What You Own Read online

  Interning at his company for the summer, instead of working a paying job, was his idea. I’d get credit toward my business degree—a degree I didn’t want, but I was suffering through for him—and he could continue to micromanage my life. My only saving grace was that I was directly reporting to his business partner, Joe Quartermaine, instead of my father. I’d known Joe my entire life, and he was more like an eccentric uncle than a boss.

  Joe had asked me to take the meeting with the Emmett Paige reps.

  I never expected to walk into the lobby and spot Ellie Wright, a ghost from my past and the abrupt end of my participation in a play that I’d tried for years to forget. She hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. Her curly chestnut hair was longer, her figure a bit rounder. Instead of her favorite outfit of ripped jeans and band T-shirts, she wore a pencil skirt and blouse and heels.

  She was as surprised to see me as I was to see her, and we’d barely gotten past the awkward “how are you’s?” before she glanced over my shoulder.

  I wish I hadn’t looked.

  Ryan Sanders blinked back at me like one of those creepy, wide-eyed owl paintings, and I swore he was going to bolt for the exit. If I’d been less stupefied to see him there, in the lobby of my father’s business, I’d have probably beaten him to a hasty retreat. My heart slammed into my ribs hard enough to shatter them. A cold sweat broke across my shoulders. Only years of living with and trying to emulate my emotionless father kept my face blank.

  He’s not supposed to be here.

  But he was, and I couldn’t make him disappear.

  He approached, and I tried very hard to not check him out. To not notice he was still as long and lean as he’d been in high school. His light brown hair was cut short, like a military recruit, accenting his square jaw and sharp cheekbones. His clothes made him look older than twenty-one, and those big, coffee-brown eyes couldn’t hide the worry and wonder that seemed to twist around in his head.

  He was still beautiful.

  Don’t do this. Block him out. You have a plan.

  I spent the entire ten-minute encounter trying to ignore the fact that he was still beautiful, or that he never lost that wounded puppy expression. I’d put that look in his eyes—maybe not on purpose, but it was still my fault because I’d been too weak. Three and a half years, and we were meeting now, like this, and it was too soon. I kept it together, asked the right questions, gathering information for Joe, even though I knew I wanted to help.

  Helping was idiotic and absolutely the wrong thing to do—you have a plan!—but if this was important to Ryan, I’d do what I could to make it happen. I owed him that much.

  It was going so well, until Ellie mentioned singing and a Broadway revue.

  An image of my mother holding my hand while we walked the crowded streets of New York City flooded my mind, reminding me of a sweeter, more innocent time. Broadway was our shared experience, musicals something we loved together. She hadn’t followed her dreams of performing, choosing to be a mother instead. I hadn’t followed my dreams of performing because of my father. I’d never been strong enough to stand up to him and say what I wanted. I did what was expected of me, instead, just like she had.

  I became distracted by the wistful sadness of Ryan’s face, and he didn’t hear me the first time. “I asked if you were singing.”

  He blinked those owl eyes. “Ellie and I were discussing doing something together.”

  “You should. You always had a great voice.” Ryan had been born to play Roger. He’d been born to play Seymour Krelborn, Danny Zuko, and any number of roles he’d inhabited during four years of high school theater productions. But Roger had been special, because I’d had the courage to try out and land Mark—a role I’d wanted to play since I was ten years old and saw the show with my mother. I hadn’t understood all the subtext or plot points at that age, but I’d fallen in love with the music. With the passion of the show.

  Passion I’d felt every time I rehearsed with Ryan and the rest of the cast.

  “So did you, Adam,” Ryan said with so much sincerity that my insides ached with it.

  Focus.

  I pulled that mask of apathy right back on, hoping to shield myself from the hope in his eyes. Hope I needed to squash immediately. I’d broken his heart once already, maybe twice, and at the worst possible time. I wouldn’t hurt him again.

  We finished the meeting, and I walked them out, intently aware of Ryan’s proximity. I forced myself to walk away, to not linger and watch him for as long as possible. I needed to get away. I bypassed the elevators in favor of the stairs. Few people used them, so I sat down at the first landing, hung my head between my knees, and just breathed.

  Ryan had been my world since our freshman year of high school, right up until December of our senior year—until that very moment, I didn’t realize how much I genuinely missed him and his smile. A smile I hadn’t seen once today. A smile that had drawn me to him in the first place…

  …I’m convinced freshman year will suck. School pretty much sucks all the time because people know my dad is loaded. The other rich kids are stupid snobs, I don’t fit in with the jocks, I’m not smart enough to be a nerd, and most of the regular kids can’t stand me just because I’m rich. I hate my dad’s money. His money and his business sometimes mean my classmates’ parents lose their jobs or their stores, and then they look at me like it’s my fault.

  So I want to survive high school, and I think I can do that by being invisible. Only in homeroom, this tall, brown-haired, owl-eyed kid sits next to me and starts talking with a funny voice.

  “Hey, hoss, Ryan Sanders,” he says with a thick, southern accent. “I’m new, fresh from Texas. We only just moved in last week.”

  “Um, hey. Adam Langley.”

  He nods like he doesn’t recognize my name. And maybe he doesn’t, since he moved from Texas. He seems okay enough, confident even, with the same squeaky not-hit-puberty-yet voice I have, but with a lot less zits.

  “Good to meet you, Adam.” He holds his hand out to shake, for real, so I shake.

  Despite myself, I’m curious. “Why’d you move from Texas to Pennsylvania?”

  He gets kind of quiet, almost sad, then shrugs. “My parents wanted a fresh start. We’re, like, thirty miles from Amish country. You can’t get much fresher than that, right, hoss?”

  “I guess so.”

  And from that moment on, I’m friends with Ryan Sanders…

  …He called everyone “hoss” for a while, until he didn’t. Then it was only my nickname, and I liked it. I liked him. And then I might have loved him.

  And then it was over.

  A door somewhere above me slammed, and I jerked to my feet. My father might be one of the bosses, but I was still an intern, and I treated that seriously.

  Don’t let him suspect. Don’t let this interfere with your plan.

  I began the slow ascent to the fifth floor and Joe’s office. He should be out of his meeting by now and able to hear the proposal from the center.

  He did hear it, a few minutes later, sitting comfortably behind his mahogany desk, smiling the entire time I spoke. Joe was about fifty pounds overweight, with hair I hadn’t noticed was more gray than brown until this summer. He was soft where my father was hard, in both personality and physique. He studied the information packet Ellie gave me.

  “This could be a good press opportunity for us,” Joe said. “People like stories about disadvantaged kids who get ahead, you know?”

  “They do,” I said.

  “Who’d you say brought this to you?”

  I hesitated, unsure if Joe would recognize the names. In the end, I couldn’t lie to him. “Ellie Wright and Ryan Sanders. They’re both volunteers at the center.”

  Joe’s bushy eyebrows furrowed, then shot up. “Sanders. He’s that kid from high school?”

  Acid churned in my stomach. “Yes, he is. We used to be friends.” We were so much more, but I couldn’t tell Joe that. “The center seems im
portant to them both.”

  “And that matters to you?”

  I didn’t want it to matter. Ryan had come back into my life too damned soon, sooner than I was ready for, but I couldn’t turn my back on him. I’d already done that once. And the center was a genuinely good cause. “I didn’t keep in touch with anyone from high school, but I knew Ellie and Ryan. Ellie seems extremely enthusiastic about this fundraiser.”

  Joe’s mouth twisted into a grin. “Trying to impress the lady? Was she a looker?”

  A looker? Did people still ask that? “Yes, she’s pretty. And if I can work with them on this, it will not only look good for LQF, but I may be able to use the project as part of my graduation requirements.”

  “Tell you what, then, son. You pull a presentation together for me and your father.” He ignored both his computer and his iPad, and he grabbed a leather day planner—old-school to the bone. “We have time tomorrow—”

  “Today.” I didn’t make a habit of interrupting Joe. “All I need is ten minutes. That way I can give Ellie an answer as soon as possible.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows again, then ran a finger down today’s block. Even from a distance of five feet, I saw lines of meetings and names. “We have a brief meeting at four-thirty and nothing immediately after. Be ready for us to squeeze you in.”

  “I’ll be ready. Thank you so much.”

  “I like the idea. It’s your father who will take convincing.”

  Truer words were never spoken.

  Four-thirty came quickly and too soon. I wrote and rewrote my presentation all afternoon in my head because Joe kept me busy with other menial office tasks. Mostly filing and filling in for his assistant, Lacey, on her umpteen trips to the bathroom. Lacey was six months pregnant and already incredibly big, considering her small frame. I’d never met her boyfriend, but she was careful to tell everyone they were very excited about the baby.

  Sometimes I didn’t believe her.

  At 4:40, Lacey’s phone buzzed. A moment later, she signaled me from the other side of the front office, where I was sorting charity files from ten years ago. Some of it was going into boxes and down into basement storage, and I’d taken the chance to review other charitable events the company had sponsored. Many of them I’d forgotten, or Father simply hadn’t talked about. He spoke to me about work less and less after Mom died.

  I took a deep, bracing breath, steeled my spine, and took the informational packet across the hall to Father’s office. His assistant, Jesse, nodded at the open office door. Jesse was a temp, but good people, even if Father gave him a hard time. Father had a strange idea that “secretaries” needed to be women, but he couldn’t seem to keep a female assistant longer than a few months.

  Father’s office was as ostentatious as Joe’s was plain. A cherrywood desk and matching bookcases, Persian rug, crystal lamps—everything straight out of Restoration Hardware. Our house was the same, catalogue perfect and lacking warmth.

  He sat stiffly behind his desk, expression carefully neutral as it usually was in my presence. Our relationship was one of disappointment and coexistence, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled at me. Joe, on the other hand, sat casually in one of the leather chairs opposite Father’s desk, and he invited me to sit in the other.

  “We only have a few minutes,” Father said. “Let’s not waste them.”

  Nerves rippled through my abdomen. I slid the packet across the desk to him, pleased my fingers didn’t shake. “The Emmett Paige Community Center has been part of our city for the last thirty-four years, and it’s currently run by the founder’s son, Lou Paige,” I said. “They have three full-time employees, as well as a volunteer staff of twenty to thirty, depending on the time of year. An average of three hundred kids make use of the facilities in any given quarter, more in the winter months. They provide free before and after school activities, in order to keep kids off the street and in a safe environment.”

  “It sounds like a useful place,” Father said.

  “Yes, sir. Last year, the center lost one of their trusts, and they’re struggling for money. The organizers hope to throw a benefit at the end of July in order to raise funds, as well as entice a new sponsor from the community. LQF has donated to charitable events in the past, including two different center events held twenty and fifteen years ago.”

  Father blinked. He hadn’t expected me to research this so thoroughly. Joe was trying to hide a smirk. “What sort of donation were you thinking of?” Father asked.

  “I’d like to do more than simply give them money in exchange for our name on their poster,” I said. My stomach rolled. “Other companies can donate items for the silent auction, but I’d like for LQF to be their sole corporate sponsor for this event, and I’d like to work with the organizers, in order to show that we, as a company, do more than just throw our money at things. A successful community fundraiser like this will look fantastic on my transcripts, and I may be able to use it as my senior project.”

  Father was silent for several agonizing seconds. “How will this affect your time here?”

  “My internship requirements are twenty hours a week, even though I average thirty. I can continue twenty hours a week here, and then use the rest of my own time on this benefit.”

  He leaned forward, chair creaking, and placed his elbows on his desk. I tensed, expecting to get laughed out of his office. A full minute passed, marked by the ticking of an antique clock on the wall. “I’m going to say yes to this proposal, Adam, and I’ll tell you why,” he said, which surprised the hell out of me. “This is the first time I’ve seen you get excited about working here, and if charity work lights your fire, I’ll let you run with it.”

  I blinked. “Seriously? I mean, thank you.”

  “You’ll be the face of Langley-Quartermaine Financial, son. You need to treat that position with respect.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Get an estimate of the funds they’ll expect to need for this benefit, and I’ll set you up with an account. I also expect a written contract, so expectations between both parties are clear.”

  “Of course. I’m certain Mr. Paige has lawyers who can draw up the proper paperwork.”

  “Good. Once you have the specifics, we’ll talk again.”

  I took that as a sign to retreat, so I did, walking on air as I left the office. He’d agreed, and I hadn’t even needed to tell him who’d presented the proposal. If Father knew Ryan had been in the building, he’d have forbidden me from participating. Once I had a contract signed and our name dropping all over the place, it didn’t matter if Father found out, because we’d be legally obligated. The timing was less than ideal, but I’d deal with the fallout when it actually occurred.

  “Hey, Adam,” Jesse said on a harsh whisper that stopped my retreat. “That was about Paige Center?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cool, man. I mean it, that’s solid. The center helped me and my brother out a lot a few years ago. You let me know if you need some help, okay?”

  “Sure, I will.”

  Jesse seemed about my age, maybe a bit older. He’d been temping for my father for two weeks, and our conversations had always revolved around work. Today I saw a guy with a history, who was kind of cute in a Marc Anthony way—and I really needed to not think of him like that.

  I was halfway down the stairs to the lobby when I remembered I’d left the packet in Father’s office. The packet had Ellie and the center’s phone numbers. I didn’t want to go back upstairs to fetch it, so I used my phone to search the Yellow Pages for the center’s address. Maybe Ellie and Ryan wouldn’t be there, but I could still deliver this good news to someone in person.

  For the first time in years, I allowed what had once been a firm, four-year plan for my future to change its shape. The shape had to fit the center into it somehow, as well as the time I’d have to spend with Ryan. Time I never thought I’d get again.

  I also had a small, fragile chance of making amends with Ryan.


  It wasn’t part of the plan, either, but I had to try.

  Chapter Three

  Ryan

  “You are not allowed to brood over this,” Ellie said. She pointed a ketchup soaked French fry at me, and red splatted onto the table between us.

  I grunted and pushed my half-eaten hamburger away, the meat and bread sitting heavily in my twisted stomach. We’d stopped for dinner after our last disaster of a meeting for the fundraiser, and I hadn’t been able shake the funk clinging to me like a determined bull rider. Seeing Adam had hurt, plain and simple.

  “Not brooding,” I said.

  “So why aren’t you eating? You love Red Robin.”

  “Comin’ down off my nerves, and my stomach’s a mess, okay?” Enough of the truth in there so I wasn’t lying. My gut did the same queasy, tight thing before a performance, before a school presentation, before I did anything in front of an audience. Even an audience of one, like with our appointments today.

  Ellie sighed and dropped the limp fry. “We didn’t have to stop if you’re feeling sick.”

  “You love Red Robin too, sweetheart.”

  And for as small as Ellie was, she could eat. She finished her burger and fries, then ate the rest of my barely touched fries, while I sipped at a Sprite. We paid and left, my spirits as flat as when we’d entered the restaurant. No one we’d talked to had given us a yes or no, just lots of “we’ll get back to you,” and I hated taking that back to Lou. The other team had texted Ellie a bit ago with the same results, which made me feel worse.

  Ellie drove us to the center so we could deliver the bad news in person. Lou always stayed until six, sometimes later depending on the classes, or if one of his other employees couldn’t lock up. Ellie parked in the lot behind the big, cement building tucked in between an apartment complex and a discount grocery store. The parking lot was fenced in on three sides and well lit at night, but I still looked around me, all angles, before I followed Ellie to the entrance.