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Chapter 35 (Robbie)

I always thought my family's business building was an eyesore. It was a grey concrete building with a lot of chrome and windows. Aside from being responsible for the death of who knows how many birds that unknowingly flew into its reflective windows, it just didn't fit in the small rural town my family lived in. 

Miles and miles of coffee and fruits and then this modern monstrosity. 

My grandfather was proud of it. He even had this huge painting of the landscape with his building smack in the middle. I stared at it now as I waited outside his office. My grandfather didn't like company when he was thinking. He apparently needed to do a lot of thinking whenever I presented my finance plans to him.

I felt myself doze off as I leaned back on one of the waiting couches and snapped to a sitting position when I heard the office phone ring. One of our secretaries, Evi, a nervous little thing, picked it up, "Si, claro Señor ahorita se lo pregunto," she said and then holding the phone to her chest turned to look at me "Robbie, su Abuelo pregunta si estas listo."

'Of course, I was ready. What would I otherwise be doing?' I thought, bitterly.

"Gracias, Evi," I answered calmly, despite the way I was feeling,  because it wasn't her fault my grandfather was difficult. I braced myself and took a deep breath before walking into his office.

"Absolutely not," he said, as soon as I walked in and threw my plan in the trash. I almost winced. I had worked on that for hours.

I had figured out a way to raise wages while maximizing profits. Created an entire program on the computer that would run algorithms based on inflation, the current coffee markets, and the costs of living in each of the countries where we had coffee haciendas. It took some cuts and a lot of planning, and a lot of headaches.

"Your plan just showed me that we should actually be making more quarterly, so I'll give you that."

"We don't really need to—"I started.

"You know you worry so much about the worker's salary, but the simple fact is if we make more money, it would mean more expansions and more workers on our payroll," he rubbed the bridge of his nose a habit, I think, from when he wore heavy framed glasses. He looked as if he were frustrated the universe had given him such a moron for a grandchild. Quel dommage. 

He pressed his lips together, "you're too soft. I don't want you talking to our workers anymore. They all have a sob story, and because you have such a privileged life and are so easily manipulated, you feel guilt and think of stupid plans like the one in that garbage. I mean what are you trying to prove? You and that girl are no longer together. You can stop pretending to be something you are not."

I bit my tongue so hard I could feel the blood in my mouth. My grandfather wasn't someone you argued with. He never lost, even if you had a point.

"You know what's wrong with you and your sister?" He said, getting up and waving at the doorman to grab his jacket. "You're both entitled. It's not your fault that you're entitled. You didn't ask to be born with money and have everything given to you on a silver platter.

"Still, you will never know the true worth of money because you have never had to live without money. Neither did I; I'm not a hypocrite to pretend otherwise, but facts are facts.

"Now, my grandfather, he knew the true worth of money. He knew what it was like to nearly starve, lose your home, not know what was going to happen to you at the end of the week. You know he traveled across this country begging for money? He told his father he would make something of himself and was too ashamed to go home with nothing. So instead, he hopped trains and begged until he was able to figure something out.

"Every generation after him will have less and less sense of what money is. Until one of your kids or grandkids or whatever half plastic alien pops out of one of those life-size dolls your grandmother picks out for you —fucks it up. Eventually, it all falls like a deck of cards. That's the way it always goes. Every family dynasty crumbles at some point. The thing is, boy," he said, gripping my arm as the doorman fetched his cane, "I refuse to see this one fall while I am still alive."

I clenched my jaw.

"That girl you were with, the one you try so hard to impress, she knows the value of money. I don't particularly like her for this family, she has nothing to offer, but I respect her grit. Your grandmother had a lot to say about her, so it doesn't surprise me I rarely see her. Still," he groaned as he leaned his weight on his cane, "I would trust her with this business more than any of you brats. She has a mouth on her. Doesn't take shit from anyone. Chutzpah. You and your sister don't have that."

"If you liked her so much, why didn't you support our relationship?" I asked tiredly. I didn't really care for his answer because anything he would say would probably upset me.

"I didn't care for it; I was..indifferent. Like I said, your girlfriend has nothing to offer to us. I have very little time left; you are not worth my time if you have nothing to give me. Either way, she wouldn't take over this business if you offered it to her. I can see it in her eyes. She thinks she can change the world. She's not going to pour over accounting books and client portfolios. Grab one of those fruit bowls for me; I haven't eaten all morning," he said, waving his hand across the room. It was spotty and veiny and reminded me that he wasn't infallible despite his booming voice and sharp tongue.

"It's bad for your sugar levels," I said, deadpanned. Grandfather gave me a stern look and tightened the grip of his cane. I sighed and walked over to the banquet table. I had gotten whacked by that cane enough times to know not to argue.

He took all of the blueberries and grapes in the bowl and shoved them in his pocket when I came back. Then he gave me the bowl again to get rid of. I wasn't hungry, but I grabbed a banana slice and nibbled on it. My grandfather pushed the elevator button with his cane.

I decided this was a perfect opportunity, "Maria can take over too. She loves this kind of thing. You don't give her enough credit," I said. "I actually have some books here she filled out. If you want to look at them."

"Maria is a woman. Her mind isn't fit for this kind of thing. She likes hosting parties and dancing."

"Lia is a woman too," I said, confused.

"There are exceptions."

I shook my head in consternation.

"I have a goal, Robbie. Your grandfather made this a million-dollar industry; I made it a hundred-million-dollar industry; before it got to you, it was supposed to be billions. We are almost there, and I want to see it reach that before I go."

I said nothing; he had given the spiel so many times I could almost recite it. Instead, I felt myself losing focus, my vision getting bleary, his words echoing. Sometimes I daydreamed about sleeping on a warm bed.

I would sell the business in a heartbeat if I could have a soft bed and a dark room magically appear in front of me. I could almost feel the cool pillow and heavy sheets if I closed my eyes. Other times I daydreamed about Lia. My favorite thought of her was a memory of us sitting in the library by the big window. She was studying for finals, and I lay my head on her lap as the sun beamed through the open windows and warmed my face.

There was something about sleeping with the sun hitting your face and your girlfriend running her fingers through your hair that made a nap more restful than anything an 8 hour night could offer.

When the elevator doors opened, I found my grandfather staring at me with a look of contempt. I guess my lack of attention was apparent. "I know you don't care," he muttered, "all that matters to you are those tramps that throw themselves at you and those remote control toys you play with. What did I ever do to get such a disgrace of a family," He muttered, stepping out and walking ahead of me. It didn't even upset me to hear him say things like that. I learned to stop caring years ago. I only was ever bothered if he said things like that in front of Maria. She would carry it with her for days. 

 Outside I was met with my grandmother's driver opening the door to the Rolls my grandmother sent for me. Another eyesore in this otherwise humble town.

When the chauffeur opened the door, to my relief, my uncle Allan was waiting for me inside instead of my grandmother.  We were going to meet grandmother for diner before flying back home.

"Well, grandfather, I'll see you in a few weeks," I said, nodding my head in his direction; he coughed into a handkerchief and then waved his hand at me dismissively.

"Long day?" Allan asked as I sat down across from him.

"Tiring. I think I'm going to try and catch a few minutes of sleep before dinner," I said, rubbing my eyes, "why aren't we moving?" I asked after a pause.

"Teddy is joining," Allan said, his tone apologetic even before I let out a complaint.

"Come on," I said to no one in particular, maybe the universe, god, was there anyone even listening at this point? I'm pretty sure they put me on hold and forgot about me around a year ago.

"What is he doing here?" I asked tiredly.

"Your grandmother, my mother, wants him to sit in on some meetings. She thinks it would be good for him."

"My grandfather is not going to let up. His exact words are that he would rather burn this place to the ground than have Teddy sink his slimy fingers into anything. I mean, isn't it time she gives it a rest?

"She is married to the idea of him taking over the Colombian accounts. She said they are small and near his children. His wife won't let him see them until he gets a job."

"I mean his children don't want anything to do with him. Job or not and frankly, I can't blame them."

"Yes, well. You know how she is," Allan mumbled, "just be glad you don't have to babysit him."

"Say no, Allan. Don't you have a lot on your plate as it is?"

"Nah, I don't start training the girls until late November. Plus, I don't do it for her. I think your cousins had enough with his two prison sentences."

I felt guilty that I hadn't taken that into consideration; he was right. My uncle Ted had put his family through the wringer. His kids were embarrassed and mortified with his bad decisions.

My uncle Ted had tried getting clean several times now, and it would work...for a bit. Then he was back to the same old bullshit, money laundering, drugs, and who knows what else.

Feeling bad for the cousins I met a handful of times did not take away the anger and annoyance I had for my uncle after dealing with him for the past few weeks.

After dinner, we all boarded the family jet to return to New York. I was desperate to be back. I missed school and sleep. My Uncle Teddy and my grandmother were discussing something the entire trip back. I thought about listening in. Though, usually, their discussion tended to add to my workload. I was too tired, today. I leaned my chair back and closed my eyes.

Back home, everything was back to business. I partly needed to continue my research into my father's things. Maria believes his murder had to do with him wanting to sell the family's business. I don't. I know that would have been impossible. Even if he had wanted to do it. Why kill someone just because they wanted to do something when you knew they would not be able to?

I needed to clear my head and decided to work a bit on my dad's old sailboat.

The sailboat had been sitting in the south garage for years. These last few weeks, with the help of my uncle Allan, I had been finishing it up. We were at the final stages. Just painting and few more cosmetic things. I passed by the room I knew he was staying in, knocking softly on the door jamb.

His door was open and I could he was working. He had his own business to take care of.  I gestured a wave for sailboat with my arm when I saw his cellphone under his chin. He held up his hand, showing me five fingers and indicating he would meet me in five minutes.

We usually worked silently with him giving me directions every so often. My sailboat a great time for thinking and processing. Today though, all I could think about was finishing. I hadn't realized we were so close to doing so. It had taken so much effort, and finally, we were almost done. I remember my dad and me starting this with just a few pieces of wood. It seemed almost surreal.

I thought about Lia. I had promised her I would take her out once we were done. She had never been sailing before and was excited to try it. I had wanted to take her out ever since that day on the trampoline.

"Robbie?"

"What?" I asked distractedly.

"You smiling about a girl?" My uncle asked with an amused look on his face.

I thought about lying but figured I was already caught, "yeah."

"She's a special one?" he asked, working on some knots.

"She's the special one."

He laughed and shook his head. "Wow," he finally said and gave me one of those looks adults give kids when they think they're acting precocious. I got that look a lot growing up.

I shook my head, "Dad use to say when you know, you know. I know she's it for me," I said confidently. It was true. I've known it since that night on the trampoline and every single moment I've spent with her since then just made me more and more sure of it.

"Is it the girl you've been hanging around? The blonde?" he asked.

I looked down at my feet. It was hard to lie about my lack of feelings for Viviana when asked so straightforwardly.

"It's not, huh?" he said, giving me a knowing look.

"Can you keep it a secret?" I asked, and he gave me an encouraging look.

"I will, but can I ask why?"

"Grandmother is really pushing for me to date Viviana...and she's been living with us, and they want to purchase some of our hacienda in Brazil and merge it with theirs. You know how that song goes.  We're kind of just trying to get her off our back."

"Your grandmother sure knows how to overstep some lines, but why are you wasting time with that girl if you've found the one?"

I shrugged, "it's...complicated. We can't be together at the moment."

"Robbie, take it from me; nothing can ever be that complicated. The girl you like, she knows you like her?"

I sighed, "I don't know. Things have gotten so messy. I hope she does. She seems to not really get it sometimes."

"Well, if you're dating another girl, I can see why she would be confused," he said sounding somewhat disapprovingly. 

I dipped my brush in the white paint, "I have to deal with something first before I can be with her."

"Is your girl the brunette you were with last year? The one from the New Years' party?"

I nodded, and I could see understanding flood his features.

"She's cute. Not the usual I've seen you with. You tend to go out with girls that look like they should be centerfolds."

"I think she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. But she's also so much more than that. She's amazing. She's funny and kind and so fucking smart. She pushes me to be better. I feel like she makes me a whole person."

He let out a long whistle, "You are head over heels," he said, chuckling.

"I'm crazy about her. She's everything I've ever dreamt of and everything I never knew I needed."

He put down the tools he was using and looked at me, "well, you're a good-looking kid; you're smart; you have a good heart; I'm sure she feels the same way about you."

I paused, dipping the brush.

"I think she's seeing another guy."

He clicked his tongue, "ahh, he's a temp."

"The girls in my school think he's fascinating."

"The girls in your school think you are fascinating. Now I've only been to a handful of those things your sister planned, but you can see them riled up as soon you're around. Didn't you date that cheerleader before?"

"Yeah, Abby."

"Look, kid, if I looked like you when I was in high school, it would have been a very different experience. You can thank your mom for that. She was vision back in her time."

I shook my head "he's like the cliche, he even has the motorcycle. The bad boy, who walked out of some cheesy teen show," I couldn't keep the contempt out of my voice, and I hated myself for it. I always thought jealousy was ugly.

"And you're the guy in the Ferrari," he said, smacking my shoulder, making fun of my latest car.

"Lia doesn't care about that," I said, shaking my head.

"Look, guys like that they take girls like her for granted. He'll mess that up."

"Noah's not stupid. You would have to be an idiot to let her get away."

He looked at me sympathetically, "You're not an idiot. Look, I'm not saying this because you're my little brother's kid, but she's the one who would be an idiot if she doesn't see what a great kid you are."

I swept my brush along the deck. Unconvinced. Was I even that great? My family was a huge red flag. Lia was doing the smart thing if she was running away from me.

"Longer strokes, Robbie spread the paint out. The thinner the coat, the more even it will be," he said, looking over my shoulder.

"I wanted to take her on this when I was finished."

He let out a soft laugh and patted my back affectionately. I noticed he suddenly looked wistful.

"What?" I asked.

He looked startled for a second, "I hope Darla makes that pot roast for dinner."

I furrowed my eyebrows "we just ate lunch," I said, chuckling softly. I always made fun of his appetite. He was always thinking about food when he came over.

"Hey, no judging, I had a dream about that pot roast."

"Do you think uncle Ted will be there? He's been pissing me off. He comes to every dinner now and just rags on me. I can take it from grandmother and grandfather, but he really just makes me want to deck him."

He shook his head, "don't do that; just ignore him. Your uncle was the baby of the family. Your dad and I, we babied him too much. Mostly to protect him, but it was a mistake we made. He never learned to have that personal responsibility, and now he's a child in a man's body."

I nodded my head in agreement.

"Ignore him; he's just a bully. He's upset you're so young and so much more successful than he will ever be. He Barks a lot, but he doesn't have any bite. Rob sr. and I use to have to finish his fights for him."

"He keeps making me look like a moron in front of grandmother. I need her to trust me."

"To trust you for this grand plan you concocted with the girl sleeping in the spare room?"

"Yeah," I said, frustrated.

"I knew your recent change in attitude had something to do with my mother. Look, kid, your grandmother can be a handful, but if you love this girl, I would not let her stop you from enjoying your relationship. Plus, what your grandmother doesn't know won't hurt her," he said and winked at me.

"I'm going to see what Darla is cooking," he said as he finished another knot, "see if I can sneak a taste before