Like I’m no heavier than a tissue or a leaf, Alex easily lifts me onto my feet. I stand still as he unwraps me, silent as the grave. When his eyes catch mine, he points toward a murdery-looking door beside the hot plate.
“Is that where you stash your dead bodies?” I hiss.
Alex puts a finger to my lips, his eyes blown wide. “No, just my home-brewery kit.”
“Alex!” his father shouts, pounding on the door.
He points again toward the closet, more insistently this time.
A flash of anger burns through me at being treated like his dirty little secret. “Are you embarrassed of me?”
He stares, expression flat. “Do you really want the chairman of the board of the company at which you are employed to find you hungover in my apartment?”
Okay, fine, he’s got a point. “Right.” I nod. “Right, I’ll just get in the … in the home brewery.”
I pad across the apartment in my bare feet and twist the doorknob as quietly as possible. Inside, the pantry has been converted into a beer fanatic’s starter kit. A stainless steel brew pot, thermometers, and two plastic tubes feeding into white buckets sit between a few glass jars fermenting amber liquid. I shoot one last look of incredulousness at Alex before I climb between the assemblage and pull the door closed behind me. My gaze focuses on the space underneath the door—my only source of light in this black hole of fermenting yeast.
Alex opens his front door, and footsteps barrel into the room. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning,” Robert huffs angrily.
“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday,” Alex retorts. “And do you really want to talk about ignoring phone calls? How did you find out where I live? How did you even get in the front door?”
There is a moment’s pause, and then—“I got someone in HR to look up your employee profile.” My jaw drops, but Robert’s casual tone conveys he does cute, illegal little things like this all the time. “And then I … followed someone inside.”
After a beat of silent disbelief, Alex says, “I’m pretty sure that’s a violation of company policy, and also probably the law.”
His dad sighs. “I’m heading out of town. I had to see you in person.”
Alex shifts on his feet. “What is it?”
There are more footsteps. It sounds like pacing. “Monday morning, news is going to break that I’m stepping down from the board of LC.”
Holy crap.
This is … kind of a big deal. Is Robert leaving because of Dougie? Can he really not stand to be associated with him to the point that he’s resigning from the board entirely? Of a company he’s worked for his entire adult life?
My thoughts jump to Tracy. She had to have known this was happening when we talked in the break room. She’s the CFO, for crying out loud! If Tracy knew Robert was stepping down, why did she even bother tasking me with researching his feud?
And then it clicks: Even with Robert gone, she thinks Dougie still won’t be a good enough CEO. She’s trying to build a case against him.
“Are you doing this because of me?” Alex asks. “I’ll just quit. If I’d known you would’ve had to—”
“No, d-don’t quit!” his dad stammers, then coughs. “It’s not because of you. I’ve been planning this for a while. The timing’s right, and … you’ll be there. I’m … proud of you. Son.”
The shock emanating from Alex right now clogs the air, thick and overwhelming. It’s only slightly less palpable than the discomfort coming off his dad.
“Two days ago, you told me to put in my notice. Now you’re fucking proud?”
“I was taken off guard,” his father protests. “I didn’t know if you’d used my name to get the job—”
“Of course I didn’t use your name. I’ve never needed to!” Alex bellows, furious. “It’s not my fault you found out as late as you did.”
“Don’t raise your voice,” his father growls.
Alex laughs darkly. “A scolding? That’s new.”
A fist hits the table, and I jerk, squeaking a little. “Just…” His father exhales in obvious exasperation. “Stay. Keep doing whatever it is you’ve been doing for the past two months. Grow Bite the Hand however you see fit. Spare no expense. Invest in anything you think worthy. Money is no object when it comes to that brand right now. Got it?”
I roll my eyes. Like father, like son.
“You cannot possibly think,” Alex says, “that with you gone, Dougie will allow us to launch BTH as a subsidiary. He hates me almost as much as he hates you. I feel it every time we’re in a room together. He’ll probably try to get me fired.”
“So you’re going to give up without trying?”
“That’s not what I said,” Alex retorts, masculine bravado flaring. “I’m only making a prediction, and I don’t even hear you denying it.”
“Well.” Robert clears his throat. “I guess we’ll have to see what happens.”
Alex says, “Guess so.”
Here’s the thing. Even if I weren’t hiding in a closet, this would still be one of the weirder conversations I’ve been privy to. Robert sounds like he’s challenging Alex. And Alex sounds like he’s … accepting it.
After a beat of silence, Robert asks, “Late night?”
“Yeah.”
“Sonja?”
“Dad.” Alex exhales. “I dated Sonja for three weeks when I was twenty-one.”
I briefly ponder how to acquire Sonja’s Social Security number and least favorite way to die before I remember that Alex is just a coworker.
“Right. I guess it’s been a while since we’ve … caught up.”
“Twenty-five years, give or take.”
“Don’t be that way, Alex. You’ve always been independent.”
Alex says nothing. But I can feel it—the way his heart is stretching outside of him, asking for a chance to be known. Maybe he doesn’t want to be independent.
“Seeing anyone new?” Robert asks.
A chair scrapes along the floor. “No.”
Footsteps cross the apartment. Seconds tick by as Alex’s dad pokes around. The creaky bathroom door swings open, then closed again. I huddle deeper in my corner.
“Why won’t you use your trust, Alex? This place is a shoebox.”
Alex sighs. Maybe this is a conversation he’s tired of having. “If you don’t understand the reason by now, there’s nothing I can say to make you grasp it.”
“You realize, if I die first, you get half my money, and if I die after Linda does, you get everything?”
“You realize I’m going to donate it all either way?”
There is a stony silence on the other side of my barrier.
“Here,” says Robert. “Take my house key in case this place gets condemned. Our Upper East Side town house will be empty through Christmas.”
“Why?”
“Linda and I are going away for a few months. I’ll be back in January.”
“Europe?”
“Australia.”
Alex hums appreciatively. “Enjoy retirement.”