by Whitney G.
“Mom! It’s that guy you told us about!” She called behind her shoulder. Then she stared at me.
“Are you going to let me in, Ashley?” I smiled.
“Whoa. How do you know my name already?”
“Your mom told me a while ago, but you’re still wearing your name tag from work.”
“Oh yeah...” She stepped back and let me in.
Her other daughter—Caroline, came down the steps and stood next to Ashley. Then they both stared at me, blinking in unison.
They were dressed in the same work uniform—white collared shirts with khakis, and all their freckles were in the exact same places. I wasn’t sure how anyone could ever tell them apart.
I handed them the rose bouquets, hoping they would lead me to Claire, but they simply said “Awwww” at the flowers and continued staring at me.
“I guess he’s hot after all. Mom did a really good job.” Ashley nodded. “I like his tie.”
“I like his shoes.” Caroline tapped her lip. “Do you think he dresses like this every day or he’s dressing like this to impress her?”
“Probably just to impress her. He can’t afford to dress like that every day...I bet he got these flowers at the discount stand down the street.”
“Or maybe he works at the discount stand down the street.”
“Yeah...He’s probably a salesman—a hot salesman though.”
Do they not realize that I can HEAR them?
“What’s his name again?”
“Jonathan, ladies.” I smiled. “Where’s your mother?”
“Dining room,” they uttered in unison.
Okay...
I realized that they were never going to lead me in the right direction, so I walked around them. I saw Claire setting the table and handed her the last bouquet.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “I don’t think the hundred I receive in my office every morning are enough.”
“I’ll be sure to increase the amount. Do you need any help with dinner?”
“No, thank you. It’s already done.” She set down a stack of napkins. “Ashley! Caroline! Dinner’s ready!”
The next few minutes that unfolded were like a scene out of a fifties television sitcom: Ashley and Caroline rushed into the room and took their places at the table. They passed around the plates and bowls, laughing at nothing at all. Then Claire set down a huge bowl of pasta and the girls took turns spooning out huge helpings.
They talked excitedly about their day at school—a second successful bake sale with the cheerleading team, an A they both received in Physics class, and some “lame loser” who liked Ashley but couldn’t tell her apart from Caroline.
I’d only seen this type of behavior in movies or on TV. I didn’t know this actually happened in real life.
“So Jonathan—wait, we can call you Jonathan right?” Caroline passed me the breadstick basket.
“That’s perfectly fine.”
“Great! So, what’s it like being a flower salesman? Do you get good tips? Do you cut your own stems?”
I laughed. “I’m not a flower salesman.” I wondered why Claire hadn’t told them that. “I’m the CEO of Statham Industries.”
“What!” She gasped. “You’re the CEO of mom’s company?” She pulled out her phone and scrolled across the screen. She raised her eyebrow and hit Ashley on the shoulder. “Ashley, he has his own Wikipedia page...Wait, why isn’t his picture on here?”
“Maybe he has low self-esteem...” Ashley shrugged.
WHAT? “No, I just prefer to keep a low profile.”
“Weird...” Ashley tapped her phone’s screen and looked at me. “So...you’re a billionaire? You’re like filthy rich?”
I smiled. “You could say that.”
“You didn’t tell us he was rich, mom! You should’ve said that first! In that case...Caroline and I are trying to get my mom to make a certain decision for us and we need your rich opinion.”
Oh god...
“What is it?” I noticed Claire glaring at her from across the table.
“We think we each deserve to have our own car. We do everything right in school, we work part-time at the airport, and we hardly get in any trouble. If you had a twin brother, would you want to share everything? We just got our own rooms a few years ago, and we think it’s way past time for a car. What do you think?”
I wasn’t exactly sure how to handle this. I didn’t have any experience with teenage angst.
“Um...” I cleared my throat. “Are either of you trying to buy your own car?”
“Is he serious?” “Did he really just say that?” “Ask him again. Maybe we heard that wrong...”
“We didn’t.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “If you’ll excuse us—mother, Jonathan...We have some work to finish...”
They both stood up and narrowed their eyes at me before disappearing into another room.
What did I say?
“Thank you for telling them that.” Claire walked over and brushed her lips against mine. “We didn’t bore you too much tonight, did we?”
“No, not at all. It was just different.”
“What do you mean, different?”
“Having a family dinner. I’ve never had that before.”
“Your foster fam—”
“They always made me eat alone in my room.” I shook my head at the ugly memories. “The dinner table was for their real children.”
“Your biological parents never cooked dinner when you were little? Not once?”
“Not that I recall...Although there was this onetime when my mom promised to cook a Christmas dinner...She hyped it up all week, saying that we were finally going to have a real holiday meal together. She even made me and Hayley write out a list of everything we wanted her to make. She and my dad took the lists with them to the grocery store on Christmas Eve...”
“What happened?”
“They didn’t come back until New Year’s.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry...”
“Jonathan?” Ashley—I think, peeked around the corner. “Do you have a steady hand?”
“I think so. Why?”
“Me and Caroline need someone to trace the blueprint of our model Boeing 707 while we go over the coding. My mom’s hands aren’t steady at all.”
I kissed Claire on her cheek. “Okay.”
I followed Ashley into a large room that was painted light blue with fluffy white clouds. There were model planes everywhere—hanging from the ceiling, sitting in glass cases, and standing on the wall.
“So, putting model planes together is your hobby?” I sat down and began tracing a blueprint in white chalk. “Is this what you two—”
“Our hobby?” Caroline scoffed. “You are sitting with two of our nation’s future top pilots. This is our career we’re talking about.”
“Yeah.” Ashley held up a chart of code. “There aren’t that many women in the skies, and me and my sister are going to change that.”
I looked over their charts, noticing that some of the equations were similar to the ones I’d used to build former programs; a lot of this stuff wasn’t taught until college.
Claire had told me that they were practically geniuses when it came to books, but I’d never met any teenagers who were this well-versed in Physics.
“Do you have your own plane, Jonathan?” Ashley etched a diagonal line alongside my paper.
“I do.”
“What model?” “What type of engine?” “What’s the passenger capacity?” “Is the nonstop range over two thousand miles?”
“I have no idea...”
“What!” Ashley traced around my wing. “How is that possible? You bought a plane and you didn’t ask any of these questions?”
“I guess I have people to do that for me...” I shrugged. “If your mom says it’s okay, I’ll take you on a trip one day. I have an excellent pilot. I’m sure he’d love to give you a tour and answer all your questions.”
They both screamed and s
quealed, and then they went silent all of sudden, focusing on the task at hand.
“Dessert?” Claire poked her head through the door. “I made crushed Oreo and Butterfinger sundaes.”
“Nobody move!” Ashley yelled. “I need him to hold the wing steady for one more minute. You can’t bring the sundaes in here, mom?”
“No, that’s okay...I don’t want to mess up the new carpet.” Claire flinched. “They’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready. Okay?”
The twins murmured, “Okay” and kept their eyes glued to the charts. Once they finished checking my wing-tracing and writing down the measurements, they dismissed me with an “Okay mom’s boyfriend, you can go now. We’ll be out for dessert eventually.”
I went back into the kitchen but I didn’t see Claire. The sundaes she’d made were sitting on a small tray, slowly melting onto the table, so I placed them in the freezer.
I circled around the living room and her newly finished hallways, looking to see where she’d run off to. I started to walk upstairs, but I heard the creaking of a rocking bench coming from her porch.
“You okay, Claire?” I stepped outside.
“Yeah...I forgot tonight was going to be a starry night.” She pointed up at the twinkling sky. “I wanted to look at it before I cleaned.”
I sat down and pulled her close. “Thank you for dinner tonight. I loved it.”
“You’re welcome. Maybe next time you can come over earlier and cook for all of us instead.”
“You’re referring to our future now? You sure you’re okay?”
She laughed and snuggled against my chest. “Could you please tell me what you want for your birthday? It’s this weekend.”
“Nothing. I never celebrate it.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.” I needed to stay off that subject. Forever. “Is there a reason why your daughters have iPhones and not sPhones?”
“Of course there is.” She smirked. “It’s because everyone knows that iPhones are better.”
“Are they really?”
“Yeah. iPhones are so sleek and modern. They do everything the sPhone does and more. As a matter of fact, the only reason I have a sPhone is because the CEO insists on making every employee have one. If it wasn’t for that, I would definitely have an iPhone. It even sounds better than sPhone.”
“Take it back right now or I’ll fire you.”
“I even think the commercials for the iPhones are better. I bet their marketing team would be a joy to work for. They make me want to trade in my phone every time I see them on TV.”
I pulled her into my lap and narrowed my eyes at her. “Take. It. Back.”
“Make. Me.”
I laughed and sealed my lips over hers. “I will.”
Chapter 21
Jonathan
I hit the lights in my office and froze: There were hundreds of bright silver streamers hanging from the ceiling. Blue and white balloons covered every inch of the floor, and there was glittery confetti all over my furniture. There was even a huge banner strung across the windows that read, “Happy Birthday, Jonathan!”
“Angela!”
She rushed into the room. “Yes, Mr. Statham?”
“Who did you let into my office? I thought we thoroughly discussed the rules. No one is allowed in my office when I’m not here.”
“She wouldn’t take no for answer,” she whispered. “She was very firm...”
“Who is this she?”
“Miss Gracen...”
“Hmmm.” I held back a laugh. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re not going to write me up for this are you? She threatened me...”
“Have I ever written you up?”
“No...” She grinned. “Your eight o’ clock appointment just arrived. Do you want me to have maintenance pick up all the balloons first?”
“No, they can stay. Send the guys inside in five minutes.”
“Yes sir.”
I walked over to my desk and spotted a small white cake in the shape of the letter J and a silver envelope. I picked it up and sliced it open:
Dear Jonathan,
I know you said that you don’t normally do anything for your birthday, but I want to celebrate it with you anyway. I made us a nine o’ clock reservation at Sierra Mar, and I look forward to seeing you tonight.
We can do anything you want :-)
Yours,
Claire
I set the card down and smiled. Whenever I’d told the other women I dated that I didn’t celebrate my birthday, they simply said “Okay” and left it alone. There were no surprise balloons and cake, no surprise dinner dates. There weren’t even simple cards.
Then again, I’d always made sure I was out of the country to prevent that from happening.
“I’m sending them in now, Mr. Statham.” Angela’s voice bounced off my walls.
A young man in a black suit walked through my door, trying his hardest to step around all the balloons. “Good morning, Mr. Statham.”
“Good morning, Mr. Harris. Where’s Mr. Fletcher?”
“Right here, sir.” Another young man walked in right behind him. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. We’re happy you agreed to do this short follow up.”
“It’s an honor to be featured.” I shook their hands and motioned for them to take a seat.
I walked around my desk and sat down, leaning back as they pulled out their digital recorders.
“As you know, Mr. Statham,” Mr. Harris said, “we’re both writers for Tech-Next Magazine. We’re here to get a few personal quotes for our issue that will debut the same day your company goes public. We just had a few that weren’t answered the last time.”
“Ask away.”
“First question: When you started this company, what was your original vision?”
“I’m honestly not sure how to answer that. My former college professor—” I suddenly felt familiar hands unbuttoning my pants beneath the desk.
“Mr. Statham?”
“I’m sorry.” I smiled. “My former college professor didn’t make me outline a plan back then. He only wanted me to develop better computers and come up with new software ideas.”
“Are there any ideas that were scrapped in the start-up years and are going to be developed in the near future?”
I took a deep breath as my pants were tugged down, as Claire placed soft kisses along the inside of my thighs. “Um, no. Most of what I designed back then has already been developed, but there are always newer ideas that come our way. And...” I felt her kisses becoming more forceful, more passionate. “With technology advancing as fast as it has over the past five years, we’re looking forward to putting more products out for the public each year.”
He nodded and looked at his paper. “When your first computer took off, breaking the record for the fastest selling home computer, did you think you would stick to computers forever?”
“No, I—” I suppressed a groan. Claire was running her hands up and down my dick and I was clenching every muscle in my body—trying my hardest to stay focused on this interview and not pull her from under the desk. “I never wanted to stick to computers. At the time, I did that because home computers were what everyone seemed to want, but I was always looking ahead, wondering about the possibilities of the days when computers would be outdated.”
“Are you shocked at how well your company has done over the years?”
“Yes.” I sucked in a breath as Claire’s tongue teased the tip of my dick, as she swirled it around and around. “I’m very shocked...” I sighed as she started to take me deeper and deeper into her mouth.
“Do you have any words of inspiration for those who are trying to enter the software world? Any advice for those who dream of taking your spot at the top of the technology chain one day?”
God, I love this woman...
“I would tell them to work ten times harder than the hardest working person they know. And that there’s a b
ig difference between talent and persistence: It’s nice to have both, but the latter always wins.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Statham! I think we got everything.” “Happy birthday by the way.” They both reached over my desk and shook my hand.
“No, thank you.” For cutting this interview short...
I stayed glued to my seat and handed them my business card. “If you need anything else, feel free to call me. Make sure my secretary gives both of you a sPhone blue before you leave.”
Their eyes widened and they practically screamed “Thank you” before rushing out of my office.
I buzzed Angela. “Please hold any other meetings until I say so.”
“Yes sir.”
I rolled my chair back and pulled Claire from underneath the desk. I didn’t say anything; I just laughed as she blushed bright red and smiled.
“I can’t believe you did that...” I stood up and pulled her body close to mine. “That was very... inappropriate.” I pressed my lips against hers and ran my fingers through her hair.
She let a moan escape her mouth and I pulled her even closer, kissing her like it was the last time we’d see each other.
“Cancel the rest of your day,” I whispered.
“I can’t...”
“Why not?”
“I really need the overtime...” She caught her breath. “Plus, it’s promo week. Everyone is staying at least two hours over. That’s why our dinner reservation is so late. I can try to come back up at six thirty or—”
“I don’t think so.” I picked up my phone and called Angela. “Could you get me Harry in Executive Affairs please? Thank you... Hello, Harry. How are you? I’m great, thanks for asking. I’m calling because I need you to send out a mass memo from my account. The key code signature is eight, one, zero, five, one, six. Make sure you hit seven on the after screen so I can reset the code once the email has been sent...Are you logged in and ready? Good. Type these exact words: Dear Statham Industries employees, thank you for all your hard work over the years. The company wouldn’t be where it is now without you. To show you how much I mean that, today and Monday are surprise vacation days. You will still be paid for your regular shift and you’ll be awarded an additional two hours of pay per day. Thank you for all that you do. Sincerely, Jonathan Statham.” I hung up.
