Annihilate Him (Volume 1)

by Christina Ross

  “What does he want from you, Alex?”

  “My job.”

  “How did the other board members react to that meeting?”

  “Those who have been with Wenn for years—the men my father brought on board—said nothing. They just listened to Rowe and his rant. The other two board members I brought on myself—Mike Fine and Diana Crane—also were mostly silent, though they did have some questions for me, none of which were as hardcore as Rowe’s. What they want is a quick fix, but I can’t offer them one. I may have voting rights, but if the pressure builds for me to step down—and if the board demands it—I might have no choice. Rowe would go public with that information. He’d use it pressure me, and our investors would likely agree with him. With this phone, I may have made a grave mistake, Jennifer.”

  “We’ve sold over two million units. Wenn is nothing if not diversified. I’m sure you talked to the press about all of that today. So, what’s the issue here?”

  “The numbers,” he said. “It always comes down to the numbers. We’ve lost a hell of a lot of money—at least for the short term. Nobody can seem to get past that—especially Rowe. He’s out for blood.”

  “Numbers rebound. Even if he’s against you, the rest of the board knows that. Already, some are starting to call Wenn a ‘buy’ at this point. By the end of the week, this could be behind you.”

  He looked at me. “What if it isn’t?”

  “Historically, it can take time. But even the hardest hit corporations have risen to new heights just when it looked as if they’d reached new lows. Look at Apple, for God’s sake. Do you remember when they were trading at just seven dollars a share? That wasn’t so long ago. And then came the iPod. And then the iPhone. And finally the iPad. Now, they’re trading at about one-hundred-fifty dollars per share. And they’re hardly alone—many other corporations have gone through the same growing pains because they took a risk. Why isn’t this just being treated for what it is—a temporary situation?”

  “Because Rowe wants me out. I’m convinced that he does. If he goes public with his concerns about my leadership, I could be finished, regardless of my voting rights. Everything my father and I have built will fall apart. To save that legacy, I’ll need to do the right thing and step down.”

  “I’m going to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Will you do me that favor tonight?”

  “Which favor?”

  “Introduce me to Rowe. And to the rest of them.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  I took a sip of my martini, and felt a slow boil start to grow in my gut. Nobody did this to the man I loved—at least not if I could do anything about it. And if I was lucky, if I could do what I had in mind, I might be able to get in front of this and turn things around in Alex’s favor. But I’d need to be clever about it. I’d need to choose my moment, and act upon it with sheer aggression. I’d need to be at my very best if I was going to pull any of this off.

  “You’ll see,” I said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LATER THAT EVENING, after Blackwell and Bernie had had their way with my hair, makeup, jewelry, and dress, I looked into the mirror of our makeshift dressing room outside of Barbara’s office, turned my head from side to side, and smiled up at Bernie.

  “You’re a master,” I said. “How in the hell did you get rid of those dark circles beneath my eyes?”

  “I told you,” Blackwell said. “He does it with voodoo.”

  “Actually, I do it with concealer,” Bernie said. “A very good concealer.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Bernie,” Blackwell said. “It’s not worth it. Own the magic you possess. Turn away from your self-doubt.”

  He lifted his head, and then he dramatically turned away from her, which made me smile. I loved them when they were like this. I knew it was a show meant to ease my nerves, and I adored them for it.

  “You do it with spells,” she said. “With smoke and mirrors. With the supreme craft. I’ve never seen anything like it. Jennifer looked like shit when she sat down in that chair. And now look at her—a vision!”

  “Oh, thank you, Barbara,” I said.

  “Shush! You know you did.”

  “I haven’t been feeling well today.”

  “Well, at least no one will know that now. Now listen—Bernie is about to speak. I can sense it!”

  Bernie put his hand to his chest. “I can’t tell you what all of this means coming from you. I mean...look at her in that dress. And those jewels. You did that. Not her, not me—you!”

  “It was a whim. That’s all—a whim.”

  “You cast your talents so easily into the trash. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never understood the depths of my own creativity. The bursts of it I have—daily. Sometimes constantly, throughout the day. It can become too much.”

  “Then you must stare it down and own it.”

  She looked critically at me and then back at Bernie. “It is a work of art, isn’t it?”

  “It is. And now I have to wonder—do you have any limits?”

  “None that I can think of. But there must be some. I’m sure there are some. There have to be some. I just can’t think of any....”

  “Because you have none.”

  “Mon dieu. Others have whispered the same thing.”

  “Whispered? They should be shouting out your name!”

  “But people are cruel. They won’t do it because they hate me. They’re jealous of me. No one gives me credit. Ils refusent!”

  “Most people are awful. Remember the eighties? Horrible creatures. You know, out of modesty, I’ve never told you this, but I made Madonna into the person she became. And what did I get for it? Nothing. Not even a liner note.”

  “But how do mean? Was it through makeup? Hair?”

  “No,” he said. “I gave her the crucifix.”

  Blackwell put the back of her hand over her mouth. “My God.... Her iconic crucifix. And she gave you no credit for it?”

  “She didn’t—but at least her albums no longer sell.”

  “So they don’t. And it’s all because you no longer style her. You know it is!”

  “I don’t know. I can only guess....”

  “You know,” Blackwell said. “My daughters, Daniella and Alexa, return from university tomorrow. Maybe you could give them a cut and a color—and a crucifix. They each need one, but for other reasons.”

  “Anything to help.”

  “They need the demons cast out of them, Bernie. I’ve tried to do so, but I’ve failed. I love them dearly, but they can be monsters, especially when they’re together. But you—you could fix that.”

  “I can only try....”

  And at that point, I rolled my eyes at both of them. “OK, people,” I said as I pushed back the chair I was sitting in and stood before them. “Let’s end the lovefest. Mama needs to get ready for her new gig.”

  “You’re such a selfish girl,” Blackwell said.

  “I appreciate all that you and Bernie have done for me. You know that. But this verbal orgy of yours has its limits, and Alex is expecting me in ten minutes. I need you both to have a good look at me before I leave.”

  “Fine. Turn around. Let us judge.”

  Thankfully, I passed inspection.

  “Thank you, Bernie,” I said with an air kiss on each cheek so I wouldn’t ruin my makeup. “I never could do this without you. You know I’m in your debt.”

  “You should be wallowing at his feet.”

  I turned to Blackwell, but swallowed that one. “And thank you, lovey. The dress is, as you say, divoon.”

  “It’s beyond divoon. It’s one of de la Renta’s last dresses. You’ll knock them dead with it.”

  Let’s hope that I do just that.

  “I should go,” I said.

  “I agree,” Blackwell said. “Alex is waiting. So, let’s do this.”

  BLACKWELL AND I LEFT Bernie behind and walked to the wall of elevators
at the end of the hall. I was in an Oscar de la Renta red silk chiffon gown styled with a tiered, ruched skirt and detachable floral appliqué leather collar. It had a jeweled neckline, long sleeves, single-button barrel cuffs, and fabric-covered buttons. I wore thick bands of diamonds at each wrist that not only caught the light—but tossed it back. The only things on my fingers were my engagement and wedding rings.

  Blackwell and I said nothing to each other until we arrived at the bank of elevators. As usual, Alex had gotten ready on our floor—the forty-seventh floor—and he’d be waiting for me in a tux when I arrived. There was so much I had to do tonight—so many things that needed to fall neatly into place—that I was concerned about whether I could pull them all off. My only hope was that I could. I had to come through for Alex. Tank had given me a way. It would be brutal, and the question was whether I could be that brutal—especially in such a public space.

  That was the question I couldn’t answer. Rowe could take the information I had on him and laugh straight in my face. And if he did that, would I be making things worse for Alex? That’s the conflict that was coursing through me when Blackwell reached out and pressed the elevator’s down button.

  Then she looked at me.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Terrified.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “You don’t know why I’m terrified.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Let’s just say that you’ll either know by tonight, or certainly by tomorrow.”

  She furrowed her brow at me. “What are you up to?”

  “Protecting my husband. I’ll always protect him.”

  “Why are you being so evasive with me?”

  “Because, if I told you what I know—and what I planned to do with what I know—you’d likely stop me. That’s something I can’t have.”

  “You’re planning on doing something stupid?”

  “When have you known me to be stupid when it comes to business?”

  “The moment you admitted to me that you’re terrified. And that you’re planning on protecting your husband tonight. That suggests that you’re being fueled by emotion, which never is good when it comes to business. Obviously, you’re up to something, and it might not be rational because of the emotions involved. Tell me what it is.”

  “You’re just going to have to trust me. And my instincts. I’ve given this hours of thought—”

  “Hours? Just hours?”

  “That’s all the time I’ve had. I just found out.”

  “Found out what from whom?”

  “That’s the thing, Barbara,” I said. “I swore myself to secrecy, and I plan to honor that. But, at the very least, trust enough in me to believe that I know what I’m doing. If I feel that it isn’t right, I won’t do it. But if I feel differently, I’m going in for the kill.”

  The elevator doors slid open, but before I could step inside, Blackwell reached out a hand to prevent them from closing. And to prevent me from stepping inside.

  “All right,” she said. “So fine. You won’t tell me. I do trust you, Jennifer. Whatever you have on your mind, I also trust that you’ll behave responsibly with it. That’s the Jennifer Wenn I know. So, whatever it is, let’s hope that it works for you. And presumably for Alex.”

  “I think it will.”

  “I guess we’ll see. Is there anything else before I let you go?”

  “When we arrive, the press will be there,” I said.

  “The press are always there.”

  “But not with this kind of attention on Alex. I’m worried about him.”

  “Then be there for him. Grab his hand when you step out of the limousine. Kiss him on the lips and lightly brush away any lipstick that you leave behind—they’ll eat that up. They’ll feel your love for each other, which is genuine. I know that this is difficult for you, but I meant what I said earlier—regardless of what you have up your sleeve, you must go into this party with a lightness of heart. You already know that everyone will be judging you, watching you, scrutinizing you. And that is the very reason you must rise above it all, and be yourself. People will ask you questions about Wenn’s stock. Deal with those people. Toss it off. Don’t engage them. Make them believe that you don’t feel for one second that any of this has touched you or Alex. Because if that shows in your eyes or on your face, even for a moment, they’ll read into it what they want. And with this crowd? None of it will be good.”

  “The entire board is going to be there tonight.”

  “Have you met them yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then charm them.”

  I kissed her on the cheek and stepped into the elevator. When I did, she removed her hand, and looked hard at me.

  “I plan to do just that,” I said. “And then I plan to do more.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN THE ELEVATOR ARRIVED at the forty-seventh floor, it came to a gradual stop, the doors slid open, and there was Alex waiting for me just beyond them. He looked as handsome as ever casually standing with his hands in the pants pockets of his slim-fitting tux. He grinned the moment he saw me, and when he did, those dimples of his that pretty much always did me in had their way with me again.

  No one is going to touch you, I thought when I stepped out of the car and into his arms. Not if I can help it. All of the pressure you’re receiving from the board could very well end tonight.

  But what if I make it only worse?

  Not happening.

  How can I be sure?

  Because of every damning detail Tank gave me about Rowe. It’s the details that will throw him off. It’s the details that will let him know that I’m not bullshitting him. I’ll make certain that there’s no question in his mind that I’m willing to go public with what I know about him, and that I’ll ruin him if he doesn’t stop harassing Alex now.

  “You look beautiful,” Alex said.

  I kissed him lightly on the lips so as not to get my lipstick on him, and felt his stubble graze across my upper lip and chin, sending a chill through me. “And you look delicious. How are you, my love? Ready for this?”

  “I should be asking you that. Are you ready to go back to Dufort’s after what happened last time?”

  “I know that you’re concerned about that—and I’m not being flip here, Alex—but Jake Kobus is still as dead as the first time you asked me that question. Does that place hold good memories for me? No. Can I get beyond them? Yes. And I have. I don’t see any of this as an issue.”

  In fact, all I see is a potential feast.

  “I just want to make sure.”

  “And I love you for that. But all of that is behind us now. Life goes on, and this party is important for a whole host of reasons that we must seize. People need to see us out together. The press need to see us at our best and record it for the world. We need to show them that, regardless of what’s happening to Wenn’s stock right now, Alexander Wenn nevertheless goes on and meets his commitments, especially for a charitable event as large as this. So, how about you?” I asked. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  When his eyes met mine, there was steel in them. “Oh, I’m ready. On the surface, this is just a party. But who’s fooling whom? There will be all of the other layers, which I’m prepared for. What can anyone at that party do to me at this point? Ask me questions? Let them. I’m filled with answers. Today, in fact, I had a crash course in answering dozens of questions about Wenn and its future. I’m happy to inform anyone about the state of Wenn should they have the balls to ask.”

  “You know, when you get like that, I just want to tackle you.”

  “There’s nobody here—please do. When we’re finished, we can go to the party.”

  “We can’t. Bernie and Blackwell just got me whipped me into shape and I can’t mess that up—but maybe later?”

  “You’re on.”

  “Remember to introduce me to each member of the board sometime during the evening, preferably as early as possible.”
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  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Especially Stephen Rowe.”

  We stepped into the elevator, and Alex turned to me. “Why are you so fixated on Rowe?”

  I pushed the button for the lobby, and as the elevator dropped, I turned to him. “As your wife, I want to know your enemies. That’s all. I want to see what you’re up against, and I want to form opinions of my own about them.”

  TO OUR RELIEF, WHEN we left Wenn, there were no members of the media waiting for us. But there was Tank, who met us at the door as we crossed the lobby. We moved onto the sidewalk, and stepped into the limousine waiting for us at the curbside. Tank and I met eyes long before we spoke to each other, and when we did, it was casual.

  “Hi Tank,” I said.

  “Jennifer. Alex.”

  Alex slapped his best friend on the shoulder. “Sorry to keep you up so late and away from Lisa.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She’d say otherwise, but I know she’s happy to have the time to work on her new book. Tonight will give her a few hours to work out what happens next with her zombies. And if Lisa’s happy, I’m happy.”

  “I love the two of you together,” I said.

  “The feeling’s mutual,” Tank said.

  “You don’t even want to know what it takes to keep this one happy,” Alex said.

  “You’re terrible,” I said.

  “You know I’m joking. You’re one of the most tolerant, easy-going people I know.”

  Until I’m forced to become a viper. Like I will be tonight.

  I started to step into the car, but paused to face Tank. “When you see Lisa, tell her for me that I can’t wait for our lunch tomorrow. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her. I’ve been going through withdrawals.”

  “She also has. She tried to call you last night to offer support, but she only got your voicemail.”

  “I know. I tried to call her back, and I only got hers. But we each know that the other is busy, and it’s no issue between us. We’ve known each other so long that just a voice message can say that we have the other’s back.”