Fall for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Perfect for Me

Scott

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother. ― Abraham Lincoln

“What three words best describe you?” the reporter on the other end of the line asks after I disclose the projected revenues for the next quarter.

I stare at my phone and pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking. There are more than three. Committed, resilient, stubborn, impatient, quiet, reserved … I drum my fingers on top of my desk searching for the best words to use in this case.

As a businessman, I’m— “Persistent, fearless, and adaptable,” I respond promptly, checking the time. This interview is taking longer than I anticipated.

My brothers would say I’m logical, disciplined, and heartless. They have given me a few nicknames like The Tinman and Ironman.

“Adaptable?” The reporter’s voice carries a hint of curiosity. “I like that word. Would you mind expanding, Mr. Everhart?”

“Well, it’s my policy that our company adapts to the economic, social, and political changes our world experiences, just like we all try to.”

“Would you say that your philosophy is to adapt or die?”

“Isn’t it everyone’s?” I ask, not caring how she responds, only how long she takes.

I frown. Adaptation is a verb I often use when asked about the key to my success. The truth is, I have continued the legacy my father left behind, but I never say that out loud. I avoid mentioning my parents, hating the intrusive questions about their deaths. They are officially off-limits. I still remember the pity looks and sad, morbid stories printed about the orphan raising his younger siblings.

Everyone remembers September 11^th. But the date holds a different significance for me because I lost my parents that morning. I press a fist against my chest, pushing away the sad memories. Their voices, their directives, continuously play in my head. Their last words, their requests, and the need to remind me that no matter where they are, they were still right next to me.

The call came through in the middle of class. Although I barely used my cell phone, I answered it when it rang. My parents only called me when there was an emergency.

“Scott, I need you to come back home.” Mom used the calmest voice she could fathom, but I sensed the edgy tone of desperation.

Something was wrong. My stomach dropped, but I didn’t ask any questions. I rose from my seat, grabbing my things, and left the classroom.

“Talk to me, Mom. What’s going on?” I asked, rushing toward the dorm.

“Harrison will explain everything,” she said, her voice breaking.

My limbs tingled as the anxiety in her voice spiked.

“I want you to remember that we love you,” she sobbed. “I love you so much, Scotty. You’re my strong, sensitive boy. Please remember everything I taught you. I’ll be watching you from the moon, and I’ll love you forever.”

I froze, shocked by the finality of her words. My pulse slowed as she repeated the words she said when she tucked us in when we were younger. A phrase she made up from two of the books she used to read us when we were little.

“Mom, wait.” I felt sick to my stomach. “What do you mean?”

My limbs tingled. Fear rushed through me as I waited for an answer. For some reassurance that they’re going on a long trip, but I’d see them soon. Panic buzzed in my ears. Every second that passed felt like a year.

“I need you to be the glue of our family, keep everyone together.” I heard her cry, and my father murmuring in the background.

“I can’t, Chris,” she wailed, calling Dad.

“Mom?”

My father answered. “It’s time for us to leave, Scott. I’ll take care of her. You help Harrison take care of your brothers.” I could still hear Mom in the background, crying.

His voice was dry, sad… desperate. He didn’t break as he reminded me of their will. The lawyers, the safe, all the essential details.

I remained mute, trembling.

Still.

Unable to understand what’s happening.

“I love you, son,” he said. “Be the bridge. Stay strong.”

My parents used to say I was the link between my brothers. I was the one who kept the peace—or started the biggest fights.

“I love you both,” I mumbled as the line went dead.

My eldest brother, Harrison, called me almost immediately. “I have no idea what’s going on, Scott. Two planes crashed into the Towers. There’s a rumor we’re under attack. Maybe this is war.”

With a huff, I pushed away the sadness, keeping my shit together while we spoke. “Not another one of your conspiracy theories, Harrison. You need to stop making up shit.”

“This isn’t a joke. The World Trade Center is burning down.” He stopped, exhaling several times. “Raging fire is consuming the steel and glass along with all the people who are trapped. Mom and Dad included. We need you back.”

When I reached my room and opened the door, I began searching for my duffel bag.

“Dad mentioned it, and I’m already packing.” I used my cool voice. If I wanted him to treat me as his equal, I had to show him that I was strong.

“Good. Jensen is locating a car service for you. From this point forward, we are in charge. You can’t lose your shit. I’m picking up Hunter from school.”

Harrison was planning, making decisions, and pushing away all his feelings. I had to do the same and be ready for what would happen next. For a couple of hours, I allowed myself to cry. I cried until my eyes dried. Until I felt strong enough to help Harrison and care for Hunter and Fitz.

I adjusted, as everyone expected. Harry’s rage was so intense that he chose to enlist in the Army, leaving the company to me. I didn’t mind taking over, even when he had the experience. Everything I do in regards to Everhart Industries is with my brothers in mind.

“They warned me that you’d be cryptic.”

I arch an eyebrow toward the phone. Who is she talking about? I’m curious, but I resist asking. I want this interview to be over soon. I text my brother Fitz while I wait for her next question.

Scott: Do you have the contracts ready?

“I think I got most of my answers,” she sighs on the other line. “For my last question, I’ll be quick.”

“What fulfills you?” she asks. “I’m sure there’s more underneath. CEO suits you, but what makes you…you? What makes you want to be a better Scott Everhart?”

I turn to my computer screen, holding the phone with one hand and clicking the mouse with the free one until it wakes. The home screen is the snapshot of the one person who fulfills my dreams, my fantasies, and my life. She’s the one who makes me want to be a better person.

Hazel Beesley

Her long brown locks draped over her bare shoulders. Those mesmerizing hazel eyes stare at the camera, and her smile is wide and bright. Of all the unforeseeable curveballs thrown my way, she’s the biggest, brightest, and best I’ve had to confront in my entire life. She’s the most terrifying challenge and the most amazing reward. My heart aches with her absence, just like my skin withers without her touch. She makes me want to be a better Scott Everhart.

“My family.” I don’t elaborate any further. “If that’s everything, Miss Krauss, I have a plane to catch.”

“Your relationship status is on the do-not-ask list, but is it true that you’ll be merging your company with Beesley Enterprises?”

My pulse accelerates as she’s about to ask about Hazel. She’s not up for discussion. I dislike when people try to pry into my personal life, but I hate it more when they drag her along.

“Is there some insider information you’d like to share, Miss Krauss?” I counter. “The last time I checked, Grant Beesley isn’t planning on retiring.”

“Well, no, I assumed since Miss Beesley, his granddaughter, and you—”

“I think you have all you needed, Ms. Krauss,” I say through clenched teeth, keeping my temper under control. I exhale, trying to relax my shoulders as I massage my temple, calming my tone. “Turn the draft into my public relations department for review. Have a nice day.”

I punch the speaker button to end the call before she has a chance to respond and dial my younger brother’s number.

His voicemail picks up on the fourth ring. “You’ve reached Fitzhenry Everhart. You know what to do…beep.”

Fuck!

I grab my cell phone and try a couple more times. Each call does nothing but add to my anger.

“I swear … Scott”—Fitz yawns—”what do you want?”

“The contracts for the acquisition,” I say, refreshing my inbox. “You haven’t sent anything yet.”

“It’s three in the freaking morning.”

“In California,” I protest, checking my watch. I have a flight to catch in less than two hours. “I have to review and signed them before noon.”

“I have plenty of time—”

“The contracts, Fitzhenry.”

“You can’t expect me to have everything ready every time you snap your fingers.”

I exhale, rubbing my face. He’s got to be fucking kidding me. He’s not just my brother. He’s my lawyer. I should’ve sent them to Hunter.

My fingers are already typing the message before Fitz has a chance to respond.

Scott: Can you check your email? I sent you a couple of contracts. They need to be signed today. I need you to read my notes and amend them.

Hunter: As I told you the last time, we restructured the law firm. Fitz oversees the business, entertainment, and international cases. Not me.

Scott: But you are a lawyer, Everhart Industries is also yours, and I need them today.

Hunter: Do you ever sleep?

“Why the fuck are you sending them to Hunter?”

“Because the acquisition of Byrne and Murray Consultants closes tomorrow. They need the contract today by noon. You should’ve sent them over to me before you left for San Francisco,” I reprimand him.

“I was busy helping Hazel get her shit together. Do you remember Hazel?” He uses a sarcastic tone. “Not that you’ve paid much attention to her, but she moved out of New York.”

Of course, I remember her. I remember everything about her. I remember the first day I met her the summer she came to live with her grandfather Grant Beesley. He has been my mentor and a huge supporter since my parents died.

“Your point?” I feign disinterest. He doesn’t have to know that the distance between Hazel and me is killing me. Being without her causes pains in my chest so deep I didn’t know I could feel them. She’s not mine anymore.

“You’re an insensitive asshole,” he declares.

“Look, I have a company to run, a plane to catch, and you haven’t finished the one thing I asked you to do days ago.”

The sound of sheets rustling and movement comes from the other end of the line. “Fine, I’ll get them ready. Give me an hour. Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll send you a list.”

After hanging up, I email him the list of what I needed to be done ASAP. Then send another to Hunter.

Scott: The company isn’t just mine. You have to put a little more work into it, Hunter.

Turning off my laptop, I stuff it in my backpack and make sure I don’t forget anything before heading to my room. Once I check my bag, I close it and roll it into the living room. The grandfather clock next to the glass doors indicates it is fifteen minutes past six. I have a couple more minutes before the service car arrives to take me to the airport.

Fitz: I sent you the first one. Email me any changes or the signed copy.

I move toward the terrace, where my mother used to spend most mornings. The sky is dark gray, and the ground has a thin layer of snow from last night’s flurries. The place looks dead during the winter. I don’t know if Mom would approve of it if she were alive. The child in me believes that my parents’ spirits are around the house—watching me, protecting me.

“Would you be okay with what I’m about to do?” I glance around the house, asking no one—yet waiting for their approval. I believe they would. My parents always told me to fight for what I loved and never give up unless someone gets hurt by my actions.

I regret not being open to the possibilities of more when Hazel and I were together. I let her slip away from me. Now, I’m missing the best part of myself and wondering how I’ll manage to regain her trust. Worst of all, I pushed her closer to the one person who can take her away from me.

“I’m going to fight for her. Wish me luck,” I whisper before heading out the door.