Page 42 of The Betrayer
My eyes finally opened to the ceiling of the apartment. The bright lights of Shanghai reflected on the white paint, the colors of the enormous LED lights and signs a shifting rainbow.
The company had put me up in a penthouse far up on one of the towering buildings that gave Shanghai its unique skyline. The apartment was clean, modern, entirely uncluttered, and almost too perfect to feel completely comfortable. But it came with one hell of a view. From the enormous picture windows, I could see the city like an ocean of skyscrapers and lights as far as the eye could see, including the pink tower with its domes like enormous replicas of the Times Square New Years’ ball.
I had to take a deep breath before I levered myself up. It took far too much effort—how did my body feel like it weighed a thousand pounds or like I was eighty instead of thirty-two? Too much stress and not enough sleep or exercise.
Night had settled long before, and my stomach was full of yet another business dinner with many courses and more alcohol. As I stared out at the bustling city before me, so much like New York and at the same time so different, I felt restless.
I thought about it too long, I would end up eating junk on the couch. I undressed, throwing my suit haphazardly on the bed, and pulled on the workout gear that had been languishing, unused, in the closet. My running shoes had a thin layer of dust on them, something I didn’t think would be possible in this immaculate apartment.
The elevator ride down to the sub-floor gym took an uncomfortably long time—I wasn’t sure I would get used to that if I moved here permanently. Only a handful of other people were working out when I got down there, and I found an unused treadmill away from everyone. If I didn’t beat my time and felt sluggish, my split wasn’t nearly as bad as I would have imagined after my hiatus from the single form of exercise and movement I had hung on to after starting as COO.
I felt better after my run but still slightly off-kilter. Instead of turning toward the elevator, I headed out the door.
The night was cold, colder than I would have imagined. The chill air felt good against my skin, cooling the sweat on my skin from the exercise.
Even this late in the evening, the number of people on the street was incredible. I was glad I hadn’t tried to run outside because there was no way I could have gotten above a slight jog, and I would have had to be dodging like an obstacle course.
I kept walking, letting the sights and sounds of the city wash over me, the languages and dialects, the traffic and lights, the smells of food and city and water. I hadn’t been outside my apartment without my fixer or translator, and the feeling of being on my own was as liberating as it was alarming. It reminded me of my wandering days, of that sense of being entirely lost in a new place and a different language where you knew very little. That knowledge had always given me a sense of being small, of understanding I was only one among many. I had felt more myself there than I ever had in my life, away from the world of private schools and summer homes on the coast and orchestrated lives.
At least until I had become COO. Then I had felt myself, and there I had found my place.
In the comfort of the known, I had grown unused to situations and unknown places and the discomfort that came with them. It was an oddly empowering feeling to be on shaky ground where you knew nothing and no one. I didn’t know my way around without a driver and my fixer and translator, and though I had a phone in my pocket, I wasn’t sure I could find my way back to the tower with my apartment.
The idea was anxiety-inducing, but in a far better way than the everyday anxiety I dealt with. This kind was thrilling and pushed my feet onward.
At one point, I bought food from a food stand. Despite the large dinner, the smells wafting from the open-sided tent were too enticing to resist. I managed to get what I wanted by pointing and gesturing, not even sure I had given the guy behind the grill, face shiny with sweat from the steam and flames, the correct amount of money. Whatever it was, the food was good, and I kept walking afterward.
My feet finally took me to the waterfront with the Western-style buildings lit up at night with floodlights. I remembered my fixer pointing it out as an important historical and tourist area. I wandered my way through the dense crowd standing around and taking pictures until I reached the railing that looked out over the water where the river met the bay met the sea.
New York was in your face, but everything shimmered in Shanghai. Lights glittered as reflections in the dark water. The city was so high-tech, so incredibly new, so incredibly clean, and busy. The energy was almost an electric buzz all around me as people buffeted me from all sides.
The air and the people at the sights helped clear my head.
The culture shock wasn’t so bad out here, nor was the loneliness. Out here, I could also separate the loneliness from the frustration of the trip. There were days when I didn’t know if the investors would be able to see me or if the company we were acquiring would allow me in. From what everyone said, it was part of the game, and I had to accept that things worked differently.
It meant I spent a lot of time in the apartment, alone and thinking, which was never a good thing. My mind and my imagination were overactive, which was great for business but not so great for time spent alone. What I didn’t know was whether I was lonely here because it was an unknown territory or whether I was this lonely at home, but I had enough to distract me that I didn’t notice it.
How could I be lonely when I had Angela at home?
She and I had called a handful of times, but between our work schedules and the time difference, finding any meaningful time to talk had been nearly impossible. I’d spoken to Tara for more than my girlfriend.
I had even spoken to my father and the other executives more than Angela, although thankfully, they all had glowing reports. This was my first extended time away as COO, but from what they told me, I had left things in great shape and the business running like a machine. It was a good feeling to know, just as I had hoped, I had created a model that ran efficiently by itself.
From what the executive team said, my father had been in every day, working hard, learning my ropes, and doing well.
To say I’d been anxious about what I would find when I returned was an understatement. I knew my father couldn’t destroy in two weeks what I had built. At least, I hoped not. But it seemed like not only was he not actively destroying anything, but he was engaging with it.
It was a satisfying feeling that my father was truly seeing what I had done for the first time. Maybe now he would see how important my job was, how hard I had worked, and how invaluable I was to the company. He would finally understand precisely what I did and how much I did for our company.
Now it was up to me to bring everything home—my father seemed to be excelling at my job. Now I had to knock it out of the park doing his job.
As I wandered my way back to my apartment, I reflected on the fact that maybe my father wasn’t quite the man I had come to think of him as over the past few years. If he was walking in my shoes back in New York, I was walking in his here in Shanghai, and it wasn’t easy.
In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’d done for the business.
Maybe I was starting to see what he did for the company from a different point of view. He might have fallen into the role of wining and dining like he had been born into it, but I couldn’t deny he was probably good at what he did, too. This entire trip showed me that winning over investors wasn’t just about partying or fancy dinners. Not in the least.
And maybe, just maybe, I could see that my father wasn’t the screw-up I had thought.
