Author's Chapter Notes:
Yes I'm sorry it's been so long! A batch of stubbornness from the muse and work had brought the story to a slight pause but I conjured up a small update for you all :) Enjoy!
How the fuck can she ask me to choose?
It’s the only question that’s been running through my head all morning, while I’ve tried to focus on the stocks and trades flashing at me on the computer screen. My mind isn’t there. It’s only on her. On the fact that she could possibly walk right out on me if I’m not careful. But...but what the hell am I supposed to do? Tell Trump to never mind? That I’m not interested in his partnership? I have an image to uphold. I have my career to worry about. If I backed out now, he could destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for. I can’t have that.
But I can’t lose her either.
Of all the times for Trace to be in a predicament...
I need him so damn bad right now.
I should have talked to her last night. Should have said more, opened up to her more, talked to her more, but I couldn’t. I’m too tense, too overwhelmed between work and all this shit with Sydney. I mean, it’s all up to me. What I say when I see her will determine Trace’s release from prison, and I owe it to him to get it right the first time.
The intercom on my phone buzzes, snapping me out of my thoughts for the first time in hours.
“Sir,” Cheryl’s voice comes over the speaker brightly.
“Yeah.” I lean my head against my fist.
“Mr. Trump to see you.”
Fuck. “Sure, send him through.”
I straighten myself in my chair, turn off my problems at home, and turn on my professional side. One thing I know I can’t do, is show Trump that I can be an emotional wreck when it comes to my family...my girlfriend. Trump isn’t a billionaire because he’s family oriented, and I know that. To make this relationship work, I can’t involve him with my home issues.
At the same time...Abbey really has my mind working. Has me wondering if I’m making the right decision, if I shouldn’t just cut this project off so I can focus on the boys. I mean she has a point, it’s not like I don’t have enough money. But man, just thinking about being at that level...as big as Trump, hell maybe even bigger. That’s so fucking tempting. I’m young. I could set records, become an even bigger icon.
But can I afford the price I’ll have to pay? Will Abbey really break it off with me? I’d like to say no...
But at the same time, Abbey is independent enough to survive without me. She’s with me for me, for the person who took her to the Italian street festival. She doesn’t care about my money, and I always tend to forget that she’s not like the rest of the women I’ve met in the past.
“Justin.” Trump walks into my office with a smile on his face and makes his way over to my desk with his hand stuck out.
“Mr. Trump.” I flash him a professional smile as I stand up and shake his hand from across the desk, and we both take our respective seats.
“I spoke with our lead designer this morning, about the proposition that Mr. Zeinmen discussed at last nights dinner,” he nods. “She’s very interested in seeing the artwork.”
If there’s one thing I love it’s art, and when Trump told me that one of the biggest art collectors in New York City wanted to sit down and have dinner with us last night to offer up some of his paintings for our very first midtown hotel, I can’t deny that I dropped everything else to go. It was only later, during dessert, that I remembered how pissed Abbey was going to be. I mean, I hadn’t even thought to call her. I knew I was an idiot, but I knew that if I bothered calling at that point, it wouldn’t have made any difference. “That’s great.” I try to sound enthusiastic, but I fail.
Abbey is having a huge effect on me, and it’s starting to affect how I work.
Trace warned me this would happen.
“Son, are you sure everything is okay?” Trump smirks and leans forward a little. “Are you feeling well?”r32;
I shrug and laugh it off. “Everything is fine. I’ve just had a busy morning...”
“Between the trial, your brothers, and that girlfriend of yours...I’m surprised you haven’t folded up yet,” he chuckles.
I sigh harshly. I don’t want to get too personal with this man. That fact that he lent his own personal security out to me means a lot, but I never wanted to get into my girlfriends personality or how needy my brothers are. I don’t want to come off as insecure or weak. I want him to treat me like everybody else he does business with. “It’s a lot but I’m managing,” I whisper.
He narrows his eyes at me. “What about the trip to Geneva next month?”
I shrug and spin myself around in the chair to look out of my windows. “I’ll get through it.”
“I can tell the type of woman that Ms. Feldman is, Justin,” he nods. “She’s nothing like the women that you and I are usually involved with. I can tell she’s not thrilled with the idea of you being gone for weeks at a time.”
I’m quiet. I don’t know what the hell to say, because he’s exactly right. It shows me that he’s a lot wiser than I’ve made him out to be. He has a lot more life experience, he’s older...he knows how to handle separation from his family. I don’t, because I’ve never had to before. It’s going to hold me back, and he knows that. He knows I can’t do both.
“I think you should probably think about how committed you’re willing to be in this project,” he says softly. “Like I’ve said, I’m thrilled to work with you, but I need you to give me the same effort that I’m giving you. Unfortunately, in this business, that type of effort always causes your family time to become non existent.”
I whirl around to face him. “So you’re asking me to choose?”
“I haven’t been through three marriages because I wasn’t a bad husband,” he laughs lightly. “Making money takes sacrifices. Too many of them at times.” He stands up and sticks out his hand again. “So will I see you on the flight?”
I stand up and stare at him for several minutes, dumfounded. I also find myself thinking...how much I would miss her. How much I would miss laughing with her and spending the night with her in my arms. How much I would miss waking up to her light kiss on my face. And the boys...they would just be completely miserable all the time. With as much as they’ve been through, as much shit as I’ve put them through, they deserve better than that from me now.
Hell, maybe it was never my destiny to be a hotel giant. Maybe my destiny is to be right here, running this company and spending time with my brothers and strengthening my relationship with my girlfriend.
“Good luck, sir,” I shake his hand firmly, looking him right in the eyes. “I appreciate the opportunity.”
He sighs a little bit. “It’s a disappointment but...I think you might just be making the right choice. Often, I find myself wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t made certain choices like this one back when I was your age. Maybe I would still be with my first wife,” he laughs. “I’ll be in touch.”
I nod.
Then he’s gone.
I sit down roughly at my desk and put my head in my hands. Shit, what did I do? Should I have done that? Did I just turn down the biggest opportunity of my career?
“Sir.”
Cheryl’s voice comes over the intercome again, but I don’t pick my head out of my hands. “Hm.”
“Ms. Feldman is on line one. Should I take a message?”
It’s the first time she’s ever called me directly. I know Cheryl has probably told her never to do that, but at this point, I think if Cheryl didn’t put her though, Abbey would probably pack up and leave. “No, I’ll take it.” I grab the phone eagerly and punch the line that’s lit up with my finger. “Ab?”
“You got some kind of invite...they want you to be there along with myself and the boys this Saturday. It’s for your foundation.”
“Abbey,” I say, disregarding everything she just said.
“Should I RSVP or...”r32;
“I’m not going on that trip,” I tell her quickly.
“Justin?”
“I’m serious,” I tell her softly. “I just told Trump...I...I cut the whole thing off. I backed out of the deal.”
She’s quiet for a long time. I let her be, because I know she’s trying to take it all in. I did this for her. It’s shocked her, it’s shocked me. It’s not like me. I’ve never given up any opportunity to make more money before, especially for somebody else. Shit, what am I turning into? It’s like...I have some kind of a heart. So fuckin’ weird.
“You called it off?” She whispers.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It was...it was just the right thing to do,” I tell her gently.
“But the money...”
“I-I don’t care about the money,” I say. “I care about you and the boys, and...I know that I can’t afford to be away for weeks at a time. You’ve been right about everything. I...I should have listened harder. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You care about me that much?”
Her voice is quivering and I know that this conversation needs to be continued in person and not over the phone. “Maybe we can talk about this more later on...”
I trail off and wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t speak. I think she’s confused as to why I would suddenly just drop everything for her. Hell, maybe I’m even more confused about that than she is, but I know my mind is made up. In the business world, you only get one shot at a decision, and you look like a fool if you go back on your word. “Abbey...”
“Are you sure? I mean, really sure, about this?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I tell her gently, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. “You know I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise.”
“Well I...I guess I’ll see you tonight then.”
“Yeah.” I smile into the phone and can hear her return it. “As soon as I can be there. I may...go see Sydney tonight if everything works out.”r32;
“Sydney...,” she trails off as if something has just caught her off guard. “I was going to tell you...Austin told me that Kristy wasn’t in school today. I...I tried calling over there, but I didn’t get an answer. I hope everything is okay.”
I don’t want to think Sydney did something to her own daughter. I don’t want to start worrying about that. I need to focus, concentrate on what I’m going to say to Sydney once the time comes, once I get the okay to go see her. But I can’t help but be worried. Trace is in jail. Trace, the one that has always provided for that kid, and he can’t help her if he’s in there. I realize I’m the only one that can be of any help to Kristy at all right now, and I owe Trace that much. “I’ll go over there.”
“Maybe you should call the police,” Abbey says, the fear apparent in her voice.
“It’ll be fine,” I reassure her. “I’ll bring Quincy with me.”
“You shouldn’t be handling this all by yourself, Justin. You were supposed to work out a plan with the police first.”
“If she pulls out a gun I’ll try out my karate moves on her,” I chuckle.
“You don’t know karate,” she huffs. “Justin, this isn’t a joke...”
“It’ll be fine, Ab,” I reassure her quickly. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“If you go over there you better call me as soon as you’re finished,” she snaps. “I mean it.”
I realize that she really does love me. It’s not something she’s over exaggerated, jumped on because she misses her ex boyfriend. It’s how she truly feels. I smile a little...
But I still can’t feel the same way, and that’s so fucked up, given the situation.
“I promise,” I tell her gently. “I’ll go over there, make sure Kristy is okay, then I’ll head home.”
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” she whispers.r32;
“I’m a smart boy,” I chuckle. “Don’t worry. Just take care of the boys and I’ll see you later on.”
She sighs harshly into the phone one last time. “Bye.”
Her end clicks off. I know she’s worried and scared, but I don’t see why. It’s just Sydney. She may be fucked up, but she’s not dangerous, at least to me. It’s important that I do this, that I take Kristy out of that house if I feel it’s the only option. “Cheryl.” I buzz her on the intercom.
“Sir.”
“I’m leaving the office for the rest of the day. You can forward anything important to my cell.”
“Of course, sir.”
I throw my jacket on and grab my briefcase before heading out. I wave a quick goodbye to Cheryl and she wishes me a good day before I leave the confines of my office. Quincy meets me by the front doors, and when I tell him where we’re going, he gives me a funny look in the rearview mirror, but doesn’t ask questions. He knows it’s his job not to. With traffic, it takes a good forty five minutes before we reach Trace’s apartment over on Park Avenue. The doorman greets me right away, and tells me that Sydney is upstairs. I tell him not to announce me, that she knows I’m on my way, and he does as I ask, because of who I am. I tell Quincy to wait by the elevators for me, and I ride up to the fifteenth floor alone.
The hallway is silent when I get off, as it usually is. I take my steps slower than usual, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to say when she answers the door, and I pray that she gives me a moment or two to talk my way inside the apartment. I reach it, number twelve, and gently knock on the door a few times. Nobody answers. Against my better judgement, I try the door knob.
The door is unlocked.
“Hello.” I step inside and say the word quietly. Strange, the place seems so foreign to me now. Before, it was like a second home. I helped Trace remodel this place, right down to the art on the walls. But now, you would never know it.
Because everything is gone.
Priceless art, keepsakes, expensive furniture and electronics have all been carried off by parties unknown. I feel the fury growing stronger and stronger inside of me, as I realize that Sydney did all of this for drug money. She sold everything he worked for, and she didn’t care. “Sydney!” I yell out. “Where the hell are you!”
I bang through half a dozen doors, to find nothing but empty rooms and barren spots where Trace’s possessions used to sit. Room after room it’s nothing but the same, and the louder I call out Sydney’s name the more hollow my voice starts to sound.
I reach the last room on the upper level. The master suite. Trace’s bedroom. I thrust open the door, see her laying in the bed, and I’m ready to tear her apart, but then I see something, or...someone that makes me stop dead in my tracks.
Kristy is lying in the bed with her mother, silently staring at her. Syndey is very still, and when I make my way around the opposite side of the bed to get a better look, it’s only then that I realize how pale she is. “Kristy.” I crouch down at the edge of the bed and manage to get her to turn away and look back at me. “What happened?”
“Mommy took her magic powder last night so she could sleep, and...and she didn’t wake up this morning.”
Her voice is nothing more than a whisper, and her expression hollow, shocked. The only person I can think of in this moment is Davey, knowing it’s the exact way he looked when I first laid eyes on him in Memphis.
I know Sydney is dead.
“Come on.” I hold my hand out for her to take. “I’ll take you with me. You can visit with Austin.”
“I want my daddy,” she whimpers. “Where is he?”
I sigh harshly, realizing her mother never bothered to tell Kristy what happened, and never took her to visit Trace either. “He’s...he’ll be along soon,” I say. “But you can’t stay here.”
She doesn’t move, and I know better than to try and force her. Instead, I call Mac, and he tells me he’ll be right over, to dial 911 in the meantime. I do it, and within twenty minutes the place is crawling with police and medical personnel. Kristy lets me pick her up in my arms and she clings to me with her face buried in my shoulder, while I take in everything around me. It’s fucking chaotic. I wish I could get out of here, but so many people are asking me so many questions that I can’t.
I’ve never been more thankful to see Mac in my life. The second he reaches my side he forbids them to question me anymore. His only goal seems to be getting me the hell out of here.
“I’ll take her sir,” A female policewoman says to me as Mac begins to escort us out of the apartment.r32;
“What?” I resist as the officer begins to pry Kristy out of my arms. “No...no! She’s fine with me!”
“You have no legal rights to her, sir,” the officer tells me sternly. “You’ll have to take it up with the courts.”
“Mac!” I yell when Kristy is pried away from me, and begins to scream and cry. “Do something!”
“I can’t,” he huffs as he pulls me away. “Not right away. I’ll see if I can get you temporary custody but for right now this is the only option.”
“But...”
“But nothing. Move, Justin.”
He practically pushes me out the door, and I nearly punch the wall before he stops me. We ride the elevator in silence. I feel stupid because I can feel the tears on my face, and the last thing I want to do it cry. Naturally, there are about a thousand reporters waiting for me when I step off the elevator. Quincy helps me through the mass, and soon I’m back in my car, with Mac by my side. I bury my face in my hands, not being able to believe what’s just happened.
“You want to hear the good news?”
I pick my head out of my hands and glare at him. “Good news? What the fuck is the good news?”
“She left a suicide note,” he tells me slowly. “She confessed to the whole thing.”
I stare at him. “So does that mean...”
“It may take some time, they’ll have to analyze the handwriting, but Trace’s charges will probably be dropped if I can convince the DA that it’s not worth pursuing anymore.”
“Can you do it?” I whisper.
“It’s what you pay me for, right?” He smirks
Story Tags: triangles justinandtrace executivej
