The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(12)
Alice took her mug of coffee and headed down the narrow, wooden stairs from her apartment to the back of the shop. It was Friday and Charlie would be in soon, because she had a half day of school on Friday. When she’d told Alice that she wanted to apply to work in ScreenStop, it had hit Alice hard, right in the heart. The lawyer’s letter was a kick to the same spot. Alice knew she might be fighting a losing battle to keep her store, preserve their culture, and swim against the rising tide of technology, but she couldn’t let any of it go. She was going to encourage Charlie in every way that being Creole was important. It was sacred. She’d speak French, even when Charlie answered in English. She’d remind Charlie to be proud of what she’d been given by birth. If only Charlie would give up the gaming and come back to what really mattered. Alice would explain it the way Mr. Perrault had explained to her. Charlie would understand how much was at stake. She had to.
***
“All ready?” Paul kept his voice as upbeat as possible.
“Huh.” Andy responded with a grunt. In the background of the call, Paul could hear clanking and thuds. “With every item I pack, I ask myself again why we’re doing this.”
“Must be a short answer. Or you’re not packing very quickly.”
“I don’t get any answer, so now I’m finished.” He heard Andy pull a long zipper.
“You don’t have to go,” Paul said. He wanted Andy to come to Natchitoches, but he didn’t want his friend to feel miserable, either. It might be better if the CTO just stayed in the big city.
“Nope. I’m in. Just questioning my own good judgment and your sanity. Did you get the apartment lined up?”
“We’re seeing it this afternoon. Try not to look like a party animal,” Paul said.
“I’ll do my best ‘working stiff’ impression. And this place will be high tech, right? We’re not going to be adjusting the rabbit ears to watch a game or playing on an old Atari or something?”
“It may not be now, but it will be when I’m done with it,” Paul said, laughing a bit. He was sure the place had cable. Well, actually not very sure. But they could get a good gaming set up installed in a few hours. As soon as the lease was signed, he’d have everything overnighted. He’d managed to get the building permit shoved through faster than he’d ever dreamed possible. Surely he could get the manager to install cable Internet service. “I’ve got to pack. The car should be there to pick you up in about an hour. Meet you at the gate.”
“You’d better. Paul and Andy’s Excellent Creole Adventure is about to begin.”
Paul disconnected, but instead of starting to pack, he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. New York City teemed with bodies, noise, and choking exhaust fumes, but that was far, far below the glass walls of Paul’s high rise bedroom. He stared out at the skyline and wondered if he should just cancel the entire Cane River project. He must be crazy to think of coming back to that backwater. Maybe Andy was right. Was he making a bad business decision just to satisfy his ego? He took a long moment to let the idea sit, and then he shook his head. No, Andy was only partly right.
Paul headed to the walk-in closet, where he pulled a suitcase from the back. It was true, he didn’t need to spend two months in Natchitoches. He could open the store and fly in for the night, maybe two. His ego had everything to do with dropping out of his life in New York City to show off to the people who used to make him feel like trash. But he was certain it was a good business decision and the store would be successful. He wanted to cram his rags-to-riches story down a few throats, but he wasn’t stupid enough to throw away a million dollars to do it.
Paul slid one of his favorite T-shirts into his suitcase and paused. It had been so long since he’d been home, he wasn’t even sure what to wear. He grabbed another shirt, a black one with a favorite band logo on the front. He had a closet of nice suits he’d use for meetings and media events. The rest of the time, he wouldn’t wear anything out of the usual. He knew better than anyone that putting on a nice suit didn’t make you popular in Natchitoches. You had to really be someone. Of course, there were different levels of being “someone”. It was always better to be born someone than to work your way up, but if you had enough money, sometimes you got a sort of honorary “someone” status. It wasn’t always sincere, but you got to hang around with the old families and eat dinner at their long dinner tables, and date their daughters, just back from a few years in Europe or an Ivy League college. You were tolerated, if you were rich enough, no matter which side of the river your family came from in the beginning.
Tolerated. He clenched his jaw at the thought and slammed another worn out T-shirt on the pile. He wasn’t the skinny geek anymore. He had money, power, and influence on his side. More than that, he was famous. Fame counted for everything these days.
He threw in socks, underwear, and his favorite jeans, and zipped the case closed. He’d hired Andy because he was the right guy for the job, but Andy was his best friend because the guy didn’t care how many followers you had on Twitter or how many likes your business page had on Facebook. Andy understood the real measure of a man was wrapped up in faith, honor, and living above the standards of world. He knew that the rest was all show, just numbers and bits of data floating around in cyberspace, masquerading as reality.
Paul had learned to walk the fine line, to play the game. He played it so well, he’d become the master, making millions in stock off the sheer popularity of his name. When he wore a gray hoody, gray hoodies sold out. When he let himself be photographed with an iPad, sales went through the roof. Paul knew how to work the media, turning the Internet to his advantage, and he wasn’t going to let that skill go to waste in Cane River.