Boss Undercover: Part 3 (Boss Undercover Series)

by J. S. Badham

  “Well, my fellas, great night to get laid.” Zack laughed as he slapped Kyle on the back as he put the car into motion. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Kyle? You look like you had a dick slapped across your face. Cheer up, would you?”

  “Zack,” Jared warned from the backseat of the car.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Jeez, I’m starting to think you haven’t had sex for quite some while. Let’s just get to this club. So, step on it, Kyle,” Zack said, motioning his hand forward as he adjusted his seatbelt more comfortably.

  As soon as they arrived, Kyle was cautious to get out of the car. It just wasn’t Zack, and nor could his friend vouch that he was his old self when this wasn’t even him. Heck, he was wild into affairs, but he wasn’t entirely irresponsible. Not even the bouncer at the door was convinced his friend was sober enough to enter, but with more encouraging—particularly cash, that problem was solved.

  Inside, neon pink and green lights lit the complex space up, and bass music blasted from each stereo. Some exclusive DJ was there, remixing classic tunes that thundered plenty of people to the centre of the dance floor or unmindfully dancing at the bar. Kyle, who normally wasn’t so uptight, already had four females grind their bodies up against him as he passed through, but his voice of concern was for Zack.

  “Jared, I’ll get us some drinks. You get Zack to the VIP section without hassle,” Kyle instructed loudly as he challenged the volume of the music.

  Jared nodded. “Okay.” His figure disappeared through the crowd as silhouettes mashed into shapes from the dozen or so dancing that barricaded the entrance to the upstairs area.

  With time, it took him a while to order three drinks, instructed to be delivered upstairs from the clatter of people surrounding the bar. He could have just ordered upstairs without effort, but anxiety was biting at the best of Kyle, and he just couldn’t face seeing his friend odd.

  Once upstairs, he took notice to how Jared was nowhere to be seen, and Zack was preoccupied with the woman he had situated on his lap with his hands squeezing her ass. Kyle shook his head, somewhat angered. Part of him felt part to blame for all of this, and much of him wanted to own up by ensuring that Zack didn’t do something he regretted. His friend was a fool if he shut Claire out.

  “Zack,” Kyle shouted over the music, looking around and noticing a group of women laughing by the balcony taking glimpses at Kyle. Any other time, he would have gladly made himself known, but his friend needed his help. “Zack, can we talk?”

  Zack smirked, stroking his thumb across the woman’s cheek as he leaned in to kiss her lips and greedily kneaded his hands upon her body as he brought her in.

  “Zack.” He heard his name and complied after only a second.

  “What?” he yelled over the music as he allowed the woman to scoot off his lap.

  “Can we talk?”

  Kyle pressed forward, ushering the woman to him as he quickly swiped a couple of notes into her hand, discreet enough that he hoped Zack didn’t see. “Go,” he ordered her and watched as she sashayed away, soon forgetting her previous encounter as she whooped to the music. Probably barely sober.

  “Where’s she going?” Zack grimaced, the neon lights flashing across his shirt and face, revealing the cover of sweat against his forehead.

  “Zack, you shouldn’t be here,” Kyle called over, dismissing his question. “You should be at home. Claire—”

  “Don’t you fucking bring this up!” Zack yelled back, his voice only just barely being heard over the loud, vibrant music deafening their eardrums. “Now, stop being such a bore. I’m gonna go find that girl.” He stood up, stalking out the booth and pushing across the slim walkway to the stairs, but was stopped when Kyle held his shirt.

  “No, I can’t let you,” Kyle said firmly, not at all the slightest comfortable with the way it suddenly became more tense between the pair. At the side of him, he could hear Jared returning, warning Zack the same.

  “You can’t say what I can and can’t do,” Zack threatened, glaring at Kyle.

  “You can’t, Zack. You’ll regret it,” Jared inputted.

  “Shut up!” Zack barked, shoving Kyle’s hand off him. “Fuck off the both of you.” Pushing on ahead, he was stopped when Kyle grabbed onto his shoulder. Without thinking, Zack turned ferociously around and threw a punch into Kyle’s face.

  The rest went down in a blur, masked by the pumping music and hidden lights.

  Zack whimpered as he turned onto his side but restrained from doing so as he felt his right hand clamped down on something. Opening his eyes, he registered that he was back home, and it had still not shifted to another day as seen by the night sky.

  “You’re awake then?” he heard someone say. It was Kyle holding a bag of peas to his nose as he sat on the edge of the sofa on the end by Zack’s feet. Jared was also here too, flicking through the television with the remote.

  “What happened?” Zack asked, dazed by the situation.

  “You threw a punch; that’s what you did. We had to restrain you and get you out of there before you made any more damage. Oh, and we’re banned from there now. So…” Kyle shrugged his shoulders as he pressed the bag harder onto his nose. “You fell asleep, and well, you’re awake now.”

  “I punched you? Man, I’m sorry,” Zack muttered, lifting himself up. “I honestly don’t even know what overcame me. Damn, what was I even thinking? I was going to sleep with that woman, wasn’t I?”

  Kyle nodded quietly.

  “Shit.”

  “But you didn’t, so you can stop stressing. As for this situation with Claire, it will work its way out. Just don’t fuck it up anymore,” Kyle commented as he pulled the bag away from his red, sore nose. Patches of blood could be seen around the rim of his nostril where the impact must have broken through the skin.

  “I know,” Zack sighed, slumping his shoulders. “Hey, thanks, both of you. I’m going crazy and you guys are here for me. I appreciate it. Sorry about your nose again, Kyle,” he apologised.

  “It’s fine.” Kyle waved off.

  “Y’know,” Zack began as he rubbed the back of his head, “I thought I was being my old self today. I felt oddly happy and careless. I saw her today…and I totally blew her off.”

  Jared switched off the television. “Zack, that wasn’t you, brother. All of this should be proof that you and Claire can’t be separate. You’re in this too deep to call it quits.” He stood up and headed on over towards his brother. “It will all work out eventually…just stay out of trouble,” he advised then patted Zack on the shoulder. “I’m off. C’mon, Kyle.”

  Zack nodded, thanking them both as he wondered what on earth had consumed him today. He couldn’t even remember what was going on for the half of it.

  And Claire? He just didn’t know how to feel. Part of him was still angered by last weekend’s affair. Yet today, as much as he could remember, she was begging for his attention. Was it out of love or a sly act? He just didn’t know. Claire had really hurt him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There had to be a solution, a logical and apparent cause; Zack must have hit his head and suffered an episode of temporary amnesia. Claire shook her head as she flipped the chicken over in the frying pan; that of course was not the answer as she wholeheartedly knew. No, Zack was heartbroken. At this rate, it just seemed to be a never-ending cycle. He barked, then she barked, and nothing was mending the broken pieces together. Did that mean something bad? Claire just didn’t have a clue anymore.

  As for yesterday, her encounter with Zack threw her into an ocean of loss for the rest of that day, meaning she hadn’t managed a lot of work. It was a struggle to also keep a brave face on, for one, and if she hadn’t already been getting threatening emails from Graves about her tardy progress, she might have broken down in front of the whole office. Luckily, she’d held herself together until she got back home and then broke into a whirlwind of emotion without a crowd of spectators.

  And Wednesday? It had been pretty
much the same. Although at least she managed one sentence. That was some progress. If anything, that ticked one goal off her piling list of things to do.

  Now, a meal for one seemed more appetising than the day she had.

  Darren was one of her dilemmas. After work, she’d decided to head on over, fixated on the hope that he changed his mind, but that soon deflated when she saw the same cardboard boxes stacked up in the corners of the corridor.

  “How much more you got to pack?” Claire asked, biting her tongue as she handed him a tower of CDs.

  “Well,” he contemplated, taking the CDs out of her hands as he placed them into a small box, marked on the left side with permanent black marker as “BEDROOM.” “I’m leaving at the end of this week, so I’d say I have until the end of this week. I’m leaving all the stuff I’m still using to last, and I have the rented van coming tomorrow, so…” Darren clicked his tongue at the roof of his mouth. “I can move all the heavy stuff into that, and then, well, that leaves me with not a lot to pack. So all is on target.”

  Claire nodded, absentmindedly staring at the red blanket upon his bed, recalling the countless times they’d watched midnight movies or straight-out bitched about Monica at work. It was also that spot where Claire vomited when she witnessed that horrific video Darren had shown her on his phone. She wasn’t going to go into detail with that.

  “And you?” Darren asked, dragging her back to reality.

  She blinked several times.

  “Have you done what I said?”

  Claire shrugged her shoulders as she flopped down onto the edge of his bed. “I have…I mean, I’ve tried.”

  “Like?”

  “I sent him voicemails, and…I saw him yesterday,” she mumbled, hoping that was enough to drift Darren from interrogating her further. But this was Darren she was talking about, and this man had no means of not being persistent.

  “And? Everything cool now?” Darren questioned, dropping the odd bits and bobs into the box.

  “No,” Claire replied, short with her answer. “It isn’t.”

  Darren sighed, shoving the box further onto his dresser as he then walked over and sat down beside her. “It’s not? God damn it, Claire. I don’t want to leave you depressed or heartbroken. Maybe I should just forget moving to London. You need me more—”

  “No, I’m not having you do that. You’ve been selfless enough. I’ll be fine. Honestly,” she broke in, shaking her head as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s trivial. I’ve been through enough break-ups, and this one is no different.”

  “No, this is different, sweetie. Because in this one, you actually love the guy,” Darren objected as he squeezed her knee. “Look, it will work out in the end. Just don’t give up.”

  “I know, I know. I just don’t what else to do,” Claire said as she exhaled and leant her head against his shoulder.

  Darren patted her clasped hands. “You’ve just got to be persistent, baby. That’s what you’ve got to do.”

  ***

  Zack

  Zack sat uncomfortably, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced towards the clock. His crisp white shirt felt like a second skin, and there was the need to constantly continue shifting his feet as a distraction in response to the anxiety creeping against him.

  This was it.

  All this hassle came down to this. The chair adjacent to him would entail him to look eye to eye with his father as he either fell to his knees in shame or stood on two feet with victory. This was his time to completely banish his father’s control for once and for all.

  Olivia entered the conference room, several key members of staff following. They quickly headed to take their seats around the oval-shaped table before finally the man of the hour entered. Elijah Benson. His almighty father. The man had no idea why he was sent here. No idea at all.

  Grey suit, broad shoulders, tall manner, and highlights of silver through his once-prominent black hair. Everyone felt the atmosphere change; it didn’t matter if the old man was retired. He just had that effect on everyone.

  “Zack.” He nodded, confidently sitting down in the chair as all attention latched onto the interaction between father and son. And there was that signature smile that both he and Jared had inherited that could light up a room in a matter of seconds.

  Around the room, there was also the few key members of the board who had been invited, the exact men who were once strung with loyalty to his father but nothing money couldn’t buy. No wonder they refused eye contact with the very man they’d betrayed.

  And now this had to begin.

  There was just no telling what his father thought. His expression was too neutral and relaxed. Even his hands rested comfortably clasped together ahead on the table in front of him. No trace of anger, frustration, or happiness; the man was completely unreadable.

  Towards the end of the meeting, there were a few light discussions occurring between peers, yet Zack was anticipating his father’s response. What was he going to say? Would he just sigh in disappointment? Not breathe a word and just stand up and leave? There were many options, many scenarios, but nothing could be compared to his real reaction.

  Zack could see a shift physically in his father’s demeanour, his back straightened as he sat up. On cue, Zack clipped his fingers, signalling Olivia to usher the rest of the members from the room to leave his old man and himself to whatever discussion was about to occur.

  “Well?” Zack muttered after the last person left the room.

  “Well, indeed,” Elijah reiterated, exhaling lightly as he picked up the glass of water in front of him. “What would you like me to say, Zack?” He cleared his throat after taking a light sip of the water as if he were tasting expensive wine.

  “What’s your response? Don’t go all quiet on me, Dad. Speak what you feel. You normally like to pitch a fork into everything so quickly. So…” Zack prodded, his eyebrows lifting up. “C’mon. Don’t be shy.” If the patronising tone wasn’t enough to tick his father off, then his father was biting down on his tongue really hard.

  Elijah laughed without an ounce of humour. “Oh, son. What does it matter if I speak my mind? You’ve gone ahead with this monstrosity anyway, and I told you there would be consequences. It’s just a disappointment, that is all—”

  “And there’s the father I know. But I don’t think I’ll have to worry about your threats,” Zack interrupted, knowing he was very lucky that he wasn’t a stranger to have broken into his father’s point otherwise his head might have been delivered on a silver service platter.

  “Zack, let’s be real. I can easily take back control, and you know I am a man of my word on consequences,” he replied, shifting his chair back.

  Zack smirked.

  The smirk on Zack’s face vexed his father who with some attempt, humorously said. “You’ll make the end to this company, Zack. Who is going to want to work with someone who hasn’t got the balls to continue a capitalist affair? They don’t want green nature hippies fucking them over.”

  Zack’s smile drew into a sly nature, something that surprised his father further. “That’s where you’re wrong, Father. I know you were behind those projects failing. I’ve been undercover within the company, and I found out about all those missing funds and manipulations,” Zack began, confidently brushing his fingers across the glass surface of the table. “And! Oh! Just this morning, I’ve received good news.” He laughed lightly, eyeing his father from the corner of his eye. “Yes,” he continued, staring him straight in the face. “Not even that damn magazine has come out yet, and yet…Japanese innovators want partnership with Benson’s Corporations.” He folded his arms as he casually leant against the table. “To support in innovating and by best means improving sustainable living as well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They must have liked what they saw. You can thank Olivia.” He pointed to his secretary, who stood in the corner of the room, shyly glancing away. “She helped promote. Fished in some interest, and well…” He rocked gently forth and back
. “I’ve got a shareholder. I wouldn’t call that an end to business, would you? And that means I’ll probably make more profit that you ever have.”

  Elijah was lost for words. He had nothing to be afraid of. And now, this was more victorious seeing his father curl into a ball, baffled and completely weakened.

  “Dad.” Zack frowned playfully. “You’re not mad, are you? I know I must be very incompetent.” Sarcasm dripped through his tone. “And I know I have no balls to do what you have so dexterously achieved.” Zack sighed. “Oh, well.” He pushed himself off the table. “I’ll just show you out. Give my love to Mom when you get back.”

  His father had still not spoken a word, too stunned and stubborn to fumble a word of praise. He could only move his feet, barely heading for the door as his son followed behind. It was only when he reached the door did he turn and manage an audible sentence. “I cannot understand…”

  “Never mind,” Zack replied, spurring on his father to continue walking.

  “How? I…” Pausing at the door of the lift, Zack dismissed his father’s wild trance and pressed the button to call for the single, metal shaft. “Son, it’s—”

  “Disappointing, I know.” He sighed, ushering his father into the lift as he stood confidently where he was. “Whatever will I do? Have a nice day, Dad.” Smiling as the doors shut, he left his confused father wondering what in hell had occurred.

  “Couldn’t have gone better, I’d say. Don’t you think?” Zack said to Olivia, who handed him his phone and belongings.

  “Yes, sir, shall I—”

  “Olivia, you have done more than enough. Have the day off. Thank you for your great contribution towards my one-time dilemma,” he interrupted, squeezing her shoulder with his free hand as an act of encouragement and gratitude.

  Now, he had only had a few more problems to solve.