“What if we put it in the studio? So we can work together. Depending on what Sam wants you to do.”
My heart does double dutch against my chest. “That’s not stupid. That’s the best idea ever.” I lean over and kiss her head. Maybe there’s still hope for her. For us. I need to get this over with so I can call Chase about Vegas.
Lexi and I step into the shop and we both freeze. Instead of police or detectives, there’s Chase, Dani, Steve, and Bex, all standing there like they’ve been waiting on us. Great, apparently we need an intervention. I groan and go to move out of the doorway, but Lexi isn’t moving. Fuck.
“Angel, are you?—”
“James, look.”
“Huh?” I stare at our friends again and Coop laughs, pointing toward the wall. Like one of those Magic Eye posters from the old malls, things come into focus. Instead of the quirky decorations that were here before, the walls are full of paintings. My painting. My dad’s paintings. Lexi’s posters are up, too. “What the fuck?”
I glance around at the people, and I realize I recognize some of them. There’s a dean from a college I applied to for a teaching position. There’s a handful of people I’ve met at my dad’s charity events. In the back corner, there’s a group of guys my dad played poker with and Carl.
“Surprise?” Dani says with arms wide, with Raf next to her.
“What is this?”
“It’s an art showing, dumbass.” Coop pulls us into the shop. “Haven’t you been to enough of those to know that yet?”
“But, why? How?”
“Well. Dani and Steve did most of the work. Bex and Sam did all the networking, and I told the shop if they shut down for a day to do this, I’d do a commercial for them. Which, when I say it out loud, makes my helping sound super lame.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t answer the why?”
“Because,” Dani chimed in, “You two need a reset button like nobody’s business. Also, Sam gets to use it all as a write off when he opens the new cent?—”
“Woah! Haven’t told them yet.”
“Told us what?” Lexi spins around to ask him.
“Well, we’re going remote because I want to repurpose the building. Jamie, the job I want to offer you is head of my new organization—an art school.”
“Art school?”
“Yeah, that’s why I pulled in the dean over there. I want to come up with a way for local artists to work with therapists in an arts center for at-risk and disadvantaged youth. Locals helping locals kind of thing. We’re going to name it after your dad. If you’ll let us.”
My mind is only retaining half of this conversation, so I hope Sam will have it again later. There’s so much going on all at once.
“Why is my art here?”
“Advertising mostly. We’re handling all the donations and registration here since there’s food. Right now, my office has twelve local artists’ pieces, and at last count, over four hundred guests bidding on them. A small portion of the sales goes toward the new art grant my lawyer is in the middle of writing up.”
“Jesus, Sam. This sounds like a lot,” Lexi mumbles before letting go of my hand and wandering toward the art.
“It is. You’ve got some particularly convincing friends who also have my home telephone number. There’s a small catch. We need a big donor for this to kick off. I was thinking of you.”
I search behind me to see who he’s talking to and realize there’s no one there. “Me?”
Sam steps aside and the lawyer, Mr. Morgan, is standing behind him with a handful of paperwork.
“Mr. Barton, I contacted Cynosure and I’ve spoken to their legal team. They’re ready to offer you fifteen million dollars and the retained rights to your total shares, as well as your father’s, if you don’t take legal action against them. Now, that means we could always reject the offer and go after them for more, but that seems pointless if you’re in charge of the company.”
I stumble backward, luckily finding a chair behind me. Lexi rushes over and I can see that she’s talking, but I can’t hear the words. My mind is racing, and it’s several minutes and two shots of whiskey before I’m able to make any sense of the world again.
“You good, man?” Coop asks.
“When did this place start serving whiskey?”
