Devil's in the Details // Complete

CH 3: BETTING ON YOU

"Thank-" I was about to say something but I found his eyes fixated on the wall behind me.

"Is that- dad?"

Sure enough, there was a photograph of me in my business formals, I'd stolen the red shirt from my roommate, standing next to the legendary Ronald Steele. Aiden took the liberty to walk in, taking the photo off the wall and running a hand over the picture, as one does with items of sentimentality. "This must have been a few years ago."

"Four years. It was taken at the Steele Grants Proposal Dinner before-"

"Before dad stepped down and I shut the program."

The Steele Grants Proposal Dinner was possibly the hardest room to get into, needing a business proposal, which was frankly the easier part, but also the interest of Ronald Steele to invest in the business someday. That was the challenge. Every year, entrepreneurs from across some of the top B-Schools would apply for the program, getting rejected for the smallest things such as one bad calculation. At the end of the first year, you could receive mentorship for three months, and at the end of your graduation, Steele Enterprises would provide the seed fund for the business in exchange for equity in the business.

"You had a- you had a proposal to present?" He tilted his head, still not fully understanding the situation that would bring someone from the Proposal Dinner to a shoebox apartment.

"I was third in place that year, due to receiving seed funds after graduation from Northwestern the next year. I dropped out, so I had to give up the dream."

"You were at Northwestern?"

"What, like it's hard?" My inner Elle Woods channelled itself, but the reference seemed to be lost on Mr Steele.

"Why did you drop out?"

"I had my reasons." I quipped, not wanting to divulge more information to a stranger.

"Do you have this written out somewhere still?" he said finally, moving back from the desk, accidentally hitting the small table.

I sidestepped him, pulling a drawer open and finding the cute purple folder I'd recorded my proposal in. I had fully intended to put it in a black, professional-looking folder... someday again. Aiden Steele just marched in out of nowhere.

"Mind you, I made it four years ago," I motioned him to sit, putting the folder in front of him, "A lot of shit is updated here," I pointed to my head, "but not the folder."

In this small apartment, Aiden looked so out of place, it was comical. He struggled to sit with his feet constricted by my small coffee/dinner table, and he took quite a while to figure out that no possible method would make this sitting arrangement easier. Having enjoyed enough of his misery, I slid out the chair from my study desk, turning it for him, "I guess this would be better for you."

He was visibly uncomfortable as he stood out of the small chair and took the other one, folder following him. I pulled a pillow from my bed above, sitting cross-legged on the table, pillow on my lap. With his suit unbuttoned, tie loosened, Aiden read through the proposal with deep interest. He asked me questions whenever there was something that concerned him and I corrected him when there was some stuff I thought of differently.

We went over the basic revenue model to the marketing, and the distribution problem that used to keep me up at night back then. Aiden took interest in what plans I was showing him, and how I had looked at all possible opportunities in this space, the only place in the entire folder that wasn't currently looking for some major revamp. At some point, I'd become tired and stiff, and my bum was sore sitting on the hard table. I'd paced around a bit before climbing up on my bed, leaning over the edge to talk to Aiden. He'd taken a liking to the table soon after, sitting on it quite elegantly, unlike me.