Page 5 of Blind Date
“Maybe we, the students, should get together and form a union to protect us from this cruel and unusual punishment,” a girl named Gina said.
“A rebellion.” I smiled. “I love it.” I pointed at her. “Trust me. In the end, you’ll thank me.” I collected the last of the phones and set the basket on my desk. “Great. Now that we’ve all been emotionally separated from our devices, let’s read about people who lived their entire lives without cell service. They were called—wait for it—CHARACTERS!” I clapped my hands. I grabbed a stack of The Great Gatsby and handed each student a copy.
“Oh, man. Why do we have to read about rich people whining?” Devon said.
“Because they party, cheat, and make bad choices. It’s just like the ‘Real Housewives: Jazz Age Edition.’ I’ll make it fun. I promise. Besides, it’s not about rich people whining. It’s about the American Dream dying in a pool, illusion, obsession, and trying to reinvent yourself for someone who doesn’t even remember how they like their coffee.”
The class laughed, and I knew I had them.
“Now, open your books to chapter one and meet Nick Carraway. He’s an emotionally repressed and judgmental narrator.”
Chapter Three
Weston
I was typing an email when my office door opened, and my grandmother walked in.
“Grandmother.” I smiled, standing from my seat. “It’s good to see you.” I walked over, kissed her cheek, and gave her a hug.
“You embarrassed yourself again, Weston.” She sat in the chair across from my desk.
“The breakup was inevitable. It’s really none of your concern.”
“You did it on the street, in public. Like a wild animal!”
“I didn’t do anything. Claudia is the one who broke up with me. Page Six has it all wrong.”
“She may have been the one, but you set the stage. And it’s not the first time I’ve watched you torch something and walk away like it wasn’t burning.”
I inhaled a sharp breath. “Everyone wants something from me. I’m not in the business of pleasing people outside of the company.”
“You’re in the business of control. People aren’t deals you can close and never think about them again.”
“I didn’t love her,” I said.
She stared at me momentarily, her jaw tight and a look of disappointment in her eyes.
“Page Six again, Weston.”
“It’ll blow over,” I said.
“No, it won’t. It’s building, not blowing over.”
“It was a breakup. Not a damn crime,” I said with irritation.
“Weston, being ruthless is one thing. Being reckless, that’s another. That will hurt us. Page Six is after you, after the string of events and stories you’ve given them over the past years. Board members don’t like scandals. And the press loves to watch an empire decline because of their gossip column, whether they print the truth or not.”
“I don’t run this company based on gossip columns,” I said, shifting in my chair.
“No, but you run it withourname. The Castile name isn’t just a logo. It’s a reputation. Your grandfather and I spent four decades building the reputation of Castile Properties, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and watch it fall apart because you become unhinged in public. You keep giving the press what they want—blood.”
“What do you want me to do, Grandmother? Smile more? Date someone with a personality found by our PR group?”
“You could start by caring about something other than yourself, Weston. Chaz called me this morning.”
“Why?” My brows furrowed.
“He said there are whispers that the board wants to restructure.”
