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Last practice, the bleachers were nearly empty.
It's like our fight is losing steam.
Jessica
Don't stress. We keep pushing, it'll turn out okay.
Emily
Samantha
Keep the faith
I shove the phone back into my pocket as I climb into my car. The pep talk feels hollow. I'm not convinced. Not one bit.
Chapter Twelve
Victor
The call ends with a click,and I’m staring at the phone like it’s betrayed me. Investors, always twitchy as rabbits, but this batch? They’re making my gut twist more than usual. Hands behind my head, elbows wide, I arch my back until it pops. The stretch doesn’t do much to ease the tension knotted in my muscles.
Normally, these sorts of calls would just be par for the course. I give my assurances that everyone is going to see the promised return on their investment and that the development is on track. Obviously, that’s how this most recent call went as well. Except this time, I’m personally not as confident. I’ve never had to deal with such pushback on a project.
I stand up and walk over to the window, looking down at the city. I’m in the furnished corporate apartment Jenna found for me. It’s cramped, bland—a far cry from the luxury I’m used to in the city. But it’s solid walls and a roof that doesn’t leak. As a kid shuffling through foster homes, I’d have thought I’d hit the jackpot landing a place like this.
"Safe and warm," I mutter to myself, tracing the cool glass with a fingertip. You never forget what that means when you’ve gone without.
I glance over at the makeshift office—the second bedroom stuffed with a small desk and a laptop perched on it. There’s a stack of papers next to it, each page screaming deadlines and demands. My reflection in the darkened screen looks back at me, blue eyes hard, mouth set in a line. There’s no escaping your own gaze, is there?
My phone rings, and I glance at the caller ID. It’s Tim, my lawyer. I swipe to answer.
"Victor Stone," I say, voice all business.
"Hey, Victor. Got some news about the Board," Tim replies, his tone holding that edge of caution I’ve grown to expect.
"Hit me," I respond, sitting back in the chair. It creaks under my weight, a subtle reminder that this isn’t my space—just another temporary station on the road to something bigger.
"Two votes secured. Anderson and Li are with us,"he says, and I can almost hear him ticking off names on his fingers.
"Great," I mumble, but I know there’s more—there always is.
"Miller’s a definite no. Says the project doesn’t align with community values," he continues. That stings. Community values. Like I don’t have any.
"Okay, two down, one against. What about the others?"
"Sanders and Chu? They’re on the fence. Could swing either way."
I rub my temples. "I don’t know what else I can do. I’m sponsoring the local pee-wee team, for crying out loud. I’m shaking hands, kissing babies?—"
"Victor," Tim interrupts, a note of sympathy creeping into his voice, "that’s not really my area. I’m just keeping you up to speed on the Board."
"Right." My voice is flat. I appreciate Tim, really. But sometimes... "Thanks for the update."
"Anytime. Keep your chin up. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get those votes."
"Sure," I say, though a part of me wonders how much more of this small-town charm I can stomach. I end the call and toss the phone onto the desk.
"Community values," I echo to myself, scoffing softly. A sharp exhale, and I stand up, restless energy coursing through me.