Yeah, I need to get out here more often.
* * *
“Thanks for meeting with me,”I say to my brothers as I sit across from them at the conference table.
Fuck, my palms are sweaty.
I’ve put a lot of time into this presentation, knowing that Huxley would want specific points. Although I’d planned to speak to Breaker first and toss around the numbers, I didn’t want Huxley to feel we’d gone behind his back. I might want to drive this, but we need to be unified on this direction and the only way to achieve that is if we all use our individual strengths once the idea is on the table. I spent last night running through my idea over and over, explaining it out loud to Kelsey as she sat on her bed with me. She listened to me speak until I was blue in the face. I’d felt ready. Right now, however, with my brothers watching me, I feel like I’ve lost all sense of why I’m doing this.
Kelsey and I drove to Cane Enterprises this morning. She walked me to my office, she held my hand as I went over the presentation one more time, and she gave me the most encouraging kiss and told me to call her after.
I can’t fucking fold, knowing she’s waiting to hear from me.
Taking a deep breath, I look my brothers in the eye and say, “I’m unhappy.”
The confused looks that cross their faces would almost seem comical if I wasn’t so fucking on edge right now.
Huxley shifts in his chair. “What do you mean, you’re unhappy? In life? I thought everything was good with Kelsey.”
“Everything is great with Kelsey,” I say. “This has nothing to do with my personal life and everything to do with my work life.”
“You’re unhappy with work?” Breaker asks, both of them truly concerned. They’re obviously surprised too.
“I am.” On another deep breath, I say, “When we started this company, I joined in not because it was something I truly wanted to do—invest in real estate—but because I wanted to be close to you two. Losing Dad, it was—” My throat grows tight. “Well, you know how devastated I was. And I was feeling lost, tortured at times with memories, and the only way I knew how to preserve those memories was to stay as close to you two as I could. The jobs were simple. Breaker, you’d do the numbers because that was what you’re good at. Huxley, you’d be the idea man, because you’re a natural-born leader, and that left me with the leftovers, handling all media and odd jobs. At first, I didn’t mind it, but as time went on, I grew more and more bored. More bitter. Angry that I didn’t feel like I had a purpose.”
“How long have you felt this way?” Huxley asks.
“Probably about a year now. But in the last few months, those feelings have grown to the point of bitterness. And that’s not what I want. I don’t want to feel bitter toward the one thing that keeps me close to Dad’s memory. Close to you both. So, I sat down and thought about what would truly make me happy, what would make me feel fulfilled.” I open my folder and slide the two printouts across the table, one for each of them. “I want to start a foundation within Cane Enterprises that focuses on offering affordable housing in our buildings to those who need it. Single parents, low-income families, those struggling to get their feet on the ground. I want to build a community within the housing, offer practical classes like basic DIY home maintenance and managing your finances, have childcare, health management. We’re bringing in so much fucking money every goddamn day that I think it’s time we give back, do more than just writing a check to a foundation.”
Huxley and Breaker both look over the printout, their eyes scanning the details. I’m literally hiding my shaking hands as I wait for their response.
They have to see the value in it.
“And you’d head this program?” Huxley asks. “Starting with the Angelica?”
I nod. “Yes. I’ve laid out the plans for how we can make the Angelica our first affordable housing apartment building. I even spoke with the mayor before I left San Francisco, pitched him the idea, and he said not only would he be willing to work with us on securing more buildings, but he’d put money toward our initiative when it comes to education, opportunity, childcare, as well as transportation.”
“Have you run the numbers on this?” Breaker asks.
“Yes.” I pull another paper from my folder, knowing he was going to ask. “With the products the mayor can provide at cost, and the tax breaks, we could break even on the project, while helping others. But honestly, even if we didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. Profit from even one of our other properties can sustain that.”
“What about your current responsibilities?” Huxley asks.
“Sustainably Organized runs on its own, and I think you know that at this point, Lottie and Kelsey don’t need us watching over them. I’d be able to keep up on some of my smaller management projects, and then all the PR—well, I can schedule important meetings, but the smaller fires, those can be put out by someone we hire. It’s menial work and a waste of my time.” I tap the desk. “This, though, this is the big picture. We can start a wave of affordable living across the country in major cities, expand from California to New York, touch down in Denver and Atlanta, as well.”
Huxley leans back in his chair and stares me down. “Honestly, I think it would be a substantial hit on our profit, because I can’t see how we could make affordable housing profitable.” My stomach fucking falls. “But... it’s a fucking brilliant idea and I’m mad I didn’t think of it myself.” He places his hand on the conference table. “One of the best things I learned from Dad about business is sometimes you have to take a hit in order to invest in yourself later. This is a hit, but it will keep investing in our company over and over again, maybe not financially, but morally. We have to run the numbers to ensure we stay viable, ensure we balance the not-for-profits with the revenue-generating properties, which I can see is possible. I’m guessing we’d need a not-for-profit license too. Spend time with Breaker and run numbers. You have my approval. Let’s meet on this again in three weeks.”
My chest swells as I turn toward Breaker, who’s still looking over the numbers. “I agree with Huxley and we do need to go over these numbers.” He lifts his eyes and smirks at me. “But I fucking love the idea.” Growing serious, he asks, “This will make you happy, though?”
I nod. “It will.”
He tilts his head to the side and asks, “Does this have anything to do with Kazoo the pigeon?”
I let out a loud laugh as Huxley asks, “Who the hell is Kazoo?”
“Some pigeon JP has been saving during his spare time.”
“I think this was inspired by Kazoo,” I say.
