by Amy Marie
And now he thinks he owns the company. I sighed and went back to staring out the window.
Papa had a hard time hearing anything negative about Jeff. My father was brilliant at envisioning the future. Management of all the brand names associated with Faris Capital, however, was not his superpower. He believed anything Jeff said. I, however, didn’t trust Jeff. He was the camel whose nose made it under the tent. I wondered how long it would be before the rest of the body emerged and pushed me out the back. But all anyone could see was the influx of millions of dollars an IPO would bring. I saw it as losing control to Wall Street.
"And now he wants to get rid of Sherebad Paper." Papa blanched. "That was mama's company, Papa. I don't know how you can consider it."
His eyes clouded at the mention of her. I heard the shame in Papa's voice as he tried for the hundredth time to explain it. "It isn't making profits, Mena. All paper companies are struggling. Even you have to concede that point."
"No. I won't lose mama's birthright."
"Don't worry. I told him that's a step too far, at least for now. But in the meantime," my father continued, "Don't you want to find a husband and raise babies? Your mama would want that for you."
He'd touched a sore spot. "Would you ask that if I were your son?"
He pointed a finger at me. “Yes, I would. There’s more to life than just work.”
“Work makes me happy.”
“It’s about balance, Jasmena. There’s more to happiness than work.”
We both grew silent. This wasn't a new argument. But there was little point in rehashing it now.
My father rose and pulled me to my feet. "Come, now, let's not fuss anymore today. We're both letting our emotions get to us. Let's enjoy dinner together, shall we?"
I hated to disappoint him, but the afternoon meetings had left me drained. "I think I'll just head home, Papa. I have a bit of a headache." I hated the disappointment that creased his forehead. "But tomorrow night, yes?"
He beamed. "That's my girl. I love you." He pulled me into his embrace, and for a few seconds, I allowed myself to be his little girl rather than his Vice-President. His tangy scent and warm arms felt like home.
"Good night, Papa. Don't forget, I won't be in the office tomorrow. I’m going to meet with Shannon to start plans for the benefit dinner."
"Is it that time already? You always do a fine job, and your mama—" his voice cracked, even after all these years— "she'd be so proud of you, too."
I smiled and touched the bracelet on my arm that had belonged to my mother. Somehow, it made me feel like she was still with me, whispering encouragements to me in her soft, sweet voice.
Right now, though, all I heard were the silent questions that echoed throughout the office: is she good enough?
Chapter 4
Mena
“Would you like me to have your car brought around, Ms. Knight?”
Kira’s eyes were sympathetic, and no doubt she had a clue about what had taken place behind the closed doors. She held the title of being my assistant, but she was also my friend. She was observant and smart, and over the months had also become one of the few people I felt I could trust.
“No, thanks. I think I just need some air.”
She frowned in the direction of Jeff’s office. “Too bad we don’t have an international office to ship him off to,” she whispered conspiratorially.
I knew my smile was tired, but I appreciated her loyalty. “At least here we can keep an eye on him.”
I headed out the large glass doors onto the streets of Boston. Spring was in the air, and after a brutally cold winter, even the chilly temperatures still felt warm.
I hurried away, no real destination in mind, just a chance to be on my own away from the stress that was inside the building behind me. Hundreds of people passed me, most too busy on their phones or set on their path to pay me any attention. Exactly what I wanted.
It didn't take long before I was on streets I'd never walked before. They were more commercial than corporate, and I was quickly caught up in the delicious scents steaming from food carts and the fetching window displays in boutique-style shops I'd never heard of. I walked and enjoyed the freedom of browsing before buying a gyro from a street vendor. I sat on a wall surrounding a fountain, enjoying the juicy, gamy taste of the sandwich.
I'd just about finished when a small crowd caught my eye. They all seemed to be focused on something, or was it someone, in the middle of their circle. Oohs and ahhs, along with laughter, accompanied their clapping. Curious, I tossed the wrapper away and drifted closer.
I could only see his profile, but it was definitely one that made me want to see more. Longish black hair curled slightly at his neck and around his ears. His nose and chin were sharp, but not so chiseled as to look hard. A smile flashed as I watched him address an older woman in front of him. I couldn't hear what he said to her, but it made her and the women around her laugh—no, more like giggle like teenagers with a crush rather than the sophisticated women they dressed as.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at their behavior.
He was lean, but his arms proved they were used to heavy lifting. He shuffled and worked a deck of cards while he talked. His movements highlighted defined muscles and teased of black ink that rippled along with them. When he held the fanned pack out to the woman, she gave him a coy look before picking a card from his hands. He made a show of turning around while she pulled a card and showed it to her friends. His eyes caught and held mine.
My tongue suddenly stuck to the roof of my mouth, but that didn't prevent my jaw from almost dropping. At least, I don't think it did. If the man’s side view was fetching, his frontal features view was arresting. Striking was the first word that came to mind. He was a potent mixture of Hollywood handsome blended smoothly with outdoor rugged. Not polished like all the other men I associated with, either professionally or socially, but a little rough around the edges.
He was maybe around my age; it was hard to tell. His face seemed young, but there were years of life beyond any physical age he could be in his eyes. Wisdom. Yearning. Disillusion.
For all of the assets and worldly experiences I've had, I suddenly felt naive, almost inadequate.
It's just all of the doubts being cast at you at work. I blinked a few times and shut those voices down.
His eyes didn't leave mine. I wondered what he saw in return.
The moment was broken as soon as he felt the woman place the card back into the deck in his hand. He completed the trick, proving again and again that he could read their mind and search out the hidden card within the deck.
I applauded with everyone else as he shifted back to a small table in the middle of the group. He kept up a constant stream of comments and jokes, calling out to passersby and drawing them into his audience. He was witty. He was clever. And he was talented. No matter how hard I tried to not fall for distractions, I never could catch how he made balls disappear, triple in number, or turn into oranges.
"Okay, ladies and gents, once again, my name is Oliver Prince, and I'm near the end of my show."
Several groans erupted from the audience, making him smile even more.
"So, we're at that time where I tell you I'm just a dude trying to earn some money. I'd love it if everyone could just give me whatever they feel they can. And the best part of this show is that whatever you give me, I'll be able to magically turn it into more." He tipped his chin at a group. "You'd love to be able to do that yourselves, wouldn't you?" he laughed.
He caught me smirking, only this time he didn't turn back to the bevy of admirers. "It seems we have a doubter in the group," he called to the crowd. He sauntered over to me, a shit-eating grin if I ever saw one on his face.
Oh, no. He wouldn't.
"Let's see if we can convince her, shall we?
He would.
He smirked like he knew I wanted to hide. Stiffening my backbone, I decided to play along. What could it hurt? I wasn't one to back down o
nce challenged. I was going to focus like never before and figure out his little trick.
"What's your name, gorgeous?"
"Mena."
"Mena, you're feeling generous today, I hope?" He winked.
"Depends on what you expect." I winked back, making him laugh.
He leaned closer, allowing me to see his eyes were dark green with a sunburst of golden brown around the pupil. The rest of the world might call them hazel, but they made me think of an exotic marble I'd once seen in a palace on one of my travels.
"Maybe we can work on those expectations later," he said for my ears only.
I knew we wouldn't, but his words sent a thrill down my spine anyway.
He talked me out of a couple one-dollar bills, which he walked around to nearby people to verify that they were real. After a couple more jokes, he stood back in front of me and held them up to confirm they were still the ones I’d given him. At my nod, he waved his hands over the bills and thanked me for the two hundred dollars I'd given him.
My mouth dropped. Sure enough, now there were two hundred-dollar bills in his hands, the singles I'd given him nowhere in sight. I didn't offer any resistance as he lifted my hand and dropped a kiss before walking back to the center of the group to the cheers and amused calls to teach them how to do that.
Putting his fingers to his mouth, he gave a sharp whistle. A dog rushed to his table, grabbed a black top hat, and trotted to his side. The magician made a gesture with his hand, and the dog bowed as if offering the hat to him. Oli dropped the bills inside and gave another hand signal. The dog walked around to the other people, holding the hat out like an offering plate. A few people walked off, but most dropped some bills into it before leaving, each with a smile that I doubted they'd arrived with.
The sun was fading, but I wasn't quite ready to go home to my empty house. Papa was right about one thing. I did long for a family, someone who would miss me if I didn't come back.
Chapter 5
Oli
The social worker, Carla, sat on my couch after an informal assessment of my new apartment. She smiled, her gaze drifting back around the small room before returning to me. The small notebook she held tapped against her free hand. "It looks nice, Oliver. You've done well for yourself."
I hadn't known her this many years not to hear the "but" in her tone. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing," she said, leaning forward so she could look me in the eyes. I wish she hadn't because I saw the sympathy there.
"It's not good enough." I threw my hands in the air before dropping them to my head. "It’s never going to be enough, is it? Because I’m never going to be good enough.” I blew out a breath, trying to put a lid on my temper. "I'm doing the best I can. Isn't it better than living in a house where no one cares?"
Carla showed up this morning to check out the apartment I'd scrimped and saved for to be able to make a deposit plus a month's rent. And then I’d scrimped and save more to furnish it and make it look like a home, complete with a new couch, a couple of armchairs and a kitchen table with matching dishes for four and a small TV. I even had twin beds and a desk and a chest of drawers in the bedroom. Hell, I even had a couple of throw pillows on the couch even though I didn't know why a couch needed such accessories. But they added a homey touch, so I figured why not. It had taken me months to create the nicest place I’d ever had.
I didn't know what a great house was supposed to look like, but I'd made sure everything was clean and comfortable, although I figured that was subject to perspective. Since I'd spent the past several years living in a tent or out of a car, maybe my idea of comfort was just anything with a cushion and heat. It wasn't going to win any Home and Garden awards, but at least it was on a decent side of town.
She smiled sympathetically. "You're doing great, Oliver. Unfortunately, it isn't just up to me. I'm happy to let my superiors know that you're working hard, but so long as you only have one bedroom, the answer is always going to be the same."
"I plan to sleep on the couch."
She shook her head. "They each need their own room," she said.
I fisted my hair. "I'll hang a curtain between the beds...something."
She shook her head.
"Why is it that the single mom next door has three kids in a one-bedroom apartment, but that's okay because she gave birth to them. You know I'll take care of them, right? Do your superiors really think staying in a group home is better than someone who will truly care about only them?"
I knew what her answer would be. I knew the system wasn't perfect; it sucked, in fact. But come on, give me a break. Were they really looking out for the kids in their system?
"Oli, what you're trying to do—"she paused, her hand coming out to rest on my arm, "it's nothing short of wonderful. But even you have to admit you're not really prepared for this. Who's going to watch them while you're working? What happens if one of them gets sick? You don't have insurance. You've done well for yourself, truly you have, but you don't really have anything to offer these kids."
"I have me. Isn't that enough?"
But who was I kidding?
"It's commendable—"
"Stop, Carla. Stop with the platitudes. I was a street rat, and I’ll always be a punk to people like your bosses. They don't really believe that anyone can pull themselves up in the world. They just let those kids get along until they're eighteen, then give them a small check and say, "good luck" as they shut the door behind them. And Jilly? What's she supposed to do when her brother turns eighteen? Huh?"
Carla was silent. I knew she would be. What else could she say?
"Oli, don't give up. Keep doing what you're doing. Earn that degree. Get a job with benefits. Not just for the kids, but because you deserve it, too. And don't get into any more trouble. Judges don't look kindly upon theft, even snitching food."
I swallowed hard. It hadn't been my finest moment, but it had been Jack's birthday. When I saw the small package of cupcakes, I thought it might make him smile. It was less than five dollars. Nothing of real value—except to a kid who hadn't had anyone acknowledge his birthday since he and his younger sister had run away. But every single penny I earned went toward my rent and the bare minimum to survive or to pay for classes so I could get a better job someday. Old habits I hadn't practiced since I was a teenager surged, and without much thought, I slipped the package into my jacket. Unfortunately, some old lady saw me, probably took one look at my black leather jacket and the hint of a tattoo peeking out from the neckline of my shirt, and assumed I was some punk who made a habit of stealing.
I knew I was in some shit, and while I didn't care about me, I had let Jack and Jilly down. So, I sucked up my pride and called Carla. She'd always tried to be on my side even though I didn't make it easy on her. I heard the annoyance in her voice when I explained that I might need a bailout—maybe literally—but she was at the store in record time. This woman missed her calling. She should've been a trial lawyer. Within minutes, I was back on the sidewalk, no charges pressed.
"I won't. Promise."
She stood and started for the front door, then hesitated. "I'll push for day visits, Oliver. It's the best I can do for now."
Hands shoved in my pockets, I nodded. "I appreciate it. I just don't want them to feel alone."
I'm sure she broke all kinds of professionalism when she gave me a hug, but she did it anyway. "They know. But I promise they're in a good place. I was lucky to get them into a place they can stay together, especially after some of the stunts Jack has pulled."
I knew she was right, but it didn't make me any happier. As if she could read my thoughts, Carla added, "You did the right thing getting them off the streets, Oliver. Never doubt it. They're in a safe place, looked after by caring people—" she gave me a stern look when I started to interrupt— "and they are going to school. And for what it's worth, I'm really proud of you, both for what you've done for them as well as what you've done for yourself. Keep it up, Oliver."
With
nothing else to say, I nodded.
"I'll check back in a couple months. You'll be finished with your classes by then, right? I'll see what I can do to help you get settled in a job with daytime hours and into a bigger apartment. Then we'll re-evaluate. Everyone will see how hard you've worked, and Jack and Jilly know it, too."
She let herself out, closing the door with a quiet click.
I wanted to believe her, but that felt like a door closing on my dream.
Chapter 6
Mena
This morning was one of the few times I didn't go to the office. Instead, I spent it overseeing the start of a fundraising project. While I had staff who could easily handle it, this one was started by my mother to support an orphan's home and school that had been started by my grandmother. I liked carrying on the tradition, and it allowed me to feel closer to my mother.
Every month, I picked a day to visit the school to see what needs they had as well as noted for myself the interactions between the children and the staff. The school rarely turned away a child as long as there was space, but we did screen them carefully to make sure we could adequately address any special needs. The staff was thoroughly trained to keep the children on a regimented schedule but in the most positive manner possible. And the thing that I liked best was that the school was that, unlike Social Services, they didn't turn a blind eye once they reached eighteen. There was a transition program offered to members up to twenty-one.
Most of the school functioned through donations, hence the need for fundraising events, the biggest of which was the one FarCap hosted. It was coming up in a few months, so it was time to make plans. I started off at the school, left to negotiate and sign a contract for the venue, and met with a party planner whom I'd worked with before. She was creative and fun, and I always enjoyed the time I spent with her. I was committed to the business side of FarCap, but getting to do this was a breath of fresh air.