Dissonance (23 page)

“You’re all set, young man. Go surprise the lucky lady,” the woman told me with a cheeky grin. I liked her.

“I’m sure I’ll be back.” I winked as I gathered up my purchase.

“Just keep me in mind when you get in trouble,” she answered.
When
. She might not be wrong there.

“I will.”

I rushed out of the shop, balancing my purchase precariously behind my back. Charlotte turned my way as I approached, clearly looking around for me with the phone still at her ear. Her face had the cutest look of confusion. By the time I was standing beside her, she’d hung up the phone.

“Eli said he was distracting me,” she said.

“That asshole, he wasn’t supposed to tell you,” I muttered.

She looked sort of nervous as she glanced at my arms that were wrapped behind my back, clearly waiting for the reveal.

“He said that if you proposed, I am supposed to say ‘no.’” Well, that explains the nerves.

“Angel, I promise you that I am not proposing. We are not anywhere near ready to consider that,” I insisted. “This is just a little something. I told that ass that I wasn’t proposing, he’s just trying to bust my balls.”

She looked relieved at that. “Then what were you doing?”

I moved the pure white orchid in front of me. Her surprised face was exactly what I had been hoping for. Her eyes sparkled as she took the plant from me.

“It’s beautiful, Logan,” she whispered.

“It reminded me of you. I finally had to look at your shampoo to figure out what flower your hair smelled like.” She blushed. “There are instructions for how to care for it attached,” I told her. “I didn’t want to get you some bouquet that would just die in a few days. I wanted to give you something that would last.”

From the look in her eyes when they met mine, she picked up on why I wanted to emphasize that difference.

“It’s perfect.”
Just like the woman holding it.

Part of me wanted to scoff at that ridiculous thought, but there was no point. Charlotte had me sunk. Instead, I took her hand and allowed myself to just enjoy the afternoon.

Thursday morning, I was running on the high of Charlotte being mine. I hated leaving for work each day, even when I knew she had to too. I would rather go back to bed and seclude ourselves there, permanently. She had slept in my bed every night since I had admitted my feelings for her, and waking up next to her each day was becoming addictive.

Unfortunately, my high was killed off quickly. My inbox had flooded since I had left work the night before. Maybe it was my own fault for not checking it, but I had already worked late, again. I wanted an evening with my girl without having work on my mind.

Scrolling through email after email, I noticed that a few had to do with commercial properties that should have been directed to Caleb. When I saw the sender, I pushed away from my desk and went right to the source.

My father’s office was just feet away from my own. Westfeild Realty Group was housed in the top two floors of a mid-rise building downtown. We actually owned the whole building, our first commercial venture, and leased the other floors to companies for office space. Dad had chosen to outfit his office on the west side of the building so he could get a view of the Puget Sound.

His secretary, Jeanine, smiled when I approached. “‘Morning, Logan,” she greeted. Jeanine was a petite woman in her early 50s who had been with the company for years. She was a sweetheart, which helped offset the fact that my father could be intimidating when he was in a mood.

“Good morning Jeany,” I answered with the same smirk I always give her.

“Boy, one day you’ll regret not dropping that nickname.”

If I honestly thought she didn’t enjoy trying to put me in my place, I might stop. But I had been calling her Jeany since I was fifteen and coming to the office because I had gotten in trouble at school, and I felt no need to stop now.

“Come on, you know you love me,” I teased.

With a roll of her eyes, she asked, “You here to talk to your father, or just to distract me?”

“I need to talk to him. Is he busy?”

“Nope, go on in,” she instructed.

I knocked on Dad’s door, waiting for his response as I threw back at her, “You’re our top asset, Jeany.”

Just as opened the door to walk in, she responded with a cheeky, “I know that, it’s you I’m not sure about.”

I chuckled, some of my good mood restored. Dad noticed as I walked in, and immediately asked, “Are you harassing her again?”

“Of course not. Just reminding her how important she is around here.”

He snorted at that. We liked to tease Jeanine, but no one would dare undervalue her. Even Mom was on Dad’s case all the time about making sure he treated her right.

“What can I do for you, son?” Dad asked, though I suspected he already knew the answer.

“You can start by telling me why you’re sending a bunch of commercial issues my way. Why isn’t Caleb handling them?”

Dad nodded, confirming that he knew that was what had brought me in. The heavy frown that consumed his features was more that slightly worrisome. He was not usually one to get down about things. I was not so sure I wanted to hear his answer anymore.

“Something is going on with your brother. He’s been missing days without warning, he’s been late to appointments, some of his contacts have been calling up to me saying they haven’t heard back from him. I tried to talk to him about it, but he just brushes it off,” Dad rubbed his temples as he always did when he was stressed. I didn’t like where this was going.

“I started asking around a bit, see if anyone else knew what was going on. A couple people have noticed him acting strangely. Finally, Joe in accounts receivable said something about it probably being because he was sick. Apparently, he saw Caleb struggling with a prescription bottle a few weeks back and had to help him open it. Has he said anything to you about being sick?”

“Nothing,” I told him. “I’ve barely talked to him.” That wasn’t necessarily surprising for the two of us, but now I wondered if there was a reason I had not run into my brother more frequently.

“That’s what I was afraid of. He hasn’t mentioned anything to me or your mother, either.”

The weight of his statement took a second to sink in. When it did, I was shocked.

“You think he made it up. And… what? That he’s just using?”

Dad shook his head, looking defeated. “I don’t know. Maybe he is sick, but then why not tell anyone? Why evade my questions?”

“Because he loves this company and would do anything to not jeopardize his chance of taking over when you retire,” I answered.

“Maybe, but if that’s the case, his health needs to come first. His life is more important than this company.”

“Not to Caleb,” I pointed out.

We both sat there a while, silent in our shared concern, until Dad spoke again.

“I’m going to try talking to him again. Come at him straight with the questions about his health. If he still won’t talk to me, I’m going to call in a private investigator.”

“Why?” As concerned as I was, that seemed extreme.

“If he’s sick, I want to make sure he’s getting the best treatment possible, that he’s really taking care of himself. And if he is using, I want to know. I want to get him help. I don’t want to lose someone else to that choice.”

This was a tough topic for Dad. When he was in his twenties, his brother Brian died of an overdose. I had experimented with drugs a bit as a teenager. One night, I came home high out of my mind. I had never seen Dad so pissed. The next morning, he tore me a new one for being so reckless. Caleb and I had known that Dad had a brother that passed before we were born, but we had never been told how. That day, Dad finally told me the story of watching his brother waste away on meth. He told me about going to check on Brian when no one had heard from him in over a week, and finding him in his apartment, already gone.

I never used again.

After not fighting harder to get his brother clean, I knew Dad would never allow his son to succumb to drugs. If that meant hiring a private investigator, then that was what would happen.

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions. We’ll take this one step at a time,” Dad insisted. “I just need you to deal with a couple things that have been slipping through the cracks on your brother’s end. I’ll get most of that work settled elsewhere, but can you just take care of the couple things I sent until I get another plan?”

“Yeah, I can handle it.”

“I know you can, I always have.”

Suddenly, I knew this conversation was shifting focus.

“That’s why I want you to really consider staying here, permanently,” Dad continued. “I know you love music, and I’ll support you as long as you want to pursue that. But, son, you’ve already rejected three recording contracts. Have you ever wondered if being a part of the music business is actually what you want?”

Of course, I did. I wondered it all the time. Before that first deal landed in my hands, I never would have doubted that music was the only career path for me. After it all fell apart, I wondered all the time. I was only nineteen when that first contract came my way. Luckily, my dad knew enough lawyers to get the thing reviewed by a professional. If he hadn’t, I probably would have signed without realizing that I was relinquishing all rights to my original work. I would have no ownership of the music I wrote. If they wanted to hand my song to another artist, they damn well could. I threw that contract out the minute that was explained to me, the label did not take that well.

Deals two and three came quickly in the first one’s wake, both with more ridiculous stipulations I refused to agree to. Deal two came with the requirement that I leave my band behind. They wanted me to be a solo artist with some hack studio band behind me. I had been playing with Josh and Tim for years at that point, I would not leave them in the dust. Offer number three came not long after our original bassist left the band to go to law school. The deal breaker for that contract was the bassist they wanted to add, some half-plastic, bottle-blonde who was there just to look good. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with the idea of a female bassist. The problem was that the chick could barely hold a beat alternating on open strings. What she had in marketability, she completely lacked in any musical skill.

Now, we were all getting older. I knew Josh was starting to move towards settling down with his girl. Tim was anything but settled, but he had plenty of other prospects beyond the band. What our newest asshole of a bassist would do, I just didn’t care. As for me, I had a successful future sitting right in front of me, if I would just commit. I would always have a way to support myself and any family I built.

I thought about what it would be like to have a music career. If it worked out, I would be on the road constantly, touring and recording. I thought about how hard it would be to leave Charlotte knowing I might not be able to see her for months. As new as this was between us, that still sounded horrible. Would I even be able to hold onto her if I was always gone?

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Dad,” I admitted. “You’re right. I am starting to question if that business is for me. I just don’t know anymore.”

“Look Logan, I’m not asking you to make a decision here and now. I’m not trying to persuade you one way or another. I just want you to know that there is always a place for you here. I know you’ve always thought of this place as your brother’s domain, but part of the reason I worked so hard to expand this company as far as I have was to be sure that I could leave something fruitful for
both
of you. You’ve done great work here, and it would be an honor to pass this down to you,” Dad leveled with me.

I had never really considered making more of my career at Westfield Realty. Despite having my name on the door, Dad was right, I had always thought of it as being Caleb’s. Maybe it was time to reconsider my future.

That image I’d had in my mind since I first picked up a guitar was changing ever since I’d locked eyes with a beautiful brunette weeks ago.