Page 54 of Room Service

21

Trent

“Here are the documents you needed, sir.”

I waved my hand at the secretary to leave them on the desk in front of me without looking away from the computer monitor, though I did spare her a glance when I heard the folder hit the desktop.

“Thank you,” I murmured distractedly, pulling the keyboard closer to me to type something out.

“Any time, sir,” she said, then walked out. I heard the door closing behind her.

I finished what I was working on, then pushed the keyboard to the side and reached for the new folder.

“Shit is getting a little too busy around here,” I muttered to myself as I opened it up to look at the contents.

In the time since Jessi had left, I had been busy. So super fucking busy that I barely had the time for regrets, and still, I kept thinking about Jessi and how we’d left things, how my sister had all but commanded I go after her. I’d made the decision that I had to… but because I was an idiot, work came first.

If I was being honest with myself, I would admit to being afraid. So damn afraid about everything. The moment Emily had left my office, I’d been about to drop everything to run out and do what she’d wanted, to go looking for Jessi to bring her back. I only stopped myself at the last minute because I realized that wasn’t like me at all.

Just what was happening to me?

It was terrifying for me because I’d always been in control of myself, ever since I was a teenager. I’d forced that control on myself, thinking it was the only way I could live. And then, out of nowhere, I needed someone else. It was a weakness that came out of nowhere for me, because I’d pretty much killed the word “need” in my vocabulary. If you needed, then you were opening yourself up to pain and disappointment.

And yet, I had this deep need for someone’s presence, and that someone just had to be Jessi of all people. I’d never felt that way towards anybody, not since Mom died, anyway.

The terror that arose from it was something foreign, something I’d thought I got rid of a long time ago. I’d stopped being afraid of things by the time I was six, after Mom was gone, and Dad was too busy to even be there for me, all I’d had was myself. I’d taught myself to kill fear and had lived without it for two decades. So what the fuck was happening now?

A knock on the door made me look up. I was distracted anyway, I’d only got to the middle of the document before what I was reading blurred and I focused on my thoughts. The secretary walked in, and I arched an eyebrow her way.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“A few calls for the meeting came in, sir,” she said. “I wanted to ask you for permission before setting any meetings.”

I didn’t want to take any meetings. All of this was supposed to be my dad’s job, and the old man was still hiding himself away in the mansion. I’d gone over to try and speak to him a few times, only to be rebuffed, and it just left me more confused about the whole situation. It had been nearly a month since I’d come back home, and there was no news of his health, so I was still handling things that should have been his to handle.

The meetings were particularly annoying because the people that came in were more about sucking up to me or talking down to me because I was there in place of my dad. It was so damn annoying I’d stopped taking meetings last week. I was busy enough as it was without them.

“Are they important?” I asked because that was all I cared about.

“I’m afraid they are, sir,” she said, almost apologetically. “I could set them up for some time next week?”

I nodded with a bit of relief. “I think that would be for the best.”

“I’ll get on it.”

She walked back out, and I leaned back into my seat with a heavy sigh.

I needed to talk to Dad before then. I wasn’t sitting in one more fucking meeting!

It wasn’t like I got anything from them, anyway. When I did pay attention, resolutions weren’t met, and follow up meetings had to be set. It was a far cry from the success I’d had with my own business, and it was so damn frustrating. I’d thought I was on my way to a beautiful career, but clearly, I still had much to learn about the business world. It was still annoying to learn I wasn’t as unflappable as I’d thought.

“Why did I have to be a Thompson?” I asked my empty office.

I got no answer, as expected, but that only made me even more irritated.

I hated the family name. I hadn't given much thought to it when I was younger, and I only started to know its true weight when I got to high school. When I’d walk to school, and I would have people fawn over me because of the name and the family it was attached to. I’d even toyed with getting my name legally changed, perhaps to my mom’s maiden name, but I knew Dad would never stand for it.

More than anything, I hated what it all stood for. People saw my name as something to be proud of, but I would rather hide it because all it reminded me of was a man who was fooled into a marriage when he still should have been grieving, and a woman who deluded a man because of her greed and needs.