Sweep Me Off My Feet

Chapter 4

Michael O’Brien wanted to fling his phone against the wall every time he got a notification because he knew what it meant: yet another post about how racist he was. This had been going on for weeks and being an O’Brien, he knew that addressing the issue was not going to help the situation. If anything, he was only going to make everything worse by saying anything. Talking about the ‘talk of the town’ was only going to validate the rumors. He hated it but this was how things worked and he had learned to let things be.

Michael was the kind of person who had been either lucky enough or unlucky enough to experience two extremely different industries: fashion and oil.

The O’Brien name was one that was quite well known in Texas being responsible for almost four of the more than ten billion barrels Texas was known to produce and at the same time, the name was just as well known in the fashion industry thanks to his uncle who had founded O’Brien Clothing. Having lived in a world that saw him see the world from two different points of view, Michael always knew what he wanted to know in life, fashion. His father was not as pleased because as far as Michael O’Brien, Senior was concerned, his son was the perfect person to take over from him. His mother was the supportive one who had encouraged her son to make his own way in the world by doing what made him happy. Perhaps it was because she had seen how talented her son was in the sketches he thought he hid so well. And after a long battle that he thought would never end, Michael finally got started on his own label, The Big O. It was not exactly easy getting into an industry looking to compete with a family member but as he soon realized, O’Brien Clothing was very different company from The Big O. The former was more popular with people in their forties to sixties while The Big O was more often than not synonymous with millennials and given how big the entertainment industry was, it was no wonder his label grew so fast.

He was not the only one who had surprised his family by venturing into something completely different from what the family business was engaged in. His best friend’s family, the James family, had long partnered with his uncle when he first started O’Brien Clothing before they formally got together to make it The James O’Brien brand. Jackson, Michael’s best friend, had also grown up knowing that he was not going to go into the family business. Unlike Michael who was always sketching, Jackson was the one who grew up with his head buried in books. Chemistry and biology were his all-time favorites. He grew up obsessing over ER and Chicago Hope, dreaming of the days he would finally be in scrubs doing rounds for his own patients. So, it was no surprise when he ended up studying medicine at Cambridge. Even though Jackson was young, he had become quite the doctor at a young age. He was in his last year of internship, but he was already making a name for himself in the American medical field. He had assisted in a high risk procedure in the field when a pile up on a highway made it almost impossible for ambulances to get through. Apart from that, the bad weather was not very conducive for a medical evacuation chopper and there was a man with a piece of shrapnel lodged in his chest. It was not the most ideal operating room, but he and another doctor on the scene made it possible. After that, every hospital was out looking for the intern with balls of steel. He already had a great residency lined up even though a number of top notch hospitals were constantly waving their offers at him.

On this particular Wednesday morning, Michael had hardy got any work done since he got to the office. Matter of fact, he had been pacing all morning. He’d had some tough times at work before, petty scandals engineered by his competition and bloggers looking for the next big click bait. But this time round, Michael was scared. He was not so sure he was going to get out of this one strong. He could not think of the other end of the tunnel at all. All he could think about was how he was going to pull off a public relations miracle to get the company from the big black hole it was headed towards.

Having been in the fashion industry for the better part of his adulthood, Michael thought he had seen it all. The messy last minute problems caused by models throwing tantrums, the accusations that he was using sweat shops in Asia, and even the s*x scandals that happened to prop up every so often. But this time, even though he had gone through hell a million times, he was not so sure he was going to get out of this one alive. It was not just models making his life a living hell. It was a mess that had him entangled in racism accusations, accusations that he could just not figure out how to get out of. Generally, there was no such thing as a good scandal, but he would have taken thirty models throwing tantrums before a catwalk any day if he could. This was the first time in a long time he had felt like his back was against the wall.

He was still pacing when he heard a soft knock on the door. He looked up and forced a smile when he saw Jackson standing at the door holding two coffees.

“Hey, the doctor’s in the house,” Jackson announced as he walked in. “And he brought coffee. A chai latte for me and a black one with sugar for the designer.”

“How is it that you survive on less than eight hours of sleep every single day after a twelve-hour shift and yet you look like you just had a glamour team work on you?” Michael asked as Jackson placed his coffee on the desk.

“I keep on telling you, the secret is how you go to sleep.” Jackson took a sip of his latte.

“How? On the left side?” Michael asked. “Are you about to give me the waking up on the wrong side speech?”

Jackson smiled as he took another long sip of his latte.

“No, dummy.” Jackson sat down and looked at Michael. “See, the normal person gets home and gets to catch up with their favorite TV shows while making sure to get enough time to check their emails.”

Michael shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s what every person does. That is kind of how the world works.”

Jackson shook his head as Michael took a sip of his coffee.

“Actually, yes, but that is the worst thing you could do. Taking the work home is the enemy of progress.”

Michael exhaled loudly and walked around to his chair.

“I disagree. Doctors cannot take their work home because that is kind of ridiculous.”

“And dangerous,” Jackson said matter of factly.