He's So Bad

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “This way,” Ralph says.

  The suspense in the air couldn’t be cut with a chainsaw. I follow Ralph down a dusky hallway with a floor made of black marble and texture-flecked rock walls. The floor and walls create an ambiance that’s new to me. Just for that, I take a second and nod once to pay respect to Ralph Kennedy’s mastery of creating to evoke feeling.

  At the end of the hallway, we take three big block steps down into Ralph’s study. A gigantic leather recliner near a wood-burning fireplace sets off the whole room. The rest of the furniture is dark, bulky, and very manly. I can picture Ralph in here in the evenings, smoking a cigar while he drafts plans for the next hotel to hug the shores of France’s Blue Coast. The only projects that I’d seen Ralph Kennedy billed as the architect for were European hotel projects. He’d done three projects that I’d seen, and all were for Lord & Lord Development.

  Ralph sits in his red recliner. The chair looks as if it were made especially for him. He points at a red leather sofa across from him and alongside the unlit fireplace. “Sit.”

  I sit, but I don’t get too comfortable. “Listen, thank you for seriously considering me as a—”

  “So why should I sell to you for any reason other than Jack Lord wants me to?” He sounds as if he’s asking me a question I should already know the answer to.

  I grunt facetiously. “You can sell your fucking company to whomever the hell you want. That’s an interesting table of guests you have out there.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How many of them are pursuing your fine company?”

  He smirks devilishly. “Five.”

  “How many have as much money as I have?”

  “Zero.”

  I snort.

  “Has Jack given you the financials?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you read them?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Then you are aware of my dirty little secret?”

  I nod. “You’re out of money.”

  “You want my company, Robert, and I want your money.”

  “Which is the full asking price, regardless of value?”

  “That’s the only quality that sets you apart from the others.”

  “Then you have a deal.”

  He raises a finger. “I need one more thing from you.”

  I throw up my hands. “What is it?”

  “When I started Kennedy Creative, my company was nothing more than an empty building. I was a no-name fresh out of college with a shabby apprenticeship under my belt.” He gazes off thoughtfully. “You apprenticed for Barney Arsenault.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “That’s a pretty coveted position. How the hell did you not end up in this business?”

  That question smacks me like a two-by-four across the face. I’m seeing stars and birds float around my head, and the answer is too shameful to say out loud. I watch him tap the tips of his fingers on the armrest as he waits for my answer.

  “I followed the money,” I say instead of saying I followed my best friend because I was too afraid to live without him.

  He stops tapping his fingers and narrows one eye. “If only I had done it your way. I find money to be power. Don’t you?”

  “It seems to be the way of the world. But of course, if we valued happiness just as much, it would be power too.”

  He studies me intriguingly. “Right…” He shifts in his seat. “What do you love the most, Robert?”

  The first thing that comes to mind is Vince. I screwed up that relationship with the second thing I love the most, which is pussy. I shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know.” Not only is my answer a lie, but it’s callous.

  “When you love something, you want to ensure that it’s taken care of.”

  I’m getting impatient. “Does what you’re saying have anything to do with your daughter?”

  “Three months,” he says.

  “Three months for what?”

  “I’ll give you three months to show me that you can run my operation.”

  I sniff bitterly. “And what if I say no?”

  “You won’t. I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing, Robert. You’re a former business owner. You should understand my motive.”

  I take a moment to think about it. He’s right. For all he knows, I could come in with my expensive suit, shoes, and bravado and run his business into the ground. “Why three months?”

  “I’ve made some mistakes in running my company. I’m just a damn old dog, and it kills me to learn new tricks.”

  “Modernism,” I say.

  He grins as if he’s happy to hear me say that. “Right.”

  “I can give Kennedy Creative that.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for, and a few more things.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Grace stays on as your VP.”

  I don’t have to be Einstein to figure out who Grace is. “Your daughter?”

  He nods.

  “That’s a big title.” Especially for a chick who has already rubbed me the wrong way. I shake my head. “Not as my VP.”

  Ralph laughs. “I noticed you two didn’t get off on the best foot.” He shrugs. “Fine, don’t keep her as your VP, but keep her on staff.”

  “Why?”

  “I already asked you what you love the most. I love my daughter and my company the most.”

  Asking me to keep her on board makes no fucking sense to me. “Does she want to stay on board?”

  “Very much so.”

  I shake my head. I don’t like this part of the deal. “All right, but we don’t put it in the contract. You’re just going to have to take my word that I’ll keep her on for three months.”

  “And if she proves valuable to you, then she stays?” He studies the doubt in my expression. “Grace has never received a thing from me without earning it. You’ll find her valuable, and that’s a promise.”

  I doubt I will, but I say, “Fair enough. You said a few things?”

  “You maintain the company name.”

  “Ha!” I scoot to the edge of the sofa. I certainly intended to change the company name to RT Creative. “You’re asking a lot.”

  “And so are you. I built that company. I want to be recognized for it.”

  I want to say, “But you also destroyed it,” but I think better of it. I sigh hard and sit back against the sofa. “Fine. Draft up the contract, and I’ll have my lawyer look it over.”

  “The contract is already drafted. I want it signed by morning. And I want you to start by morning.”

  I open my wallet and take out my lawyer’s business card. “Email a copy to the address on the card and my email address on the back.”

  Ralph takes the card and stands. “Then we have a deal?”

  I stand. “Yes, we do.”

  Ralph extends his hand. We shake on it.

  I started using Jack’s lawyer after he helped Vince and me dissolve that bullshit contract with Peter Oslo. He was Vince’s and my original business partner. He fronted the largest chunk of money so that we could start A&Rt Media. The lawyer’s name is Richard Darling, and despite the last name, he’s a fucking barracuda.

  When I called him before I left Ralph’s house, I asked him to figure out a way around that company name clause. On my drive back to Napa, I receive a call from him. He’s figured out a solution. I call him a genius and ask him to attach my signature to the contract and send it to Kennedy’s lawyer.

  “There’s another clause I want you to be aware of,” he says.

  “What’s that?”

  “You said that Kennedy’s going to be looking over your shoulder for three months.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he’s not. He’s added an asset increase clause.”

  “What does that entail?”

  Darling explains that Ralph Kennedy will be the legal owner for three months, and at the end of three months and one day, ownership will automatically revert to him. The clinche
r is that the bill of purchase puts the company in an optimal financial state. Ralph needs the contract signed by six tomorrow morning because in three months exactly, he will receive an interest payment in his bank account on assets he has in Kennedy Creative.

  “Shit, that’s smart of him. Is that fucking legal?”

  “It’s permissible, but we can get around it. I know you, Rob. You’re not Jack Lord. If you like this guy, then don’t have me fuck him over, because I can fuck him over. Just say the word.”

  I look at the lights from Channel Island as I cross the Bay Bridge. I don’t want to screw over Ralph even though he’s giving me a pretty good fuck-you. But I have to start thinking like Jack and Vince if I want my new business to survive.

  “We’ll just do what’s fair for both of us,” I say.

  “Got it,” Darling says. “I stick to that speed.”

  “But in three months for sure, I want the name of my company to be RT Creative.”

  “That’s doable.”

  We leave it at that for now. Once I make it to Napa, Darling has already sent the contract to Ralph’s lawyer with changes. I pack a suitcase to stay in the hotel for another week. For the next three months, I’ll only spend weekends in Napa. I’ll figure out a more permanent living situation at the end of three months.

  After I’m packed for the week, I take a few more calls from Darling. By two in the morning, Ralph’s and my lawyer have reached an agreement, and I can finally go to bed. The contracts have been signed.

  It’s A Lemon

  I wake up with pep in my step. I get dressed and hit the road before six. While driving, I receive a text message from Zoe. I quickly read it. I’m to park in the executive lot right off Embarcadero. The message makes me want to tuck my tail and run. Fuck, this is happening! There’s no turning back.

  An hour and fifteen minutes later, I pull up next to a high-end Mercedes Benz with a license plate that says “G. Kennedy.” The car is white and flawless. My instincts tell me it belongs to Grace. I check the time on my watch. I’m an hour early, and it kills me that she beat me here. I get out of the car, slam the door, and walk to the office.

  The air is cool and moist. The fog is trapped in the courtyard, and I can barely see through it. I consider slowing my steps, but before my brain can make it happen, something slams into me. I take hold of the body before whoever hit me trips over.

  “Oh shit!” a woman says.

  Although I keep her from falling, her motorcycle helmet hits the ground. I rush to pick it up, but she beats me to it.

  “I got it,” she says.

  I remember the woman from yesterday. She’s prettier up close. There’s something familiar about her. Her eyes are light blue. I try to avoid catching a glimpse of her sexy body. She’s wearing black jeans and a tight motorcycle jacket. She’s hot as hell, but she’s one of my employees. I’m turning over a new leaf, trying not to stick my dick in inappropriate places, or pussies.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “I’m fine,” she says, examining her helmet.

  “What about that?” I say, nodding at her helmet.

  “It’s fine.” She seems agitated.

  I smirk. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying—”

  “Like I said, everything’s okay, Mr. Tango.” She trots off in the opposite direction.

  I watch her until she makes a left and disappears behind the edge of a building. Perhaps my reputation has preceded me, and that’s why she got the hell away from me so fast. I’m flooded with shame. I walk, but as I move forward, I make a vow—I’m off women. I’ll consider it a pussy diet.

  When I make it to my office, Zoe is waiting at the door with a pen and pad. She’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

  “Good morning, Mr. Tango,” she says.

  I swear she hasn’t stopped smiling since yesterday. “Morning, Zoe,” I say, lacking enthusiasm. “You’re here early.”

  She does something between a giggle and a chuckle, and I try not to look annoyed by the sound. “When Ralph told me that you were taking his place this morning, I thought I should get an early start. I figured you would want to be apprised of all the active projects, so I spent the night putting together a detailed project report. If we go to your office, I can explain it all to you.” She sets her bright eyes on me.

  I’m taken aback by her efficiency. I didn’t expect it from her. “Right, and call me Robert.”

  Her smile gets larger. “Perfect, Robert. I also compiled a list of employees, including their strengths and weaknesses.”

  I tilt my head. “Did you get any sleep?”

  She looks confused.

  I smile to let her know I’m joking. “Last night, when you put all the reports together.”

  “Oh!” She laughs. “No, I didn’t compile the employee list last night. It’s information that I keep up-to-date, especially when I heard the company was going to be sold. I figured the new owner would want to know his or her employees, right?”

  She said that fast. Her tone is annoyingly high-pitched, but each word is concise.

  “Well, that’s good for your husband,” I say.

  She frowns. “My husband?”

  I look at her ring. “Aren’t you married?”

  Zoe looks at her hands. “This is my right hand.” She said that as though I would have to be a stupid ass to make that sort of mistake.

  “Right. Well, let’s get to it.”

  “Okay,” she sings and starts toward my office.

  I follow Zoe. I’m not the least bit attracted to her. Maybe that’s why I can be both repelled by her personality and impressed by her aptitude. Mavis was different. She used to wear this black skirt that was so tight it tucked right under her ass cheeks. Oh, how that skirt made me want to fuck her brains out. I can’t picture Zoe naked, which is why it behooves me to let her stick around.

  I’m surprised to see Ralph’s office is all cleaned out. His framed photos, artwork, and personal trinkets are gone. The black leather sofa and two club chairs have been moved out as well. I’m pretty sure there was a red Aztec-print area rug, and that’s gone too.

  “Ralph wants you to make the office your own,” Zoe says after reading my expression.

  I never put personal shit in any of my offices at A&Rt Media. I don’t have pictures of family to display, and if I did have them, I’m not sure I’d want to look at the same expressions every day. At least Ralph left the black quartz-top desk and leather office chair. I take his seat. Zoe holds up a finger, gesturing for me to give her a second. She walks out the door and comes back with a metal chair.

  She sits. “First order of business: furniture. Do you have a decorative style that you prefer?”

  I shrug. “Do you?”

  She loses the smile and presses a hand against her chest. “Have a style that I prefer?”

  “Yeah,” I say easily.

  “Are you asking me that because you want me to decorate your office?”

  I smirk. “Can you handle it?”

  Her eyes grow wide, and the color leaves her face. “Um, sure.” She clears her throat. “I mean, yes. Yes…” Her face goes from pale as a ghost to rosy red. You would think I asked her to get naked or something.

  “Good,” I say. “Now, I’m ready to see that list.”

  Zoe’s looking at my face, but it’s as if she’s seeing right through me.

  “Zoe?” I say.

  She snaps out of it. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. The list?”

  “Right. The list…”

  “Current projects and personnel list?”

  “Oh yes!” She opens the thick, orderly folder she’s been clinging to.

  The work starts as, one by one, we go through each project. Zoe’s knowledge about what’s going on around her is impressive. As we go down the list, I get a solid feel for how many architects are assigned to one project, how much it costs, and how long a project takes from conception to completion. I feel my temples pull and my headache grow. Ha
ndling the financials for A&Rt Media has helped me get a good idea of what the numbers should look like.

  Zoe narrows her eyes at the butt of the pen I’m tapping on the desk. “I see we have a problem.”

  I lay the pen down. “ Perhaps.” A name on the list has captured my attention. This person is working on three projects at one time, and the name looks familiar. “Who’s this guy, Carter Remington?”

  “Carter isn’t a guy,” Zoe says.

  I’m momentarily confused by her response. She’s lost the smile, and I think I see her roll her eyes a little.

  “From that I gather Carter Remington is a female, but which one?”

  Her expression is still stern. “You’ve seen her. She drives the motorcycle.”

  I conceal my surprise. I’ve been around long enough to recognize jealousy among women. I see it in Zoe, and I’m not surprised. Carter Remington is one sexy specimen. Not only that, but I’m sure I’ve met a girl named Carter who kind of resembles her. The only problem is I can’t remember where I met that Carter.

  “Is she on the personnel list?” I ask.

  Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but whatever she was about to say is halted by a knock on the glass door. Grace enters without being invited. She’s wearing a tight red skirt, and the right amount of cleavage peeks out of her white button-down shirt. She’s thin but still shapely. I try to keep my eyes on her face. I do find her physically attractive, and given the right amount of bourbon and whisky, I would probably try to fuck her. At least the old me would’ve.

  “When were you going to come over and talk to me?” Grace asks. She looks as if she has a stick up her ass.

  “About what?” I ask.

  She throws a cold and dismissive glance at Zoe. “Give us a minute.”

  Zoe shoots to her feet. “Yes. Okay.”

  I lift a hand. “Stay seated, Zoe.”

  Zoe slowly lowers herself back down. I stand so that I can exceed Grace’s height. She has good stature for a woman—I estimate that she’s 5’10”—but I have a good five inches on her. Grace looks stunned. She’s the type of woman who’s used to getting her way. I’ve never had a problem with a woman like that until now.

  “Zoe, do you keep my calendar?” I ask.

  Zoe’s eyes are wide, and her perpetual smile has faded. I can tell that she’s not used to crossing Grace. “Um, yes.”