Aftermath Book Two Crash Series

Chapter Eight

Mason

    “Michelle.” I stare at the gentle glow of the green circle surrounding the intercom button, waiting on her acknowledgment. Michelle is the best assistant I’ve ever had, and I plan to keep her until she chooses to retire, but she’s not a fan of sitting on her hands and often loves to gossip. It’s not a sure bet she’ll be at her desk, so I wait.

    “Yes, Mr. Maverick?” She keeps her voice even, professional, no emotion needed. Exactly how I like my office to run. The only time she’s gotten emotional with me was when she first started as my secretary and we were still working through our professional boundaries. It didn’t help that I was young and determined to prove myself. I may have been a little bit of an asshole, but she reined me in quickly.

    “Set up a virtual meeting for today at 1 with all the Northeast regional managers. Let them know it’s mandatory. Book me a flight to London for Tuesday, keep the return date open. I want that visit kept private, do not inform the London offices.

    “I need virtual meetings set up with each region between now and my departure for London. I’ll have documents I want to be forwarded to everyone before each meeting after I speak with the Northeast division today.

    “Get me a meeting with Grant, and have accounting bring up the numbers on the Jelly Belly Bears line, in the next fifteen minutes. Have you heard back from Mr. Suarez?” I’m scrolling through my email while I rattle my list off. Time is money and I optimize every second, or I strive to.

    “I set up a breakfast meeting tomorrow at 8 A.M. with Mr. Suarez at OAK.” I grunt my appreciation before hanging up the call and moving on, glad to have some of the tasks out of my head so they can be dealt with. But instantly ten more fill their place so I mentally sort through them making a list based on importance and adding to it with every click down my inbox.

    The list only grows as I sign on to my personal business email. A little-known secret? My grandfather left Jaxson and me both, personal accounts and already well-established philanthropy investments and deals. In his will, he was sure to stress that my parents were to never find out about these portfolios. He was aware of my father’s shortcomings and was a much kinder man, with a better heart, that knew Edward would turn them into profit-sharing businesses that only front as charity work and non-profits.

    Jaxson has grown his half by double, spending most of his time focusing on that part of business, only investing a few hours a day here at Dixie. It drives Edward crazy, thinking he’s a playboy with no direction and commitment issues but he’s the opposite. He’s dedicated and passionate. He wants the business to be self-sufficient and as large as he can grow it before I run for Senate and force him into the CEO position.

    If I can shut Edward down, save Dixie, and claim the CEO position for myself.

    Seeing the unread hundred and sixty-seven emails I have from team heads, volunteers, interested charity ventures, and business partners my heart kicks up a few notches and my palms start sweating. I don’t have enough time in the day to get all of this done. I need to hire more help managing my charity work and personal investments at least until I get Dixie under control. But f**k if it doesn’t burn to let any of control go just handing it over to someone else. And who?

    There are very few people who know I have any association with any of these charities or businesses and it’s important to keep it that way. Like Jaxson I don’t want the credit or acknowledgment, I want to be completely behind the scenes. I send a specific lawyer to any contract signings or any person-to-person meetings, only giving them the company name and references they need to know the company is legit. Beyond that, only a handful of people know so trusting someone with the everyday details…

     Yeah, that burns. I crack my neck out of reflex and take a breath as I lean back in my chair staring at the 167 flashings in bold numbers. Some will be trash, but a lot will be legitimate ventures that I need to investigate. Each takes time I don’t have, and some are older than I usually allow them to sit. And day by day the number grows, and people are suffering because of it.

            It’s chaos. I hate chaos.

            Breathing in deep, I pull up my lawyers’ number and have him contact a recruiter after giving him a description of the type of person I’m looking for. Someone trustworthy, independent, loyal, and knows how to take control of chaotic and overwhelming situations and turn them into lucrative deals that provide a huge service to people across the world.

            There has to be a deep vetting process for this person and in the meantime… Cracking my knuckles I start at the oldest and work through them until Michelle knocks at my door with a reminder that I have five minutes until my meeting with Fran from Marketing.

            Logging out I switch back over to my Dixie tabs and pull up the project ideas I’ll be going over ignoring my rumbling stomach and my heavy bladder.

***

            I placed a call to Dr. Tussing a family friend and specialist in psychiatry, this morning. He’s an older man with A-class patients and a waiting list a mile long so I wasn’t surprised when I got his receptionist. I was however surprised it took him all day to return my call.

            I’m buried in my work, looking through the regional reports, the accounting numbers, and an endless pile of other paperwork I need to finish before I can head home when my phone breaks up the stifled silence. Looking towards the sound I notice the dark sky before I register Dr. Tussing’s name flashing on my screen. Pulling my curiosity at the time and when it managed to get so dark, straight to the importance of this call.

            “Hello.” I rush to answer not wanting to delay this any further.

            “Mason, how are you son?” In my early twenty’s I really started to see how f****d up I was and sought to fix it, not liking the feeling of losing control to my emotions and a past I didn’t realize were shaping me in ways I didn’t approve of. I sat through a lot of very informative sessions with him that lead me to emotional and personal growth.

            I haven’t felt like I’ve needed him in years, much to his dismay and insistence that one always needs a good therapist. Hearing his voice now settles something inside me and has me wondering if I called him for Aria or myself. My throat clogs with words and emotions fighting each other to get out first. To unleash some of this wild crazy chaos into a safe space. He’s a master at helping me unweave and organize the s**t rumbling through me now and I crave the peaceful organization I know I can reach with him.

            “You always start with the loaded questions don’t you.” I joke for a second while I settle myself and find the right way to dig into the overflowing problems, I can lay at his feet right now.

            “I do when you call out of the blue after years of silence.” I can hear the age in his voice, the raspy undertones that weren’t there the last time we spoke.

            I stretch as I stand, groaning into the phone as my back cracks with the movement. I’ve been leaning over my desk for too long, and I haven’t had a decent massage in ages. I’ll put it on Michelle’s list for tomorrow.

            Standing in front of the thick glass windows I glance over the city as I start to talk. “I’ve met someone. She’s…breathtaking. Different, but beautiful.” The words fall from lips in a gentle breeze as they do every time I think about her and our love.

            “I’ve seen the engagement photos. Your mother sent me an invitation to the engagement party. Congratulations Mason.” Two feelings hit me, pride in his congratulations and shock that there’s an engagement party scheduled that I know nothing of. We were supposed to have one weeks ago but things got pretty crazy. Seems they’ll forever stay that way.

            “Thank you.” I use the cool glass as support leaning my forehead on it as I stare out at nothing. “I’m assuming you’ve seen the stories. What happened?” I don’t know if most therapists are like the movies where they sit there and say nothing, letting you lead, but with Dr. Tussing it’s always been a discussion, setting us on even grown and ultimately, it’s the only reason I was ever able to open up to him.

            “I’ve seen the presses version, I’m sure there’s a lot that’s lacking.” He’s correct so I tell him about Brian and Aria and all that’s happened in the last six months. And then I tell him a little of Aria’s background with her relationships with her father and grandparents. He listens as I drone on and the night grows darker. When I finish there’s a moment of silence as we both process. Already I feel slightly lighter, but I know we didn’t even put a dent in the issues I have a building.

            “She needs to talk to you but I’m having trouble convincing her.” I sigh, leaning back into the stiff couch, I moved to it halfway through my speech.

            He sighs as he thinks, he knows how heavy words can be and only uses them when he means it. “Sounds like you both need to talk to someone. Can you get her to my offices tomorrow around noon? You can introduce us and we can have a group session, start small and see where it gets us.”

            That I can do. Hopefully, if Aria will be reasonable.