Page 66 of When We Were Younger

"Alright," she says, looking up at me from over her iPad. "I've got you booked on a flight to San Francisco leaving tomorrow morning. It'll give you plenty of time to grab some clothes and get your dog settled with your parents. Then, Dean will drive you to the airport before he reports back to the training facility in Knoxville for practice. You'll fly to the city and check into the room I booked for you at the Fairmont. Hopefully, you'll go to my house and Dottie girl will realize what a fucking idiot she is and tell you she loves you too and then you two can go back to the hotel and have dreamy makeup sex all night long and then you'll live happily ever after."

"And if she doesn't want to live happily ever after with me?" I ask, and Kira rolls her eyes.

"Not a likely scenario. But if so, at least the Fairmont is a nice place to eat your feelings. I suggest ordering the truffle fries and limoncello tiramisu from room service to stuff your face while you cry."

Somehow, I don't think fried potatoes and a bastardized Italian dessert will be enough of a consolation prize if this all goes south, but I appreciate Kira's consideration regardless.

"I feel bad asking, Kira, but there's one other thing that I was wondering if you could help me with," I say, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. I took what my dad said yesterday to heart, to stop worrying about how he'll be able to retire if I don't take over Hudson Family Construction for him. I haven't been able to get it out of my head, regardless. And if I do get Dorothea back, I want to have something to offer her.

"What is it?" Kira asks, and I give her the quick version of the conversation I had with Dad, and the idea that's been brewing in my brain ever since. She listens intently, and when I'm finished, she doesn't say a word. Just picks up her phone and starts tapping away. A moment passes, and then her phone dings with an incoming message.

"Alright, quick shift of plans, Hudson. You've got a meeting with a friend of mine tomorrow after your flight gets in." She eyes me up and down, then wrinkles her nose at me. "Any chance you own a suit?"

I don't,in fact, own a suit. I haven't found myself in need of one since prom night. Evidently, the man I'm meeting with is very casual despite an affinity to always be dressed in an expensive suit, but the bar I agreed to meet him at has a strict dress code that I need to adhere to. Thankfully, Jay McKenna and I have similar builds, and he let me borrow a pair of slacks and a sports coat.

Kira spent the night helping me iron out some details in the makeshift business plan I'd crafted in my head. She might be loud and scary, but she's truly brilliant, and she knows San Francisco, which was integral in some of the finer points of what I want to present to a potential investor. I make a mental note to buy her one hell of a Christmas present, as well as dedicate a speech to the wonder that is Kira McKenna at my wedding.

If, of course, Dorothea ever decides to marry me. I'll have to wait a while to find out, because even if she does agree to be with me, I won't be proposing until I know for sure that she won't run.

I land in San Francisco and change into Jay's suit in an airport bathroom. When a car with no driver pulled up to drive me into the city, I realized I'm truly not in Kansas (or Tennessee, as it were) anymore. The self-driving car drops me in front of an unassuming white building with a blank black awningnestled on a steep hill somewhere in downtown San Francisco. I knock on the door, because even though it's a bar, this place isn't open to the public. A small slat at eye level slides to the left, just like out of a movie, and the person on the other side looks at me through the small hole.

"Uhh, Stephen Hudson. I'm here for a meeting." I say, though it comes out sounding more like a question. The eyes stare, unblinking.

"Right," I clear my throat, then say the password Kira gave me before I left. "The banshee haunts the library."

My cheeks turn red with embarrassment. Who comes up with this shit?

Fucking rich people, man.

The password does the trick, and the door swings open, revealing a woman dressed in all white on the other side.

"Follow me, Mr. Hudson."

I step inside, and the door seems to slam shut behind me all on its own. It's dark as hell in here, with only some janky, Great Depression-looking sconces emitting orange light on the walls. I fear if I look up, the ceiling might be lined with human skulls. This place gives off real Murder House vibes. I follow her down the hall and briefly wonder if this was all some sort of ruse to sell me into a human trafficking ring when she pushes through a wall.

On the other side is another dimly lit room, though this one is brighter than the hallway of death. There are a few rich, mahogany leather booths lining three of thewalls, the third occupied by a dark, wood bar. There are only a few people here, including the host I'm following and the middle-aged man behind the bar pouring from an unmarked label of dark liquid.

The woman leads me to the far corner where a man sits, leaning against the back of the booth, one arm slung over the edge and the other lifting a tumbler of liquor to his mouth.

"Mr. Adler, Mr. Hudson for you," the host says as we approach. The man smiles as he stands.

"Lydia, how many times do I have to tell you, call me James," he says, and even in the dark room, I can see Lydia's blush. I give the man–James, I guess–a once over. He's tall as hell, at least a few inches taller than me. His black suit and black shirt look like they almost mold to his skin, and he flashes a million-dollar smile when he reaches his hand out for me to shake.

As I shake his hand, I start to understand Lydia’s blush. This guy is a charmer for sure. Throw a few more of those mega-watt smiles my way and I could see myself developing a crush on him.

"Have a seat," he says after we've shaken hands. I slide into the booth across from him, and a man in all white–the uniform here, I suppose–comes over and takes our drink order. Bourbon for me and some kind of scotch I've never heard of before my counterpart.

"Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Adler," I say as the server retreats.

"It's James, please. And I have to be honest, I didn't have much of a choice. I don't typically take meetingsthis time of the year, especially not with strangers. But, as I'm sure you know, Kira McKenna is not someone a person can easily deny," he smirks, and I relax a little. I know as well as he does that he doesn't want to be here, but at least he can joke about it.

"Yeah, I grew up with Kira, and I don't think she's ever heard the word no. If she has, she sure as hell never listened."

James chuckles and shakes his head as the server returns with our drinks. James holds up his glass, and we clink with acheersbefore each taking a sip.

"Well James, I don't want to waste your time, so allow me to get right into it. My father owns a midsize construction company in Fox Hole, Tennessee. Over the last thirty years, the company has completed projects all over Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia, and parts of North Carolina. Residential, commercial, some industrial. I've worked with him over the last five years as essentially a business partner, in every role, both on sites and in the office.

I have two bachelor’s degrees from the University of Knoxville in Construction Management and Sociology, and I'm at a point in my life and my career where I'm ready to retire my father and expand the business. I want to move beyond land development deals in the south and focus Hudson Family Construction on the bigger picture. Urban planning; developing underutilized resources in cities like Los Angeles and here in San Francisco to create affordable housing and grocery stores in food deserts. Shelter for the unhoused populations,medical centers, and other resources for underprivileged communities. I have a wealth of knowledge and a passion for the work."

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