27. Joel

CHAPTER 27

JOEL

I 'm having a really awesome dream about women in bikinis on a beach somewhere tropical and hot and surrounded by the greatest cocktails ever shaken when my phone vibrates on my chest and pulls me back to reality. I should probably stop thinking about other women if I'm serious about Anna. Which I obviously am. I can't exactly help my dreams.

Blinking tiredly, I fumble with my phone and unlock the screen.

I haven't moved all day. With Antonio and the office staff handling things in my absence, there's no work for me to do from here, and I'm reverting back to old Joel, lying about, napping, eating full bags of chips. To complete the transformation, I should be day drinking.

But I'm not going to. Anna knows I can't just change overnight, and even though I really like the me I am with her, I know it's going to take some time to stick. And I've decided to take a day off today.

Later, I'll get up and sweep or something, some sort of gesture to prove that I haven't turned into a total vegetable while she's been out. She's meeting with her accountant today, trying to salvage whatever she can from her business. I don't know how to tell her that I'd help if she'd let me. Money's nothing to me, and I'd give it to her without a thought.

But she likes me now and I don't want to screw that up by waving my credit card around. She's too proud to accept a handout.

I admire that about her, the way she wants to do everything herself to prove that she can. She's determined. I just wish she'd let me make it easier.

A ton of notifications hit my eyeballs and I squint until I've managed to turn the brightness down to a readable level. Most of them are pointless and annoying, ads and alerts and texts from people I don't care about.

It's the one from my father that simply reads Call that makes my blood run cold.

What can I have possibly fucked up now? I've been hidden for days. This is maybe the most days I've ever, ever managed to stay hidden for, probably because I haven't been bored for a change.

Unless some damn paparazzi did spot us in the park after all and shot some photos that have found their way back to my dad. And if someone did take photos, that means they've already searched Anna down and they'll be coming for her next.

The idea of her getting cold-called by journalists wanting to know about me makes me a thousand times sicker than the idea of getting yelled at by my father again.

My hands shaking, I pull up the contact for Dad and hit dial.

He answers almost immediately. "Joel."

"Hi, Dad," I say as humbly as I can manage. "What's up?"

"For a change, not you." There's an amusement in his voice, a sense of humor that feels jarring. "I'm surprised you listened to me."

"Anyone can change, Dad."

"Even you, somehow. I don't know what's happened to you this week, but whatever it is, keep it that way. There hasn't been a whisper about you in the press in days."

I sigh in relief. "Thank God for that."

"My thoughts exactly." There's a weird pause, and for a change the image of his face in my head is vague, like I can't imagine the expression he's making. Like he's not actually disappointed in me. "Where are you?"

"You know Ben, my customer relations guy?" Dad grunts in acknowledgement. "I'm at his place. He's away in Tokyo."

"He was always a smart kid. He's a good friend to you."

This sounds more like the lead-up to the telling off I was expecting. Not wanting to argue, I say, "Yeah, he is."

"You're a grown man now, so I know my opinion is worthless to you and incentives are nothing to a boy who already has everything, but if you can keep acting in this way, I'll see to it that you get another office set up in the new year."

"O-okay," I stammer. An expansion would be fantastic for the group. We could hire some new engineers, push more updates on our browser that's under development, fix all the annoying bugs in the app…

The possibilities race through my mind. Our cloud software could become universal. It could become synonymous with working. Hey, can you just lockhart that over to me? Everyone in the world could know my name.

My ego swells as my imagination races, tamed only by the idea of what Anna would think.

She's seeped so deep inside me that even my fantasy conversations about world domination need her approval. I have no doubt she'd laugh about lockharting anything.

"But listen to me," says Dad, snapping me back to reality. "I'm deadly serious here. One more fuckup like the casino and I'm shutting you down. No more credit cards. No more private jets. No more CEO of your own company. If I'm feeling really angry, no more money at all. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Dad," I say with as much conviction as I can summon. "I really understand. Promise. No more getting my ass out on TV."

"Exactly," he says and in my head I think he's smiling. "When will you meet a nice girl to sort you out, Joel? You need a wife to screw your head back on."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure women are better than that," I say without thinking, then blink in surprise at myself. God knows I've made plenty of shitty comments in my time, not to mention that directly contradicting Dad is something I try not to do, but I think I really mean that. I think I regret the way I've been treating people my whole life.

Anna is so much more than a nameless wife, but Dad's right. She has fixed me.

He doesn't say anything to my comment but I'm pretty sure I hear a faint chuckle. "I expect to see you in your office on time tomorrow, you hear me? To do some real work."

"Bright and early, promise."

"Good. I'll call you later."

Without a goodbye, he hangs up. Maybe he didn't know how to end that conversation either. It was kind of weird.

It was also kind of… nice?

I sit up on the sofa, swinging my feet to the floor. I've already wasted way more of this day than I planned to on TV and sleep, and Anna will probably be home soon. She said about five p.m., and it's four thirty now.

If I get up now and start, I can make her dinner before she gets back.

In the kitchen, I rummage through the cupboards and find more boxes of mac and cheese. How much of this stuff does Ben eat? It's about my level though, I think, and this time I'm really going to concentrate. I've been watching Anna do this all week, and concentrating seems to be half of what it takes.

The directions are on the box. All I have to do is follow them. The romantic mood, the sweet music, the low light, that's easy stuff.

My plan is basically this. Woo her into a good mood with dinner, and then she'll be so impressed with me that she won't even be angry when I try and suggest helping her with her business. I need to figure out how to word it in a way that's not just I want to give you a big check and I'm not going to take no for an answer because you deserve the world.

That last bit was good. Maybe I'll keep that.

I dump the noodles into a pan and start brainstorming.