BANGERZ 3: ON THE RUN (2017)

1. Willpower

I'm quick to dismiss this as an over-polite attempt to dash away any perception of him as a brat. But he's looking me in the eye and sounds cordial. And offering your hand for someone to shake is the first sign of respect.

I return his firm grip. "Hello. I'm Veronica Clarke. I'm an IT specialist at your father's satellite location over at the base. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. I appreciate it, really."

He doesn't move on immediately - I guess he's used to the universe eagerly morphing to his presence, even in an awkward silence - so I casually say, "I don't think we've ever met before."

"No, I don't think so, either. The pleasure's all mine." He slides his hands into his pockets and gives me a shy smile - it's reminiscent of a schoolboy. "My dad usually didn't introduce me to his pretty lady friends. He said I flirted with them too much."

I hike an eyebrow at his misplaced stab at flattery. If only he knew that I could be his mother - hell, I might've been, if Frank and I had met earlier than we did. I'm sure I would've fallen all the same for his effortless charisma, a trait he passed on to his son in no small dose. Now, that charm only makes my stomach twist with bitterness and resentment.

"I'm not one of your father's 'lady friends,'" I correct him, my tone turning snide over the words - we both know the connotations of that label. It infuriates me that it's actually true. "We were strictly colleagues. And if you're trying to butter me up, let me remind you that I'm here to do business. So I won't be doing your bidding just because your father signed my checks, like the rest of these men will."

Jason frowns at my backlash, but only a moment later his face takes on a wounded and apologetic look. It reminds me of a puppy realizing it disobeyed its owner.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he says, furrowing his brow and looking down. He seems distracted all of a sudden. "And... I hope these guys don't do that. I can't make my dad proud if nobody's helping me do things the right way."

His vulnerability surprises me. I'm rendered speechless - a first. Before I can gather my thoughts, Frank's lawyer gets everyone's attention from the front of the room.

"If that's everyone, we can go ahead and begin," Don says, standing. He makes eye contact with all persons in the room before settling on Jason. "Jason, son, are you ready?"

Everyone's eyes land on the future of the company.

"Uh, yeah, I'm ready," Jason replies, squinting in uncertainty like we're all the sun shining too brightly in his eyes.

He nods to me, politely excusing himself from our exchange, before walking away like a robot impersonating a tough guy. I watch him as he takes his seat at the head of the table and swivels around like a mafia don.

As he sits Don covertly slips him a sealed envelope and murmurs something in his ear. He pulls his eyebrows together, confused at first, before tucking the envelope out of sight. I think I'm the only one who notices this brush pass, since I'm staring at Jason.

"Let's start this meeting by extending our deepest sympathies to Jason for the tragic loss of his father," Don prefaces, clasping his hands on the gleaming mahogany tabletop, "and assuring him that this congregation serves to guide him through his father's lasting wishes, and ensure that they are carried out thoroughly." He pauses, then slides a stack of papers to his right. "The last will and testament of Frank McCann has been notarized in the court of probate and I have been appointed as its executor. He wished for it to be reviewed one month after his passing by the Board, with his son in attendance, for the purpose of transparency. Let us begin."