The Buyout

Chapter 2: Will

When my father is in one of his moods, there are only three things that will calm him down: An espresso, driving his Royce, and making money. My life would be much easier if seeing his children was anywhere on that list. But as it is, whenever I did see him, which was by all standards rarely, I always came armed. Espresso in hand, business idea in mind and the suggestion for a drive on the tip of my tongue. I'd learned to play the game. 

"He's in one of his moods, Mr. Garret," said Abigail, his secretary. A whip-smart twenty-something with an eye for the long game. My father is a businessman from the dark ages. The 80's. He likes his secretaries pretty, curvy and quick. Abigail was a Stanford grad, and she'd saved his sorry ass more times than he's declared bankruptcy. Not that he'd ever say anything. He hadn't fired her yet, that's the closest thing to gratitude you will ever get from the man. 

"That's what the expresso is for," I said with a wink. Abigail gave me a pointed look and shook her head. 

So, it was going to be one of those days, I thought. I drunk the expresso before chucking it in the trash. Abigail doesn't bother warning my father that I'm here and I walk in. 

I was immediately stopped at the door by a sigh of frustration. "Whatever it is you want today, Will. No."  

"I don't want anything," I said as I took a seat in one of the two chairs that sat in the shadow of his desk. "I finally heard back from James and—"

He silenced me with a lifted hand. "It doesn't matter, William. We're fucked. BrightMinds is set to announce their new OS in three months and its reputed to be brilliant. Revolutionary."

"But we have our own update—"

"To an OS the customers hate. A joke. Even the board members hate it." He paused and scoffed incredulously, taking a swing from the glass of whiskey he always kept within reach. "I brought the world into a new age with this company, and now we are the Neanderthals banging two rocks together."

"We'll figure something out."

 The sound of his glass hitting the table reverberated through the room. "You and your English Degree can do exactly shit for me." The papers in my hands creased under my fingers, and I met his eyes for a brief second before I nodded and stood, tucking the papers in my hand underneath my arm. Abigail had tried to warn me. I waited for his dismissal as he sized me up. "We both know I should fire you. Tell, Abigail she's not to allow you in my office again." 

He turned back to his work and I was free to go. 

I could still hear him muttering about fucking Hemingway through the glass door. Abigail didn't acknowledge me, well aware that I preferred to pretend these incidents never happened. I couldn't pretend to be wholly upset though, this company had survived worse, but at the very least that bastard was going to suffer for the next three months. 

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the third-floor button harder than I needed to, but meeting with my father always set me off balance. He used to tell me what a shrewd businessman he was, how his callous attitude kept everyone in line and working. I used to buy it. 

The ever-present chatter of the third floor filled the elevator as the doors opened. This was where most of the developer worked, the heart of the company. 

A tall, lanky man with messy hair peeled himself away from a group of people crowded around a computer and headed towards me, lifting a hand in greeting. "Marcus," I said, smiling. "Working hard as always." 

"Have to take breaks, man, keep that creativity flowing," he replied, shaking my hand. "Did you get to talk to your dad about the new plug-in?" I shook my head, and he knew not to ask further. My father's reputation was renowned. 

"What is everyone looking at?" I asked, noticing that there were multiple groups of people crowding around different computers throughout the office. 

"Brightminds just announced the new OS they are launching, Flashlight. It looks—"

"Revolutionary, I know." 

"Is the update for Jetstream still happening? We all know we're patching holes in a sinking ship here. We need to start over from scratch." Everyone wanted to kill our OS and build a new one. I didn't have a background in computer science, but it was clear even to me that only the lack of competition had kept it afloat. 

"I know, man. But last I heard Garret still wants to keep the update. We wouldn't be able to release a new OS until after Flashlight anyway." He shook his head. 

"That's some bullshit. We've been pushing for this OS for years." Shrewd businessman indeed. 

"How's the new hire?" Marcus shrugged. His department had hired a new software engineer from England. Apparently, they'd made some well-received open-source applications that had caught the interest of his project head. 

"She's fine. A little too stereotypically British for my tastes."

"Stereotypically British?"

"Professional, prim, and cold." Marcus was always looking for drinking buddies, guess she'd turned him down. 

"Seems like my father's kind of person."

"Nah. she has a strict no-bullshit policy." My phone vibrated; I was needed back in the office. 

"Sounds like a woman after my own heart." He scoffed, and I excused myself, promising to take up his offer for drinks.

 I was typing out my response to James, that no, my father had not even glanced at the project we had spent that last month on and to just hold on for five minutes, I was on my way up, when a small body knocked into my shoulder. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," said a familiar voice. I tried to catch her face, but she was already moving past me. The hair, the voice...It couldn't be. I watched her go, trying to remember if—I realized I was staring, and noticed the judging glare of the employee I was preventing from getting on the elevator. 

"Sorry, she reminded me of someone." Lena. But it couldn't be. I never found out what happened to her, but I would have bet my life that this is the one place she would never have stepped foot in again. I had to believe at least one of us had managed to get away.