The Orphans (Orphans Trilogy Book 1)

by Matthew Sullivan

  “It was a private deal,” Terry said, noting Charlie’s bewilderment. “Just like all of my deals. At least until the companies go public; then it’s everywhere. As you can imagine, we take our confidentiality agreements very seriously. And I respect the fact that your parents clearly did, too.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Charlie said, still coming to terms with Terry’s explanation.

  “And just so you know, I wasn’t referring to Tesla Motors. I was referring to Nikola Tesla. The inventor. He was a visionary. Just like your father. Just like I’m sure you are.” Terry put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I can tell you’re going to do great things. Your parents would’ve been proud.”

  Charlie instantly forgot that his parents had ever kept anything from him. All of his focus went to absorbing what he had just heard. Charlie couldn’t believe Terry Heins had just implied that he was a visionary. His body was overcome with lightness, like his blood had been replaced with helium or laughing gas, and it all rushed straight to his head.

  While Charlie continued to revel in Terry’s praise, Terry’s attention shifted to his older bodyguard, who tapped his watch. Terry nodded. He turned back to Charlie, gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze to get his attention, and then let go. “I’m sorry, but it looks like I must get going.”

  “Wait! Are you sure?” Charlie blurted out, clearly not wanting the conversation—or the compliments—to end.

  “Unfortunately, I am,” Terry said. “But don’t worry. We can pick this up later.”

  Charlie’s eyebrows practically jumped to the top of his forehead in excitement. “Yeah! Totally. I mean, I know you’re super busy, but I’m free whenever.”

  “Perfect.” Terry retrieved a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Charlie. “That has all of my contact information.”

  Charlie examined the card. It was considerably nicer than any other business card that he had ever seen. Not that he’d seen a ton, mostly just his father’s old cards. Every time Alan came up with a new invention and started a new company, Charlie would get a new business card for his collection. But this card was different from the cost-conscious cards his father had given him. It was a slick, jet-black with crisp red letters. It wasn’t the typical flimsy cardstock, either. There was a noticeable heft to it.

  Terry continued, “If you ever need anything, big or small, you just let me know.”

  Charlie wasted no time taking Terry up on the offer. “How about a summer internship?” he said. “If given the chance, I know that I could excel and more than prove my worth.” The words rolled off his tongue naturally, like they had been rehearsed, because they had been. Charlie had decided long ago that if he ever crossed paths with Terry, it would be one of the first things they’d discuss. He had even visualized the conversation and practiced it in front of his mirror many times over.

  “That sure was quick,” Terry said with a chuckle.

  “I can email you my résumé as soon as I get home,” Charlie added, maintaining his strict professional demeanor.

  Terry’s smirk faded as he realized the deadpan look on Charlie’s face wasn’t going anywhere. “Oh, you’re serious.”

  Charlie answered with a firm nod.

  “How old are you, thirteen?” Terry asked.

  Charlie was accustomed to being mistaken for younger. He had yet to sprout a single whisker, and even after the added boost from a summertime growth spurt, Charlie was still one of the shorter freshman boys at Atherton Prep. At five and a half feet, he was also well shy of his overall goal of becoming six feet tall, a height he had decided on after reading a study that claimed taller people are more successful.

  “I’ll be sixteen in a couple months,” Charlie said.

  “You don’t say,” Terry said, seemingly intrigued. “You might not actually believe this, but I was about the same size as you when I was your age. Maybe even a tiny bit smaller.”

  “Really?” Charlie couldn’t believe it. Not only did it mean that he and Terry Heins had something in common, it meant that maybe his six-foot goal, which he had been close to writing off, wasn’t out of reach after all.

  “I swear.” Terry took a moment to himself. “I actually see a lot of myself in you. I don’t see why we couldn’t figure something out for the summer.”

  Charlie flexed the muscles in his throat to keep himself from screaming. He swallowed his excitement and calmly replied, “I look forward to the opportunity to work with you.”

  “As do I,” Terry said. He went to leave, but stopped short. “One last thing: If you see Walter Sowell, let him know he can take as much time off as he needs. My guys will be working around the clock to make sure we can get your father’s engine up and running.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Charlie said, too amped up about his summer employment opportunity and how it would set him up going forward to really process what he had agreed to.

  Terry patted Charlie on the back, shot him a wink, and then he and his bodyguards headed for the exit.

  Charlie watched as Terry and his men hopped into a Bentley, its windows completely blacked out, and drove away. As soon as they were gone, Charlie’s attention returned to the business card. He ran his fingers over the embossed lettering and imagined having his own business card just like it: charlie kim, president/ceo. It was only a matter of time before his vision would become reality. He just needed to hurry home and get cracking on his homework. Charlie slipped the card in his pocket and made it one step before Terry’s message for Walter Sowell finally registered.

  Walter Sowell was Alan’s old college roommate, best friend, and one third of every company that Alan and Mary had ever started. The setup was always the same: Alan was the creator, Mary handled the strategy and finances, and Walter, a technology whiz in his own right, handled a little bit of everything else. Walter was also the closest thing to an uncle that Charlie had ever known, and yet he had been absent from the wake, the funeral, and the burial—a fact that Charlie had only just realized. As Charlie thought about it more, he realized that he hadn’t seen Walter since the day before his parents’ deaths.

  Charlie retrieved his cell phone and called Walter. Anger and anxiety wrestled for control of his emotions while the phone rang. It kept ringing until it was cut off by Walter’s voice mail recording and a notification that his inbox was full.

  Charlie’s heart fluttered as his anxiety claimed victory. He knew it was unlike Walter to let his mailbox fill up, let alone leave a single message unheard. Charlie chewed on the corner of his mouth while he attempted to answer the questions swirling through his mind. Why hadn’t Walter picked up? Where could he be? Did something happen to him?

  Charlie sent Walter a text message asking him where he was and if he was all right. He stared at his phone for a minute. It had never taken Walter more than thirty seconds to respond to one of his messages.

  Another minute passed. No reply came.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The sun had set by the time Charlie and his grandfather returned to the Kim residence. While it would be considered nice by most anyone’s standards, the three-story Victorian was decidedly outdated compared to the rest of the affluent community, which had undergone a full architectural face-lift over the past decade. Almost all of the old Victorians that had previously dominated the area had been leveled and replaced by Tuscan villas, French chateaus, and the occasional concrete compound.

  The Jameses across the street had opted for the latter, sparing no expense on their 15,000-square-foot compound, which even sported a rooftop pool and tennis court. Charlie had encouraged his parents to do the same with their property, but it wasn’t in Alan and Mary’s dna. They preferred the charm of their home and had never concerned themselves with keeping up with the Joneses or the Jameses, anyway.

  As Grandpa Kim pulled their car into the Kim’s driveway, Charlie found relief not only in the fact that he w
as finally home and could get started on his work but that Walter’s sedan was parked just ahead of them. Before the car had even come to a complete stop, Charlie threw open his door, leapt from the car, and dashed for the house.

  Charlie fruitlessly scoured the downstairs before finding Walter passed out on the back patio, his scrawny body sprawled across a lounge chair. An empty six-pack of beer bottles rested on the adjacent side table; however, Walter gave the appearance of someone who had polished off at least twice as much. His face was flush and his hair was wildly unkempt, even by the low standards he had established for himself.

  Walter had frequently insisted to Charlie, or to anyone who would listen, that the average human, over the course of their lifetime, wasted approximately one hundred days fixing their hair. By cutting out the comb, Walter reasoned that he afforded himself more time than everyone else to do the things that he enjoyed, like working on any of his and Alan’s projects. Walter also had a similar theory about sleep, which made finding him in such a deep slumber that much more surprising to Charlie.

  Charlie gave Walter a nudge.

  Walter jolted awake, nearly falling out of his chair before catching himself. “You trying to start a fight, tough guy,” he said as he slowly gathered his bearings. He had called Charlie “tough guy” ever since Charlie was a little kid. Charlie did the same. A friendly joke between two decidedly not tough guys.

  “Maybe,” Charlie said. “Were you here the whole time?”

  “Yeah,” Walter said, momentarily averting his eyes. “I’m sorry I skipped out on everything. I just couldn’t stand to see your dad and mom like that.”

  “You wouldn’t have seen them, anyway. They kept the caskets closed the whole time.”

  “Even still. I’m not good with that kind of stuff.”

  It wasn’t just the pain of seeing his friends being buried that had kept Walter away.; he also had no desire to see the other attendees. Everywhere Walter went, everyone asked for his take on the rumors. Just the day before, he had come close to fighting a former colleague outside of a coffee shop for suggesting that Alan had intentionally crashed his car.

  “Listen,” Walter said gently, “there’s a chance you might hear some stuff about your parents. But I just want you to know that none of it’s true.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Charlie asked.

  “You’ll know when you hear it.”

  “Well, Terry Heins said—”

  Before Charlie could finish, Walter snapped, “Don’t believe one damn word he has to say!”

  It was the first time Charlie had ever seen Walter fly completely off the rails, or even get rattled at all. Charlie was so taken aback by Walter’s sudden display of emotion that every muscle in his body reflexively tightened, and for a split second, he actually forgot where he was.

  Walter took a moment to calm himself. He apologized for his outburst and then asked what Terry had to say.

  Charlie told Walter what Terry had said about Alan being the next Nikola Tesla. Walter agreed with the assessment. Charlie also mentioned the investment Terry had made in their company.

  “He did a lot more than invest,” Walter replied.

  “Like what?” Charlie asked.

  “It’s not for you to worry about,” Walter said. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to cause Charlie any concern. The truth was Walter wasn’t quite sure himself.

  “Well, he seems like a great guy to me,” Charlie said. “He gave me his business card and told me to call him if I need anything. He even said he’d give me a summer internship.”

  “Let me see the business card.”

  Charlie went to retrieve the card but stopped, thinking better of it. “No way. You’re just gonna take it.”

  “I won’t take it. Just let me see it.”

  “Fine,” Charlie said. He reluctantly dug the card from his pocket, gave it one last hard glance, and then handed it over.

  Walter grabbed the card, crumpling it as soon as it met his palm. “The last thing you need is help from Terry Heins. You just have to trust me when I say to avoid him. All right?”

  “Whatever.” Charlie rolled his eyes. He had better things to do than get lectured. “Anyway, I have a ton of homework to catch up on, so I’m gonna get moving on that.” Charlie started toward the back door.

  “Hey!” Walter called out, halting Charlie. “If you ever need anything, you come to me first. Okay? Of course, that’s assuming it doesn’t have anything to do with girls or sports. In which case, you’re on your own.”

  Normally, that would have gotten a solid laugh or at the very least a chuckle out of Charlie, but this wasn’t “normally.” Charlie showed no signs of amusement. He just glared at Walter: Is that it?

  Charlie didn’t receive the reaction he had wanted, or any reaction at all. Walter’s attention had already shifted to something else. Charlie watched as Walter considered the business card that was still cupped in his palm, the wheels in Walter’s head clearly turning.

  After a moment, Walter slipped Terry’s business card into his pocket. “All right, well, I actually need to take care of some work myself. Gotta get the engine running. For your dad.”

  Charlie remembered what Terry had said about telling Walter that he could take as much time off as he needed, but Charlie knew that the suggestion wouldn’t be well received and might just lead to more arguing. So, instead of passing the information along, Charlie said nothing.

  Walter continued, “But why don’t you and me get dinner tomorrow? That is, unless you already have something planned.” Walter smirked. He liked to give Charlie a hard time about his planning, always in good fun.

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said, still putting up his front. “It depends on how much of my homework I get done.”

  “How about I just bring something over, then? We gotta eat, right? These massive physiques don’t fuel themselves.” Walter flexed his pipe-cleaner arms for effect.

  Charlie’s mouth turned up ever so slightly.

  “Come on. Let it out,” Walter urged, knowing that he’d finally broken through Charlie’s façade.

  Charlie shook his head, releasing a wide grin in the process. “That works for me. Just put those guns away.”

  “Good call. This is California, after all. And I don’t exactly have a permit.” Walter tugged his sleeves to cover his puny biceps and then opened his arms wide. “Now get in here. I can’t head off without a hug.”

  Charlie obliged.

  “I love you,” Walter said as he held Charlie tight.

  Walter’s words washed away the small amount of animosity Charlie was still harboring. After a moment, he replied, “I love you, too. But now I seriously need to get to work.”

  “All right, all right.” Walter gave Charlie one last squeeze, and then let him go. He quickly rounded up all of his empty beer bottles.

  “Are you okay to drive?” Charlie said as he gestured to the six-pack in Walter’s hand. “You and Dad used to split that.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It took me almost eight hours to finish. Assuming I’m still tipping the scales at a massive 155 pounds”—Walter quickly did the math in his head—“My blood alcohol is about .021. Even if I lost a couple pounds, which my pants would argue otherwise, I’m still looking at .027, tops.”

  “Just making sure,” Charlie said. He trusted Walter’s math and his word, but after what had happened to his parents, he was even more sensitive to the risks of driving, not to mention driving while impaired. “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry. I will. And I appreciate you looking out for me.” Walter tousled Charlie’s hair, turning the teen’s black mop into a mess that matched his own. “Hey! Look at that. Now you look like me.”

  “Awesome. That should help keep the girls away.”

  “Without a doubt. It’s worked my whole life.”

  Ch
arlie and Walter said their goodbyes, and then Walter headed off. The very second that Walter was out of sight, Charlie rushed back inside his house. He snagged a pen that was lying on the kitchen counter, retrieved his Moleskine from his pocket, and quickly scribbled down Terry’s phone number and email address from memory on the front page of the notebook. He turned to the next page, which contained the most recent version of his plan, and added the summer internship to the top of his list.

  There was no way Charlie was going to let anyone, or anything, get in the way of his opportunity of a lifetime. That much he knew, or at least he thought he did.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  With Walter accounted for and on his way, Charlie was finally able to focus on his homework backlog. Even though Terry had promised him the internship, Charlie knew that it didn’t mean he could just coast. He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen sink to combat the dehydration that he was no longer able to ignore, and then headed upstairs to get cracking on his assignments.

  Charlie’s bedroom was the converted attic on the third floor of the house. Charlie had relocated to the room when Grandpa Kim moved in with the family, but he chose to leave most of his clothes and junk in his old room. All that was in the new room was a bed and nightstand, a desk with his computer, and a throw rug to cover the laminate tile flooring.

  The previous owners had failed to properly insulate the room during their partial renovations. As such, it was always warmer or cooler than the rest of the house, and usually the opposite of what one would want it to be. That particular night, it happened to be cooler.

  Charlie threw on his Stanford University hoodie and took a seat at his desk. He blew into his hands for extra warmth, and then retrieved his Language Arts folder, having decided it would be best to just get the paper out of the way first. He skimmed over the assignment sheet. His task: Write a four-page essay on the most important moment in his life.