This is my first speech as CEO, and I know how important it is.
"Thank you very much for your warm welcome." I clear my throat and start my prepared speech. "There's a bookstore outside of the city that is like an Aladdin's cave for bookworms. I've loved books since I was a young boy, but it was the first trip to that bookstore with my grandfather that taught me a lesson I'll never forget. Books don't just appear out of nowhere, you have to buy them."
There's a round of laughter, and I smile, waiting for it to stop so I can continue. "The second lesson he taught me is that for those beautiful stories to exist, someone must write them first. Now, as much as I love reading, and I can write a mean critique, or give an author the right guidance to make a great book into a best-seller, I'm no author. When my father announced his retirement, I'll be the first to admit shock and complete denial, but in the time it has taken for me to accept and welcome my new challenge, I started thinking about my own legacy. Tonight, amongst us, we have a group of incredibly talented authors who entered to win the recently created Blackwood Publishing Award, and I am delighted to announce Andrew Cinder, with his novelLove Tenderis the first winner of the award. Unfortunately, Andrew has had to leave early, but I'm sure many of you will have the pleasure to meet him shortly. In the meantime, let's welcome the semi-finalists into the fold and give them something to take home. Thank you very much and have a merry Christmas." There's a round of applause, and I shake my father's hand as we wait for everyone to get back to their conversations and exit the stage.
"What on earth was that, Alexander?"
"I don't know, Dad. Andrew was here. I saw Mark with him, and then Andrew left. I'm going to find Mark."
Walking the room to find Mark is like swimming against the tide. Everyone wants to talk and congratulate me. I make polite conversation and when I can escape, I find a quiet corner and take out Andrew's wallet.
The light brown leather looks old and worn. The letters A and C are embossed on the front, but otherwise it’s a regular men's wallet. I feel I'm breaching Andrew's privacy by opening it, but it may hold some information about Andrew. I'd like to return his wallet and speak to him without having to wait until Monday to retrieve it from the administration team.
I open the wallet. As expected, there are some bank cards inside. I don't bother taking them out, but it's another reason to return the wallet quickly. There's a clear pouch with a photo of a man and a little boy inside. Could this be Andrew and his son?
Behind the photo, there's a folded piece of paper. I take it out and realize it's a piece of old newspaper. I unfold it carefully and see the same photo Andrew has in the pouch. The headline reads'Local aspiring author Andrew Cinder and his son, Ashton Cinder, at the signing of Andrew's first children's book,How to Grow a Farm.'
Ashton Cinder...Ash...myAsh. But Ash's dad...I gasp. Ash is Andrew Cinder. Andrew talked about his novel inspired by his parents' love story. Could it be that Ash wrote the novel and is using his dad's name as a pen name? And how did I not put the information together? Cinder isn't that common a surname.
So many thoughts run through my head. So many questions. I pick up my phone to call Ash, but the call goes straight to voicemail. I need to go to him.
As I walk toward where my parents are talking to our marketing director, I finally see Mark. I walk to him with purpose and pull him by the arm to the balcony I was in earlier with Andrew...Ash.
"You were talking to the winner of my competition earlier before he ran out of the room. Anything you want to share?" I ask, not even bothering to take the bite off my words.
"Oh, you've come to thank me. You know, sweetie, that's not how you do it, but if you come home with me, I'm more than happy to allow a redo."
"Over my dead body, Mark. I'll ask one more time. What did you say to him?"
"Him? You mean Andrew Cinder, the dead man? Or Ashton Cinder, your little farmer toy? I just reminded him that plagiarism is illegal, and he should just quit and save himself, and you, the embarrassment."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, you didn't know? See, Xander? This is why you need me in your life to look out for you. Your farmer friend plagiarized the book his father wrote. I don't know how he thought he could get away with it. I mean, your standard contract is for three books, so how would he come up with the rest? Or maybe he thought with the grant money he'd hire a ghostwriter."
The longer Mark talks, the more I realize exactly what's going on. As much as I want to run over to Ash and make everything okay, there are a few things I need to do first.
"Thank you for...looking out for me, Mark," I say, even if it makes me sick to say it. "Leave it with me. I'll handle it from here."
"My pleasure," he says, and then comes closer. His cologne is so overpowering, I feel dizzy, and not in a good way. When he puts a hand on the small of my back, I push him away. "Hmm, playing hard to get...you know how much that turns me on."
He runs his hand down the lapel of my suit jacket, and when he looks up to meet my eyes, I see the hard coldness in them.
"What are you wearing, Xander? Is it one of your pretty panties?"
My blood runs cold.
"Oh, you thought you could share your little secret with your farmer boy?" He shakes his head. "This is why we keep it in the family, Xander. The more you have to lose, the tighter you keep your mouth shut."
"I'll remember that," I say before I walk away.
I hear him call my name, but I can't bear to look at his face. Luckily, the men's bathroom is empty, so I close myself inside a cubicle and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.
I know Ash wouldn’t break my trust so the only way Mark would know is if he went through my stuff. The thought of my privacy being invaded by someone who should have cared for me makes me so angry I want to punch the wall above the toilet.
When I'm done, I flush it away, close the lid, and come out to rinse my mouth. There's a basket with tiny mouthwash bottles and other useful things such as shaving foam and disposable razors. I uncap the bottle and rinse my mouth until all I can taste is the mint fresh mouthwash.
I walk out and thankfully see my father straight away.
