Dane
I swipe my identification card to open the heavy glass doors of Caterva BioTech. It’s still an hour before everyone will start trickling in, a diverse group of scientists, programmers, research assistants, and other support staff. Still, I’m probably an hour behind my partners.
Avril will have arrived first, usually by six AM. Andrew wouldn’t have been far behind, but he likes to stop by his favorite coffee shop on the way in and flirt with the cute barista there. Or, at least, that’s the last I’d heard. His love life has been on the decline lately.
I’m usually not far behind them. But this morning, I’d gotten waylaid by a frisky redhead who insisted on starting my day with a fantastic fucking blow job, and who was I to say no?
I don’t bother with turning the lobby lights on. There’s enough dawn light coming through the wall of glass on the eastern side of the building to guide me to the elevators. I swipe my card again and ride up to the fifth floor, which houses the executive offices. The first floor comprises the lobby, cafeteria, and employee break room, which is outfitted with a variety of plush couches, TVs, arcade games, and nap rooms. Second and third floors are all research and development. Fourth floor houses administrative and support staff. The fifth floor is comprised of the executive offices, marketing, and additional conference rooms, including a huge board of directors’ hall with a custom-built table that seats thirty.
It’s as Silicon Valley as you can get without leaving the Nevada desert. Caterva started out in the Bay area because the biotech industries tend to cluster together in areas that are already known to be replete with scientific talent, a plethora of venture capitalists, and elite research institutions that continually accept the brightest in the world, who, in turn, produce discoveries, patents, and technologies that can be commercialized. Three-fourths of the biotech companies in the United States are concentrated in Boston, San Francisco, San Diego, New Jersey, and the Research Triangle in North Carolina.
But after Caterva got its initial funding to move forward, I wasn’t all that tied to California. Neither were Avril and Andrew once they joined me, so they were totally willing to move our operations. We looked long and hard but focused on Nevada because of cheap land, no state income taxes, and very little governmental red tape to cut through. We weren’t the first biotech company to move to the state, but we are the largest as of now.
The lights are all on when I exit out onto the fifth floor. I cut left off the elevator to head clockwise around the perimeter of the office space. My office is to the right, but it’s my habit every work morning to walk by Andrew and Avril’s offices to say hello. It’s not just a courtesy I’m bestowing; I truly love my best friends turned partners, and I like starting my day by seeing them. Call me a bit of a sap, but they’re the closest things I have to family, and I never take that for granted.
I come to Avril’s office first. I’m completely surprised to find the lights still off, meaning she hasn’t arrived yet. It’s shocking, actually. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve beaten Avril into the building since I brought her into the company fourteen years ago.
Pushing past her office, I head down to Andrew’s and I can see as I approach from the long westward hall that the lights are on in his office. Maybe Avril is in there with him.
His door is open. When I stick my head in to say good morning, I’m once again shocked not to see Avril. Andrew is behind his desk, sipping on his coffee and reading something on his computer screen.
“What’s up, man?” I say, and his head pops up. An easy smile comes to his face because that’s just the way Andrew is. Happy, chill, and hardly ever in a bad mood, I kid you not.
“Morning,” he says cheerily.
“Avril’s not in yet,” I reply, stepping fully into his office.
“Weird, right?” Andrew says, but he doesn’t seem overly bothered. “Maybe her alarm didn’t go off or something.”
“I guess,” I say with a shrug and decide not to worry about it. It’s still an hour before the main doors open, and it’s not like we have set work hours for the executives. We all work upward of eighty hours a week, so no one gives a fuck if you decide to have a lazy morning.
Except… that’s not like Avril.
Andrew doesn’t respond, but that’s only because our attention is taken by the sound of our phones chiming with simultaneous texts. I pull my phone out of my pocket while Andrew nabs his from the desk. I see it’s a text from Avril addressed to us both.
Won’t be in today.
Andrew’s gaze snaps back to me, and his eyes are immediately filled with concern when they lock with mine. Avril has never—and I mean never—just taken a day off without some type of long-term planning. She’s never taken a sick day, once working through the flu while puking at her desk. Never taken a mental-health day. Never played hooky to go catch a ball game. She’s not just the hardest-working woman I know, but the hardest-working person.
Period.
Sometimes, I think she should be the president and CEO of this company rather than just the chief operations officer, because she’s just that fucking phenomenal.
“I’m going to her house,” Andrew says as he pushes from his desk chair.
“I’m coming with you,” I say without hesitation as I turn for the door and precede him out of it.
No way in hell Avril can possibly think to send a text like that and we wouldn’t come running, although I know she’s going to be pissed when we show up on her doorstep.
♦
Avril lives in Summerlin. I know the area well because my house is also in this suburb, but mine is much larger and cost a few million more. Andrew doesn’t like a lot of space and prefers a condo in the city, but he spends ample time at my house or Avril’s nonetheless.
Andrew pulls in first, and I park right behind him. We drove separately because circumstances might require one of us to stay and one of us to get back to the office.
Avril’s house reflects her personality. Modern, sleek lines and minimalist design. Built of brown stucco and stacked stone, it looks like someone laid three levels of different-sized boxes on top of one another. Her landscaping is almost “barren” with her front yard comprised of brown gravel and a few cacti. The only nod to any real color is her swimming pool in the back, which she religiously swims in morning and night for exercise.
Given the simplicity of design, it really stands out that there are three large suitcases on the front porch, several boxes on the concrete walkway leading from the driveway to the front door, and a pile of clothing dumped near a large agave plant off to the side of the front porch.
“What the fuck?” I hear Andrew say as I step out of my car. His eyes sweep the front yard for a moment before they narrow determinedly on the front door. He pushes past me. Before he can even reach the front porch, the door opens and Avril comes out, carrying another large box through.
She sees Andrew immediately and comes to an abrupt halt.
And then she sways backward slightly, seemingly corrects herself, only to sway forward a bit. Her eyes look glassy and bloodshot. The thick crop of blond bangs that normally come down to her eyebrows is slicked back with sweat, the rest of her hair pulled into a lopsided ponytail.
“What are you two doing here?” she asks, and the aggressiveness in her tone doesn’t hide the slightest of slurs.
“Are you drunk?” Andrew returns, his face aghast at what he sees. Neither of us can remember the last time we’d seen Avril drink to excess. Was it college?
“Unfortunately, I’m sobering up,” she replies dryly and drops the box on the front porch. She then turns around and walks back inside.
Andrew and I quickly follow her in. Avril heads straight to a wet bar that separates the kitchen and living room in the open-space design. She starts pulling glasses out from underneath—wineglasses, martini glasses, beer mugs—and drops them unceremoniously into a box on the floor. Each one shatters as it meets gravity.
“What the hell is going on?” Andrew practically growls as he goes to Avril. He catches her wrist before she can toss another glass into the box.
Even through the glaze in her eyes, I can see a tinge of fire starting to flicker. Still, her voice is somewhat controlled as she says, “I’m cleaning out some stuff.”
“Looks like it is most of Jamie’s stuff you’re cleaning out,” I observe as I stroll over to the box on the floor and look inside at the shattered glass. It’s Jamie’s personal bar set he brought when he moved in with Avril almost two years ago. He likes to entertain and have all his friends over whenever possible.
“Pretty much,” she says with a snicker that in no way sounds amused, but rather bitter. She reaches for another glass, but Andrew deftly takes it from her hand. After sitting it on the bar, he grabs onto her elbow and steers her into the living room. Right to the couch where he gives her a tiny push on her chest to make her fall onto the cushion. Avril immediately slumps back with a sigh, and that tells me she has no fight in her.
I move to stand on the other side of the coffee table opposite of her while Andrew sits down beside her. He lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. “Talk to us, Av. What’s going on?”
Her head drops, which conceals her eyes, and she sighs. Twirling her fingers around one another while holding her hands on her lap, she says, “I caught Jamie cheating on me last night.”
“Fucking prick,” I mutter as I round the coffee table to sit on the edge, my knees just inches from Avril’s.
Andrew’s face goes red with fury. “How did you find out?”
Avril raises her face, and her gaze looks a little sharper. “I wasn’t due in from my trip to San Diego until today, but I managed to get out early. When I got in last night, he was right there in our bed.”
“Cunt,” I mutter, because prick is too nice.
“He was with a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one if she was even that old,” Avril says softly, gaze dropping back down. “All smooth skin and bendable limbs.”
“I’ll kill him,” Andrew vows, his hand going from Avril’s shoulder to curve around the back of her neck.
He pulls her into his side, and she capitulates. I envy the physical affection Andrew and Avril have always been able to show each other over the years a little bit. It’s totally platonic, but there’s something intimate about it. It’s caused some sparks of jealousy that he has just a slightly better connection with her than I do in that respect, but I try not to let it bother me too much. I’m simply incapable of that type of outward affection, although I love Avril deeply. Just as I love Andrew.
Sadly, having been raised for years inside the foster system, bouncing from house to house with families that didn’t really want me but just the money they got for taking care of me, I was never taught how to hug.
Or cuddle.
Or have whispered conversations with a confidant.
Those things are painful for me. I know because I’ve tried to do them, and it’s just not something that falls within my natural abilities. So, I try to compensate by letting my two best friends and business partners know how much I like them, respect them, and depend on them. I don’t hold myself back when we’re together or alone, having told them all my secrets about the way I grew up long before we all graduated from Berkley. I’m better with simple words of affirmation than I am with touching or sentiments.
And because they know me so well, they didn’t try to hug it out with me when they heard some of the worst of it. Andrew merely gave me a light punch on the shoulder and said, “Made you stronger, dude.”
Avril smiled at me in that understanding way and said, “Don’t let your past define you. But also, only be true to yourself.”
Those words were cryptic and at odds, but I’ve followed that advice as best I could over the years.
“Where’s Jamie now?” Andrew asks.
“I made him leave last night, of course,” Avril says. “Told him I’d have his stuff ready to pick up by the end of the day. When I closed the door behind him, I hit a few bottles of wine while I packed.”
“So, you’re just throwing it all out the front door?” I ask with a chuckle. For the first time, I see Avril’s lips curve up slightly.
“I didn’t tell Jamie what condition his stuff would be in,” she tells me with a sly smirk. “Just that it would be ready for him to pick up.”
Then she shrugs. “I was really drunk when I started packing his stuff up and carting it outside. You two are sort of downers, and now I’m losing my buzz. I probably need another drink.”
“No, you don’t,” Andrew and I say at the same time.
Avril purses her lips and whines. “Not fair.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” Andrew says as he pushes off the couch. “Then Dane and I are going to stay and help you finish. Then you’re coming into the office so you’re not here when he picks up his stuff.”
“There’s not much more to do,” Avril says as she stands with a regretful sigh. “Just his musical instruments upstairs.”
Jamie Priest considers himself a proficient musician and plays in a local band with a bunch of other stuffy white-collars who think it makes them marginally cooler. Avril had been dating Jamie for over three years. It’s the first time since I’ve known her that she’s been in love. In college, she seemed too awkward, and then she was just too devoted to Caterva to bother to date seriously. But in the last few years, she’s settled into her own. When she was introduced to the talented plastic surgeon by a mutual friend, it didn’t take her long to fall.
Personally, though, I sensed something wasn’t right because otherwise that fucker would have proposed to her by now. I’m sorry… but if you date a woman like Avril for three years and live with her for two of that without moving it to the next stage? Well, someone’s not fully invested in the relationship.
Avril would have said yes in a heartbeat because she’s more than once lamented her advancing age—although I roll my eyes at that since she’s only thirty-seven and that’s by no means decrepit—and that she wants to have children at some point before her ovaries dry up. Jamie knew she’d say yes, too, so it’s telling he never asked.
“You good with staying here?” I ask Andrew as I follow him and Avril into her kitchen. “I’ll head back into the office and cover.”
“Sure, man,” Andrew says lightly as he starts to work her state-of-the-art espresso maker. Another pinprick of envy hits me that Andrew is far more at home in Avril’s house than I am, and it’s just sort of naturally assumed he’ll be the one to take care of her.
But I don’t let that consume too many of my thoughts because I can be her white knight in a different way. It won’t be visible to her or Andrew, but it will make me feel fucking fantastic.
I intend to be here when Jamie comes to pick up his stuff, and he’s going to regret I’m the one he’s dealing with.