Page 12 of Mr. Hotshot CEO
“Thank you,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster, which is quite a lot.
“I hacked into your doctor’s computer system and got your latest STD test results to prove to Brian that you’re clean.”
I stare at my brother. He’s a complete nut bar.
How did I end up with a brother like Vince? I’m a normal, hardworking guy, aren’t I? How did my parents manage to produce both meandhim?
“Look,” I say. “I appreciate the thought. Except I don’t, because this is crazy. I’m not going to an orgy so I can get my phone back.”
I wonder if that sentence has ever been uttered in the history of the world before.
I doubt it.
Of course, I could get a new phone, but that’s a hassle. I doubt my brother will insist on holding onto my phone forthatlong, though it appears I won’t be getting it back tonight.
“Fine,” Vince says. “Suit yourself. Now, there’s a perfectly good orgy going on in there, and since my brother refuses to go, I’ll take his place. You can have the car.”
And with that, he exits the vehicle.
* * *
Idon’t feel like goinghome. I’ve already spent far too many hours at my penthouse today, so I ask the driver to take me to the independent coffee shop on Dundas, where I occasionally go in the middle of the workday if I need to clear my head.
I’m not sure whether Chris’s Coffee Shop is actually owned by a guy named Chris, or whether it’s just called that so they can have pictures of Chris Evans, Chris Pratt, Chris Hemsworth, and Chris Pine on the walls, plus a picture of Christopher Plummer on the door. I think it’s silly, but they make good espresso and the second floor is always quiet.
I get my drink and proceed upstairs. There are only two other people here, and they’re both wearing earphones and reading textbooks. I look out the window at the busy city and feel separate from it all.
I also feel guilty, like there are a ton of things I’m supposed to be doing instead of this. Except thanks to my family, I’m on a break from work, so this is exactly what I should be doing.
Okay, I concede they have a point. Just a teeny-tiny point. My parents value hard work, so if they think I’m working too much, there’s probably something to that.
It’s troubling that I feel lost without my phone and am struggling to spend a single day without work. Plus, I’ve been getting headaches regularly in the past few months, which is unusual for me, and my neck and shoulders almost always feel tense. I’ve been tired lately, too, and even when I’m exhausted, I often have trouble sleeping. Sometimes my heart beats quickly for no reason, and come to think of it, I’ve had a bunch of stomachaches as well.
Perhaps telling my family that I’m “perfectly healthy” was a bit of an exaggeration.
I’m sure if I looked up my symptoms online, I’d discover that I could have one of many awful diseases that would result in my imminent death. But I went to the doctor last month for a check-up and he said everything was fine, though it wouldn’t hurt to decrease the stress in my life.
I look down at my hand, which is shaking on my espresso cup.
I’ve always worked hard, but that’s been particularly true since I became CEO—a position I wasn’t quite ready for—after my father’s heart attack.
Hmm. Maybe I need more than four days off work. Maybe I should do exactly what my family wants. I have a company to run, but I can’t run it if I burn out—which is starting to seem like a possibility—and there are competent people who can run things in my absence for two weeks. When I return to work, I’ll be refreshed and ready to work hard, fourteen hours a day. I’ll just try to avoid spending too much time with Vince, since he has a tendency to increase my blood pressure.
Yes, as frightening as it is to be away from the office for so long, I’m going to do this.
I take a pen out of my pocket and grab a napkin so I can start a list. Lists are always good. I like lists.
How to be unproductive in the next two weeks.
How to have fun so I don’t go into the office out of desperation.
I cross these out almost as soon as I write them. The titles sound stupid.
Then it hits me thathaving funis something I never think about. If I’m honest, it’s not something I’ve thought a great deal about since the tender age of five. I’m the responsible one. I think about how to do things better and more efficiently. I think about how to make money. How to stay in shape. How to eat healthy when I’m traveling for business. How to domore.
But not how to simply relax and enjoy myself.
This isn’t something you’re supposed to have trouble doing. In my defense, Vince probably has enough fun for the both of us, but I can’t let him blow me out of the water in this department.
