I drove to the mall immediately because I knew that I was getting her the laptop, then after I'd bought it, realized she'd need something to carry it in which is what brought me to Louis Vuitton. It was all totally practical. Then, on my out, I passed Tiffany's and I'd wandered in without any particular gift in mind, but when I saw it I knew I had to get it for her. I wasn’t sure when I’d give it to her, but she had to have it and it had to come from me.
Seeing her, the look of utter disbelief on her face, when I gave her the presents broke my heart for her. Again. She'd never ask for anything from anyone. She'd wear nasty, frayed jeans and hoodies and hole up in the campus library forever if it meant never accepting help or, as she though of it, charity. She was so strong on the outside, but seeing her then, helpless and needy, I understood her. What she needed, more than clothes or a computer, was someone to show her they genuinely cared for her. I wanted to give it all to her; my family and you be damned. So like a fool, and after only knowing her a month, I told her I loved her. I never thought I’d tell anyone that, Lace.
Charley didn't return the "I love you" in fact, we'd left her house and were driving to mine in complete silence for over ten minutes. I worried that I'd created a new tic as she absentmindedly twisted the square pendant round and round at her throat. She finally broke the silence.
"Teddy, I know who you are."
"I know you do. So?"
"Don't you want to know how I know?"
"Everyone has the Internet."
"I didn't until about twenty minutes ago." She had a point but I decided I didn't care how she knew. Maybe she'd seen me around or maybe heard some things. HCI was ubiquitous. Everyone I went to high school with either had a parent or relative working for the company. Truthfully, it didn't matter to me how she knew. What mattered was that she never treated me differently. I loved her for that; the freedom to be myself without shame.
"What are you getting at, baby?"
"Teddy, you really don't pay attention to your dad's business at all, do you?"
"Weird segue, Charley."
"Just answer the question."
"No."
"No...?" She hung there waiting for me to proceed.
"Oh no, you're not doing that to me. You need to ask me specific questions if you want answers." I mimicked her lilting voice as I parroted her words back to her.
“Okay, fair enough. Why don't you pay attention to your dad's business?"
"Because I don't care."
“Why?"
"Because I don't."
"This is really mature."
"Why should I?"
"Because you're poised to inherit a global company that affects the lives of millions and you're completely disinterested in anything that has to do with the business.” I sighed wearily. Holmes Communications Inc., had taken over everything. As my parents, and Forbes magazine liked to call it, it was a rags to riches American Dream kind of fairy tale. It was the brainchild of my grandfather, Gunther, when he was nineteen years old. He had a partner and investor in Peter Haag, age thirty-three and well established in the business community. They created an impossibly small telecommunications firm, which mostly consisted of tinkering and politicking, to get electricity to their little village somewhere in the Netherlands. HCI quickly became the dominant telecommunications company there and then grandpa Gun bought out Haag. With cash in his pocket and a taste for power, he moved his family to the states with the intention to become the dominant telecommunications company here. He sought out rural, nearly unpopulated areas and lobbied the governments to sponsor more phone lines for the people in those areas. It wasn't long before they were calling him the poverty pied piper. Since he built the infrastructure, grandpa developed the technology to bring telecommunications to the poor and rural. HCI became the monopoly telecommunications company in the Southeast, then the Midwest. The company expanded and so did the interests and HCI branched out into other areas besides telecommunications. Basically, either grandpa got bored, or he got greedy. Or both. The interest split to creating efficient farming equipment, and heating/cooling technologies and a whole host of other things. At last count HCI owned over a thousand technology patents. Twenty-five years after its initial inception, when the company went public in 1973, it sold for eight dollars a share. After more splits than I can count, the shares now hover around twenty bucks, even during a recession. When my father took over, it was the beginning of the Internet Age. Dad is aggressive and he's an idea man -a visionary they call him, right up there with Steve Jobs and Oprah. He is credited with he changing the face of the company and keeping it current going into the digital age. What they mean is that he saw the writing on the wall. He divested the interests to less hardware and more software. HCI built an office in Silicon Valley, which now houses their entire on-line and marketing team including an "app" division in R&D -bunch of nerds who pick their butts, in my opinion. The HCI commercial security software has been the most successful but dad is always working on new things. Since the green movement out west, he's worked with the Silicone Valley team on new solar panel patents. He's been working with the Chicago team on new wind energy grants. Then, two years ago, he saw an opportunity to go back to the company's roots. HCI received presidential grant money to research and develop a fiber optic infrastructure that would reach rural and poverty stricken areas. Dad's been focusing mostly on the South East and Midwest where HCI already has control, he'd been traveling back and forth to the Chicago headquarters a lot then to work and to see Mickey. Dad dabbled in other affairs, mostly in other countries, most of it bored me, but it’s not like I didn’t pay attention. I did, see? How would I know all of that if I didn’t.
“I don't get it? Why so much revulsion?"
"Dad and I don't really see eye to eye about...anything."
"Are you the black sheep, too?" She asked humorlessly.
"Sort of."
"Teddy, talk to me."
"That's it. My Dad and I don't see eye to eye. He pushed me to be part of HCI and never asked me if it was actually something that I want, which I do not. He pushed to make me his version of a man and I couldn't stand that shit. Mickey ate it all up, did everything dad did, but I was disinterested. HCI bores me, and dad pisses me off.
"What about your mom?"
"What about her?"
"Are you alienated from her too?"
"Not at all.” Dad pushed me to be someone I'm not, but my mom just wanted me to be. She never pressured me to do or say anything that didn't come naturally to me. From the time I was a child I had no interest in impressing my dad, unlike Mick. I, honestly, just wanted to be left alone to do my own thing, whatever that thing may be. Claire and mom respected that so I spent a lot of time with them avoiding my dad. “Mick gave me shit for it. Called me a fag for the longest time but I really didn't care. I dunno, maybe mom thought I was gay, too."
"That seems harsh."
"It's what brothers do, Charley."
“I see," she paused. "Who is Claire?"
"Lacey's mom."
"You guys are really tight, then? You and Lacey, I mean." There was a hint of displeasure in her voice, but I had to tell her the truth. Brutal honesty. Fuck me.
"Yea, I guess we are, but our relationship is different now. I mean, when I was young I spent so much time with mom and Claire that, as a byproduct of that, I spent a lot of time with Lacey. Andy, Lacey’s dad, was the founder of one of the first companies dad acquired. It was a really small firm based in Tampa and all the original employees remained in their same relative positions, but Dad still felt bad, back when he could feel at all, so he took Andy under his wing. They found they made a good team and actually had a lot in common personally so they got close as buddies. My mom and Claire got even closer; they even got pregnant at the same time -mom with me, Claire with Lacey. When the Cramer Clan, as Andy calls it, moved to California so he could spearhead some project he dad had cooked up, we were still babies, Mickey wasn't even born yet, but then they move
d back. Dad wanted Andy as his right hand man so was promoted to CFO, mom and Claire wanted to raise their children together. When we were kids she was my partner in all things delinquent. Then, fifteen, freshmen at our private school, the boys took notice of her and she forgot about me.She got interested in HCI and I got interested in all things not HCI so we pretty much went our separate ways.” This was mostly true. We stopped speaking to each other publicly in the ninth grade. What I didn't tell her was that fifteen was also when you threw herself at me and we started sleeping together. I could’ve mentioned that, I mean, in my defense I was fifteen and you were a sure thing. There’s no way she could’ve faulted me for it. The problem with telling her was I couldn’t blame why I kept doing it on being fifteen. It wasn’t so much that you were irresistible anymore either, because with money and good looks came easy lays, but it’s that you were convenient and familiar and you always wanted me. Always. It didn’t matter that I didn’t really like you that much. Sometimes I’d piss you off so we’d get into a screaming match to see how far I had to take it before you didn’t want me anymore and I never got far enough. You’d never once refused me. Ever. This I could not divulge to Charley while we were on our way to see you. Anyway, I didn't think that part mattered since, now that I had Charley, I wasn't ever going to do you again. Ever.“HCI is as much Lacey’s birthright as it is mine or Mickey’s. I still care about her but more like a distant relative. We see each other at holidays and stuff like this thing we're going to, but that's pretty much it. I don't know her whereabouts most of the time and she, for damn sure, doesn't know mine.”
"Except when you sleep together."
"Charley..."
"I'm not upset; I'm just trying to get the whole picture."
I sighed heavily. "Correction: slept, past tense, together. I don't do that anymore and I don't intend to ever do that again. It stopped even before I met you, Charley." That was a half truth. I hadn’t slept with you since before Charley and I met, but I hadn’t made the decision to stop sleeping with you until afterward. I know that this is semantics and maybe in the end it’s really not a big deal, but that lie coming out of my mouth ate at me.
"Why? I mean, not like I’d be okay with you sleeping with her or whatever but why did you stop?"
"We just want different things."
"Like what?"
"She just loves this life. This world. You’ll see what I mean when we get to the house. She just wants it all so bad, and it’s really not that important to me.” The conversation I had with her replayed as we drove.
"Is that why you don't care about the business? Because Lacey does."
"No, that's why I don't care what Lacey does because I don't care about the business."
"Seems convoluted.”
“Such is the way of family ties.”
“Must make things awkward for you and your families since you see each other so often."
"Not really.” I thought for a while I'd have to pretend around my mom, but she acted like she didn't notice the shift in my relationship with you which, knowing mom, she definitely knew but was choosing to remain quiet about because she wanted me to make my own mistakes. That was the only way, she said, I would grow. I was grateful to my mother then for keeping her mouth shut about you. She probably knew the whole time that you and I would be a colossal failure, but if she’d said anything it only would’ve made me want you more. Smart fucking lady. It was then, too, I realized how alike Charley and my mother really were, and the idea made me smile a little.
"You're close. You and your mom." It was a statement and a wistful one which made my heart break for her. She was thinking of her and her own mother who shirked her parental duties and chose the comfortable life instead of her daughter.
"Yes."
"That's nice."
"It is. You're going to love her, everyone does. She's a really good woman, Charley. I know that must sound really strange coming from me, but as I've gotten older and I've dealt with lots of women.” Her head cocked to the side and I mentally kicked myself for saying lots. We hadn’t shared the roster yet and mine was indeterminately long. “I know she's a good woman. Probably too good for my dad. She's taught me more about life than he ever could just by the way she lives it."
Charley patted my knee and said in a hush, "You'll find someone like that for you, too."
I wanted to say I already had, but she still hadn't returned the "I love you" and I really didn't want to freak her out any more.
"So why are you so repulsed by the idea of working for HCI?"
"Didn't I just tell you?"
"Not really."
"I did, sort of."
"Teddy, talk to me."
"It just bores me, Charley. It's so monotonous and doesn't challenge me. Anytime I think about sitting in one of those offices for forty years, I just want to hang myself."
Mickey had been totally into all of it since he was little. He used to ask mom to tell him the story of the company before bed. I wanted to hear Peter Pan. I remember being in dad's office when Mick was eight and I was ten. Dad was trying to talk to us, me specifically, about what he did - or what he was working on but all I could focus on was how high up we were; it felt like I could reach out and touch the sun in the sky through the glass window-walls. All I wanted to do was jump out that seventieth story window and fly up into the clouds. I stood at the very edge of the carpet near the window and looked down at the ants on the street and imagined I was walking on air above them and tuned dad out completely. But Mickey just ate the shit up. Sat, literally, underneath my dad's knees while he worked. He sharpened pencils and organized paper clips and ran mail. When we got older, Mickey would rather be in dad's office than out at the beach or playing football. He'd rather be learning the business at night than watching TV. Mickey got excited about a new merger, a new property, a new patent. He's spent every summer since he was old enough, in the office in Tampa or California or Chicago soaking it up. Mick knew as well as I did that he was the CEOs son and the founder's grandson and had no need to work as hard as he did but for him the motivation was different. For him, it wasn't work. He didn't have to bust his ass to get ahead, but he wanted to because he loved it. Dad awarded him a pretty high profile internship at HCI Chicago, but it wasn't nepotism. Mickey really did earn it, he worked harder than anyone in his class at Kellogg and he had enthusiasm to spare. That's what would make him great and dad loved him for his passion.
Dad loved me for my mind. Without trying I could crunch numbers, see patterns, make connections that, even for all of his study, Mickey couldn't. Grandpa Gun used to say that I'd be "next in line" but I didn't want to be. Dad had been trying to groom me for the business, a lot harder than Mickey but I don't know if it was because he really wanted me, or because I really needed to be pushed. I'm the one who dad asked to review proposals and acquisitions. I'm the one who he consulted about the various businesses. Though he really did try not to let on that he did these things for Mick’s sake and because of that and the fact that I tried my damnedest to discourage any spirit of competition between us, Mickey and I had a great relationship. He needed to know I was no threat to his ascension; that I wanted him to succeed because I knew it was his dream to be CEO Olaf Mickel Holmes the second. I wanted him to shine in front of dad and the other internal shareholders whenever possible so I helped him. Coached him. Showed him where I'd made, what was to me, an obvious connection in the data. Andy helped him a lot too; sometimes it was like they shared a brain they worked so closely together. Finished each other’s sentences and everything.
It was around that time my relationship with dad turned sour. I started pushing everyone away but he pushing me back so damn hard and I just got sick of all the bullshit. Told him I was going to be a writer or a photographer or a chalk artist all the time just to piss him off until he got so tired of me he’d only talk to me when he had to. Then, it was just as easy to just ignore him. I could ignore you too, most of the time, until we were in bed togethe
r. I tried my hardest to avoid those goddamn pillow chats; would get up and go as soon as we were done, but you still found a way to talk to me incessantly about responsibility and privilege and blah blah blah. I couldn't stand it, and when you decided you wanted to go to school out West so you could intern in the summer at the Silicone Valley office, I was secretly relieved we'd only see each other at major holidays. I could've gone to Kellogg too, but I didn't want Mick to feel like I was stomping on his dreams, or so that's what I told myself. Really, I just didn't want to be anywhere where I felt obligated to work for HCI. So I stayed and got a little lost.
I dicked around a bit at Flagler (a liberal arts school in the pan handle) majoring in Literature when I really wanted to piss off my dad. After two years I took a year off to "see the world" and I traveled, I mean, really traveled. I backpacked through the westernized European countries, UK, France, Spain, then stayed in a hostel in Turkey for a while. Spent some time in Bangladesh and Malaysia. Went to Russia and raved in Red Square then went to China, crawled through some of the Cu Chi tunnels in Vietnam then the mountains in Japan. It wasn't as eye opening and spiritual as it probably could've been because the only thing I could think about was how much international ass I could get. I wandered aimlessly in each country, the quintessential wayward playboy in search of his next meaningless fuck. The exception was Turkey. The first time I heard the Muzin do the evening Azan from a minaret with the orange backdrop of the Turkish sunset, I thought I would weep. When I got back, I thought I'd gotten it all out of my system and transferred to Stetson's business school. I hated it there. Mostly I hated living on campus, that atmosphere was very different than Flagler and I spent almost every weekend at home. When I got my degree, I didn't know what to do with myself. I enrolled in the private University of Tampa MBA program because it was close to home and the campus reminded me of St. Basils Cathedral in the Kremlin or the beautiful Minaret in Istanbul where I'd heard the Azan. I bought, or rather, dad bought my Jag as incentive for me to finish getting my degree in business so I could finally work for him, but I stalled. Took another semester off to play around in New Delhi and Budapest. I told my dad it was to prepare me for international negotiations but we both knew it wasn't true. I ended up going back to the same hostel in Turkey for a few days just to listen to the Azan.
What Brings Me to You Page 10
