Page 7 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

may the best man win

Caleb

“ S mith, in here,” Noah calls as I walk past his office door. I spin on a heel and saunter in.

“Sup, Cap? Thought you were in Chicago.”

“Had a few meetings I couldn’t reschedule, flying back out today.” He sighs like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. So dramatic.

“What do you need?”

He gestures at the seat in front of his desk. I steal the tiny basketball stress ball from it and throw it in the air, catching it as I sit.

“Andersen Schulz and Meyers are officially rebranding. There is a bid to take it on and that means getting everything. New brand, website, socials management, everything. They have deals for TV ads and billboards already ongoing, so we get prime placement as the company who handles it if we win.” His excitement is contagious, and I lean forward.

“You got it already?” I am genuinely shocked, because these days it’s rare for him to handle a sale.

That is almost completely my responsibility, especially with the growth of the company.

He’ll be in Chicago these next two months handling a new office opening, and now it’s my time to prove that I can run this show.

“Not yet, that is what I need you for. I’ve set up a meeting for you at their office on Friday, I need you to do what you do best.” Pride warms my chest at the recognition.

Not that I feel it is needed, I’ve worked hard my whole life and even more so for Noah, who has been my closest friend since college.

I’ve earned every ounce of recognition my work has given me, but it’s still nice to hear it every now and then.

I throw him a wide smile. “Email me the breakdown, I’ll send a proof tomorrow for the pitch and get ready to close.” I relax back in my seat and he nods, standing from his desk and pushing shit around. His serious businessman expression slides back into place.

“You look more stressed than usual…everything okay at home?” I ask with mock sweetness, expecting him to roll his eyes and laugh me off, but instead I get a look I’d only compare to a deer in headlights.

He looks…terrified. “I was kidding…but seriously, is everything okay?” I sit up straighter, actually concerned for my friend.

He and Addison are practically on top of each other, they are so in love; surely there isn’t trouble in paradise already?

Noah looks to his open office door and I leap to close it before sitting back down in front of him.

“Uhhh…okay. I wasn’t going to tell anyone.” He paces behind his desk, clearly sweating bullets and it’s making me antsy.

“Oh no,” I breathe, “Addison’s pregnant, isn’t she? Oh God, Noah, isn’t it too soo?—”

“What? No, you idiot,” he scolds me, sounding extremely impatient and very unlike himself. “What is it with you and jumping to that conclusion? Not that it would be unwelcomed, but no, it’s not that.”

“You’re not really giving me much else to go on here.

You look panicked, it was either she was pregnant or you cheated.

” He hits me with a death stare and I raise my hands in defense.

“And obviously that would never happen, because you aren’t a walking trash bag.

So spit it the fuck out. Your stress is contagious. ” I feel like my skin is itchy.

“Well, I’m…thinking of buying a…Do you think…”

“Noah, sentences, I’m going to need full sentences, buddy.” I coax him like a fucking child.

“I want to marry Addison.” He stops pacing and stands directly behind his desk chair, his jaw tense, eyes bulging, and my jaw hits the desk.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Really?” He huffs, commencing his pacing again.

“Well…are you sure?”

“Obviously, I love her.”

“Yeah, that much is clear. But marriage is like…permanent, you know? Like, take half your shit kind of permanent.” I try to reason with him, but it doesn’t seem to be working, he just rolls his eyes and sits in the chair.

“That only applies if we get divorced, and that’s obviously not going to happen,” he says under his breath.

“Sure…but you can’t predict the future. What if she gets sick of your ass and finds someone better.” His concern morphs into panic when his eyes snatch to mine, and I suddenly feel really guilty.

“Look, I don’t mean to project…” I rub the back of my neck for something emotional and comforting to say, I can usually fluff my way through that kind of shit when it’s for the greater good, but it feels like I shouldn’t fake nice things right now.

“I’m sure you and Addy are soul mates and will beat the odds.

” I throw a little fist pump into the air, and he just drops his face incredulously.

“It’s too soon, isn’t it?” He sighs, falling into his chair, defeated.

“I mean, what’s too soon? Time is relative, if you waited longer, it…might be too long,” I say with utmost confidence.

“What?” Noah blinks. I honest to God have no idea what I just said.

“Do you want to marry her?”

“Obviously.”

“So just do it then.”

“I don’t know why I had this conversation with you.” He lands his head in his hands.

“I also don’t know why, but hopefully I helped.” I flick a tight-lipped smile at him when he reluctantly looks up. “I should go,” I whisper.

I peel myself from his chair and throw the toy basketball at his head. “Get down on that knee, who cares what anyone thinks.” I close the door behind me to leave him with his thoughts. That felt like a better thing to say.

I don’t know why people do this to themselves though.

I know Addison isn’t some vindictive psychopath, I know they love each other and probably will last the journey together.

In this day and age though, I really didn’t see the appeal of marriage.

I watched my father fall for the same shit every time like he never learned.

He’s been married three times—the third has stuck around for ten years, which is the longest out of all of them, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

She was a lovely lady and they seemed happy together.

But they always seem that way. Until they aren’t.

Hell, even the early photos of my dad with my mom made them look happy. And look how that turned out.

Making it back to my office, I close the door, tuck in my AirPods, and get cozy at my desk, ready for Noah to flick over all the details so I can get started on the pitch.

Loading my Pump playlist—which is just a collection of all my favorite songs with absolutely no uniform genre—I settle in.

Landing this account means a lot to Noah and his company, I could see it from the look in his eye.

But this is also huge for me. This is what it all comes down to—me showing Noah that he needs me, that I can handle this.

The security of the job isn’t so much something I need—I have a hefty cushion from my years of smart investments and hard work to hold me up.

I want this solely for myself. To show him and myself that I can.

I can run the show here in NYC. He hasn’t said it, but I know he’s always wanted to move back to Chicago.

He hates being away from his mom and sister.

I also know it was the motivator for opening the second office there.

This is my opportunity to make the statement.

To show him, while I can be a dick and mess around, when it comes to this, I am serious.

He can trust me. I know I can do this, and I just have to prove it to him.

The sun is setting, but I had closed out the Karvelas Media work an hour or so ago.

Instead, I’ve spent the last hour going over my personal books, combing through my investment portfolio, and sending off some emails to my accountant.

Growing up the way I did only solidified the need to be well cushioned, should anything happen.

Noah’s company was a starter when I first invested, and as they say, 90 percent of start-ups fail in the first five years.

Although I was his only investor for those first five years, I would never have held that against him if it didn’t work out.

I believed in him—still do—and look how that has turned out, for both of us.

But I can believe in my friend, support him, and give it my all while still sustaining a healthy level of preparation for the worst case.

It’s not skepticism, it’s just business.

So, now I own an expensive high-rise apartment, along with the building as a whole.

I made a sneaky purchase of a certain lodge down at Maplewood during the divorce settlement of a former high-society couple, along with my other silent investments in successful start-ups and what have you.

One day, when I’m ready to retire and settle somewhere like Bora Bora, I’ll sell it all and live the dream. Quiet, alone, and at peace.

Alone, miserable, and no one to share your hard work with.

This is the fun little taunting voice that likes to sneak in every now and then.

Mostly when I’ve recently spoken with my dad and he’s unloaded all his misgivings about love and happiness, like the call I had with him yesterday, brief as it was.

His first wife left him because he was dead-ass broke and found a high roller to fulfill her fantasies.

The second couldn’t handle the anxiety that came with the level of debt my father was in, but the third, she may have stuck around for the last ten odd years, but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

My father didn’t seem to believe that you can have the best of both worlds.

He figures only the richest of the rich get nice things, and being married—no matter how cruel and untrustworthy women are—is better than being alone.

So, I’m determined to prove him wrong on both fronts; I can live a lavish life of luxury and have nights filled with beautiful women while still keeping my heart and soul in one piece, locked securely away for no one but me.

Don’t let anyone in, and they can’t hurt you. It’s simple science.