Page 15

“Speaking of people’s shit. I know something’s up with you. And not just the new beard that I can’t decide how I feel about.”

“Same. I think I’m going to shave it off when I get back.”

“Okay, phew. I wasn’t gonna say it, man, but that’s the right call. Is the beard like getting bangs are for ladies? A cry for help?”

“Who the hell knows. Shit isn’t great, Con.”

“Yeah, I figured, and not just the mountain-man cosplay, you’ve been all cagey.”

“Well, you know Poppy’s in bad shape. Like, worse and worse every day. The doctors call it ‘going off the cliff’ when people with dementia take a turn like this, usually after a life shake-up or when they lose the routine they were used to. Retirement seems to have just thrown him straight over the fucking ledge. Last week he misplaced his dentures and we found them in the freezer, and then he wandered into the backyard looking for the bathroom and didn’t make it back to the house in time to get to the actual bathroom.”

“Oh shit, man. That’s rough. You need some help. I don’t see changing diapers in your future.”

Simone had been on Alex about that too, the need to get a live-in nurse. It was a nonstarter at the moment, though. For one, Poppy was never going to agree, and Alex didn’t have the wherewithal to try to go to battle with him. Also, the cost of a live-in nurse makes rehab look like a discount hotel. Alex had priced out a few and then slammed his laptop shut.

“So I guess that’s why he retired, then? I wondered about that. I thought he was going to keel over at his desk. Living the dream.”

“Yeah. I sort of had to force it.”

“This is a royally fucked-up situation, but if there’s a silver lining… you’re getting your shot.” Leave it to Connor to land on the positive.

“Yeah, some opportunity. The company’s finances are in the shitter. Like, fucked. Beyond fucked.”

Just admitting this out loud is a relief. A small release of pressure that demands more venting. He knows he can trust Connor with anything. He’d once sheepishly divulged that he masturbated to a picture of Sally Field as the Flying Nun, for God’s sake. What Alex wouldn’t give to go back to tenth-grade-level problems… and guilt.

“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Alex continues. “I assumed he was holding it together well enough for a while, but he fucked some things up. Like buying this medical supplies company we have no business owning, and now we have a bunch of ultrasound machines and God knows what else piled up in a warehouse in Green Bay. Our cash flow is a joke. I can’t even take a salary. I’m a volunteer at my own friggin’ company. And I was hoping, for my first meeting coming up with the board, to present my big idea to develop and launch an app for delivery so we’d be able to take on Amazon and Kroger. Maybe I could convince them, since I had no luck with Poppy. But there’s no way that can happen. I have to focus on stopping the bleeding first, or the whole thing could collapse. I’ve put off meeting with the board while I try to come up with some plan, something, but they’re breathing down my fucking neck.” As if he means this literally, the back of his neck breaks out in a profuse sweat that he swipes at with a cocktail napkin.

Connor reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.

“I could tell something was up, but I was hoping you’d fallen in love with your secretary and I could just talk you out of that. This is much worse.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What’s Simone say about all this? Is she freaking out?”

“I haven’t told her. Exactly because I don’t want her freaking out. This is my problem to handle. She doesn’t need to know.”

“I’m far from an expert on marriage, but… I don’t know, man… feels like a pretty big secret to keep from her.”

“It’s not a secret. I just don’t want to stress her out for no reason.” Also, because the one promise he’d made to Simone was that he’d always provide for her. She may downplay the cars and the jewelry, but her giddy reaction every time he presents her with a little box for her birthday or Christmas, or sometimes for no reason at all, tells a different story. And in his darkest moments, staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night, Alex questions whether Simone would even want to be with him without the cushy life he’s promised her. He knows she loved him or at least liked him a hell of a lot before she knew that he came from money, but would she have married him without it? It’s one of those nasty thoughts that tickles his brain and pops up just when he’s starting to feel comfortable and content. No way he’s going to confess that to Connor; there’s not enough trust or whisky in the world.

“I get that, and I guess you’re solid financially, right? I’m sure you’ve saved, made some smart investments with your settlement over the years. It’ll be okay. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Connor was wrong. Alex hadn’t saved and he hadn’t made any “smart investments” with the funds from his parents’ wrongful death suit. At the time he’d come into his trust, he’d thought it was a fortune, but it went fast, so fast. He’d flushed away the last chunk of it for the nonrefundable deposit on a house they aren’t getting. He doesn’t mention that either. Taking over Hartwell was supposed to refill the coffers, make him rich… again.

Connor, oblivious to the fact that Alex is silently beating himself up for just about every decision he’s made in his life, piles on. “But while we’re on the subject of ethics… you probably should have told the board about Poppy as soon as you knew he was losing it. Just so you could cover your own ass. And maybe you could have saved him from himself, and saved the company. Now you can’t say a word, though, because they can hit you up with some fiduciary malfeasance for failing to report it. But who knows, it’s possible that Poppy was in his right mind and just didn’t want to tell you about his decisions. He should have read you in on that, though; he should have trusted you.”

He should have trusted you. It stings even more to hear Connor say it out loud than when the little voice in the back of Alex’s own head repeats it to him every morning when he sits down at his desk.

“It’s not about me or trust. I told you, he’s really not doing well,” Alex says, trying and failing not to sound defensive. “Need I remind you, he pissed in a bed of mulch last week. At this point, it’s not like I can even go to him with any questions without him getting all agitated. Even if it wouldn’t upset him, I don’t think I could get a straight answer.”

Connor’s hand is back on Alex’s shoulder, giving it a firm shake. “So it’s all on you. That’s a good thing. Pressure like that makes you feel alive. You’re a diamond, my man! You just gotta pivot! Be agile! Fail fast and up! Let me help. It’s what I do, baby. First step is cutting costs. That means store closures. Sometimes you gotta get smaller before you go bigger. Simple as that.”

For as respected as he is in the industry, it’s wild to Alex that Connor speaks in cliché tech jargon. Everything that just came out of his mouth could be a slogan etched on the wall of a start-up, right above the Ping-Pong table and mini fridges with limitless kombucha.

Also, it was anything but simple.

“Absolutely not. I can’t make my first big decision as CEO to close stores.”