“Also, Dad wanted me to come find you. He’s taking us to Hardin.” Speaking completely out of the blue.
“Why does he want us to come?”
“For some reason, he thinks it’s important that you see what he does every day.” Despair layered his words. “I don’t know. I didn’t care to ask,” he added grimly.
Fuck.
twenty
Rory
TheHardinofficessmelledlike stale coffee, hot plastic, corn chips, and desperation.
A spider web of cubicles stands before me. People intermixed between them going about their days. Meeting impossible deadlines, to gain recognition for a thankless task.
Family photos and plants line desks, anything to make this place seem more human. A nice succulent sitting on this one. It screams go green, but also won’t bankrupt my wallet when I forget to water it because I’m underpaid and desperate.
The standard beige walls and carpeted floors are enough to make anyone go insane.
Earlier Finn had said Abram wanted to takeusto Hardin but by we, he meantme. Ditching me as soon as the opportunity arises.
I didn’t know a lot about what Abram did every day. Only certain in knowing he was an investor and made his money by taking a portion of someone else’s. The stuff he invested in made him cash, lots of it.
You didn’t own an entire high-rise downtown and a handful of others in different cities if you weren’t good at your job.
By the time Finn and I arrived, Abram had already been at work for several hours. I was realizing he was the type to come in early and stay late. Finn admitting to me on the drive over that before I’d come back, Abram usually traveled for business and was rarely home.
It was a strange idea to wrap my head around. Abram seemed to enjoy having family dinners together a few times a week. Every night became unrealistic with everyone’s schedules. It was excessive even for me.
After Finn abandoned me, I decided to take my time heading up to the top floor to meet him. Taking a detour instead.
Abram could wait. I wanted to see what the people who can barely splurge on an overpriced coffee every day looked like. The normal, ordinary folk slaving away their lives to make Abram and Cole’s dad richer.
Figuring I had stalled long enough, I shift. Wrong move. A filled cart ramming into me unexpectedly. Hordes of papers flying around me, as I fall on my butt.
Scratching at my head, I hear a curse. A hand extends, and I blindly reach for it as they help me off the ground.
Blinking I realize those papers are envelopes. The man who’d helped me up picking up all his discarded parcels and putting them back on his cart.
“Uh, thanks,” he says after I hand him a stack.
“No problem.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” His forehead pinches. “Most people don’t blink twice at the mail guy.”
“That’s a little rude, you’re doing a job, same as them.”
“I guess.” He shrugs, downplaying it. “Most people don’t want to take the time to get to know someone who’s just dropping off the mail.”
I’m not sure why but that thought kind of comes off sad. No one liked to feel isolated.
Humming, he gets back to work, throwing his headphones over his ears. He’d seemed content in his role, but our conversation plagued my brain the entire ride up to the top floor.
“Nice plant.” I point out to the secretary waiting on Abram to come out of his office. “A succulent, good choice.”
Her—too perfect to be natural—plump lips pinch together at my comment.
This floor a contradiction to the several dozen below. The lighting warm and downcast. Not a blinding fluorescent that murdered your eyeballs.