Luster (11 page)

I
pull
my helmet up and step back away from the piece. The welds are ground smooth and semi-shiny to match the rest of the sculpture. All I need to do now is grab my Drimmel and smooth everything to a mirror-shine with some Scotch-Brite. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours for a piece this size.

I survey the curvature of the elephant’s trunk, running my hand along the pieces of sheet metal. Mr. Lewis has been a fan of mine since I first started out, and I’m only too happy to oblige by making whatever he asks of me. This year it’s a three-foot tall elephant for his granddaughter Abigail. Last year he requested his deceased wife’s favorite bible verse on a scroll to affix onto her headstone.

I pull the heavy helmet all the way off of my head and untie my leather apron, ready to take a break from the extreme heat. Working on my art is a way to let everything else go to the wayside, a way for my mind to catch some fresh air. Now it’s the other way around, and with all the things that have been weighing on my mind recently, well I’d rather just be working. Hurts the brain less.

I chug some fresh water and collapse onto the couch, trying to keep the peace in my head for as long as I can. I’ve only been sitting here for a few minutes before the thoughts slowly start to creep in. Shit. I just can’t catch a damn break anymore.

Pinching the bridge of my nose I close my eyes and wonder about my little brother. What he’s doing, how he’s feeling. We tried to talk some sense into Donald but of course he had to go all AWOL on me and Sam, trying to use Liam as leverage over our heads or something. Typical asshole move.

Truth is I’m pretty worried about my brother, especially since we haven’t heard from Donald in almost a week. Both me and James have driven past the house to make sure they’re still there, but no one ever answers when we knock. Liam’s told us that Donald makes him go sit in his room if we stop by…

There’s been other times like this but for some reason this time it’s really sinking in, making me want to hunt the asshole down and kill him. He would only be so lucky for me to do it quickly. Sam keeps pushing for me to calm down, telling me how talking everything out with Donald should work. Yeah, lots of thing should work with him. But they don’t because he’s a freaking psycho — something we all know already.

I really hope this being diplomatic thing Falyn came up with doesn’t backfire on us. It wouldn’t be her fault of course, but I can’t take any chances when it comes to Liam. Neither of us will.

The inside door to the studio cracks open, and even though it’s on the other side of the room I can feel the rush of cooler air hit my body already. It’s a welcome feeling.

Falyn comes in quietly, smiling at me before plopping down next to me and giving me a kiss square on the mouth.

“It’s nice to see you too,” I say, grinning back at her. It really is though. If anything can get my mind off of the situation at hand it’s her.

She slips her feet out of her shoes and curls up closely to me, nuzzling into my shoulder.

I push the fallen hair away from her face, trying to catch her gaze. “Everything all right?” She looks pretty exhausted now that I get a good look at her. “I don’t need to punch anyone in the face, do I?”

She snorts. “So quick to resort to violence. I’m fine, really. Long day at work I guess.”

She’s definitely tired but I feel there’s more to it than that. Her tone tells me that she doesn’t want to talk about it though. But I’m a stubborn-ass guy, ask anyone.

“You sure that’s all it is? There’s nothing else you want to talk about?”

She pulls away from me and stretches her arms over her head, reminding me of a cat stretching out in the sun. “Are you actually try to get me to discuss my feelings with you? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” she asks, playfully shoving at my shoulder. I roll my eyes and continue badgering her until finally she grunts and throws her hands up in protest.

“Yes, yes. Fine. It’s been a long day and… I’m just thinking about my father. Today is his birthday and I’ve tried to call him several times to wish him a happy one, but I haven’t gotten through. It happens the same way every year. No big deal.”

I narrow my eyes at her and try to think back over everything she’s told me regarding Mr. Morrissey. There’s definitely a reverence she has for him, no doubt about that. Respect too, but something is very off about their relationship if you ask me. And that’s coming from someone who didn’t even have a dad growing up. Not a real one anyway.

Anytime Falyn ever speaks of Mr. Morrissey it’s always with disappointment or something else going on behind her eyes. I can’t imagine growing up without any siblings to deal with something like that. I had a pretty damn rough childhood, but I still had my mom and my sister. They were always there for me no matter what.

“So your dad forgets his own birthday? Hey, at least that’s one less present for you to have to worry about buying, right? I hear dads are notoriously hard to buy for.”

I see the corner of her mouth quirk up but no real smile there.

“Yeah. And he’s the worst when it comes to being picky about what he wants. So I guess you’re right. It’s just that it would be nice for him to at least acknowledge me. I know it’s his birthday and he should be able to do whatever he pleases on it, but still. Birthdays have never really been a big thing with him now that I think about it. I know I’m just overreacting — ”

I hold my hand up. “No way. You have every right to be upset. It’s not like daddy dearest is so kind and loving any other time of the day, you know what I mean? The very least he could do is answer the phone when you try to call him. Doesn’t he have an assistant too? Why isn’t she answering the phone?”

When the telltale sign of tears form in her eyes, I backtrack. Shit. I definitely didn’t intend to make her cry. “I’m sorry, princess. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I know he loves and cares about you Falyn. He just has a… different way of showing it.”

She says nothing in response and gets up, her eyes darting around the room. I’ve seen the look on her face before. She’s trying to distract herself from everything that’s going on in her head, just like someone else I know. I guess great minds think alike.

Falyn crosses over to the other side of the room where I’ve just finished up my work for the night. “Is this the piece you’ve been working on for Mr. Lewis?” she calls over her shoulder. “It’s amazing! You’ve got the curves and details just right.”

Of course I do
, not that I say that out loud. I’m a pro at what I do, this much I know but it still feels nice to hear it from someone else now and then. Especially Falyn who pretty much thinks everything I create is a fucking masterpiece. I don’t agree with her there but at least the girl has faith in my talent.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Just finished grinding off the welts a little while ago. Now I just have to move it out and it’ll be ready to go.”

I’m careful to skirt around the metal frame I have covered up with a tarp, trying not to draw any attention to the corner of the room that it’s in. I’m not ready for Falyn to see any of that just yet…

“So how does all of this stuff work, anyway? I know you tried to explain some of it before but I haven’t seen you do any of it.”

I stand behind her and fight the urge to touch her. It’s all I ever do anymore these days. “Do you want me to show you?”

“I’d love that, actually.”

Though I hadn’t planned on working anymore tonight and really truly just wanted to spend some more fun alone time with Falyn, I’m okay with doing this instead. She needs to get her mind off of things and I could always use the same. One way or the other distraction is just what the doctor ordered tonight.

Once I’m all set up I hand Falyn an extra pair of safety goggles and take a seat on my stool. Smoothing everything out is much less dangerous than the welding but I don’t want her to get too close, nonetheless. “Remember to stay back,” I say before starting up the Drimmel tool. “It’s kind of loud, sorry.”

And then I get to work. Falyn’s eyes are wide behind the glasses as she watches me, completely intrigued. This isn’t even the best part of the process if you ask me, yet she’s so into it. I feel something rise in my chest, a kind of gratitude for Falyn’s interest in me and what I do. My mom would say I’m proud as a peacock, strutting my stuff around.

I wonder what she’d think of Falyn...but really I already know. She’d think Falyn was good for me—a much needed change in my life. After all the shit I’ve done and gone through in my life, I think Mom would beg me not to screw this up.

Don’t worry Mom. I don’t plan on it.

I
t’s not
the first time I’ve stood here in this obnoxiously large office. My father has a flair for the fancier décor that stands out vividly against the stark white walls and furniture. I’ve always liked coming up here to check his office suite out even as a kid, but now I see it for what it’s really worth. A pretentious showcase of my father’s prized collections.

Ramona’s heels click down the hallway and I just know she’s getting ready to come in and diffuse me—another case of my father not bothering to tell me about his change of plans ahead of time. But I’m surprised as he strolls around the corner into the office with her, handing her a thick file before she takes off again.

He breezes right past me without even offering a hello and pours himself some of his old brandy. “Have a seat, Falyn.”

I smooth over my face and do as I’m instructed. For someone so collected he sure isn’t known for his patience.

“So. I suppose it’s best if we just get right to it,” he says as he takes his seat across the sprawling oak desk.

“Sure.”

He leans back in the chair, swishing his liquor around in the glass. “I started putting this company together before you were born. Ten years before you were born, in fact. And the way business has been increasing lately I’m set to comfortably retire in five years, if I so choose. But of course that leaves the company in someone else’s hands, and I’m not sure if I’ll be ready for that just yet. You’re twenty-five years old. You work hard, put in the time and effort that’s asked of you, and you have a smart head on your shoulders. You’re probably already aware of this, but I’m promoting you to the head of the Interior Design Department.”

I politely smile at him as I know he expects me to do. Not too little, but not too much. “Thank you, father. I appreciate it very much.”

He gives me a nod and swivels in his chair to look out the window behind him. “That’s not what this meeting is about, however.”

“Oh?” I already know that too.

“No. I’ll put it to you this way, Falyn. Whether I decide to retire in five years will rest on you. I plan to prepare you from now until then in how to run the company from bottom to top. I want you to take over for me. My question for you is are you willing to accept the responsibility?”

I bite my lip gently. Even though I knew this was coming sometime soon I still can’t believe he’s actually asking me to take over Morrissey Regent Incorporated for him. He clears his throat, waiting.

“Absolutely. I will do whatever you need me to do.”

The appraising look he gives me shakes me somewhat. I honestly can’t remember the last time he looked that hopeful or proud of me.

“Excellent, I was hoping you would accept. Now that we’ve got that out of the way... I’ve been told that you have set up a rather large contract through the Interior Department with a local artist. Would you mind sharing with me the contract and explaining the details behind this project?”

The word
contract
hits me right in the gut. Fuck. How in the world am I going to explain this to him? And more importantly why the hell hasn’t Matt signed the thing yet?

I suddenly wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. My throat is dry, making swallowing a real struggle. I keep blinking nervously, hoping that I heard him wrong. That he doesn’t actually want to see the contract and that I can impress him just with my excellent ability to bullshit my way out of things.

“Falyn? The contract?” Yeah right. This is Blake Morrissey we’re talking about here. He spots bullshit from a mile away.

“Oh! Yes, um, of course. Well I don’t actually have it right now, but I’d love to explain everything to you.”
Come on, come on. You don’t need to see it yet.

He lifts an eyebrow at me and sets his drink down carefully on the desk. “I don’t expect it to be in your hand. But you scan all of your contracts into the system, don’t you? Give me the name of the document, I’ll just pull it up here on my tablet,” he says, already sliding his finger across the screen. Stupid technology.

The brandy sitting on his wet bar is looking mighty appealing right about now. “Right. Yeah, I do scan all the documents in,” I say as I look anywhere else but my father’s face. “But I didn’t scan this document in. Because I haven’t been able to secure the signature just yet.”

I almost expect him to have something scathing to say to me but he doesn’t. He sits there and folds his fingers together, looking as if he’s really thinking hard about something. Probably how he wants to rethink this whole letting me have the company thing. And I mean… It would make sense. Who would want to hand over the company to their kid who can’t even get a simple signature on a contract? I know I wouldn’t.

My father takes a deep sigh and finally looks back at me, his expression unreadable. “I see. Is there a reason you haven’t been able to have the contract signed?”

I can’t even bring myself to say it so I just shake my head. Another sigh.

“All right. I’ve got to be honest with you Falyn, this is rather disappointing. Usually you’re so on top of things. I don’t know why this situation is any different, but if I were you I would see to it that you get what you came for. The next time you see or speak with the contractor, well the artist that is, make sure you get them to sign the contract. That should be the end of the business transaction, simple as that.”

He slowly stands up and splays his hands down on the desk in front of him. “We’re done here today. I have a lot think about, and it appears you do too. See to it that you secure that signature, and we can talk more about my five-year plan for you afterwards.”

I’m dismissed with a simple wave of his hand and my father walks away, also not saying goodbye. Part of me wants to beg him for his forgiveness. Part of me wants him to beg me for mine. It’s been such a strained relationship between my father and I that I can’t even pretend to not be upset anymore. What’s done is done and I guess I will have to move on knowing that he probably will never be the kind of dad that I always hoped he would be. I mean for Christ-sakes he won’t even let me tell him happy birthday.

Something inside me buzzes. Like a clicking angry beetle winding its way through my brain, needling through my thoughts and exposing the flaws in them. Was it really such a good idea to let everything go the way I have? I could be doing so much more right now, yet here I am.

It’s really hard to say. The only real beacon I’ve ever had in my life is my father and that’s even a stretch in itself. With my mom running off with some young guy when I was only three, I’ve never really had a true person to look up to. My ambition most definitely comes from my father but hopefully that’s all. He’s an excellent businessman but not a great parent or role model, I’ve got say. I have been striving all my life just to show him that I’m something worthy enough for him to pay attention to.

I wish I didn’t have to walk back home. The way I feel right now is just way too overwhelmed… And the idea of having to make that trek alone nearly pulls me apart. Maybe I should just go and head over to Matt’s...

Ha, there’s the real kicker. This whole time I’ve been clamoring for more of him, when really the only thing I should’ve been clamoring for was the contract. My whole brilliant plan crumbles at my feet, and all I can think about is how it’s me who’s ruined it. It was a really good plan… Until I screwed it up. Until meeting Matt screwed everything all up.