by Ava Harrison
He nods again. “I won’t let you down.”
“That’s my boy. Now get to your station. I’ll pull out the money and get it to you in a couple of days.”
He pulls me in for one final hug. I pat his back and send him on his way, then go directly to Carson’s office. I know what I need to do. Three brisk knocks on the door and he calls out for me to come in.
“What’s going on?” Carson asks, looking up from his stack of papers.
“What would I have to do to start a boarding school for these kids?”
“A boarding school?” He wrinkles his forehead.
“This place is great, Carson, and what you’ve started here is amazing, but it’s not enough. Sending those kids off to the public schools, with all the violence and gangs? It’s only a matter of time before they either get pulled into it or severely hurt. Their families can’t afford to send them to private schools. But what if we could start a boarding school and offer scholarships for some of these kids to attend?”
He places his pen down. “Did something happen?”
“No,” I lie, not wanting to drag Carson into the mess with Xavier. “I want to make a bigger difference. I want somewhere girls from bad neighborhoods can have an escape, too. There has to be a way to work with the state to provide such services. Isn’t there government assistance available? Or private donations, maybe? What would I have to do?” My voice hitches, the desperation oozing off of me.
“It’s a big undertaking, Lindsey. The money it would take to run something that big is frankly in the hundreds of millions. I can’t begin to tell you how much work it was getting this center going.”
“Money isn’t an object, Carson, and I have all the time in the world.” The truth of the matter is, my circle has billions running through it. My father alone could afford to fund damn near the entire thing. Carson looks skeptical.
“I’m serious. I want this, and I want it sooner rather than later. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
He smiles. “Let me start digging some stuff up from the state. I’ll see what I can do.”
I smile, turning to walk away.
“Lindsey,” Carson calls.
I turn back around.
“I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way from the girl I first met. You’re going to make your family proud.”
“Thank you,” I say.
We’ll see.
I’m sitting on Pierce’s couch, relaying the details of my talk with Carson. My hands are flying around animatedly as we discuss all of my ideas. His eyes are wide, but a smile remains on his face the entire time. When I’m done, he just sits there quietly. I grow uncomfortable, wondering if he thinks I’m crazy.
“Say something,” I push, wanting to know his true thoughts on my idea.
He shakes his head. “I’m speechless,” he admits. “The thought you’ve put into this . . . Lindsey, it’s incredible. If you can pull this off, it will be huge. Those boys at that center need this. They need you. And I love the idea that it will be co-ed. You’re right, girls need the same opportunities.”
I bob my head, eager for his feedback.
“So, what do I need to do to invest?” he asks, and I jerk back.
“W-what? Invest? Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s amazing. I have money from my trust.”
“Pierce, I don’t know what to say.” It’s my turn to be speechless.
“How about two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
My eyes bug out. “Two hundred and fifty thousand? Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“Seriously?”
He chuckles. “You keep asking me this and I keep telling you, I’m dead serious.” He smiles.
“Pierce, you don’t know how much that means to me. It’s huge.”
He bends down, kissing my cheek. “I believe in you.”
I’m overwhelmed with emotion. Touched by the fact Pierce believes in me. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m doing it for you, Lindsey, but I’m also doing it for the boys. Rocky, Christopher, Xavier, all of them. They all deserve these chances. I think between my contacts and yours, we can really make this happen.” He begins to pace. “We need to work on a business plan.”
“We? You want to help?”
He continues to bowl me over with his generosity.
“Of course. This is important, Lindsey. I’m all in.”
We spend the next hour doing our own research on funds available through the state. We’ve compiled a folder of information for me to sort through over the next week with tons of applications and phone numbers of agencies I’ll need to start reaching out to. I’ll compare them to what Carson finds, and we should have a good start. In the meantime, I need to look for a place to build the boarding school. Or better yet, find a building that can accommodate such an undertaking.
“You know, Jamie Ryan is a venture-capitalist, and this is exactly what he invests in. Hang on. Let me call him,” Pierce says.
I’m familiar with the name. He’s a former NBA player who came from Compton. It’s been his life’s mission to help kids get off the streets. I sit, my knee bouncing up and down rapidly enough for pain to shoot through my skin. Is this man serious?
“Hey, man. How’s it going? . . . Yeah, it’s all good, it happens. . . No, I actually called for something else. My girlfriend is trying to start a boarding school for inner-city kids.”
His girlfriend? My body heats and my cheeks warm. Is that what I am? Even though he said he wanted me all to himself, I still doubted him, but hearing him call me his girlfriend . . .
I’m at a loss for words.
Hearing the words changes everything about last night. I can’t deny that I love the idea, but wow, I didn’t realize that’s what I was.
“Yeah, it’s great, man. She’s thought about everything. It’s going to be co-ed, year-round that does seminars and works on all academic areas. It’ll also help them plan a future . . . Sure did. I invested two hundred and fifty thousand.” He chuckles. “Not all of us can be NBA superstars. I’m running down my list of people I thought would be interested. Can I count you in? . . . Solid. I will get all the information over to you ASAP . . . Later, man.”
He secured more money.
“He’s in for three million.” A slow grin spreads across his face while the air rushes out of me.
“Three million?” I squeak.
He nods and fist pumps the air.
“Oh my God, Pierce.”
I throw my arms around him and pull him into the longest, hardest kiss I’ve ever been part of. After several minutes, we pull apart.
“It’s a great idea and really needed, Lindsey. You could change so many kids’ lives. It’ll be hard for people not to see that. This is only the beginning.”
Those words are so loaded. Only the beginning. Only the beginning for the boarding school, but also the beginning of us, because in this moment, I don’t want anything but him. All of him. Every second of the day. Our pasts do not define us, and I’m tired of not living my best life. I’m all in with him.
Lifting up to my tiptoes, I kiss his jaw and then his mouth. “Make love to me,” I whisper against his lips. He doesn’t answer, just sweeps me into his arms and makes his way into the bedroom. He places me softly on the bed.
“Turn off the lights,” I say.
He gives me a puzzled look, but then he nods and obeys. I’m thankful he didn’t question me. Tonight has been too wonderful to bog myself down with insecurities. Or worse, pity. The idea of him seeing my scars, of him seeing the puckered skin from my accident, is too much right now. I just want to enjoy him.
Once the light is off, he moves back over to me. Slowly he undresses both of us until we’re naked. Then he lies on the bed while sheathing himself with a condom. I crawl on top of him and slowly lower myself until he’s fully encased in my body. Though dark in the room, his eyes shine brightly at me, filled with so many emotions, my body
heats. I rise and then lower myself, taking him deeper and deeper with each movement of my body. I keep up the pace, finding a rhythm somewhere between lust and love. But the more I watch him, the more I witness my own feelings reflecting back at me from his eyes, the more my movements become erratic, showing him with my body how I feel.
I’m coming undone but strong arms bracket around me, keeping me grounded to him, sealing his lips on mine, promising without words that he’ll never let me go.
“Hey, are you busy? I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say as I enter Carson’s office and sit down in the chair in front of his desk. He looks up at me and sets his pen down.
“Sure what’s going on?” he asks.
“Thanks for your help,” I mumble back as my fingers tap on the table.
“No problem. It’s no big deal.”
I shake my head adamantly at him. “Nah. It is a big deal, at least to me. I know you know my brothers, obviously, and you could have easily just brushed me off as another fuckup. But you didn’t. And I’ll forever appreciate that.”
His blue eyes bear the semblance of something at my words, maybe pride. “I can’t say I know all about it, but from someone who fucked-up a lot, I try to never listen to what others say. All that matters to me is the now, not the past, and right now I’m proud. You’ve been doing great, and the boys love you.”
I’m startled by his words, taken aback, and I don’t know how to respond. I’m robbed of my words and a silence descends on us. All I can do is stare. He is proud. The confirmation of what I thought has knocked the wind out of me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Thanks, man. They mean a lot to me too. So, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Have at it.” He leans forward onto his desk to rest his chin in his hand. Giving me the stage to speak.
“Lindsey has this great idea, for a boarding school. A place where kids can go to be safe.”
“Yeah, I know. I gave her some info to get in touch with the state.”
“So, the thing is, she’s working day and night on this and I want to help.”
“Okay, what do you have in mind?” he says as he studies me.
“I was thinking we could do a fundraiser of some sort. Something with the boys to raise money. The kids can do maybe a telethon or something.”
“Hmm I love it”—he bobs his head—“but it needs to be more.”
I look around the room and my gaze collides with Carson’s running gear in the corner. “What about a run of some sort?”
“Yes, great idea,” he exclaims, and by the way his lips spread across his face I know he really does.
“Figured you would,” I say, nodding to the sneakers, and he chuckles.
“Do you want to plan the logistics?”
“I think I’ll let Lindsey do that.”
At my words, Carson’s forehead creases and then he nods. “She’s lucky to have you as a friend.” But as the smirk he can’t suppress peeks out across his face, it’s obvious he knows we are so much more.
Early morning light streams in through the drapes in my bedroom, blinding me as I rub furiously at my eyes.
Is it morning already?
How did morning come so fast? Didn’t I just fall asleep? No, apparently not, as my sleep laced eyes open reluctantly. I’m so tired it hurts. I guess that’s to be expected when you can’t sleep. The week has passed, but Pierce’s words still hang over me even days later. He’s right. I need to talk to my father, ask him to invest, but this time I need to go see him, face-to-face and tell him about my idea.
Maybe then he’ll notice you. Maybe then he’ll pay attention and when he hears how much time and thought you put into this, he’ll be proud. Last night I tossed and turned, trying to think of what to say to my father. Hours later, and only a handful of z’s under my belt, I still haven’t thought of anything. But what I do know is that I need to take the day off from work and I need to call and make sure they aren’t short-staffed.
Determined I can’t put off seeing my father any longer, I reach for my phone and scroll through the contacts until I find the number.
On the third ring, Carson answers. “Hey, Carson,” I say into the receiver.
“Hey. Everything okay?” he asks, which doesn’t surprise me. I never call the center.
“I hate to do this to you, but I have someplace I need to be today. Please tell me you’re not short-staffed.”
“I’ve got plenty of help today, but what’s going on? You’re worrying me.”
“I’m good. It’s nothing bad. I-I just need to confront someone.” A nervous laugh bubbles through my mouth. “Wish me luck.”
“Lindsey, you don’t need luck. If anyone gets stuff done, it’s you. When you walked in this door all those months ago, you could barely walk without a cane. Now look at you. When was the last time you needed assistance? Every week you grow stronger and stronger. You managed to survive something most wouldn’t. You managed to hold your head high no matter the circumstance. Whatever this is, whatever you have to face, I have no doubt you’ll conquer it and come out on top.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I needed to hear that right now.”
“Happy to be of service.” He chuckles. “Okay, go do what you have to do. I’ll talk to you later. If you need me, remember I’m always here.”
“Thanks, Carson. I’ll touch base later.”
I hang up, walk into my closet, and throw on a pair of black pants, a white blouse, and a blazer. I might not want to talk to my father, but at least I’ll look the part marching into his Park Avenue office. After I’m dressed, I proceed to sit in front of the mirror for what seems like an hour, conjuring up the right facade to present to my father.
I need to conquer this hurdle.
Now, two hours later, I’m ready to see him. Presenting myself to Jeffery Walker, aka Dad, is like stepping on a battlefield the morning before a war; you never know how the battle will turn out. You’ll probably suffer many casualties, but you’re there anyway.
I walk right past his assistant without acknowledging her. I hear her call out my name and try to stop me, but I’m already flinging his office door open.
There he is, looking superior as always, sitting behind his obnoxiously ostentatious desk in his ridiculous office with the floor-to-ceiling windows. I might have grown up with a silver spoon in my mouth, but Jeffery Walker’s office is a whole new level of opulent. From the top floor of a building he owns, he runs the world, or at least the world of oil. One would expect him to work in Texas, but who needs to do that when he can fly there for a meeting in his own jet . . . one of the many in his fleet.
Dad might have made his billions in oil, but he likes to pretend he’s old New York money, like a Rockefeller or something. I don’t know who he’s trying to fool, but he made sure growing up I’d never have a hint of an accent. That I always sounded like the upper crust of society. I imagine this is because he, in fact, isn’t old money at all. Rather, he was raised in a small house, in a small town, and just happened to strike it rich.
Sometimes, looking around, I wonder if he’s happy. Or whether we’d be better off with less. Maybe then he’d care?
He looks up and his eyes widen at my presence. There’s no question he’s been caught off guard and he’s not happy. His secretary will get an earful, that’s for sure. I can’t even feel bad for surprising him. After all the times he’s put me off, he deserves it. I do feel a little regret for his assistant, but not enough to not have done it.
“I’m done!” I scream at him, acting completely unhinged. His brow rises and confusion plays across his face. Each line and wrinkle begs me to clarify what I’m done with. “The fact you don’t know is pathetic.”
“Lindsey, I can see you’re upset. Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s going on?”
“Don’t patronize me, Dad. Sending me money; not calling me; pretending for one minute that you care, then ignoring me
again in the next. Stop. Don’t pretend anymore. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of this bullshit,” I hiss. “But most of all, I’m sick of you thinking you can buy me off. I don’t want your damn money.”
“What do you want?”
“I want my dad. I want my father. I don’t want you to send me money. I want you to talk to me. I want you and Mom to be a part of my life. When I woke up in the hospital that day, I thought I finally had it. Seeing Mom cry, seeing you cry, I thought that would change everything, but has it? Where have you been?” A tear slips down my cheek. I try to fight them back, but instead, a sob falls from my lips. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been here the whole time, I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“But that’s the thing. Sending me money. No questions asked, that’s not what I want. I want to help these kids. I want to invest my money to help them and I want you to talk to me about it, strategize with me about it. Come up with ideas with me on a Sunday night. I want dinner with you and Mom. I want for us to discuss my hopes and my dreams, my aspirations. I want you to tell me what’s going on in your day. I just want to be normal. Working at the center has made me realize I’m no different than these kids. Sure, I have money, but I still lack guidance. Still lack love.”
“Your mom and I—”
“I know you love me. I do. Truly I do. I know you love me in your own way, but I need more. And to be honest, if you can’t give me that, I don’t know where we go from here.”
He sits and thinks for a minute, pulling his hands through his hair. He looks visibly shaken. Good. Maybe now he sees me. He takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I never knew. What can I do? How can I fix this?”
“Just be here. Be here for me,” I whisper. Tired.
“I will. I’ll be here. I’ll do better,” he promises. We sit in silence. I’m not sure how long, but eventually he looks up from his deep thought.
“Starting now.” He sits up taller, places his hands on his desk, and cocks his head. “Talk to me. Tell me what I can do to help? I know you want to help these kids. What can I do?”
