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I know my only way in is to get on Erica’s good side again. Knowing how stubborn she is from when she first started working for me, I know it won’t be easy. She was fiercely protective of the newspaper. I can’t imagine what she’s like when it comes to protecting her own daughter.
Quickly, I dress for work, checking the time on my watch. I have to leave here in five minutes if I want to get to the lobby early. I want to try my luck again to run into Erica when she arrives. So far I’m 0 for 3, but maybe today is the day.
But as I meander around the lobby for twenty minutes, trying to look like I have a reason to be there, my hope that I’ll run into her starts to dwindle. I’m tired of the receptionist looking at me curiously, and of security eyeing me like I might be up to no good even though I own the place. Erica must be coming even earlier or coming in late. I’m sure she’s trying to avoid any run-ins with me, when it’s the one thing I want. I need.
I glance at my watch. My meeting is in thirty minutes, and I still have to do last-minute prep. I sigh, giving up and heading toward the elevator. I know I could just call her into my office, or go see her in her department, but I frustratedly can’t seem to take the first step. It seems I’m as stubborn as her, but my desperation is starting to get the best of me. I might have to soon, or my guilt and newfound love for my daughter will overtake me.
“Mr. Vallejo, you’re here,” says Jessica, standing from her desk and joining me on the short walk to my office. “Mr. Wellington is early. I tried calling you…”
“What? Where is he?” I ask, looking around.
“He’s already in your office.”
“Thank you, Jessica,” I say dismissively.
Why the hell would she not try harder to get a hold of me? And why the hell did she think him waiting in my office was a good idea? I’ll have to take it up with her later, but now I need to focus on closing this deal. I’m already off to a bad start. I feel like I’m late, even though he was early.
I find Brock in my office standing with his hands behind his back as he looks at the framed photos on my shelf. I clear my throat to let him know I’ve arrived. He turns to face me with a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.
“Ahh, you’re here,” he says, checking the time on his watch. “I guess since you own the place, you can come and go as you please.”
“Had I known you’d be early, I would have changed my morning schedule around.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He waves me off before turning back to look at the photos. He picks one up and I grimace at the one he chose. It’s a photo of my father and me years ago when I first started out. He’s standing next to me with no genuine sense of pride as I uncomfortably stand rigid next to him in one of his suits that I borrowed. It was one of the last photos we took together before he died.
“I met your father once, you know…” says Brock.
“Really?” I ask, taken aback.
“It was at a conference years ago. I used to look up to him so much.”
“Then you must not have really known him,” I say, taking a seat behind my desk.
Brock places the photo back on the shelf.
“I always wanted to get into business with him, but I was young. He would never take a chance on someone like me, just starting out.”
“He hardly took chances on anyone, really.”
“Not even you?”
“Especially me.” I laugh softly.
“He was a hard-ass then?”
“Ass, yes.”
Brock laughs and takes the seat across from me.
“My father was hard on me, too. I think it’s what helped me gain my success. I was always trying to prove myself.”
“I wonder if all CEOs share the same sob story,” I say.
“Daddy issues.”
“I’ll say.”
“When I become a dad, I’m going to do the opposite,” says Brock thoughtfully.