I waved him off, coming around the front of my desk with the full intention of ushering him to the elevator and back to wherever he’d come from.
“I’m not going to talk about Silas with you,” I said.
“Because you’re fucking my son?”
I snorted, biting back the truth of the matter. I was doing far more than fucking him.
“I’m not going to talk about Silas with you,” I repeated, stabbing the down button on the elevator.
“Does he talk about me with you?”
“Ask him,” I suggested.
“He’s not answering my calls.”
The elevator doors slid open, and Stanley begrudgingly stepped inside, turning to face me with his arms limp at his sides. Silas hadn’t even mentioned his father since the lunch interruption had come up. I wondered if he’d blocked his dad or chosen to willfully ignore the calls. Either way, it made me appreciate my father’s concern for me and my brothers was in name and reputation only, not anything that actually mattered.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Stanley.”
Regret flashed across his face as the doors closed on him, and with a sigh, I turned and leaned against the wall. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I sent a quick message to Silas.
Your dad just showed up here asking about you.
Silas
Jesus. I’m sorry.
Are you ignoring his calls?
Yes.
Did he seem upset?
Defeated.
Sorry he bothered you.
Not a bother. Just wanted to let you know and make sure you’re okay.
Always.
It was an overstatement, but nothing worth arguing about.
The elevator doors slid open, and I was ready to rebuff Stanley again but instead found Smith, tie loose around his neck and exhaustion marring his features.
“Hey,” I said, nose scrunched.
Smith stepped out of the elevator and headed for my office without an invitation. I went behind him, closing the door after he collapsed into one of the leather chairs opposite my desk.
“You good, baby brother?”
Instead of sitting behind my desk, I took the seat next to Smith, waiting for him to tell me what was on his mind.
“I want a new job,” he blurted, frowning.
“Okay.” I rubbed my hands together, immediately running through the rolodex of contacts in my mind who would be able to help Smith get out of his current firm and into something new. “Bored of the history or what’s going on?”
“No. Yes. I mean…I want a new career.”
