Mr. CEO(95)

Chapter 14





Jackson





I'm unsure of how to approach Nathan as I get back home. The sun went down hours ago, and Peter is probably gone. Growing up, he almost never spent evenings at home, usually going to see “friends,” as he would put it. So there's a chance that Nathan might be with him if he's actually conducting business.

On the other hand, if Peter's out with any of his current mistresses, he'd leave Nathan behind. Now that I've admitted to myself and to Katrina that he’s a philandering, lying son of a bitch, I'm able to recall little details about the way he does things, things that I'd overlooked or never really cared to think about before. Like dyeing his hair, or the fact that he changes secretaries on a roughly yearly basis. Or the fact that when he's going out to f*ck around, he leaves Nathan behind.

I'm encouraged when I see that Peter's Porsche is gone. That thing only has two seats, and unless Nathan’s riding shotgun, he’ll be home. Of course, Peter never lets anyone else drive that German showpiece. I park my Audi and go inside. And here I thought my car was pretentious...

The first person I find is Andrea, sitting in the dining room with her textbooks in front of her. She's stripped out of her power suit and looks more like the twenty-year-old that she is. Shows me how fifteen hours can change someone, I guess. “Hey, Andrea.”

“Whatcha want, Jack?” Andrea asks, grumpy. Studying must be going bad for her. She's always been moody, but normally she's never outwardly hostile to me unless I'm being a jerk to her. “Don't tell me you finished Rich Dad.”

“No, I got to chapter four before everything sort of kicked off this morning. Since then, I've been... well, busy. How was your day?”

“Sucked. Got my midterms back.” Oh yeah, she said something a while back about preparing for her summer midterms.

“Andrea, you go three semesters a year, you've been doing that since junior high school. Don't you think, well, maybe you can let go of a test or two? Nobody can throw perfect games each time out. I've had bad lift days, shit like that. Besides, what'd you score?” It is one of the things that I've never grasped about Andrea until meeting Katrina again. Her drive is superhuman, and she's getting her MBA at twenty because of it. Still, it can't be healthy, having graduated high school at sixteen, getting her bachelor's at nineteen and now being more than halfway through her MBA. I've never worried about it before, mainly because I've been too much of a self-absorbed manchild to give a damn. Well, that's going to change. “Come on, Andrea. What'd you score?”

“Only 83 and 87,” she grumps, slamming her book closed. “Happy now?”

“Whoa, whoa, Andrea. I wasn't trying to piss you off,” I hurriedly apologize. I want to snap at her in return, but something, maybe something that rubbed off from Katrina's talk with me, holds me back. “Okay, so you didn't get As in them. And I know, the shitstorm I've raised this past week and a half or so hasn't helped much.”

Andrea takes a deep breath, then nods. “Thank you, oniichan. Sorry, too. Margaret was bitchy when Peter left tonight. We had an argument, which is why I'm out here instead of in my room. She's insisted that she hold court over the entire family wing of the house, and threw me out. It was either study here or in the kitchen, and the kitchen's too hot.”

I smile and pat her shoulder. “I understand, thanks for the heads-up. I'm sorry you had to deal with that.” She looks started at first, then nods gratefully. Mom's always treated her like shit, but I've never really bothered to empathize before, I guess because I was always too wrapped up in my own bullshit. That's going to change. “Quick favor. Have you seen Nathan?”

Andrea nods. “After Peter left and Margaret's blow-up, I heard him say something about getting a workout in. You'll probably find him out there, or maybe in his workshop.”

“Thanks. And I owe you a hot chocolate later or something, something to help you stay awake while you study.”

“Sounds good. And Jackson...”

“Yeah, Andrea?” I ask, already heading out the door. I pause, and look back.

She looks like she's going to say something, then shakes her head. “Just... when you get back, if you'd like to talk about what you read, I'll make some time.”

“Thanks. We'll see.”

I leave the dining room and run up to my room, changing clothes quickly. I didn't get a second workout in today yet, and I could use a sweat myself. It only takes me three minutes, and I jog outside. I can hear Mom drunkenly singing to herself in her room, so slurred I can't even make it out, but it sounds like blues. I leave the drunken singing and the main house behind, heading out to the gym. Andrea's right, I find Nathan inside, stripped down to just some compression shorts and pounding on a heavy bag. He puts a lot of thirty-year-old athletes to shame. He’s still pretty ripped, and I can only hope to be in that kind of shape at his age.

A timer goes off, and Nathan stops, stepping away and seeing me for the first time. “How goes your warnings?” he asks, surprised when I don't answer. “What?”

“Did you?” I ask, surprised at how calm I say it, despite my anger. “Did you set the bomb?”