wondered if you want that green tablecloth.”

  I have no idea what she�
��s talking about. “Which tablecloth? I don’t remember a green one.”

  “Huh. Maybe I got it after you went to college. Do you want it?”

  If that’s the case, I’ve never even seen the tablecloth. And while I appreciate the impulse, I’m not sure that I really need another one. “Maybe. Is it really worth shipping it up to me?”

  “I remember now!” She sounds like she didn’t even hear my response. “We gave Kaleb one for his wedding and I liked it so much, I got one for myself.”

  The old familiar cold anger comes rushing back. My mother has been using the same damn tablecloth she gave to my old boyfriend. It’s ridiculous to even care, but right now I’m too keyed up to stop myself.

  Kaleb has a picture-perfect life, with the house and the wife and the kids. The family that Dev never got, that he might never want. Kaleb’s not sitting here wondering if the person he loves is hurt or… or worse.

  “I don’t want to hear about Kaleb anymore.”

  There’s a brief, stunned pause. “Honey, I thought we’d—”

  “You.” My tone is sharp, high. “You guys are fine with him. You don’t mind living next to him. And I’m not angry, not really, not anymore, but I just… I don’t want to hear about him. I just don’t.”

  “Okay,” Mom says heavily. “I’ll try not to. But I thought you were over this.”

  Tears are burning in my eyes now, but I’m not crying about Kaleb. “It really hurt me when you chose him over me.”

  I’ve said this to her before, and I thought we worked all this out, but she doesn’t know what Dev means to me, and I don’t know how else to get my pain out. I could tell her everything, but if I can’t tell the Bastards all Dev’s secrets, how can I tell my mother?

  “We didn’t choose him,” Mom says. “We couldn’t make our neighbors move away. You chose to stay away. And we respected that. Same as we respected Kaleb’s choice to marry Harper and raise his child. What he did to you was wrong, but it would have been worse to turn his back on his child.”

  “I know that and I agree. But… but you could have handled it differently. Because it felt like you were choosing him. And it hurt, on top of everything else that was happening… it really hurt.”

  “Oh honey.” Mom’s fighting back tears, her tone thick. “There were a lot of innocent people caught up in what Kaleb did—his parents, the baby, most especially you. We were trying to do right by those people, but we could have done more to do right by you.”

  This is the first time my mother’s ever said anything like that. Before when we discussed it, she never expressly took any blame in it. I’d let her skirt around the issue in order to make my peace with her.

  It means more than I can say to finally hear it.

  “Thank you.” Now I’m starting to cry. “I know you didn’t mean to, but it helps so much to hear that. You can’t even know.”

  “Good, honey. And I’ll try my best not to mention Kaleb anymore. I promise. Just… do you think you might be able to come home this year? For Christmas or Thanksgiving or even just a weekend? You won’t see Kaleb much.”

  My tears stop. It’s as if the clouds part inside me and there’s sunshine again. Not much, but enough to smile about.

  Yeah, it is time to go home. Time to finish fixing things between my parents and me, completely. I don’t know where Dev is, I can’t find his parents for him, but I can do this for myself.

  “That would be great,” I say. “I want to see all the new stuff Dad’s put in the garden. And the curtains you made yourself—I can’t believe you sew now. Maybe in two weekends? Would that work?”

  My mother inhales so sharply it’s almost a gasp. She was expecting me to refuse. “Of course, that would be perfect. We’ve got your room ready. It would be no trouble at all. Wait, you can find flights then? It’s such short notice—”

  I laugh, but not rudely. “Mom, I’m a partner now. We have a jet I can use.”

  When I remember what I was last doing on the jet, my breath catches. Oh God, Dev has to come back. Before my heart breaks.

  “Honey?” Mom asks. “Are you okay?”

  I force myself to take a steadying inhale. “I’m fine. And it’s settled then—I’ll be home in two weeks.”

  “Oh, we’re so glad. Wait until I tell Dad.”

  I’m glad too. This helped with the numbness, agreeing to visit my parents.

  After she hangs up, I stare at the pile of paperwork on my desk. I have to get through it… but I can’t stop thinking about Dev and where he might be.

  Chapter 24

  In the end, I took Anjelica’s advice: I went back to the beginning.

  She meant Fuchs, but it fit me as well. In order to find something, go back to the beginning. So I did.

  I wasn’t looking for my parents anymore. I wasn’t going to find them. I thought when I found them, everything would fall into place. That my past would be something… more.

  But learning two names wasn’t going to do anything for me. I lived my entire childhood without those names. I had a history even without them. I realized that once I came to terms with what Fuchs had done.

  And now I’m back at the beginning.

  I look up at the stuccoed two-story facade of the children’s home and inhale deeply. Even though Fairytale Town is several blocks away, I can hear the kids running and yelling through the park. And I imagine I can even get a whiff of the Sacramento Zoo.

  I already went to see Mr. Jarvis. That was yesterday. He’s retired now, spends all his time woodworking. He was so happy to visit with me I was almost ashamed. He saw me in the news, about how I was so successful, and he was so proud of me.

  So I told him how much he meant to me as a teacher. I won’t say that we cried, but there was a lot of emotion. It didn’t feel good exactly. It was more like climbing a mountain—I was exhausted from all the sentiment but kept pushing forward, and at the end I might have reached the top, but I was still really tired. Deep within though, beyond the tiredness, was a golden glow.

  I think it will get easier the more I talk to Mr. Jarvis. I promised him I’d keep in touch this time, and I meant it. Afterward, I wanted to call Anjelica, to go over everything with her—how hard it was to take the first step, how I wasn’t feeling what I thought I was supposed to be—but I held back.

  Mr. Jarvis is part of my past, but he isn’t quite the beginning. I want to prove to her I can take the biggest, hardest step on my own. That I don’t need her to lean on.

  Someday, hopefully, I’ll bring her here. But for now I have to do this on my own.

  I walk up to the front door and hit the doorbell. From inside comes a long, sharp buzzing, the kind that screams for attention. The door has a keyed entry, and there’s a camera watching the stoop, which is way more security than in my day.

  The door is opened by a kind-looking, middle-aged woman in jeans and a cardigan. Her glasses are propped up on her head.

  “Can I help you?” She’s a touch suspicious, and I can’t blame her. There are kids here who need protecting, and I’m a strange man just appearing on the doorstep.

  “I, um… I used to live here. This was my home.”

  I’ve never used that word about this place before. Not once. But as the memories come flooding back, stealing my breath, I realize that it was. Not your typical home and not a home most people would choose, but it was the closest thing I had. And it wasn’t all bad.

  “Oh.” Understanding opens her expression. “I can’t let you go through the home on your own, but I’ve got five minutes to spare—I can take you around.”

  I don’t ask to see the dormitories—those belong to other boys now, and I’m not going to gawk at their space like a tourist—but I do go through the dining room, the study hall, the library, and finally the kitchen.

  Things are different inside—the home underwent a massive renovation a few years ago—but the tree outside the dining room window is still there. I often stared at it as I ate, thinking about math problems. I was
a dork.

  All the books in the library are mostly new, but I find a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland that looks very familiar. I can’t be certain it’s the same book, but I decide that it is. That something of what I loved lives on in this library.

  The kitchen is entirely new. When I had kitchen duty, I usually did the dishes, but there’s no sign of the old battered sink I used. Instead, there’s a huge industrial dishwasher. I shake my head. Kids these days have it easy.

  “Dev?”

  At the sound of my name, I spin around. I never told the woman at the front door who I am.

  An older lady is smiling at me like I’m the prodigal son come home. For a moment I don’t recognize her.

  “Dev,” she says again, her voice dragging up half-remembered moments. “I thought that was you. Look at how handsome you got.”

  She holds out her arms and I go into them. As she embraces me and the familiar scent of tea rose fills my nose, it comes back to me.

  “Mellie.” I sound so young. “You’re still here.”

  She squeezes me tight and my throat closes. “Yep. Still running the kitchen. Although it’s a lot nicer now.”

  She doesn’t let go of me, and I don’t mind. Mellie was one of the fixtures of the home, the one person who was there all the years I was. She was affectionate to me in her own way, complimenting me when the dishes got done quickly or were exceptionally sparkling. Her job occupied most of her time—feeding all of us was a more-than-full-time affair, even with help—but when she could, she was kind to me.

  “I came back,” I say. “I had to see the place.”

  She nods. “Sometimes you have to. I’ve seen you in the news. You did so well for yourself.” There’s actual pride in her voice.

  “I suppose so.” In terms of money, I’m doing great. All the rest of it… that’s another story.

  “You remember little Davey?”

  I do, although I remember him as being the same size as me. I guess we were all little to her. “Yeah. We were usually on dish duty together.” We were friends, although I can’t remember what we bonded over. Movies, TV shows, girls we liked… I can’t bring up a single specific detail, only the way I felt when I was with him. Happy. Content.