Mid Life Love (Mid Life Love #1)(8)

I rolled my eyes.

“Exactly. If I wasn’t making so much money working for you, I’d be out there trying to find it myself.”

“Good to know. Is there any way you could access the cameras in the parking lot? I need to get her license plate number and–”

“And what? Show up to her house and say, ‘Hey. I tried to find you at the lounge the other night but you were already gone. But don’t worry, I had my friend hack the security system so I could get your tags to get your address and come ask you out?’ Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t say it exactly like that, but—”

“Forget it. All the street cameras are managed and monitored through Flynn-tech and they’re impossible to hack. Trust me, I’ve tried it.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Um, move on?” He turned off the screens. “You don’t even know her name. Yeah she’s beautiful, but there are plenty of other beautiful women out there. I’m sure you of all people can find another one in a heartbeat. Speaking of which, why don’t you give Vanessa a chance? She has no baggage, she’s insanely hot, and she practically loves you already.”

“She’s an employee. It’s against company policy. I specifically ordered that a no-fraternization clause be included when I started this company, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You can find yourself another pretty redhead.”

That was true, but I’d never thought about a woman after meeting her for the first time. It usually took a couple dates or a few lengthy phone calls to keep a woman on my mind—but I hadn’t even met this woman yet.

I’d also never asked Corey to find footage of someone I was interested in before. I’d never been that intrigued.

I pulled into a grocery store parking lot and sighed. Thanks to a dry-cleaning mix up, I was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and would have to run home to get another suit.

I was supposed to be at a board meeting in an hour, but I honestly didn’t feel like going. I felt like driving back home, turning off all my phones, and pretending like I wasn’t the CEO for the rest of the day.

Anytime I felt this way, I had to force myself to revisit painful memories of my past; memories that made me realize that I needed to be grateful for all that I had—that I could still be wandering around in a trailer park going through people’s trashcans, begging disabled neighbors for their leftovers.

Still, sometimes that wasn’t enough. I was starting to hate my company and all the obligations that came with it.

For the past few months, the board had been pressuring me to lay off thousands of low level employees. They swore it would save us millions, but I didn’t want to do that. If I was going to fire anyone to save money, I would lay off the people that made the most money—the senior level executives that spent more time on the golf course than they did at their desks.

As a matter of fact, ever since I made the decision to relocate company headquarters from New York City to San Francisco six years ago, the board members had questioned my every decision—as if I hadn’t started the company myself, without their help.

If their past donations hadn’t helped me grow my first software company from a side job in college to a billion dollar empire within a decade, I would’ve written them off years ago.

Why did I ever bother becoming the CEO? Why didn’t I just sell the company once I dropped out of college?

My cell phone started to ring. An Ohio number. Allen Correctional Institution.

I debated whether or not I should answer it, letting the full chorus of Coldplay’s “Clocks” play before picking it up.

“Father.” I answered.

“Jonathan! How are you son?”

“I’m fine.”

“And how’s your company?”

“Great.”

“You don’t have to be so short with me all the time. I was just...I was just calling because I haven’t heard from you in a while...I wanted to say thank you for putting all that money on my books last week.” He paused. “I stocked up on honeybuns and blue shampoo...Are you going to your mother’s graduation?”

“I always go to her graduations. She seems to graduate every year...”

He sighed. “She’s going to stay clean this time. She promised me.”

“Okay. I believe you,” I said like I had several times before.

“I meant what I said last month. I want to be a part of your life again, Jonathan. I know I wasn’t the best father but...I’ve always been very proud of you and I want to do whatever I can to fix our relationship.”

“This call is currently being monitored and recorded by the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections. There are thirty seconds left on the call.” The all-too-familiar automated voice droned on the line.

“Okay.” I sighed. “Well...I’ll do my best to remember that. I’ll send you a letter this week and...Don’t forget that I promised to take you out for a beer in six years. Hope you’re still looking forward to that.”

“I am. I’ll hold you to that, son.”

“Goodbye.” I hung up.

I knew I should’ve been more enthusiastic about his phone call or about my mother completing drug rehab, but the excitement tended to wane after someone relapsed twelve times, after someone disappointed you so much that you no longer believed in them.