“Did you ever read the mission statement for Wentworth Hydroponics, Mark?” Freddie’s tone was calm but stern, the one he usually reserved for meetings with companies or municipalities more concerned with profit than the people they claimed to help. The one he wielded to ensure that, regardless of who bought his company, the patents for all his work would go into the public domain for anyone to use.
Mark’s expression faltered. “Sorry?”
“It’s okay, it was long. I’ll summarize it for you.” Freddie leaned his elbows on the table. “Leave the planet a better place than we found it.”
Mark laughed again, as if this were a joke, even as George’s expression became stoic. Unreadable.
“Listen, I know you’re trying to keep that altruistic angle, and that’s great. Really. But none of that matters now.” Mark leaned an elbow on the table. “We’re here to make money; you need to understand that. And if you don’t, I need to know that now. Okay?”
“Okay, Mark,” Freddie replied, donning a sharp smile. “Then I guess there’s something you need to know.”
George didn’t say anything as he and Freddie left the building and walked out to their waiting Suburban. His expression was blank—he was good at that—so there was no way to gauge how pissed he was. But it was safe to assume he had to be. Freddie had left every feeling he had about the new CEA division on the table, calmly outlining his contempt for Mark and his entire idea, then segued into all the issues he had with the man’s entire work ethic and approach. It had been cathartic, but when he was done andfinally took in the expressions of the two men sitting with him, Freddie realized he probably should have at least discussed it with George beforehand.
The problem was Freddie hadn’t planned on doing it. The idea never even crossed his mind. He had been too consumed with dissecting what Anne had told him, how she had torn down every excuse he’d made for himself in recent years until he was left with only the stark truth.
You left to forge your own path but still ended up where you never wanted to be.
After everything, he had assumed that she saw through his bravado, past all the posturing, the expensive suits and fancy furniture. That she could see the person he was under everything. And maybe she had, but the view left her unimpressed. Worse, she knew who he had been and could track the change. He might be able to ignore the compromises he had made along the way, but she never would.
Unfortunately, he had chosen a shit time to realize it.
Freddie sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched Midtown fly by through the window. Then he turned to the man seated beside him. “George…”
He knew he had to cobble together an apology, say something to quell his friend’s inevitable anger, because Christ, it was warranted.
But George shot him a glare before he could continue. “Don’t.”
“Come on. I had no right—”
“Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I should have talked to you first.”
“You did.”
Freddie paused, eyes narrowing in confusion.
George smiled. “Freddie. Do you remember our first businessmeeting? You walked into my office in a T-shirt and cargo pants and called me ‘bro.’?”
Freddie smiled. He hadn’t thought about that day in a while. When he had arrived at the offices of Knightley Capital, George had looked at him like he was there to deliver his lunch.
“I had barely said hello before you made it clear that you didn’t care about profits, you just wanted to make sure the technology was open-source and available to everyone. You were there to make a difference,” George said. “I admired that in you. That’s why I invested in Wentworth Hydroponics. It’s why I introduced you to Will when you decided to sell. No matter how much this business tried to bend your moral compass, you didn’t let it. Don’t start now.”
“I don’t know. I think that ship already sailed when I bought my first suit.”
George scoffed. “Freddie, you just called their CEO a neocon. You’re fine.”
Freddie laughed, punctuating it with a sigh as he leaned back in the leather seat. “What the hell am I doing?”
“Depends. What do you want to do?” George asked.
The question was so big, so cumbersome, that for a long moment all Freddie could do was stare out his window, letting every possibility run through his brain. He wanted Anne back. He wanted to build a life she would be proud to share with him.
And then his brain returned to the very thing he had said to Mark just a few minutes before.
“Leave the planet a better place than we found it,” he said. Then he turned and gave George a wry grin. “Is that lame?”
His friend shrugged one shoulder. “Only if you don’t actually do it.”
