by Harper Bliss
“Maybe the next generation of Lennoxes will.”
“Look.” He sits up. “I’m throwing my cards on the table. I know Dad wants to appoint you as his successor because…” He nods at the coke. “Well, you know why. For some reason, I have to be squeaky clean if I want to be the face of LB and I had the bad luck of getting caught. Anyway, it’s what he wants. For now. And that’s fine. We can give him that. I can give him that, if it makes him feel better. But it’s not how I want things for the long term… So, I have to ask. What do you want for the long term?” He stares straight into my eyes.
“The way I understand things, in the long term, I’m going to be CEO of Lennox Breweries.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of the length of that term,” Sebastian says. He gets up and pours himself another drink. “Do you want a beer? I have a fridge full of Lennox lager that will never be drunk by anyone.”
“How very kind of you.” I go to the kitchen—a clinically stark, white affair also—and grab myself a beer. It gives me some time to think about Sebastian’s comment. I will have to tell Jill about this, but for now, I need to make a quick decision on my own. “I know you want to run the company as well as be the face of it, but you’re going to have to step back for a bit. It’s the way things are. That being said…” I take a sip from my beer. “Nothing is set in stone. You’re my brother. We can work together.” I quash the memory of the conversation with Jill—the one where I said I’d like him to go.
Sebastian nods. He seems to have forgotten about the coke on his coffee table. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
A silence falls again. My thoughts drift to Leah, and I wonder if Sebastian’s thinking of her as well. Is she still his first thought in the morning, before he opens his eyes, before he’s fully awake to the reality of our lives without her—forever?
When we were kids, after Leah and I graduated from finding our cute little brother super adorable, our favorite pastime was to gang up on him. Sebastian had no recourse against his pair of older sisters.
“Are you seeing anyone?” I ask. There are no signs of any regular female presence in my brother’s apartment.
“Yeah. Sure,” he says absent-mindedly, as though I’ve just asked him if he wants to order some food.
“Tell me about her.”
He looks at me and, for a split second, I spot the forlorn look in his eyes, the same one he used to get when Leah and I went too far with him when we were kids. His gaze turns hard again. “There’s nothing to tell. She’s just… It’s nothing serious. I don’t seem to attract a lot of serious girls.”
Same here, I want to say, but it has never really bothered me. And it’s not something I want to bond over with my brother.
“Dad was fifty years old when I was born,” Sebastian says. “I figure I have some time to start a family.”
“He hasn’t put pressure on you to produce some Lennox grandkids?”
Sebastian shakes his head. “Grandkids don’t really seem to interest him that much.”
“Figures,” I say. “He never had much time for his own children when they were growing up, either.”
“Harsh.” Sebastian briefly arches his eyebrows.
“Do you want to grab some dinner or something?” I ask.
He shakes his head again, looking more dejected than I’ve seen him in a while. “I have a date,” he says.
“I’ll get going then.” I don’t finish my beer. I used to pretend Lennox beer was the best in the world, but there’s no need for such pretense here. Sebastian just stocks it in his fridge for show.
6
Jill
“He’s not going to go down easy, if that’s what you were expecting,” Ali says.
I’m surprised she’s relaying her conversation with Sebastian in such detail. I’m also very pleased with how she’s confiding in me.
“I wasn’t expecting that at all.” I give Ali a thorough once-over. The overly colorful floral pattern of her blouse is making my eyes hurt, but at least she doesn’t look hungover today. Her large brown eyes are on full display.
“I was thinking,” Ali says. “Although I love your idea of me spending time in this company’s various departments, I shouldn’t neglect my time with you, Jill. After all, you can teach me the most.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be neglected.” Sometimes, when I look at Ali, I wonder what her sister would have looked like at this age. For fraternal twins, they always looked very alike.
“I was also thinking…” Sounds as though Ali has been thinking non-stop. It makes a nice change. “Not to sound overly morbid, but, you know, Dad’s not in the best shape… what if something happens to him, say, next week. What happens then?”
“If you’ve already been announced as his successor, then you’ll take over as CEO.”
Ali scoffs. “But how would that even be possible? I don’t… you know, have enough… information.”
As she is now, in the grip of doubt, her Lennox obnoxiousness toned down, I can even summon some compassion for her. “I’ll be here. I have all the information you need.”
She nods and as she does the look in her eyes goes from hesitant to confident again. “What’s on your schedule today?”
“Why?” I’m already not liking the sound of that—Ali’s tone is too provocative.
“I think it’s time for an exercise in trust. You know, me learning to trust Jill Gold.” She paints on a big smile. It’s broad and mellow, yet I still can’t tell whether it’s genuine.
“That’s going to have to wait until after work. I’m far too busy today.”
Ali squints and holds my gaze. “I do wonder how many times per day you avail of the ‘I’m busy’ excuse just because it’s convenient.”
“I am really busy, Ali.” And you following me around, asking questions like this, isn’t reducing said busyness, I think. Perhaps I should be able to say it out loud, but Ali is still the boss’s daughter.
“Fine. Tonight then?”
“Tonight what?” On a good day, I don’t leave the office before eight. On a regular day, I’m here until ten. On bad days, which are frequent, I often see the clock turn to midnight.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll think of something. Shall we say seven?”
“Can you be a bit less vague?” I hear footsteps outside the door. Linda is probably waiting to update me on the latest.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t yet. All I can say is that it will be a trust-building activity.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Shall we meet in the lobby?”
“Ali, I’m really busy today. Seven is just not doable.”
“How about…” She walks toward me. “You make it work? It’s important that we trust each other, wouldn’t you agree?”
I’ll have to return to the office for another late-night shift after whatever Ali will plan for us, but it’s not as if I have to cancel any exciting non-work activities for it.
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
“I look forward to it.” Ali cocks her head. “Am I still in market research today?” She fills her cheeks with air. “Market research is turning out to be excruciatingly boring.”
“You are. Now go. I’m sure someone there is waiting for you.” I make a mental note to check in with Jim, the head of the department, to see how Ali’s doing.
“See ya.” She gives me a quick wave goodbye.
“We’re having dinner?” I ask. It sounds like a silly question because she’s just handed her car keys to the valet of a restaurant called Matriciana’s.
“It’s not what it looks like.” She nods her head in the direction of the door.
I follow her inside. It looks like a restaurant to me, and not even a very posh one. Not one I had expected Ali Lennox to frequent. Instead of asking for a table, she escorts me to the hallway that branches off the main room, and then down a flight of purple-painted wooden stairs.
When we are in the basement, she knocks on a closed door. I hope she’s not taking me to a h
igh-stakes poker game—I’m severely out of practice.
The door swings open and a man with his hair tied into a shiny bun on top of his head gives her a quick once-over.
“The password’s Ali Lennox,” she says, shooting man-bun a smile.
“Come on in.” The man opens the door wide and ushers us in. He takes us to a booth with leather benches that’s tucked into a snug alcove.
“It’s a speakeasy,” Ali says. “It’s all the rage. Like alcohol-free beer, although there’s no shortage of alcohol here.” She wrinkles her nose. “I bet they serve virgin cocktails here as well. Whatever tickles your fancy, Jill.”
“A speakeasy.” I glance around, although my view is half obstructed, which is probably the intention. The space is roomy but with low ceilings. As far as I can see, there are only five other booths like ours. “What’s with the password?”
“You normally get it from some social media account, but me being me, I can usually just say my name to get in. It opens many a door.” She says it as though it’s the most normal thing in the world. To her, it probably is. Doors have always opened for Ali without her having to make any effort.
“You brought me to a cocktail bar?” I peer at her over the frame of my glasses.
“You do still like a tipple?”
Oh yes, I do. I nod. “It’s just not what I had expected.”
“Let’s order and then I’ll tell you more of what I have in mind.” She beckons the server over with the slightest nod of her head. “What do you like in your mixed alcoholic beverages, Jill?”
“Something strong.” I have a feeling I’m going to need it. “Bourbon.”
“It’ll be the best bourbon-based cocktail you’ve ever had.”
Ali places our order, then fixes her gaze on me. “I hope you weren’t expecting one of those weird trust-building exercises where we fall backward into each other’s arms. I think it’s too soon for that, actually. Also, I’m not sure you could catch me.”
“I can assure you that I could.” She has me on edge already. None of the staff at Lennox Breweries who are Ali’s age have her almost-grotesque confidence. They don’t even come close.
“Maybe we can try that later, then.” She grins at me. “Full disclosure, I googled trust-building activities and the first thing that I found was that we should tell each other a secret. That’s why I brought you here. Wouldn’t you say the vibe is very conducive to the sharing of secrets?”
For someone interning in the market research department, Ali’s research skills haven’t reached great depths just yet. What I am impressed with is the unwavering straightforwardness with which she addresses me. She’s nothing like the skinny pile of sadness that left L.A. after Leah died—a blow as hard for Ali as the car crash that killed Leah. Somehow, she pulled herself up by the bootstraps and remade herself, without her twin.
“Secrets,” I say. “Okay.” I can tell Ali plenty of things she will consider to be a secret, but will have zero repercussions on either of our lives if she knows them.
“First, we drink, of course.” She glances around. The server is just coming over with our drinks. If he hadn’t been on his way, I suspect Ali might have made a condescending snapping noise with her fingers to hurry things along.
She waits until the server has deposited our drinks on the table, informed us my cocktail is called a ’Divided Sky’ and has left. Ali lifts her glass and tips it toward mine. “To the future of LB. May it be in female hands.” She casts a glance at my hands, as though to make a point as to whose she’s referring to—alongside hers, of course. Currently, I don’t hold any future in them, only a very enticing-looking cocktail. It has the thinnest slice of burnt orange carefully placed over the rim of the glass.
“To your return.” I smile at Ali. For all the years I’ve worked alongside her brother, he has never invited me for an after-work drink.
“It’s good to be back.” She shrugs. “You can’t run away forever.”
I’m taken aback by her sudden candor. But if we’ll be exchanging secrets soon, perhaps it shouldn’t surprise me.
We sip from our drinks. Mine is indeed exquisite. It’s dangerous because I can barely taste the alcohol even though any bourbon-based cocktail I’ve had has always left me a little giddy.
“Sebastian’s stint in rehab hasn’t worked,” she half-whispers. “I don’t know if him going there was purely for PR reasons or whether Dad expected it to actually have an effect.”
“Mainly PR,” I say, noticing how jaded that sounds. Perhaps I’ve spent too much time with this family. “I mean, it would have been great if it had worked, but I imagine Sebastian isn’t feeling too great at the moment with the way things are going.”
“He threw a bag of coke on the table last night. As though it were a packet of mints. He didn’t offer any to me, nor did he use it in front of me, but for some reason, it was important to him that I see he had it.” She knits her brows together. “I can’t really read him on that front. He wasn’t an addict when I left.”
“Sebastian’s biggest problem is that he thinks he can do whatever he likes. Until your father sets him straight. Then he’ll be good, or pretend to be good, for a while, until it spirals out of control again.”
“If that’s the case…” She pouts her lips. “Instead of trying to fuck him over, shouldn’t we be helping him? I don’t much care to have another sibling die on me.”
Again, Ali’s candidness stuns me into momentary silence.
“We will help him. Of course, we will. But we can’t have him leading the company, not in the state he’s in.”
“He basically said I was a coward for leaving him and Dad to deal with Leah’s death without me.” She gives that one-shouldered shrug again.
“We all deal with a tragedy like that differently,” I say. “For what it’s worth, your father doesn’t think you’re a coward.”
“Let’s get to the order of business.” She sits up straighter, ignoring the direction our conversation has taken. “I’ve had a few more hours to think about this, so I’ll go first.”
“Sure.” Despite having had no time to prepare, I already know the secret I’m going to tell Ali. I try to guess what she’s going to say, or if she can surprise me at all, only to realize, with a shock, that I’m quite excited about this whole thing she has set up.
“When I was a kid… maybe eight or nine—Mom had been dead for a few years—I used to sneak out of the house at night and go looking for her. Spoiler alert: I never found her.” She gazes into her half-empty cocktail glass.
If I was taken aback by her frankness earlier, I’m currently floored by her vulnerability on display.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Ali.”
“At least I had Leah. Until I didn’t.”
I’m beginning to see that Ali hasn’t brought me here to pry some secret out of me. I’m here, in this dark, underground bar, to see her pain. She’s trusting me for some reason. Or her pain is still so big that she can’t keep it inside, despite her image, built-up while abroad, of being forthwith and carefree.
This is a situation I don’t know how to deal with. Give me a difficult contract negotiation any day of the week. Heck, put me on the losing end of a killer deal over this. Now, I just sit across from Ali wishing I could take away only a fraction of the loss she has come back to face.
“You two were inseparable,” I manage to mumble.
“To tell you the truth, she got on my nerves a lot as well. She was always… there, you know. Like she couldn’t do anything without me.”
And vice versa. When Leah died, so unexpectedly and way too early at twenty-five, it must have felt like a limb was ripped from Ali’s body, leaving nothing but painful emptiness in the space it used to occupy.
“Ali.” I find myself half-whispering as well, as though these things can’t possibly be said with a full voice. “It must have been so hard, but if only you could see yourself now.”
“Do go on…” She has
pulled one side of her mouth into a grin.
“Your presence is…” I speak slowly so I can choose my words. “Very imposing. You’re elegant and smart and well-spoken. You look as though you’re doing really well.”
“Thanks,” she says, as though I just complimented her on a piece of jewelry. She downs the rest of her cocktail. “Shall we get another?”
“Sure.” I can’t say no now, not after Ali has let me in like that. A small part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s playing me in some way. Vile as it may sound, in my job, I need to be vigilant about these things. For all I know, she and Sebastian could have had a reconciliatory night and forged their own plans to oust me. But would Ali really use her grief like that?
The fact is that I don’t know. This is not the same girl who left at the age of twenty-five. No person is the same ten years later, and especially not someone who lost their twin sister in a completely senseless road accident.
She does that thing again where she beckons over someone to wait on her without me noticing, like she has a secret, invisible language going on with the staff. The server doesn’t even come over to take our order. The mixologist just goes to work pouring liquor.
“Okay,” Ali says. “I feel like we’ve veered off course a bit. It wasn’t my intention to be so, um, open about things with you. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because I feel like I’ve known you forever. I don’t know. How long have you worked for my dad? Twenty-five years?”
I chuckle. “No. I’m not that old.”
“How old are you?”
“Just turned fifty-three.”
“Oh,” she says. “Five-three, the opposite of my three-five.”
“I’ve been with Lennox twenty-one years, but I haven’t always worked so closely with your father.”
“Yet, I seem to remember you always being there.”
“That’s probably because I was there from the time you started showing interest.”
She shrugs again, indicating she doesn’t much care to delve deeper into my history at Lennox.
