Snapshot: Chapter 6

Present Day

Miami

Ishouldn’t be nervous. I was bred for this. To the advisory board, the executives, and all of the employees at Hessler Group, I’m merely assuming my rightful role.

No one needs to know about the man who is having panic attacks behind closed doors. The man who feels more comfortable around deadly sharks than in large crowds of people.

They need “the closer.” Their leader. The man who graduated from Harvard Business School with honors and knows more about corporate strategy than anyone else in the room.

They don’t want Dex. They need Mr. Hessler.

I loosen my tie and lean back in my seat, looking out the windows at the Miami skyline. The sun is glistening off the still waters surrounding the cityscape. With no boats in motion, the water is stoic. It looks more like glass than water.

This was Grandma’s preferred meeting room for everything. She loved this view. She liked looking at the ocean, but she was terrified of getting in. Never once could I convince her to put on a wetsuit and see what was beneath the water line. Grandma couldn’t swim, and she wouldn’t let me teach her. She told me she’d rather be lion chow than shark bait.

In her favorite chair, looking at her favorite view, I can’t help thinking about her favorite movie. The unsinkable ship that sank. Titanic. Completely unfathomable. That’s how everything feels right now. Impossible. How the hell is Dottie Hessler gone? I wasn’t ready. No one was ready.

A vibration on the table pulls me from my thoughts. As usual, I smile when I see Lennox’s name flash across my phone. I answer without hesitation.

“Len, have you ever seen Titanic?” I ask.

This is my rapport with Lennox. We never answer the phone with “Hello.” We’re too eager to actually talk. “Hello” seems like a waste of time when it comes to us.

“I watch the 1997 version about once a year. I like to keep a young DiCaprio fresh in my mind,” she says.

“I know Kate Winslet survives. But if they were together when everything went down, how did he die?”

“Jack?” Lennox asks.

“Who? No, I mean DiCaprio.”

“Yeah, Dex. He plays Jack. Kate Winslet plays Rose, who floats on top of a door to survive. Jack’s just holding onto the aforementioned door and freezes to death in the water.”

“What the hell?” I ask. “How does that make sense? Why didn’t he get on?”

“They couldn’t both fit.”

“And they couldn’t just find another door?” Freaking Hollywood.

She half grumbles, half scoffs. “You’re missing the point. It was beautifully self-sacrificial. He died so she could live. It was some seriously epic romantic stuff. I can’t believe you’ve never seen it.”

“No thanks,” I grunt into the phone. “I probably feel about Titanic the way you feel about Jaws or The Meg. Or even serial killer documentaries.”

“Actually, I really enjoy those. I live on the Oxygen channel these days.”

“See? That’s concerning.”

“And seriously—being shipwrecked in the North Atlantic Ocean is as scary to you as getting eaten alive or murdered? Because one is a quick call to AAA and an airlift rescue. The other is a gory death.”

It’s not the shipwreck that’s terrifying. It’s the mass lawsuits that would come out of a situation like that. “You can’t just call AAA from a ship.”

“How would you know? It’s still a vehicle of sorts,” she says.

“I just know,” I reply, trying not to draw attention to my expertise. “Anyway, what’s up? How are you?”

She’s quiet for a minute. I wait patiently for her to respond before she finally rushes out, “I need to cancel my spot on the Cozumel trip.”

Ah, typical. At least once before every dive trip, I have to remind Lennox she won’t be shark food. “Len, I promise you, there aren’t going to be any sharks in that region⁠—”

“No, it’s not that.” She clears her throat. “I can’t afford it anymore. I got fired.”

I grip the phone tighter in my hand, pressing it firmly against my cheek. “I want to say, ‘I’m sorry,’ but you hated that job.”

“I did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relieved. But I don’t know… Everyone seems kind of disappointed in me.”

“Who’s everyone? I’m certainly not.”

She sighs. “Okay, fair enough. Maybe I’m disappointed in me.”

“Why?”

“I think I want too much from a job.”

If only she could see my vexed expression. “Your job paid like twenty bucks an hour.”

“Excuse you. That’s good pay for someone like me.”

“Someone like you, being?” I ask.

“No college degree, has never kept a full-time job for more than a few months, hates numbers and metrics, and has the attention span of one of the little fish in your tanks…so, yeah, twenty bucks an hour is solid. But money isn’t the want I’m talking about anyway.”

Leaning back in my chair, eyes fixed on the Miami skyline, I breathe out and feel the pressure in my chest lessen. I always feel better when my mind is on Lennox. “What are you talking about then?”

“I want to love what I do each day. You know the way you feel about scuba diving? Aren’t we supposed to feel like that all the time? Or is that childish, head-in-the-clouds thinking?”

“If I breathed through an oxygen tank under water for forty hours a week, I’d be brain dead. Not to mention, the dive shop doesn’t pay my bills. You know it’s a hobby.”

She mumbles something I can’t make out, then says, “That’s right, I forgot you have a backup big boy job back home. What’s your family business again? You guys are in cargo shipping?”

“Just ships,” I mumble, then quickly digress. “But anyway, look, there are some people who live to work and others who work for the weekends. Everyone is different. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you. Just figure out what you want and go for it. You can make a great living in a more creative, less structured field. It’s hard but not impossible. If you’re miserable working at an insurance call center, maybe getting fired is the universe’s way of telling you it’s not for you.”

She lets out a little chuckle. “You’re so wise, Grandpa. I hope I’m as astute as you when I’m your age.”

“When you’re thirty? In three years?”

“Yes. I sincerely hope I age as gracefully as you,” she teases. “Touch of gray. Bifocals. Your walking cane always adds a touch of sophistication to your outfit.”

“Hilarious.” I smile into the phone, wishing we weren’t on the phone. But it’s a little easier to talk to Lennox when there’s physical distance between us. I see her, and my mind gets hung up on all the things I tell myself I don’t want.

Three years ago, when the quirky showstopper with purple hair appeared at my bedroom door, trying to contribute to a pitch jar, I sucked in a breath I’ve been holding ever since. I’ve held on to Lennox like a troll does its treasure. I keep her close however I can.

For us, that means friendship.

It’s not like I’m not torturously tempted to yank her long hair back, tear her eccentric little outfits off, and bend her naked body over whatever surface she’d let me. I’d show her what all these clowns she dates are lacking.

But Lennox has something I’ve never encountered before. She’s genuine. Full of raw honesty and good intentions. It fuels me in the best way. The moment I was ready to give up on people, Lennox gave me hope. She excavated a side of me I was trying to bury.

I needed her friendship so much more than I needed to fuck her, so I had no choice but to keep the boundaries in place. There’s no faster way to lose a friend than getting sex, feelings, and money involved.

Therefore, I try not to look at anything except her eyes or be alone with her too often. I shake her boyfriend’s hand out of respect. I avoid her like the plague after a dive when she’s peeled off her wetsuit, and her tits, barely concealed in string bikinis, are calling out to me like a persistent-as-fuck siren. I keep my dick tucked away and all my secrets hidden. She doesn’t know who my family is or my net worth. Lennox doesn’t know anything about the other side of me… She wouldn’t like him. Or maybe she could warm up to the idea of my life in Miami.

I don’t know how to start that conversation or bridge that gap. I never planned to. I knew my time in Vegas was temporary. I just never imagined encountering someone who means as much to me as Lennox. She’s probably the longest relationship I’ve ever had. A pseudo-relationship built on fantasy, denial, and self-control. But still…

“So, what are your next steps?” I ask her.

“Well, step one is canceling trips that are now out of my budget,” she says.

I exhale into the phone. “I’d offer to pay for you, but Pocket Protectors probably wouldn’t appreciate that very much.”

“Don’t call Alan that,” she scolds me.

“What?” I ask defensively. “You call him that.”

“When I call him that, it’s a playful term of endearment. When you call him that, you’re making fun of him.”

I hate Alan more than all of Lennox’s other past boyfriends. She’s had a slew of dalliances since I passed on my tiny window of opportunity three years ago. She’s always capturing some guy’s attention or another. But they end up disappointing her quickly and never last long. Alan is different. Not her usual type. He’s genuinely a good guy. I roll my eyes just thinking about it. He might actually last. One day, I’m going to be front row at their wedding, smiling at the beautiful bride who should’ve been mine and daydreaming about beating Alan to a pulp.

“I’m not making fun of him. Just the other day, a blue pen exploded in my unprotected pocket. Ruined my nice new pants. I couldn’t help but think how much smarter Alan is than me.”

She roars in laughter. There it is. My favorite sound. “You’re such a jackass. Anyway, are you free to come over to Finn and Avery’s tonight? The fridge is stocked with the beer you like.”

“As much as I’d love to crash your couples’ night, I’m in Miami.”

“Alan’s working. And what? Since when are you in Miami? I thought you just got back from Mexico.”

“I got back, then had to head out again the day after. Something back home came up.” Not technically a lie. I didn’t know how to tell my Vegas friends that Grandma died. They barely knew she existed and certainly don’t know what she means to me.

Lennox is, of course, the exception. She met Grandma once a few years ago. Just one dinner, but they bonded so quickly. They both understood how much the other means to me. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to tell Lennox about my loss. I’m sure she’ll say and do all the right things to pull out the emotions I’ve set aside. Then, I’ll have to deal with all the pain I’m effectively avoiding.

I don’t have time to fall apart. There’s too much work to be done. A legacy to uphold.

“You know something? You get really secretive when you go home.”

There’s a lull as she calls me on my shit. “I just don’t like talking about it. Right now, home is really…complicated.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah. Don’t cancel the dive trip. I planned this whole thing during ray season for you. You haven’t seen them on a dive before and said you always wanted to.”

Lennox typically avoids the dives with possible sightings of big marine life. She thinks baby whales will only attract killer sharks. According to her, dolphins are vindictive enough to drown you. She also has an irrational fear of being squashed between two whales like getting sandwiched between two semi-trucks. Not a completely inaccurate analogy. At any rate, big sea turtles and eagle rays seem to be the exception. She likes those.

“I did. But I’m not exaggerating. I’m broke. I could barely afford it before, and now I’m screwed. I don’t even know how I’m going to pay rent next month. And I’m sick of taking handouts from everyone, so don’t offer. It’s starting to make me feel pathetic.”

“You know the stuff that’s come up here?”

“Yeah.”

“The Cozumel trip will be my last for Discover Dives. I have to go back to working my big boy job, full time. So, if it’s the last dive I lead, I’d really like for you to be there. We can work something out financially. A payment plan. Just give me a dollar a month until the end of time. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

She’s silent again, so I knock my thumb against the table to kill time. But the lull becomes too much. “Len, you still there?”

“Yes. So, you’re moving?”

I nod slowly, then remember she can’t see me. “Yes. I’m in no hurry to sell the house, though. You, Finn, and Avery can still use the hot tub whenever you want.”

“Hm,” she says, her tone unmistakably peeved.

“What does ‘hm’ mean?”

“Funny that you think your hot tub is what I’ll miss.”

“Aw, okay. Don’t get all sad and sappy on me yet. I’ll be home in a few days to grab some things, and we can shed a few tears then.”

I swear I hear her sniffle which is odd because Lennox doesn’t cry. Ever. Or she’s strategic about hiding it. In the three years I’ve known her, I’ve seen her eyes tear up once, but that was when she closed the car door on her toe and nearly broke it.

“You know I’m always only a phone call away for you,” I assure her.

“Really? Because you suck with your phone, Dex. I’m shocked you answered today.”

Lennox thinks I’m flaky with my phone. On more than one occasion, I’ve heard her refer to me as a lovable goof. The truth is my phone is never not ringing. I often ignore it. Even when Grandma dismissed me from my director position three years ago, I still stayed on very part-time in an advisory role. I couldn’t completely lose touch of my future company. Not to mention, there is always some kind of familial affair I get looped into. Someone always needs a signature for something or another.

Between the lawyers, advisors, Denny, staff, and PR, my phone never stops. It’s overwhelming. I keep it on silent most of the time, which means I miss more of Lennox’s calls and messages than I mean to. That’s no good.

Maybe I should just get an extra phone and only give Lennox the number. Is that inappropriate to have a dedicated phone for a woman who’s in love with another man?

“I’ll get better with it. From now on if you call, I’ll answer, Trouble. I promise.”

She laughs. “All these years, and you still call me that. Do you remember when you gave me that nickname?”

Of course, I do. “The day we met. You want me to stop?”

“No,” she says softly. “I love nicknames. And thank you regarding the trip. I’ll figure out how to pay you back.”

“So you’ll go?”

“Yes,” she replies.

“Good.”

A light knock on the meeting room door interrupts us. I thought it was the first board member an hour early, but turns out it’s Denny. She’s in a sharp-looking gray suit today, as if she belongs in the boardroom. She certainly looks the part.

I beckon her in as I rise. “Hey,” I say in a hush to Lennox, “I have to go. Duty calls.”

I hang up in a hurry, feeling guilty. I don’t know why I get like this. So desperately trying to keep my worlds apart. Of all the people in my life, I know Denny and Lennox wouldn’t mix.

“Dex Hessler, what in the world are you doing?” She clicks her tongue as she crosses the room. “Security said you were at the office preparing for some big meeting?”

“That is accurate,” I say.

“You shouldn’t be here today. We buried your grandmother three days ago. You should be mourning in peace, honey. Why was the entire board called out?”

I point to the sealed envelope lying in the middle of the table. “I needed a distraction. I have the will. I figured a little transparency with the leadership team would help break the ice. The lawyer who was assigned as the executor is coming to walk us all through it.”

“I’m sorry…what?” Denny hisses. “Please tell me you’re not crazy enough to read your grandmother’s will to your subordinates.”

“Denny, calm down. Not my personal finances, just the matters regarding the Hessler Group.”

I flew the entire leadership team into the office on a Saturday. Grandma’s will was submitted to the probate courts almost immediately upon her death. She had a plan ready to execute like a well-oiled machine. Due to her financial status, the will was immediately sealed. No one knows what’s in it besides Grandma and the lawyers who prepared it.

I decided to open and go over the will with Hessler Group’s board of advisors and senior executive team. Well, most of it. They don’t need to know the full extent of my outrageous wealth, but I do want to go over the fate of the company.

Obviously, I have big shoes to fill. Grandma spent decades earning their trust and loyalty. And some of them probably don’t trust my competency. I’m half the age of most of them. Others don’t like the fact that while I should’ve been assuming more responsibility over the past three years, I was living a double life across the country. But unfortunately for them, Hessler Group is privately owned. There’s no voting me out. Like it or not, Grandma chose her successor. Hessler Group is now mine. And my first order of business is assuring my new team that their jobs are secure and I will break my back safeguarding the legacy my grandparents built.

Denny finds a seat on the other side of the table. “You have my number, right?” she asks as she leans back in the leather executive chair. She crosses her arms and legs in unison.

“Yes?” What a crazy question. We talk weekly.

“Then use it, Dex. I really wish you’d run these things by me first.”

I raise a brow. “Run it by you?” I ask, lowering my tone.

Denny’s eyes pop open as she gestures to the long, empty table. “I could’ve arranged a spread. Breakfast, coffee, tea, and such.”

Oh. That slipped my mind. “Is it too late?”

She glances at her watch. “How much time do we have?”

“They should be arriving in an hour.”

She winks at me as she rises. “Easy. Let me make some calls to the caterers and see what they can prepare and deliver in a hurry.”

“Can’t the cafeteria from downstairs send some donuts and coffee up?”

Our headquarters is a 350-million-dollar corporate campus. Thousands of employees spend most of their waking hours here. I specifically remember Grandma wanting to ensure that the dining facilities were top-tier and more than accommodating for all the employees. There’s a literal food court on the first floor. Surely, one of those shops can whip up something for a meeting of about twenty people.

“Dex,” Denny says with a sigh. “You called in the entire executive leadership team and the advisory board. You can’t feed millionaires cafeteria food. Goodness.” She might as well pat me on the head and pinch my cheek, the way she talks to me like I’m a child. Probably because she still sees me as a child.

“I don’t mind cafeteria food.”

Her smile is riddled with condescension. “You’re the big boss. Time to act the part. Our private caterers do a beautiful spread of salmon caviar benedict and wagyu beef tostadas.”

I don’t have the energy for an ethical debate right now. After the leadership meeting, I have to meet with PR. Then, the finance team. Not to mention, I have to sit through about ten different meetings with personal lawyers as I agree to bank transfers and start property appraisals. “Whatever you think. Let’s just make sure there’s plenty of coffee.”

“Yes, sir.” Denny flashes me an overenthusiastic smile paired with an eager thumbs-up. “Oh, um…” She glances at the sealed envelope on the table. “I know this meeting is just for board members and executives, but do you mind if I stay to hear what’s in the will? Just so I understand how to support you, or if you need…” She trails off, shoulders slumping, cheeks flushing. She suddenly looks vulnerable. Hm, was this the same woman talking about caviar for millionaires a few moments ago?

“Denny, are you asking me if you still have a job?”

She barely nods, one small bob of her head. “In not so many words.”

“You aren’t my employee. You’re family. You shouldn’t even have to ask.”

She blows out an exaggerated breath of relief. “Thank you, Dex. And what I said before—about running things by me, it was just to help you. The reason Dottie was such an amazing leader is because she knew how to delegate. You have worker bees now.” She clicks her jaw. “Let us handle the brunch spreads, okay?”

“Thanks.”

She shuffles to the door, already dialing on her phone to make arrangements.

“Denny, wait,” I say, calling her back.

“Yes?”

As I glance at the yellow, still-sealed envelope, it suddenly dawns on me why Denny doesn’t have the will. Only the court, the executor, and the named beneficiaries receive a copy. “If you don’t have a copy of the will, that means …”

“Right.” She nods. “The agreement with your grandpa still remains in place. I have no claim in any sort of Hessler affairs.” She shrugs. “We knew this.”

“I guess I always thought Grandma would’ve figured out a way around it,” I say.

Denny nods. “I think she tried. That’s good enough.” The pained look on her face makes my stomach twist. Denny’s family, too, whether or not my grandpa wanted to accept that. He never looked too kindly on people who wanted handouts. From what I understand, he saw her as more of a barnacle than anything else. He allowed her to live with Grandma and Mom as long as she was legally bound to an agreement that ensured she couldn’t claim anything from the Hesslers nor sue for any various purposes. A bizarre arrangement, but that was Grandpa’s style. He built his kingdom behind walls of legal protection.

“What about the Hessler Estate?”

“What about it?” Denny asks, looking puzzled.

“Honestly, you spent more time there than I ever did. It’s basically your childhood home. I want to sell it to you.”

Her jaw drops. “Dex…that’s…very generous, but you know I can’t afford⁠—”

“For a dollar. Or is that too steep?” I ask with a wink.

“I…um…” Tears begin to fill her eyes. “I could probably handle a dollar,” she breathes out in a whisper.

“Great. I’ll have the real estate team make arrangements. I’ll make sure we add the amount of the annual taxes to your salary, too. The property will be in much better care with you. I travel too much anyway. This is how Grandma would’ve wanted it.”

Crossing the room, she wraps her arms around my neck, her tears absorbing into my dress shirt. Leaning back, she looks me in the eye. “Sweet boy. It’s hard to believe you’re a Hessler sometimes.” She pats my cheek. “Okay, I’m off.”

With that, she’s dialing again on her phone, a little pep in her step as the new owner of a forty-million-dollar property.