by Emma Rose
“What? Cancer patients? What?” Eddie turned his chair completely around and faced the stage.
“Bennington Pharmaceuticals, the leader in cancer drug research, proudly announces they have purchased the formula, reimbursed all of Dyes initial costs, and invested in future cooperation between Dyes and Bennington by giving Dyes Industries a 40 billion dollar contract over the next 10 years. Both Dyes Industries and Bennington will be strong for years to come.”
The room stood to applaud as Tyler, Andrew and the director of Bennington all held hands and raised them together. Eddie stood, but he wasn’t clapping.
“That little bitch fed me a lie!” Eddie yelled over the clapping to Harold. “You find Jasmine and get her in my office first thing tomorrow morning!”
“I can’t do that,” Harold shouted back, trying to talk over Steve’s thunderous applause. “After you threw her out of the office the day she got fired and told her she would “land on her feet”—no one has seen her.”
Eddie felt his blood pressure rising as Tyler approached the microphone talking about the legacy Dyes Industries would leave to the future. He threw his napkin down on his half eaten food and stood up. The last thing he saw before he marched red-faced and out of breath out of the convention was the curious smile of Jacqui Howell as she stared toward him. She raised a champagne glass in his direction, and Eddie turned to go.
***
It wasn’t “first thing,” but Harold found himself standing in front of Eddie’s desk the next morning as his boss popped three aspirin in his mouth and closed the blinds.
“Last night’s champagne make your head buzzy?” Harold offered, his smile as out of place as a rooster at a society ball. “Steve has a whopper of a hangover.”
“It wasn’t that watered down crap at the banquet,” Eddie groaned. “Just a little too much bourbon at home.”
“I see. Well, do you want to go over the day’s necessities now or have me come back later?” Harold offered, praying Eddie would go forward with the plan.
“Now is fine. What’s all that you’re holding?”
“Just a couple of things,” Harold relied helpfully. He placed three neatly typed papers on Eddie’s desk. “This is a letter from the Board of Directors summoning you to a meeting tomorrow where you will explain why you spent almost two million dollars putting Tyler out of business only to have him end up even more of a billionaire.”
“Oh, those pricks,” Eddie moaned looking at the memo.
“I think they want to fire you, Sir,” Harold added. “And this is a letter from the Department of Justice stating you are being investigated.”
“WHAT?” Eddie tossed the Board’s missive aside and looked at the Department of Justice indictment. “Where in the hell did THIS come from?”
“And finally, this is my letter of resignation, effective immediately.”
“Harold? What the fuck? You can’t quit. I need you. And, you need me.”
“Do you know why rats abandon sinking ships, Eddie?”
“No, why?” Eddie’s head was now reeling, and the bottle of Knob Creek he downed the night before had nothing to do with it.
“Because we can tell when it’s sinking.” Harold waved. “Bye, now.”
“Wait, Harold? Wait! I don’t understand. What’s going on here?”
“Oh, there is one piece of good news,” Harold added, fighting the grin spreading across his face. “I couldn’t find Jasmine, but I did locate a group of people who are more than happy to explain the Justice Department charges to you.”
Before Eddie could register what was being said, Harold opened the door. In walked Tyler and Cami, Jacqui and Winston, Steve, Maralee, Dr. Sovich, Mistress Rebecca and two uniformed police officers.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Eddie said, standing behind his desk.
“Sit down,” Mistress Rebecca asserted and Eddie plopped in his chair as if he’d seen a ghost.
“You can’t do this!” Eddie raged, holding up the notice from the Department of Justice. “None of this makes any sense. It’s all lies!”
“Oh my, I don’t think you understand. Let me help you.” Rebecca curled her voice around each word. “Let’s have a roll call. Misuse of funds?”
Tyler stepped forward, making sure Eddie saw the concerned look on his face. “Turns out all that cash you used to buy expensive wine, fly Cami to San Francisco and abandon her, and hang out with Russian mob was company money. Not good, Ed-ro.”
“Kiss my ass, Ty,” Eddie hissed.
“Insider trading,” Rebecca read the words off the letter.
“Venture capital is a tricky thing, Mr. Dunning,” Maralee said, standing on her tip-toes to be seen. “When you tried to get them to call in my loans by giving them information about me, you were actually insider trading. Bad for business.”
“Particularly bad when you consider you didn’t make a dime off the deal,” Winston Howell chipped in as everyone laughed.
“I didn’t trade anything. You don’t have any proof of any of this.”
“How’s this for proof,” Mistress Rebecca scoffed, throwing down the day-after pictures of Bridget. “We decided to settle for sexual harassment, but that looks like full-out assault to me.”
“Harassment? She wanted me to fuck her. She begged me for it. She’s a fucking slut,” Eddie spit out, watching the cops shake their heads and reach for their cuffs. Looking at Mistress Rebecca, he couldn’t quite place her. “Who are you?”
“The slut’s aunt,” Rebecca offered with an acid tongue.
“Don’t forget blackmail,” Jacqui Howell cleared her throat and spoke up. It felt better than anything she’d experienced since the day her father died. “Three counts.”
“Three counts?!” Eddie cried.
“One,” Jacqui said, throwing a picture of her college-aged self being used for his pleasure on his desk. The cops moved closer and raised their eyebrows at the beautiful young girl in the compromising position.
“Dva,” Andrew Sovich said, tossing the picture of Maralee on the stack.
“Three,” Cami spoke up, showering his desk with the pictures he had sent to Tyler.
The officers had seen enough. Wordlessly, they grabbed the embattled executive, pinned his hands behind his back and cuffed him. He tried to resist, spitting out profanity and claiming he would get away with all of it. Eventually, the burly silent cops just picked him up by the arms and dragged him to a waiting patrol car. The whole gang followed them down the stairs and watched with the rest of Dunning Research Group as Mr. Eddie Dunning was unceremoniously tossed in the back of the squad car like a sack of potatoes.
The car sped off, taking the bad man far, far away.
“You know what’s weird?” Maralee asked as they all stood in the parking lot. “The cops never read him his rights.”
“That’s because they’re not cops,” Mistress Rebecca advised. “The Board memo is real, and the Department of Justice letter is real. But those two? Not. At. All.”
“Goddess,” Maralee whispered under her breath. “What just happened?”
“They are friends of mine from Russia. They will be giving Eddie a place to stay for a while. Just long enough to miss his board meeting. I am sure they will make him feel very at home,” Sovich chuckled, knowing food, clothes or comfort would not be part of Eddie’s life for the next few days.
“Where’d you get the cop car?” Tyler asked, looking down the long empty street.
“Tyler,” Mistress Rebecca replied wryly. “You know I don’t whip and tell.”
“If anyone would like to celebrate,” Cami said, pointing to a restaurant across the street, holding Tyler’s hand. “Brunch is on us.”
***
Seven days later, Eddie actually made it from his bed to the couch without aching from head to toe. He sat alone in the big house, pouring a glass of bourbon, trying desperately to numb the pain in his body and mind. He wanted to reach out for comfort, but stared at his cellphone in disbelief.
His job, gone. His assets, frozen. His assistant, quit. His lover, left. His freedom, in jeopardy. Flipping past number after number, he finally settled on the one person he thought might give him another chance.
“Jasmine,” he cooed when she answered the cell phone he bought her. “I’ve been worried about you. I know you’ve had a run of bad luck, and I’m sorry about that. Why don’t you come keep me company today? We can talk about your future.”
“Okay, Mr. Eddie. I’ll come and rub your feet, scratch your back and talk all you want,” Jasmine said, baiting the battered man.
“You will? Really?”
“Sure,” she answered. “For a price.”
***
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THE END
***
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***
The Cover Incorporates a Stock Image That is Kindly Licensed and © CanStockPhoto / KonradBak