(Now) Brody's Perspective: Tricked

If you missed yesterday's bonus, scroll down to read that one first!  This is Brody's perspective on the recent events.
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"I have to go, Liv," I said, cupping her face in my hand.  She shut her eyes and nodded against my hand.  I got up and walked towards the door.  As I stepped out onto her front steps, I turned back and leaned against the railing.  "Is it okay if I call you?" I asked. 

"I don't know," she answered honestly. 

"I understand," I replied.  "Well, then call me if you want to, okay?"  She nodded.  "Goodbye, Liv."  

Without waiting for her reply, I walked down the steps and got into my SUV.  I sat there for a second before I turned it on, with my head back against the headrest and my eyes squeezed shut.  I didn’t blame her for being furious with the situation.  I wasn’t happy about it either.  But I was pretty sure that she didn’t understand what I had gone through to avoid having to simply up and move. To be able to have the opportunity to spend some real time thinking about whether this opportunity was worth leaving everything I had in Colorado. 

My dad’s face when I told him I wasn’t interested in the position was actually a little frightening.  He clearly wasn’t expecting that response, and since it wasn’t what he wanted, it wasn’t acceptable.  It quickly became clear to me that he wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer—at least not without serious consequences for me.

As I drove to Alex’s house, I replayed the conversation with my dad in my head.  “What do you mean ‘no, you’re not interested’?” he had snarled.  “I don’t think you understand.  I’m not offering you something, I’m giving you an order.”

“Who’s going to run Denver?” I had asked, practically. 

“You have good people.  I’m sure one of them is more than capable.  If not, I’ll send someone from here.”  He waved my concern away with practiced ease.  Dismissing concerns was, after all, what he had built his empire on.

I knew it would be suicide to mention Olivia or that I wasn't sure if I wanted to live in Miami anymore, so I scrambled for something else.  “I’m not sure your people will take very kindly to the boss’s son waltzing in and acting like he owns the place.” 

“You will own the place,” he pointed out.  “And that won’t be my problem, it’ll be yours.”

“Do you really think I’m ready to manage something of this scope?” I tried.

“You’re my son.  You’re the best there is besides me.  Stop being stupid.”

I knew that arguing this with him was an exercise in head banging futility, but I continued throwing things out, working on wearing him down.  Finally, several hours later, I had pushed his final button.

“I’m sick of this bullshit!  Are you in, or are you going back to Denver unemployed?” he roared, red faced.  I had him right where I wanted him.

“I’ll agree to a 60 day trial period,” I said calmly.  “If, after the 60 days, I don’t think it’s a good fit, I’ll go back to Denver.  Whether I go back with or without a job is up to you, but if I go back without a job, I want my non-compete nullified.  During the 60 days, I will oversee Eric’s training, and take on all the duties of the director of operations, but without the title or salary.  If I decide it’s a good fit, I’ll sign the contract and the transfer of shares and it will be effective as of 4 weeks from that day.  I’ll need the 4 weeks to get things in order in Denver and move.”

He had stared at me in shock, his mouth hanging open.  Then he laughed, a short, barking sound.  “Fine,” he said finally.  “That’s 3 months I don’t have to pay you more.”  He seemed confident that I’d decide in the 60 days to stay.  “It’s done then, let’s get something to eat.”  I shook my head, and he slammed his fist on his desk.  “What now?!”

“I want the agreement in writing,” I said. 

“You don’t trust your own father?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” I lied.  “But you taught me well.  And you taught me to never accept someone’s verbal agreement.  Always get it in writing.”  I was shamelessly pandering to him, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Fine, I’ll get the attorneys to write something up and we can sign it tomorrow,” he said dismissively.

“Now,” I said firmly.  He laughed again.

“I don’t know what the hell happened to you in Denver, but it seems you finally grew some business sense.” He picked up the phone on his desk and made a quick call, barking orders at some poor assistant in Legal.  45 minutes later, we were signing a contract.  Before signing it, I had faxed it up to one of my own attorneys in Denver, who had told me it was fine.

I shook myself out of my memories as I pulled into Alex’s driveway.  He had offered to store my car in his extra garage space for me while I was gone, and he was going to ride with me to the airport and then bring it back here.  He came out the front door, and got into the passenger seat.

“How’d it go?” he asked as I backed out of the driveway.

“As well as can be expected, I guess,” I said.  “She didn’t kick me out at least.”  He nodded. 

“It’ll be weird here without you,” Alex said after a few minutes of silence. 

“It’ll be weird for me too,” I agreed. 

When we got to the airport, I parked the car at the departures area and Alex helped me pull my luggage out of the back.  When it was all out, he gave me a quick hug.  “See you in 60 days, bro,” he said confidently. 

As I stood in line to check my luggage, my phone vibrated.  I pulled it out quickly, hoping it was Liv.  It wasn’t.  It was a text from my dad.  “Will send a car for you.”  Of course he couldn’t even be bothered to pick me up himself.  It was going to be a long 60 days...or longer.