Chapter 4#- The Invitation
1191 Words
Alex hated celebrations.
Which was unfortunate because everyone around him seemed obsessed with them.
The conference room was still buzzing nearly twenty minutes after the deal had been signed.
People laughed.
Champagne glasses clinked.
Someone was already discussing the press release.
Another person was talking about a feature article that would probably appear in a business magazine next month.
Alex wanted all of them to leave.
Not because he was unhappy.
The acquisition had gone exactly as planned.
The numbers were strong.
The investors were happy.
Everything was moving according to schedule.
But Alex had never understood the point of celebrating something that was already done.
His attention drifted toward the skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The city stretched endlessly beneath a blanket of gathering clouds.
From this height, everything looked smaller.
Simpler.
Manageable.
It was one of the reasons he liked the office after hours.
The quiet.
The distance.
The illusion of control.
"You're doing that thing again."
Alex didn't need to turn around.
Only one person spoke to him like that.
"What thing?"
Dean appeared beside him, carrying two glasses.
"Brooding."
"I don't brood."
Dean handed him a whiskey.
"You absolutely brood."
Alex accepted the glass anyway.
"Successful people call it thinking."
Dean laughed.
"Successful people call it thinking because nobody wants to admit they're overanalyzing everything."
Alex took a sip.
The whiskey burned pleasantly.
Dean leaned against the window beside him.
Unlike Alex, who preferred silence, Dean seemed energized by people.
It wasn't forced.
It wasn't an act.
Dean genuinely enjoyed conversations.
He remembered names.
Asked questions.
Made people feel important.
It was infuriating.
Mostly because it worked.
Alex had spent years building walls.
Dean somehow convinced people to walk through them.
The contrast had always made them effective partners.
Dean connected.
Alex calculated.
Dean charmed.
Alex intimidated.
Together, they rarely lost.
The room slowly emptied around them.
One by one the executives departed.
The chatter faded.
The lights dimmed.
Finally, only the two of them remained.
Dean loosened his tie.
Alex watched him with mild amusement.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years and Dean still looked exactly the same after every major deal.
Relieved.
Excited.
Hungry.
Not for money.
Not for power.
For life.
The next experience.
The next adventure.
The next story.
Alex sometimes envied that.
Not enough to admit it.
But enough to notice.
Dean dropped into a chair and tossed a gold envelope onto the table.
Alex stared at it.
Then groaned.
"No."
Dean grinned.
"You haven't even opened it."
"I don't need to."
"You do."
"No."
"You do."
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose.
The grin widened.
Dean looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"What is it?"
"The Winter Heritage Gala."
"Absolutely not."
"It's important."
"It's boring."
"It's charity."
"It's networking."
"It's both."
Alex sighed.
The Winter Heritage Gala was one of those events attended by people who enjoyed hearing themselves speak.
Investors.
Politicians.
Media personalities.
People who referred to themselves as thought leaders.
His least favorite species.
Dean opened the envelope anyway.
"You and I are guests of honor."
"Wonderful."
"It gets better."
"I doubt that."
Dean scanned the invitation.
"It's supporting educational foundations, historical preservation projects and library archives."
Alex froze for half a second.
Dean immediately noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"That was definitely something."
"It wasn't."
"You paused."
"I didn't."
"You absolutely did."
Alex ignored him.
Dean eventually let it go.
Mostly.
The conversation shifted.
Work became dinner plans.
Dinner plans became travel schedules.
Travel schedules became an argument about whose turn it was to approve next quarter's hiring budget.
Normal.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
The kind of conversation that existed between people who knew each other too well.
Eventually Dean's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
A laugh escaped him.
Alex looked over.
"What?"
Dean turned the phone around.
A text message.
**Running late. Don't start without me.**
Alex shook his head.
"Again?"
"Again."
"You realize this is why your phone never stops vibrating."
Dean looked offended.
"People enjoy my company."
"People enjoy your face."
Dean considered that.
"Fair."
Alex laughed despite himself.
A genuine laugh.
Rare enough that Dean immediately pointed at him.
"There he is."
"Don't."
"You laughed."
"I regret it already."
Dean looked insufferably pleased.
The bastard.
"Speaking of tomorrow," Dean said.
"What now?"
"We should actually stay for the gala."
"We are staying."
"No. We should stay."
Alex narrowed his eyes.
Dean continued.
"There'll be terrible speeches."
"Obviously."
"Questionable champagne."
"Guaranteed."
"Rich people pretending to understand literature."
"Without fail."
Dean grinned.
"And then we'll disappear before midnight and find something more entertaining."
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The real reason you're attending."
Dean placed a hand over his heart.
"You wound me."
Alex rolled his eyes.
"You survive remarkably well for someone constantly wounded."
Dean laughed again.
Outside, rain began tapping softly against the windows.
The sound filled the silence that followed.
For some reason neither of them spoke for a while.
The city glowed beneath them.
Headlights moved like rivers of light.
Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.
"You ever feel like life gets too predictable?"
The question came out of nowhere.
Alex looked at Dean.
His friend was staring out the window.
Not smiling.
Not joking.
Just thinking.
The sight felt strangely unfamiliar.
Dean usually carried his thoughts lightly.
When something weighed on him, he hid it behind humor.
"What brought that on?"
Dean shrugged.
"Nothing."
A lie.
Not a major one.
Just enough of one.
Alex recognized it immediately.
Because he'd been feeling it too.
Not boredom.
Not dissatisfaction.
Something else.
The strange sense that life had settled into a pattern.
Wake up.
Work.
Win.
Repeat.
Again and again.
There were worse problems to have.
Far worse.
Yet sometimes it felt as though he were watching the same movie on an endless loop.
Dean finally shook his head.
"Ignore me."
"I usually do."
"Good."
Dean stood and grabbed his coat.
As he reached the door, he glanced back.
"Dinner tomorrow. Seven-thirty."
"We had dinner tonight."
"Exactly."
Alex stared at him.
Dean stared back.
Several seconds passed.
Neither moved.
Finally Alex sighed.
"Fine."
"See? Personal growth."
"Get out."
Dean laughed all the way to the elevator.
A few minutes later, Alex found himself alone.
The office felt different without him.
Too quiet.
The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass.
Rain streaked the windows.
Somewhere below, millions of people were living entirely different lives.
Falling in love.
Breaking hearts.
Making mistakes.
Starting over.
Alex wondered what that felt like.
Then immediately hated himself for the thought.
The whiskey suddenly tasted stronger.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Dean.
**Don't forget. Gala. Wear something expensive. Pretend you're friendly.**
Alex smirked.
**Impossible.**
The reply arrived instantly.
**Worth a shot.**
Shaking his head, Alex slipped the phone into his pocket.
The storm outside intensified.
Thunder echoed across the city.
Tomorrow would be the same.
Meetings.
Deadlines.
Decisions.
The usual routine.
And that suited him perfectly.
After all, routines were safe.
Predictable.
Reliable.
Alex had built an entire life around those things.
The last thing he needed was disruption.
The last thing he wanted was change.
Unfortunately for him...
Life rarely cared what people wanted.
- Writer
