“No, Hayden read online that I love roses and brought them for the office. Anyway,” he hurried on, seeing the gleam in her eyes, “was Russell ever married, or engaged?”
She cocked her head, seeming intrigued by his question. “No, not in the forty years I’ve known him. He was a serial dater—loved the chase but got bored once he caught them. I think he’s a confirmed bachelor.”
Which fit with his idea that Russell might be gay or bisexual but too afraid to admit it in the macho atmosphere of professional sports.
“Why?” she asked.
“No reason.” It wasn’t his place to comment on a feeling or hunch about someone’s sexuality. If Russell was in the closet, it was his decision when or if to open the door. “And I’ll take your opinion under advisement.”
“Oh, my. Such corporate speak. Looks like you’re acclimating pretty well to the position after all.”
He made a face. “Very funny. I hate to rush you out, but I have an interview tomorrow with a newspaper reporter. I need to prepare for it, plus I need to finish reading through the scouting reports.”
“I’ll leave you, then.” She gathered up her purse and rose to her feet. “Come by the apartment soon.”
“We never spoke about you, Mom. Are you getting out? How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He held his mother’s defiant gaze. “Anna.”
“Because she was pregnant? I didn’t care. Your father and I have been divorced for over thirty years. What he did had no bearing on me.”
“I just want you to know that you can talk to me, like you want me to talk to you.”
“That’s sweet, but I’m fine.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
Hayden wasn’t at his desk. Armi couldn’t help noticing the surface remained pretty bare of any personal items, and he wondered why.
He kissed his mother at the elevator, and while he wasn’t vain, he had to admit it was nice to see his name and not his father’s on the wall.
In his office, he dumped the remains of their lunch, and even with all the work waiting for him, he plugged Hayden’s name into his browser.
“Two can play this game, Hayden,” he muttered to himself. “You’re a puzzle I’d like to find all the pieces to.”
The usual résumé and connection to Kunoff Shipping popped up, but that was about it. Strange, as it seemed Hayden was a person who should’ve had a much more vibrant social-media presence. Instead, the opposite proved true. No funny posts or pictures with friends and family.
Nothing.
He searched a bit deeper, looking for public records, and came up with only a high school graduation date. Armi chewed his bottom lip. “Could he not have gone to college? Maybe he dropped out?” His mind worked fast and furious.
“Does it matter if he doesn’t have a degree?” Not to Armi. He knew what people called him behind his back, or when he gave money to the homeless on the street—trust-fund baby, bleeding heart, sucker—but he couldn’t unsee the great divide and knew how damn lucky he was. Maybe Hayden had climbed that ladder out of poverty and wanted to start fresh and clean.
“He has the right to live his life as he wants.”
Armi shut down the computer and picked up his phone. “Trevor?”
“Don’t tell me you’re calling about getting together for dinner this weekend?”
Dinner? Shit, hehadforgotten. His gaze lit upon the sticky note on the side of his computer screen. “Yeah, of course,” he said a little too heartily, and Trevor snickered.
“That’s not what this call is about, is it?”
“Saturday night? How’s that sound?”
“Good. So what’s up?”
