Empty Nests (20 page)

James grabbed his phone back. “That’s enough. Sit down and finish your dinner.”

Dylan sat and took a couple of bites, but he never took his eyes off Gabe. If anything they were harder than before and downright suspicious, possibly even edging toward hostile. It was a look he’d seen on the other side of a negotiation table but not a kitchen table. But then in a way, he supposed this was a negotiation. He’d been selling people on TechPrim for years. Now he needed to sell himself to Dylan as a partner for his father.

“Your dad tells me you’re going to my alma mater.” He hoped getting Dylan to talk about himself would ease the tension. “What are you planning on majoring in? Other than baseball.”

“Majoring in economics, minor in computer science or math. Looking at business for my master’s.” There was no warming of Dylan’s mood as far as Gabe could tell.

“That’s a heavy load.” If Dylan was the type of kid who read the business section, it explained why Dylan knew exactly who he was.

“I’ll manage. May need a fallback position one day and a bullshit jock degree isn’t going to help.”

Gabe’s phone vibrated in his pocket, the little motor humming just loud enough to hear. He really needed to write a memo about that. People put phones on vibrate so they would be truly silent.

“Russia again?” James asked. He didn’t seem annoyed by the interruption, but was still looking a bit startled.

“Probably. Excuse me just a sec.”

Gabe got up and moved into the living room as quickly as he could, thankful for the brief respite from the interrogation. It was Russia, moving from the panic phase into the “tentative renegotiation to try to get a better deal” phase. Gabe managed to convince them their ideas could be looked at later in the week, once some better data came in from Europe. He hoped it didn’t sound like he was blowing them off.

Gabe took his seat at the table, trying to smile.

“Everything okay?” James asked.

“Just some more predeal jitters. Plus it’s Monday morning there.”

“Is this the
Budu
ŝie tehnologii
buyout?” Dylan asked.

That was the last comment Gabe was expecting, but he knew he shouldn’t be surprised by it if Dylan was half as ambitious as Gabe thought he might be. “You read the business gossip.”

“When I can.”

“You know what deal he’s working on?” James asked his son.

“Bits and pieces.” Dylan peered at Gabe like he was trying to x-ray his brain. “TechPrim never went public,” Dylan explained, never taking his eyes off Gabe. “They’re not on any stock market anywhere, which has actually given them a bit of a cushion in this economy. They also never took venture capital money, so the three founders still have full ownership and control, hence the Three Wise Men. Since they’re still afloat, they’ve been on a buying spree, scooping up bankrupted companies at fire-sale prices, usually folding them into the main company.”

“And keeping on as many employees as possible with full pay and benefits for dependents. Better to save half of two companies than let both go out of business.” Gabe had been getting a lot of shit in the press about it.

Dylan put up his hands. “I’ve got nothing against that. Some jobs are better than none. But you’ve started buying up random internationals as well—transport companies, mineral processing plants, a small private security company—all in weird places like Romania and Kazakhstan. And according to the gossip columns, you’re about to pick up, for a not-small amount of money, a third-rate Russian technology company that is basically bankrupt, and no one can figure out why. Best guess anyone can come up with is you’re about to go into high-tech weaponry.”

Gabe laughed. “Is that what they’re saying? It explains some of the looks I’ve been getting at the club, but no, no weapons. I’m a make-love-not-war kinda guy.”

“Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing.”

Gabe grinned. He knew the look on Dylan’s face. When he was nineteen, he had won a lunch with some IBM executives. He’d stared at them, trying to somehow bore into their brains with his eyes, that same look on his face. He was suddenly half hoping Dylan wouldn’t get picked up by the majors, just to see him jump into the business world still young and hungry.

“Secret negotiations are secret for a reason. Let’s say if it all goes well, the production costs of all TechPrim hardware should drop 5 to 14 percent
and
allow us to corner the market on certain emerging carbon-neutral energy technologies, considerably increasing our overall market share and allowing us to move rapidly into other production areas.” Gabe thought for a second. “I just sounded like a completely capitalistic prick there, didn’t I?”

“A little, yeah,” James admitted. Dylan nodded in agreement.

“How about this? I’ve got half a dozen dominoes lined up. If this Russian deal pans out, then in three years we can plunk a flat-screen TV factory down in the middle of Detroit with a solar panel manufacturing plant right next door.”

Dylan tilted his head. “Onshore technology manufacturing jobs?”

“On shore jobs of all kinds. Lots of them, I hope.”

Dylan raised his water glass but still had a suspicious squint. “Here’s to jobs.” Gabe’s phone buzzed again. “Going to get that?”

“No. Just a text, and if it’s a text, then it’s not that important. Probably Tamyra reminding me to do my homework for some meetings tomorrow.”

“By the way,” James chimed in, thankfully changing the subject. “Why do you have ‘Dancing Queen’ as a ringtone?”

“Because Tamyra runs my life. I ignored her calls one time too many, so she hacked into my phone and put in an embarrassing ringtone connected to her number; that way I would answer it quickly. I took it off, and she put in something worse. If I take off ‘Dancing Queen’ she’ll replace it with ‘California Girls’ or ‘Genie in a Bottle.’ ‘Dancing Queen’ is at least arguably a classic of sorts.”

“That’s cold.”

“Could be worse. Frank didn’t scream for mercy until his phone started playing ‘My Heart Will Go On’ in the middle of a corporate meet-and-greet with the San Jose Sharks.” Dylan and James winced. “And before you ask, no, we can’t fire our PAs. They are basically Vice Presidents in Charge of Making Sure Shit Actually Gets Done On Time, Correctly, and By The Right People. A few years back, Nate’s PA caught pneumonia and was out for a week. The company lost nearly half a million dollars due to things she normally took care of not getting done. And Nate is basically just Chief Code Monkey. If Tamyra ever bailed on me, I’d be so very screwed.”

“Remind me to be nice to Tamyra so she’ll let you out of the house.”

“She likes you. I wouldn’t have asked for your number after we had coffee if she hadn’t stood there, wiggling her eyebrows and making not-so-subtle head gestures.”

“I’ll be sure to thank her, then.”

James’s smile was sweet, and for a second, Gabe managed to blank out the fact that they had an audience. He started to reach for James when there was the tiniest bit of throat clearing. Gabe refocused his attention. The interrogation wasn’t over.

By the time the table had been cleared, and James brought out a bowl of chocolate pudding, Gabe had sketched out his family, mainly focusing on his sisters, nieces, and nephews, as well as some details on his last few relationships. Dylan was good, but Gabe had more experience being on the other side of a negotiating table, and Dylan didn’t manage to wring out any information Gabe wasn’t willing to part with, though certainly not for lack of trying.

It was Dylan’s phone that rang next and cut the questioning short. He glanced at the number. “It’s Coach Frasier.”

James gave a quick tilt of the head, and Dylan stepped from the room. Gabe took the opportunity to settle his hand over James’s.

“Sorry about the interrogation.”

“Completely to be expected. I’ve got the feeling he’s spent almost as much time worrying about his dad as you’ve spent worrying about him.” James smiled and ducked his head. “And I am sorry I never mentioned my job title.”

“It’s okay,” James answered a little too quickly. “It’s not like I asked. And I figured you had to be pretty high up the food chain.”

“But not at the top?”

“It’s fine.” Again James’s answer was too quick.

“You know, if I was in your position, I’d be flipping out.”

“Give me a few minutes.”

Dylan finished his call, but Gabe kept his hand on James’s, determined to prove he had some balls.

“What did Coach Frasier have to say?” James asked his son, not removing his hand either.

“Nothing much. Practice is going to be short tomorrow, and he wanted to make sure my ankle wasn’t swelling. Plus a nag to get some sleep.”

Gabe glanced at the stuttering clock on the wall and quickly calculated what time he might be arriving home. And he did still need to look over those projections for the next year.

With great pain he slid his hand away. “Actually, I need to get going. I still have documents to read for tomorrow. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Homework comes first.”

Dylan gave a small amused cough. Gabe was sure he couldn’t begin to calculate how many times James had said those words. He stood and gave James a small kiss. “And dinner was very nice.”

“It’s a specialty.”

Gabe turned to Dylan and held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you again.”

“And you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Dylan’s eyes flashed again, hard and suspicious. “I’m sure you will.”

Gabe gave James another little kiss, gathered up his coat, promised to drive safely, and left.

G
ABE
WAS
about to open his car door when he heard feet moving quickly across the street. He turned to see Dylan approaching.

“Hey, glad I caught you. I wanted to ask you one more thing before you left.” Dylan was smiling.

“Shoot.”

“Are you enjoying slumming it down here with my dad?”

Gabe jerked as if he’d been struck. “Excuse me?”

“Come on. You’re one of the richest guys on the coast and then some, you fly around the world every other week on the company jet, and you just happen to pick up my plain Jane, scraping-to-stay-above-the-poverty-line dad out of a crowd and not mention who you are?”

“Now just a second—”

“No. Let me show you something.” Dylan handed over a high school yearbook. “Page forty-seven.”

Gabe took the book and opened it to the correct page. There was a picture of a scraggly teenager sitting with his back against a locker, looking half-asleep as he slumped over a book. Wrapped around the teenager’s hand was one end of a baby leash. On the other end of the leash was a toddler, maybe two, reaching for something just out of frame.

“That’s my dad, junior year. In eighth grade he took the PSAT, got a perfect score. Senior year SATs he barely cracked 1100. He was too tired to do better. He spent his prom night sitting at home playing Candyland. This place.” He gestured to the building behind them. “He can do better than this. We could still be living with my grandparents, but this place keeps me
just
inside a good school zone. Hell, he could even upgrade the Lemon Drop to something built this millennium, but he lives like he’s taken a vow of poverty so he can save every cent for me. He has this theory that if I lose my scholarship, he’ll somehow be able to pay for
Stanford
if he works himself to death. You will not find a better person on
Earth
than my father, and I will not put up with some rich prick from the Valley screwing with him,” Dylan ended in a snarl.

Gabe stood his ground despite a desire to take three steps back. He knew he didn’t get ice thinner than what he was standing on. “I know how good your father is, and I can assure you I’m not slumming it.”

“You know how good he is?” Dylan’s voice was thick with sarcasm and disdain.

“Yes, I do. Half the reason I’m making an effort and not treating this like a three-night stand is because he has more integrity than damn near anyone I know.”

“And the other half of the reason?”

“I….” Gabe had yet to put it into words, even for himself, how he felt around James, and now he’d have to pick those words very carefully. “He’s stable.” Dylan snorted at him. “I don’t mean like that, I mean… I spend most of my life feeling like I’m juggling knives on a teeter-totter. And since the economy crapped out, it’s felt like I’ve been doing it in the middle of an earthquake as well. Now I’m damn good at it, and I’ve been doing it for a long time, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy or exactly relaxing. When I’m with your father, I feel stable. Grounded. I’m still juggling knives, but it feels like it’s on solid ground, and I’ll be damned if I know why. I can breathe when I’m around him, and maybe it was because he didn’t know what I did. Maybe it’s because he is a good person, and I’m not waiting for him to try to knock me off-balance. I just don’t know.”

“Do you love him?”

Gabe looked Dylan dead in the eye and decided to go with the most radical negotiating tactic he knew. He would tell the truth. “Not yet,” he answered. “I care for him very much. He has already become important to me, and I’d like what we have to continue and get stronger. I had some lousy relationships when I was younger, then one
very
bad relationship, followed by a string of men who hung around mainly because I was too busy to tell them to leave. I
want
this to go slowly. Partly because your father is in new waters and partly because I’m in waters I haven’t seen in a long time.” Gabe’s phone rang. He didn’t answer it. He kept his eyes locked with Dylan’s.

“That’s a good answer. I know my father likes you.” Gabe held back a deep sigh of relief. “You make him happy,” Dylan continued. “There have been other men who have shown interest in him, but he’s been oblivious to it. My fifth grade teacher had a flat-out crush on him. Called him in every time I sneezed. He never clued in. Too busy with other things. You are the first person to notice him that he has
allowed
himself to notice back.”