This man really was an enigma. Cold as ice, but with a beating heart. “Wow. That’s amazing.”
He broke eye contact and rejected my compliment. “My father passed away from lung cancer a few years ago. It was ironic, because shortly afterward, I found a way to slow the progression of the disease significantly. If it had happened at a later time, I could have given him another two years.” He shifted his gaze out the window, not showing a drop of emotion, but that story must have cracked his bones.
“I’m sorry…”
He didn’t look back at me. “I invented a drug right out of college that revolutionized the treatment of neurological problems, and I invested the profit from that into my company. That was how Hamilton Pharmaceuticals was founded. I have a location in Los Angeles as well as here.”
“You must be a really brilliant man.”
He slowly turned his gaze back to the computer. “So, no, I’m not like other pharmaceutical conglomerates, the ones that raise prices on the sick so they can’t afford their insulin and die on the street. I’m not interested in hooking people on drugs they don’t need and making them sicker than they already were. I’m interested in what actually works, what actually helps people.” He turned his ironclad gaze back to me like a king who had just slammed the tip of his sword into the ground.
I was good at reading people, but I’d totally misread him. “That’s something to be really proud of, Deacon.”
That compliment didn’t seem to mean anything to him either. He dropped his arms and closed the lid of his laptop, the very one I’d brought to him a few days ago.
“When did you know you wanted to be a doctor?”
“Always.” He grabbed his beer and took a drink. “I need to get back to work, Cleo.”
I knew the conversation was over, and if I wanted to know more, I’d have to Google him. “Have a good evening, Deacon.”
I did something I never did.
I Googled my client.
When I typed in Deacon Hamilton into Google, there were thousands of hits, tons of articles about his company and his research.
There was one article at the top with a headline that caught my attention. World-Renowned Researcher Deacon Hamilton Finds Effective Way to Slow Spread of Lung Cancer Without Surgical Intervention.
I clicked on the article and scanned it, but most of it was in language I couldn’t understand. I clicked on other things, finding YouTube videos of him on talk shows, giving speeches at the International Biotechnology Symposium, and a keynote speech he gave at a recent Harvard commencement ceremony.
People called him the most brilliant mind of the twenty-first century.
And he also won a Nobel Prize…at the age of twenty-nine.
I felt guilty for not recognizing his name, for not being more patient with him in our interactions.
Now I really had to help this man.
He was saving humanity.
Saving him was the least I could do.
Five
Deacon
Theresa came into my office and placed the stack of papers in front of me. “Dr. Gallagher just sent these over.”
I’d been waiting for these results, so I pulled them toward me, leaned farther over my desk, and started to analyze each number. My hand reached far to the right, feeling for my yellow highlighter. When I grasped it, I pulled it back and started to underline the numbers of significance, pleased by what I saw but not overly enthused.
Theresa continued to stand there. “Anything else I can do for you?”
I’d forgotten she was there. “No.” I propped my face against my closed knuckles and kept reading, double-checking his math because that was how I was. I didn’t trust humans, and sometimes, I didn’t even trust computers. They did what they were instructed, but if an idiot gave the wrong instructions, it would give the wrong answers. Patients would receive care based on misinformation—lethal misinformation.
“Dr. Gallagher wants you to call him—”
“I know.” I kept working, forgetting she was there again.
Her heels clapped against the hardwood floor as she walked away. Then the doors shut behind her.
It was easy for me to block out my surroundings and focus on a single task. I had an unusual amount of focus, the opposite of ADHD. I could work just as efficiently in a Starbucks with the blender going on and off, pointless chatter surrounding me, baristas yelling off the names listed on the coffee cups.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it.
I read through Gallagher’s work twice before I was finished.
My phone vibrated again.
I grabbed it and glanced at the screen.
Tucker’s name was on the screen. I’m in the city. Call me.
I read the message twice even though I’d understood it the first time. I made the call and put the phone to my ear, my brain split into two different topics, thinking about the data, which was more important, and thinking about the fact that my brother was in Manhattan.
He answered. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so quickly, Brainiac.”
I looked across my office, staring at the double gray doors. “Why are you here?”
“Yes, I’m well. Thank you for asking. And I’m so glad you’re enthused by my visit.”
I said nothing, not appreciating or really understanding his sarcasm.
He sighed into the phone. “Let’s get a beer later. I’m at the hotel.”
“Four Seasons?” That was where he worked, at the corporate level for the company.
“Yes. We’re neighbors.”
“Alright. I’ll be in the lab pretty late tonight.” Judging by the papers just put on my desk.
“Just give me a call.” He hung up.
I slid the phone into my pocket as I got to my feet then grabbed the papers. I exited my office, intending to move to the third floor where my primary labs were located. I opened the doors and passed Theresa’s desk.
She rose to her feet. “Dr. Hamilton, I have your lunch—”
“Not hungry.” I didn’t break my stride.
She watched me go, wearing the worried expression of a concerned mother. “I’ll save it for later, then.”
I sat on the stool in my white lab coat covering the front part of my suit, which I hated to wear. It was my company; I could wear whatever the fuck I wanted, but it didn’t seem professional to be the leader of this respected organization and wear a t-shirt and jeans, unless I was booked for the lab all day.
Dr. Gallagher sat beside me, scrolling through the data he’d collected with me to witness it. He’d joined me after leaving his position at Cambridge, making the move across the pond to be one of my best researchers. He was decades older than me, but he possessed the brilliance I needed for the project. “The fusion didn’t increase the effectiveness of the antibodies, and they were somewhat successful against the benign tumors, but there’s not enough data to declare a significant correlation.”
I rubbed my fingers across my chin, thinking about a million things at once. “No, it’s not.”
“I can repeat it.”
“No. Repeating the same experiment and expecting different results is pointless.” Instead of reading fiction in my spare time, I chose to read biographies and memoirs from the greatest minds in civilization, even if they were out of my discipline, like Albert Einstein. “Give me some time to think about it. I know the answer is right in front of us… I just don’t know where.”
He nodded in agreement. “It’s late anyway.” He pulled back his sleeve and glanced at the time. “You have somewhere to be this evening, Deacon?”
I straightened my back then rose from the stool. “My brother is in town. Asked me to get a drink.”
“That’s nice.” He left the stool and shed his lab coat by the front door so he could pack his things.
I headed to the door. “See you in the morning, Clint.”
“You too, Deacon.”
When I walked into the bar, I found Tucker
sitting alone at a table, an IPA in front of him. He was in jeans and a rust-colored shirt, his jacket hanging over the back of the chair. His eyes were on the TV, but sometimes he glanced to a group of women on the other side of the bar.
I moved through the sea of tables in my jeans and hoodie because I’d changed before walking a few blocks to the meeting spot.
He looked up when he noticed me, a handsome smile coming onto his face, his eyes lighting up the way Mom’s did, and he rose to his feet. “There’s my little brother.” He opened his arms and embraced me, clapping me on the back.
I returned the gesture, gripping him tightly before I pulled away. “How are you?”
He smiled. “So, you have learned your manners?” he said with a chuckle. “I thought you were a lost cause.” He returned to the seat.
I pulled out the chair and sat across from him.
The waitress came over immediately. “What can I get you?”
Without looking at her, I answered. “Sam Adams.”
“Anything else?” she asked, her voice less cheery at my coldness.
“No,” I answered in the same tone.
She disappeared.
Tucker stared at her ass as she walked away, his eyes moving back to me when she was out of sight. “How do you catch tail if you’re always a jackass?”
I shrugged. “Haven’t caught any tail, actually.”
After he took a drink, his eyebrows furrowed.
“I’ve been married for five years…in case you forgot.”
“And you’ve been divorced for months. Don’t you want to fuck everything in sight?”
I was a man with needs, and jerking off to porn wasn’t that exciting. Now that I was unencumbered, no longer committed to a spiteful bitch, I wanted to have those physical encounters…a lot. “Yes.”
“Then be a little more charming.”
“We both know I don’t know how to talk to people.” I’d never been good at the social stuff. I only liked to talk about things I was interested in. Everything else seemed like wasted time.
“Well, you don’t need to be very chatty to land pussy.”
It seemed like women only wanted to talk.
“You’re a good-looking guy, you’re ripped, and you’re a billionaire. You don’t need to say much to get a woman to spend the night with you.”
I was only ripped for health reasons, not to get laid. I was particular about my diet, ditching the fried food in bars and restaurants and choosing to eat at home most of the time. My one vice was alcohol. I wasn’t rich by design; my career just worked out that way. And I was handsome…because I got lucky. “I don’t know. I’m divorced with a kid—”
“Trust me. Walk up to a beautiful woman and tell her all that—she’ll be yours.”
“But I don’t want to take her on a date—”
“No problem.” He waved his hand, like the issue was inconsequential. “Be straight about it. Just don’t be an asshole.”
“I don’t know how not to be an asshole.”
“Don’t give clipped answers. Don’t say no all the time. Act like you’re listening even if you aren’t.” Tucker smiled.
“I’ll show you,” Tucker said. “But let’s catch up for a bit. How’s the lab?”
That was the only question I liked to answer. “I have a lot of projects right now, and one of them didn’t yield promising results like I’d hoped. I’ve been trying to apply my work on lung cancers to other kinds of cancers, but it’s just not turning out the way I hoped. When I pulled out the antibody—”
“Keep it in stupid terms.”
I sighed. “It’s just not working. I have to think of something else.”
“I have absolute confidence that you will, Deacon.”
I stared at him, unsure how to react to the compliment. My brother and I were only two years apart, but we were vastly different. His intelligence was average, but I’d always been advanced, being studied from the time I was six. I’d skipped a few grades and graduated college when I was eighteen. My advancement allowed me to accomplish a lot in my short lifetime. I was only thirty-two, but sometimes I felt like a man in his fifties, someone who didn’t care about the things people my age cared about.
There was only one thing I cared about—my boy.
I noticed I’d started to drift away, entertained by my own endless thoughts, and I stared at him with no expression, having an out-of-body experience. “Are you here for work?” I had to actively encourage myself to continue a conversation because it wasn’t natural to me. I didn’t try to be an asshole. I was just misunderstood…and no one realized that. But I really made the effort with my family because I loved them.
“Yeah. They’re thinking of transferring me here permanently.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise. “For what purpose?”
“This hotel just has more foot traffic, more VIPs, and they want me to take the Guest Affairs Manager position since it’s being vacated soon. It comes with a nice pay raise, all the benefits, and it brings me closer to you. So, I think I’m going to take it.”
I was happy to have him here because I had no family on the East Coast, but I was also worried about Derek. His uncle wouldn’t be there when I couldn’t be. “That’s great…” My voice faded away in disappointment.
“You’re the worst liar,” he said with a laugh. “Having me around would be that bad?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I just…don’t want Derek to only have Mom.”
“Well, she already said if I move out here, she’s coming too.”
I sighed, my chest tightening with that feeling I couldn’t describe. My mother had been devastated when I left California. After she lost my father, she clung to us like life rafts.
Tucker studied my face. “No way to get Valerie out here?”
I didn’t want to talk about her, to tell him how everything was. Whenever I thought about my predicament, the way she kept Derek from me, it elicited this unfathomable reaction from me…like I was so angry I wanted to cry. I’d never been so livid, as if I could rip a skyscraper apart and watch it collapse. “No.”
“Then how is this going to work? Are you going to go back and forth—”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” I stared him in the eye, my heart stopping because I refused to feel the pain. When I’d found out Valerie was pregnant, I was so pissed off. I didn’t want children. My career was too important to have such an annoying distraction. But then he was born…and it was the first time in my life I actually felt something. He made me feel human, made me feel emotions people had tried to describe to me that I could never understand. But then I held him, and everything clicked. I couldn’t learn that stuff in a textbook or a lecture. It was biological, instinctual.
Tucker dropped the conversation, taking a drink of his beer.
The waitress brought my beer then wordlessly walked away.
I immediately grabbed it and took a drink, downing half of it.
He turned quiet, letting the awkward silence drag on. “Anything else new with you?”
I shook my head. “Just getting settled.”
“Where’s your building?”
“It’s the Trinity Building.”
He nodded. “Nice place.”
“Yeah…” It was a beautiful residence.
He glanced at the girls again. “Alright, you ready to do this?”
I turned with his look, seeing the four girls sitting there, wearing dresses that showed off their long legs. They were all attractive, drinking fruity drinks after a long day on the job. One of the things I liked about sex was the lack of talking. It was all physical, all chemical, so it was easy for me to understand, easy for me to be good at.
“Which one do you want?”
One had long brown hair, a slender body, and bright blue heels. “Brunette.”
“Alright, let’s go.” He took another drink of his beer.
My heart started to race. “So, I just walk up to her and tell her I’m di
vorced?”
“No.” He got to his feet. “Just walk up to her and say hello. Everything else will follow.”
Man, those were vague directions.
“Come on.”
I grabbed my beer and joined him.
He walked to the blonde and extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Tucker.”
She turned to him and smiled, as if she liked what she saw. “Franny.” She placed her hand in his.
I walked up to the brunette, who was already staring at me like she’d seen me coming from a mile away. Some of her hair covered her face, the open curls scattering across her shoulders. When I got close, I could smell her perfume, practically taste her lipstick. I stopped in front of her and stared, one hand in my pocket while the other held my beer. “Hello.” I did what my brother told me and waited for something to happen.
Her mouth immediately melted into a smile, her eyes softening as if she found me attractive. One finger twirled her hair as she looked me up and down. “Hello. I was hoping you would come talk to me. I’ve been staring at you for the last twenty minutes.”
She’d been staring at me? I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared.
But she didn’t seem unnerved by my silence. That smile was still there.
“I’m divorced.” I spat out the words, having no idea what else to say.
“Oh…” She said it with a nod. “Why would she let go of a hunk like you?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I didn’t.
She got out of the chair and walked up to me, her smile still playful. “What’s your name?”
“Deacon.”
“I’m Natalie.”
“Nice to meet you, Natalie.” I pulled my hand out of my pocket to shake hers.
She took it, but instead of giving me a handshake, she just held my hand, her thumb gently brushing over my skin in a flirtatious way. “Tell me about yourself, Deacon.”
The Man Who Has No Soul Page 5
