Page 29 of Business Casual
“I am aware I have a job, which is why I made arrangements to work remotely.”
Beckett appears in the doorway, rapping his knuckles against the frame, one of his cats draped over his shoulder. I pull my phone away from my ear and place it flat on the desk, the tinny faraway sound of my father delivering a lecture weaving in and out. I tap mute as Beckett slips into the chair across from me.
“Everything okay?” he asks as my father’s voice picks up volume and speed. I want to fling my phone through the window. I want to bury it beneath all of Stella’s air fresheners.
“Everything is fine. He’ll be going on for a bit. Thanks for coming over.”
Beckett nods, kicking out his legs. The cat on his shoulder nudges the side of his head with her nose and then scampers down his arm to his lap. Prancer, I think. Or maybe Comet. It’s hard to tell which cat is which between the four of them. She curls up in a tiny ball, and he rests his palm on her back. He looks relaxed, content.
Maybe I should get a cat.
I pick up my phone again.
“…your job is what you should be focusing on. Your legacy. Our legacy.”
He didn’t seem so concerned with his legacy when he was acting like a giant asshole around the office. “Got it. Listen, Dad. I’ve got to go. A work thing just popped up.”
Beckett’s face scrunches in confusion.
“What sort of work thing?” my dad bellows.
An intervention between the tree farmer and the baker because they’re still not speaking to each other, and my toxic trait is wanting everyone to get along all the time.
“I can’t share client details,” I deflect.
He sighs. I can picture the exact face he’s making. Disappointment and exhaustion, the baseline of our relationship.
“You need to get yourself together, Charlie. You’re embarrassing me.”
I press two fingers to the bridge of my nose and ignore the familiar burn of frustration. That’s nothing new either. It’s the role I’ve always managed to fill perfectly for my father. The family embarrassment. The wayward child. It doesn’t matter how much money I make or how well I do, he’ll always just see me as his too-loud kid that got in trouble with teachers for talking too much and could never quite figure out how to hand in his homework on time.
I’m a grown man. The fact that my father can still reduce me to second-guessing and overthinking is ridiculous.
“Noted,” I manage. “Luckily that’s something we’re both familiarwith. Next time you need to reach me, get in touch with Selene. She can slot some time on my calendar.”
“Charlie, you need to—”
I hang up the phone and toss it in the same drawer as the pine-tree air fresheners. Only to pull it out again and set it face down on top of a stack of papers markedPUMPKIN SZN. I don’t want to miss a text from Nova. If she decides to text.
She hasn’t in the past four days, but like I said, I can be patient.
Beckett clears his throat on the other side of the desk. The cat kneads her tiny little feet into his thigh.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, only managing to sound slightly hesitant.
“Not particularly.” I cross my ankle over my knee and almost knock down another stack of files. This office is going to give me hives. “It was my father’s weekly check-in to make sure I’m not a smudge on the family name.”
Beckett gives me a look and adjusts his hat so it’s backward, dark blond hair peeking through the snapback. “Your dad sounds like an asshole.”
I laugh. “Not only does he sound like an asshole, he is one. You have impeccable hearing, by the way.”
“A lifetime spent listening,” he says easily enough. “Or a lifetime spent with three sisters.”
One of which I’ve been flirting with. Very poorly, if her lack of communication is any indication. Luckily, I’m saved from responding by Layla appearing in the doorway, a tray clutched in her hands. She stops abruptly at the threshold and looks at Beckett. Her eyes narrow.
“You,” she seethes.
So much for this meeting going smoothly. “Come in,” I say easily. “Sit down. We’re having a meeting.”
