by Lee Taylor
What caught Gia’s attention, in addition to his looks and his wealth, was an allusion to Fowler’s military past. Apparently, he was a hotshot Delta Force colonel who, according to his biography, had relied on his skills as a covert agent to create the high-tech features of his emerging technology. While that factor was intriguing enough, Gia’s interest shot sky-high at the next bullet point. Rounding out his extra-curricular interests was a story on how Fowler had almost singlehandedly elected a Washington State political newcomer to national office.
Like anyone with a smidgen of interest in politics, Gia had been fascinated by the Washington congressional race electing a newcomer who’d beat a four-term rival. Within minutes, Gia found a mother lode of information about the surprising election and, previously unknown to her, Fowler’s key role in the victory. Five hours later, after she’d digested what had to be every word that had been written about the breakthrough election, her never-fail instincts declared a simple but essential fact. Almost serendipitously, she’d found the person she needed to ensure that Aiden Martin Maxwell would truly become the next Second District Representative to the US Congress. At four o’clock in the morning, excited and exhausted, she’d rested her head on the top of her desk and fell into a blissful sleep. How could she not? Her political instincts were on fire as they never had been. And after all, they’d never failed her, and it now looked as if they were with her once again.
****
Logan leaned back in his chair and studied his luncheon companion. Shaking his head, he marveled. “Damn, Elliott, when we were chasing the bad guys from Iraq to Somalia, did you ever think that two inveterate rapscallions like us would be sitting in the most elite club this charming city as to offer?” He added, “In the private dining room, no less?”
Elliott Lockhart grinned and raised his wine glass to Logan. “Hell no, buddy. In that era, our usual watering holes were slimy backdoor establishments serving rotgut booze. Not to mention the proprietors hawking their tired-looking ‘daughters’ as a surefire treat, claiming that ‘she virgin!’ ”
Laughing heartily in response, Logan put up his hands. “Christ, man, do you realize how lucky we were to make it out of those hellholes alive, much less given those determined ‘fathers,’ out of those dives with our dicks intact?”
After sharing a smattering of war stories that he and Elliott had participated in, Logan silently acknowledged that their present situation was nothing short of a miracle.
Confirming that his Delta buddy was thinking along the same lines, Elliott pursed his lips together in a firm line. “But, dude, you have to admit, as crazy as we were in those days, not to mention fucking lucky as hell not to have been killed, in a million years I wouldn’t have dreamed that we would end up here.” At Logan’s agreeing nod, he added, “Understand, I always knew you would be a star. Not only because you managed to bring all of us back alive but pulled off mission after mission that the big guys said couldn’t be done.”
Ignoring Logan’s dismissive wave, Elliott glanced around the posh, windowed dining room guarded by a cadre of intent tuxedoed servers at the ready. “From the first time I met you, I knew you were exceptional.” At Logan’s frown and disapproving grunt, Elliott shook his head. “No, man, I’m serious. Hell, we all talked about it. And just so you know, even among the D-boys, who we both know are superior, you shine. But holy hell, man, none of your ‘Logan the Unconquerable’ groupies would have foreseen that you would become the tech world’s shiniest new thing.”
Again, Logan laughed and shook his head. “Damn, Elliott, I need to hang out with you more often. All I need, according to my many detractors, is a bigger head. But thanks, buddy, for the accolades—the ones I deserved and the more plentiful ones I don’t deserve.” He quipped with a sly grin, “I note that among my accomplishments you didn’t mention my ability to snare the most gorgeous woman in the room night after night.”
“And dammit, why would I?” Elliott groaned. “I still can’t believe you beat me to that stunning Iraqi princess. Jesus God, Logan, I had her on my lap and was ninety-nine percent of the way into her heart and, I might add, her spectacular body, when you walked by. Hell, all you had to do was smile that killer smile of yours and the next thing I knew I was shooting the bull with the rest of the losers. And, incidentally, damning your soul to hell.”
“Hmm, you’re right. That was an auspicious night. I gotta tell you, as multi-faceted as I consider my amorous talents to be, that beautiful woman taught me things that even the most rapacious Catholic priests haven’t learned.”
“That’s hard to believe, dude. I’ve shared more than a few lovelies with you and added at least ten new skills to my roster every damned time.” Elliott took a healthy swallow of the expensive wine they were drinking and focused on Logan. “Enough war stories. I’ve been following your stratospheric rise in the tech world. I haven’t missed a single Journal article or Wired, MIT Technology Review, Fast Company, and every other high-tech rag, all of which are calling you the next Alexis Ohanian, Jerry Yang, or even Steve Jobs. What the hell, man—how did all that happen?”
Logan was quiet for a long moment, then eyed his friend seriously. “Honest to God, Elliott, I’m not really sure. As a kid, I was the ultimate geek. The pale misfit whose parents, and teachers, I might add, were convinced would be the next school shooter. I was that isolated. I lived in the world of video games. Somewhere along the line, I started creating, writing code, and then began sharing my stuff with geeky misfits around the world. In an even weirder way, joining the Army opened a whole new world of technology to me. In my off hours when I wasn’t screwing babes with you guys and somehow keeping from getting us all killed, I met some amazing people. Several of them were from Chechnya. You may know that Chechnya is as much of a hotbed for coders as Japan and the US are for gamers. I hooked up with three of them and when we left the force, together we founded FCJ, Inc., which, to my surprise, has become successful.”
Elliott snorted at his understated conclusion. “Yeah, dude, you might say that. But tell me, are you the creative genius behind the company as the press claims?”
“I guess you might say that the original premise was mine, although more and more my partners are dealing with the creative stuff.” Logan grimaced. “I’ve learned in the last couple of years that it takes more than cutting-edge technology to be successful. Amazingly enough, it takes financial and political savvy to grow a company. Even, or maybe especially, a high-tech company.” Logan sipped on his wine and shrugged. “Given what a misfit I was as a teenager, I’m surprised, as are all the people who knew me then, that I enjoy the limelight and frankly am damned good at it.”
“I’ll tell you, Logan, there isn’t a guy who knew you in the Army who wouldn’t have predicted that whatever you chose to do as a civilian you would be a leader, in every sense of the word. And it wouldn’t surprise any of us that you shine in the limelight.”
“I’m glad that you think that, because, let me tell you, one of my most challenging roles is to protect my partners and frankly myself from all the would-be groupies that surround anyone who is successful.”
Elliott snorted. “Right, Logan. I can just imagine how challenging it is to wave off all the delectable babes who are aching for a taste of what the press is calling Mr. Fowler’s mystique. Damn, I thought you got the chicks when you were a mere Delta colonel.” He winked and added, “It appears that being a multi-millionaire only makes one more delectable than before.”
Logan laughed. “Yeah, man, I can’t complain at least on the ‘chick-front,’ but I gotta tell you being as much in demand as I am on numerous fronts is wearing. Which is one of the many reasons I invited you here today. Being frank, bringing a new industry to a city can be overwhelming, particularly when I’m building a plant that will likely change the financial dynamics of the city.” He pinned Elliott with a surprising frown. “Simply put, man, I not only need a promoter, but a manager, hell, a guard dog, if you will. I have been inundated wi
th requests from chairing the Chamber of Commerce, to funding the guy who says he is the leading candidate for mayor, to joining the City College board, which are but a few of my many invitations. Apparently, there isn’t an organization, cause, or event that doesn’t need my participation. As flattering as that is, it is also overwhelming. Obviously, I do need to know the true makers and shakers, particularly if they will help me achieve my business goals—which are significant. That’s where you come in, Elliott, if you’re up for it. We were terrific together in the hellholes. I’m confident we can be again.”
“Jesus, Logan. What kind of a lunatic would refuse to help you any way that he can? Damn, it would be a privilege, man. Not to toot my own horn, but what started out as a modest PR firm has become a leader in the state. We’re even starting to get national attention. One of our sidelines is managing significant players. Usually those who are looking at finance, business opportunities, or even politics.”
“It won’t surprise you, Elliott, that in addition to admiring you and counting you as a friend, I researched your company and decided the gods were with me. Not only can you protect me and guide me to the right opportunities in this community, but you are one of the D-boys that I admire the most.”
Elliott grinned. “Okay, you asked for it. I’ve been following your exploits for a couple of years now. In addition to being impressed as hell, I’m charmed by your many interests. Even that swampland of politics.”
Logan shrugged. “That’s not as much of a non sequitur as it might seem. Any entrepreneurial operation like mine requires that the powers that be are supportive. And nothing makes a politician more supportive than funds for their campaigns.”
“That’s interesting, Logan. I followed that House seat that you almost singlehandedly gave to that political newcomer in Washington.”
“I’m not shy to claim that I was instrumental in getting Pritchard that seat. I’m proud to say that he will be a dynamite congressman as well as a good friend to yours truly and, not incidentally, to FCJ, Inc.”
“Tell you what, Logan, the first thing I’m gonna do is protect your time. You need a dragon at the door to shoo away the myriad sycophants who are convinced that their case will die a hideous death if you don’t participate in it. Including supporting their cause, particularly financially. I happen to have just the guy you need, at least for guarding your door. Even though he is a trifle persnickety, Arnold Whetham can turn away the most determined fan. All he has to do is shower them with his officiously arrogant sneer and the would-be pest is off and running with his tail between his legs.”
Logan quirked an amused brow. “Hmm, I never thought I would be pretentious enough to require an uppity manservant. But hell, if he can help me protect my schedule, bring him on.”
“Trust me, Logan. Not even the most persistent proselytes can face down Arnold. He is that arrogant. Throw Spider-Man’s Bernard and Dr. Who’s Brewster in a blender, and the resulting mix wouldn’t be as officious as Arnold. He’ll have all those social-climbing pests, especially those after your financial support, withering on your doorstep, never to bother you again.”
****
After she had done her extensive homework and knew everything there was to know about the formidable Mr. Fowler, Gia decided that it was time to meet him. Given the empty coffers of their campaign, she admitted that it was past time. Relying on her flagrant sense of entitlement and breathtaking bravado, she clicked on her phone. As she’d learned in politics 101 at her father’s knee, she planted a winning smile on her face, certain that it would inform her voice. Punching in Fowler’s private phone number that she’d paid her friend at the cell phone company to obtain, she ignored the cool voice of the respondent and cheerfully asked to speak with Mr. Fowler. Five seconds later, she held the phone in her hand and wondered when, if ever, she’d been shut down as summarily as she’d just been. In response to her pleasant, assured request that she speak with Mr. Fowler, the answer was, “Mr. Fowler doesn’t take unsolicited calls.” followed by a distinctive click.
Chapter 8
Refusing to be intimidated by the humbling rejection of her first attempt to connect with Logan Fowler, Gia chalked it up to an overreaching guard dog. She had to admit given the fawning coverage the guy was getting from the local media, it wasn’t surprising that his household staff had likely been inundated with requests from the local hoi polloi. Breathing out a hard sigh, she acknowledged that getting through his armored coterie wouldn’t be easy. But then, she reminded herself, the most important things rarely were. She chuckled. Heck, those dragons at the door might scare off someone without her gargantuan self-confidence, a trait she conceded others might label hubris.
Watching the daunting man skillfully answer the interviewer’s barrage of technical and financial questions on the evening business channel, Gia couldn’t help but be impressed with Fowler. The guy was not only literate but had a charming sense of humor overlaid with a bite of sarcasm that made him even more appealing to Gia. After disguising her voice in the next three calls she made, two to his office and another to his home, and being summarily rebuffed, it was clear that it was going to take more than persistence to break through Fowler’s impressively armored defense system. Over the next week she documented his every move—at least those in public. Creating a calendar that she labeled BTLFW, an acronym for Breaking Through Logan Fowler’s Wall, by the end of the week she knew the man—at least as well as she could have by charting every meeting, interview, dinner, and date he had.
Admitting that she was coming close to stalking the guy, Gia acknowledged that going after as big a prize as Fowler clearly was called for extreme actions. Studying her calendar, she confirmed that Fowler was a workaholic of the first level, as well as a guy who thought extremely well of himself and was entitled to enjoy life as much as he apparently was. His attention to business wasn’t surprising. One doesn’t become as well regarded in the elite commercial echelons that he’d achieved without working one’s ass off. It was also apparent from his jam-packed schedule that despite what would-be detractors might call an overnight sensation, Fowler had actually worked damned hard to achieve his lofty status.
More intriguing to Gia were the glimpses she had of his after-hours schedule. She was pleased and not surprised that he was a fitness freak. She knew from her own habits and crazed work schedule that for overachievers like herself and apparently Fowler, either you drank too much and flamed out. Or you learned to take care of your vast appetite for hard work by hitting the gym as Fowler did every morning at 5:00 a.m. or running the mountain like she did. Probably the least surprising aspect of his crammed life was that the Hollywood Hottie, as she dubbed him, had a thing for women. If the one-week schedule she’d documented was indicative, lots of women were his watchword. It was also clear that he had a type. All one had to do was conjure up the old shibboleth that a woman could never be too rich or too thin and add in drop-dead gorgeous to describe Fowler’s coterie of women.
Refusing to be put off by the feminine attributes Fowler seemingly required, Gia reminded herself that she wasn’t after the guy to fuck her. Heck no, she just wanted him to fund her—make that fund her client. Besides, it wasn’t as though she didn’t share some of the traits that seemed to attract the superstar womanizer. She was tall enough and, while not thin like the babes Fowler clearly preferred, she rather liked her curvy body. After all, men had been openly leering at her since she threw away her training bra at age eleven and didn’t stop buying bigger and bigger bras until her boobs mercifully decided that enough was enough. While Fowler clearly had a penchant for blondes and an occasional redhead, the black Irish attributes that her shockingly handsome father had bequeathed her suited her just fine. She swiftly dismissed the elements that all his “honeys” had, neither of which she could pretend to have. Those were wealth and sophistication. However, except for their family connections, it was notable that none of his go-to girls had careers. And while her infamous father was definitely p
art of her CV, she had a full-time career that she’d created in spite of her family connections. Everything considered, she acknowledged that it was up to her looks and her persistence to get her in the door. Once in, being a brazen, mouthy, and profane Irish pol could be a distinct advantage. Particularly when dealing with a hard-nosed accomplished businessman. After all, she didn’t want him. She just wanted his money.
When it was clear that a frontal attack wasn’t going to succeed, Gia swallowed hard and turned to the important men she’d known all her life. The ones who’d funded Big Bart’s phenomenal career. She convinced herself that just because she was seeking out these particular moneyed men didn’t mean that her father was in any way helping her. Working through the impressive list, she scratched off the ignoble and well-known charlatans and others who were distinctly off-limits due to unresolved indictments for fraud, embezzlement, and the like. Of those that were left, she managed to create a short list of wealthy men who potentially knew Logan Fowler. She admitted that she was reluctant to turn to them. She specifically had not asked any of them to fund Aiden. In her heart, she knew that the only reason any of them might have contributed was because they felt sorry for her. Not only because her father was in prison but also because Aiden was a questionable candidate. To buoy her courage, she reminded herself that she wasn’t asking them for money, but in truth she knew that what she was asking for was even more valuable—access.