“I know, I’m—shit, sorry. I was dealing with a situation at home, and the time got away from me.” There’s a bang, and then a crack like something broke.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Creaking sounds, then another bang. The background noise changes, like maybe he’s gone outside.
“Yes. I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “My life is slightly chaotic at the moment.”
“Hm,” is my response. I say nothing else, and it’s quiet on the line until he says, “You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?”
“I never made up my mind,” I admit.
“So, we can still have breakfast in the morning?”
He sounds hopeful.
“Do you have an addressfor me?”
He sighs. “Yes, but you won’t be in the car when they pick me up, will you?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”
“It’s…” He sighs again. “Where I live is embarrassing.”
Well, there it is. I’m so proud of him for admitting that, for not lying or hiding it from me. There is so much potential here. I can’t possibly deny myself this opportunity.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Cassius.”
“Okay, Cassius, if it will make you feel better, I will not be in the car when it picks you up tomorrow morning at eight. But I will say this: do not get used to calling the shots. If you agree to this, what I say goes.”
“Yes, sir.”
I smile as I pick up my pen.
“Give me the address.”
I scribble it on the pad when he rambles it off, then I tell him I’ll see him in the morning, and he should try his best to have a good day and get a good night’s sleep. I email the address to Oliver and ask him to have a car there at eight sharp, and to bring the occupant here for a meeting.
I always bring potential slaves here to chat and possibly go over the contract. Doing it in public is no good, and I don’t want them in my home if they can’t be trusted. Posing it as a potential client or employee has always worked.
At least here, there is a conference room and security, if needed. Which reminds me… I forgot to ask Cassius one very important thing.
I stare at my cell, wondering if I should call him back. I always make sure they’re prepared to sign an NDA before we get into any details. I can’t have them panicking and running off to tell the media what the CEO of Stone Timeworks is into. It would be the end of my career and ruin the lives of thousands. Because of my line of work, I have to be careful. My lawyer has told me more than once that I shouldn’t go to Dark Rose at all, but outside cameras are not allowed in there. Their security system is all outfitted with Phantom tech, which when researching, I found was so good that I decided to use it for myself—both in business and personal. On top of all that, in my position, it’s not common for me to be recognized. I’m not all over the media or doing public meetings. I’m not an actor. There is a lot I handle, and I attend a lot of meetings, travel, etc. But it’s extremely doubtful any of those men I deal with would be at Dark Rose. And if they were—we’d both know enough to keep our mouths shut.
I stand and stretch, turning to look out the window and down to the Chicago River that’s, as usual, bustling with people. Chicago is a city that’s always on the go, and despite it being chaotic at times, it’s where I thrive best. It was the perfect place to relocate the company when I took it over.
Texas was terrible. Houston was awful. Though, perhaps it's the childhood memories that ruin the place for me. Still, themoment my father passed, and this company came to me, I moved. I’d been planning it all along, making sure that it would work. I’d put everything into place and then all that was left was waiting for him to croak.
It was a Sunday morning, the perfect start to the week, when I got the news.
I made arrangements immediately, had the wake and buried him within a few days. I paid the lawyers extra to push everything through so I could sign, and then I found the best realtor I could to get me the best spot in Chicago.
They did not fail.
I didn’t own the building when we first moved here, but I own it now. Other businesses rent floors, as we don’t need that much space. Only a few floors are what’s necessary for us. A lot of our products are made overseas while the rest are still made in Texas. Most of our sales come from Europe, so there is a small Timeworks location there as well. I’d considered moving base there entirely, but I wasn’t ready to leave American soil yet. Though, it feels like a better choice with each day that passes.
Our main shipping port is still through Houston, so I go down there roughly once a year to see how things are running—show my face and let them know I’m still around and am willing to help with anything they need.