Boardroom Sins

by J. Margot Critch

  With two hands, she gripped the coffee mug and felt warmed by the heat of the sun pouring in through the huge glass panels that looked out onto the pool deck. With a wistful smile, she thought of Saturday mornings as a kid. When she’d wake up, and her father would already be at the table, reading the newspaper, but when he saw her, he would put it down and they would catch each other up on their lives. It was always her favorite part of the week. When it was just her and her father.

  The peel of her cell phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. She picked it up and answered it, not recognizing the number on the caller ID. “Hello?”

  “Rebecca?” the woman on the other end asked. “It’s Alana.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Hey, how are you?”

  “I’m great. I’m just calling to see if you’d like to have that brunch date. I’m free this afternoon, and if I don’t get out of the house today, I’ll just go to work. And I need a day off.”

  Rebecca thought about the stack of work she had to tackle that day, but she ignored it. She needed a day off, as well. “Yeah, sure. I’d love to.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll meet you in an hour.”

  * * *

  Brett let himself into his parents’ home. It was the house where he’d grown up, and while it was palatial, his parents still made it feel like a cozy home. While many of his well-off friends had been given free rein as teenagers, able to come and go, do as they pleased, Brett’s parents had not given him such freedom. It was something he’d resented when he was younger, but he knew now that it just showed their mettle as parents. They’d remained interested in his life and goals—and problems—and it was partially the reason behind his rebellion. He’d been a stupid kid, craving the independence his friends had had, so he’d started sneaking out late, going to unsupervised parties in neighboring mansions, experimenting with substances. Kids with money could get their hands on anything. And he had. He’d gotten better and better at hiding his drug use, until it had exploded, and then his parents had been instrumental in his rehabilitation.

  But no matter what problems he’d had or the trouble he’d caused, he’d never been a source of shame for his parents. They’d never shown him anything but unconditional love and support. That support was also what drove him to succeed on his own terms, to not want to succeed because of his surname or on anyone’s terms but his own. It was why he was so determined to never lose or take his eyes off the prize. It drove his need to win at any cost.

  He yawned, not having slept much; his Rebecca-caused insomnia might be the end of him. He was certain his eyes hadn’t closed before the sun came up. His body still rigid with tension, anger, desire and a plethora of other emotions he couldn’t identify. He walked into the kitchen. His father sat alone at the table, reading the paper, eating from a plate of scrambled eggs that Elaine, their incredible, long-serving housekeeper—more like a member of the family—had no doubt prepared before leaving for the day. Brett waved to his father, who looked up briefly, before he stopped at the stove and fixed himself a plate, which he piled high with bacon, eggs, toast and golden hash browns before going back for more bacon and coffee.

  Brett took a seat across from his father, who looked up and put down the paper. Even though the man had every technological gadget on the market, he still opted to get his news from the morning paper. “Where’s Mom?” Brett asked, buttering his slice of toast.

  “She had a catering crisis for the benefit she’s hosting for the animal shelter next weekend. You know how it goes. How important those animals are to her.”

  Brett laughed. “More important than us,” he said, the joke that he and his father had shared for years. “Maybe this year she won’t come home with an elderly rescue to let it live out its remaining years in comfort with you in your office.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. Those geriatric animals are like her kryptonite. I don’t know why she doesn’t just stop with those functions. All the work that goes into them. She should be relaxing.”

  “And how exactly would you react if she told you to retire?” Brett asked, an eyebrow raised.

  He looked at Brett over the rim of his glasses. “That’s irrelevant.”

  Brett laughed and scooped a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  “I was beginning to think I’d be eating alone. So what kept you?”

  The fact that he hadn’t been able to sleep for hours after leaving Rebecca’s place had kept him. “Uh,” he stammered. “I overslept this morning. I had kind of a long night.”

  “I know exactly what that means,” his father responded. “Who’s the woman?”

  “What makes you think—” Brett stopped when his father shot him a pointed look. The man knew him too well. He smiled. He could never pull one over on his dad. “Old friend from college.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Getting back together, reminiscing, looking back on the good old days.”

  Brett laughed. “That wasn’t exactly the type of relationship Rebecca and I had.”

  “Rebecca Daniels?”

  “Yeah.”

  His father nodded in approval. “I had no idea that you were acquainted. She’s back to run Daniels International, from what I hear. Her reputation precedes her. She’s good, smart. Tough but nice. Are you seeing each other?”

  The things he’d done with her the night before certainly hadn’t been nice. Road head may have moved her over to the naughty column. But even less nice was the way they’d left things. Again. “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re seeing each other...”

  His father watched him with shrewd eyes. “You say you overslept, but you look tired.”

  “Well, maybe I didn’t get that much sleep,” he admitted. “I was late getting home.”

  “And how was it?” his father asked casually, sipping from his coffee mug.

  Brett almost choked on his eggs, and his eyes widened.

  His father, catching on to his unintentional faux pas, coughed, as well. “I meant your night. In general. Without any gory details, please.”

  “It was fine.”

  “Especially seeing as how you’re trying to take over her company.”

  Brett blew out a frustrated breath and drank from his coffee. Not much happened in Las Vegas without Garrett Collins hearing about it. “How’d you know about that?”

  His father smirked but said nothing. Brett rolled his eyes, knowing that the business community in Las Vegas was small, and the old stodgy men who ruled it gossiped more than a little old ladies’ sewing circle. “Tell me what’s really behind your move on Daniels.”

  “It’s just part of a move to dismantle our competition. It’s survival of the fittest in this world. We want to be the only real estate game in town. It happens all the time. You’ve done it yourself.”

  “Yes, but never involving the company of a woman I’m sleeping with.” His father put his elbows on the table and leaned closer to Brett. “So care to share why you’re doing it?”

  “It’s business,” Brett snapped. “Jesus, why do I have to answer for it at every turn?”

  “I’m only asking because so far, you and Alex have been very deliberate in your actions, only acting when you’re sure it’s the right move. But this takeover is extremely sudden and a very serious matter. So I’m curious. Why now? Why so sudden?”

  Brett thought about sticking with the it’s business mantra he’d been saying all along, but he knew he wouldn’t fool his father. He looked down at his plate and picked at his food.

  “Brett?”

  “We’ve always had this back-and-forth animosity, a competition, but we really connected, too, you know? Physically,” he added. “Rebecca does something to me, and she’s a distraction I don’t need.” Suddenly, Brett found himself telling his dad everything—about his relationship with Rebecca in college, about the night he’d told her about his pa
st when so few people knew. About the way she made him lose focus and feel out of control. It felt good to let it out, and his dad listened without judgment. “If her company folds, then there’s no reason for her to stick around. At this point, we’re so far deep into this that only one of us can survive.” It was true, even if he wanted to take it all back, he couldn’t now—a complete turnaround of his actions would raise questions about his conviction and reflect badly on his reputation in the business world. “And now Alex is skeptical of me and my motives, as he should be. I just don’t know what to do.” Brett hated admitting to anyone, especially his father, his lack of control.

  “Pride’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it?” Garrett commented. “I could see how hard it was for you to say that. You always have such a firm grasp on your life, so methodical and in control. And I know that’s because of what happened when you were younger.”

  His addiction.

  “You told her about your problems with drugs?”

  “Yeah. We were hanging out one night, and the floodgates gave way, and I told her everything. She shared some things with me, as well. At that moment, I’d felt closer to anyone than I ever had. I didn’t feel like so much of a screwup.”

  His father nodded. “You’re a good man, Brett. Sure, you had a rocky start, but your mother and I—and all your friends and partners—are proud of you. I might have helped you guys out and given you a small edge very early in your career. But everything you have now is because you worked your ass off for it. Don’t forget that.”

  Brett nodded, not sure how much he believed him. “Thanks. But until we’re the biggest name in town, I won’t be able to prove it.”

  They sat in silence, each of them stewing over the conversation.

  But then the poignant silence was over. “I’m guessing you’re close to being a majority stakeholder of Daniels International?” his father asked, thankfully bringing the conversation back to a topic that they were both comfortable with—the business.

  “We’re at over twenty percent. But Rebecca has gotten to many shareholders and they’re reluctant to sell. We bought up a lot of the odds and ends, and only a few remain. With the exception of what’s owned by Collins/Fischer, there’s also a substantial amount owned by a company called RMD. Have you ever heard of them?”

  His father thought about it. “No. Never heard of them. Maybe they’re not local.”

  “Maybe,” Brett muttered. His mind was no longer on brunch or conversing with his father. His thoughts ran back to Rebecca, RMD and just what the hell he was doing.

  * * *

  Rebecca sipped from her mimosa, grateful for the cool beverage as she sat on the terrace of the restaurant that Alana had suggested. The sun shone down, and even though it was before noon, the temperature was in the high eighties, so she sipped again, willing her internal temperature to cool. The drink was delicious, refreshing, strong, definitely made with the good stuff. She checked her watch and saw that Alana was a couple of minutes late, and Rebecca feared she would finish her drink and have to order another one before Alana got there. She’d given herself extra time to get there when she’d realized she’d have to cab back to Thalia and pick up her car before driving here.

  Around her, people happily brunched. The restaurant was packed and there was a lineup for an outside table on the terrace, but all she’d had to do was mention that she was meeting Alana and she was seated at a somehow-empty table. It seemed that The Brotherhood’s influence was well-known.

  She’d nearly drained her champagne flute as Alana bustled in. She was polished, gorgeous, glossed and well dressed. Alana always had an immaculate sense of style, and Rebecca had never seen her anything less than put together. But that morning, she was flustered, hurried.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, taking a seat opposite Rebecca. “Traffic was a nightmare. I don’t know what I was thinking, taking the Strip. It was typically awful. I think I used my middle finger so many times I sprained it.”

  “I’ve been gone for years, and even I know you don’t drive on the Strip,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it,” Rebecca said, finishing the mimosa. She felt the alcohol hit her empty stomach. “Although, we’d better order some food before I have another one of these on an empty stomach.”

  “Good idea,” Alana said, gesturing to the waiter for a drink. “I’m glad we could get together.”

  “Me, too. I’ve been here for six months, but I’m pretty sure I’ve only managed to spend time at home and at the office.”

  “Don’t forget the club. Di Terrestres,” Alana said with a raised, sharply manicured eyebrow. “And your dinner last night. Except I heard from my guys that you and Brett didn’t exactly stay for dinner.”

  Rebecca opened her mouth, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t even know how to respond. “Oh, look! Our drinks are here!” Rebecca said instead, as the server brought them glasses on a silver serving tray.

  They toasted and drank. And Rebecca looked across the table at her old friend. “Tell me about your life. What’s new with you? Are you seeing anyone?”

  Alana laughed. “No. Dating hasn’t been going well. A lot of guys are afraid of a woman who can take care of herself. There hasn’t been anyone in my life for a while, outside of some casual flings. I tried the online apps and all that. But I deleted them all after the last guy I matched with told me he believed that the female orgasm was a myth. So, you can see how well that went.”

  “You’re kidding!” Rebecca guffawed. “I’ll bet that poor fool has never pleasured a woman in his life.”

  “Hand to God. He said it something like, the feminists made it up to make men feel bad about themselves.”

  “Tell me you didn’t give him a chance to prove him wrong.”

  “I absolutely did not. In fact, I ended the night alone in my bed proving to myself how wrong he was.”

  They shared a laugh while they sipped their drinks, but soon, the laughter died and left them in a poignant silence. Rebecca felt Alana watching her, scrutinizing. “What?”

  “You’re so keen to ask about me, but really I’m curious about what’s going on with you and Brett.”

  She knew the question was coming. And she didn’t have a straightforward response. “The easy answer is I have no idea.” She shrugged. “The man is trying to take over my company. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to let him.” She drank more from her glass. “And he’s so frustrating and arrogant and smug. But goddammit, the minute he looks at me, I just feel my panties slip off on their own.” Rebecca remembered that the woman sitting across from her was one of Brett’s best friends and business partners. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Alana waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. The way the guys talk about sex, especially since we’ve opened the club, that’s nothing shocking to me. I know that you guys had a bit of a rivalry, a war since you got back to the city.”

  “Yeah, and he went full nuclear.”

  “But you’re still sleeping together?”

  Rebecca thought back to the way Brett had left her house the night before. “Well, we’re not exactly sleeping together.” Rebecca laughed without answering, falling back into a pleasant groove with her old friend.

  “He’s been kind of tense lately.”

  Wanting to change the topic from how tense Brett was and their relationship, Rebecca looked around. “You sure did get us a good table. All I had to do was drop your name.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Alana said without much enthusiasm. “My male partners in the good ol’ boys’ club get all the great business connections, but I get the nice tables.”

  “That’s always the way, though, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what we do or how successful we are, if a man is doing it, too, we might as well be in the kitchen making them sandwiches.”

  “You’re telling me. I may co-own an
d run some of the hottest restaurants and clubs in the city, but I have to name-drop my friends to get people to take me seriously.”

  “Is that why you’re all named The Brotherhood?” Rebecca asked with a mysterious tone.

  “Ha!” Alana laughed once. “You know about that foolishness?”

  “Yeah, but Brett said the name was your idea.”

  “Yeah, I made it up, ironically, because they’re all such big important tough guys,” she said with a dramatic eye roll. “But it stuck, and now they just use that name to annoy me. I’m certain of it. Guess that’s who they are. Pests, the lot of them. But they’re all good guys, and we’re more family than friends. I missed having a girlfriend in the city, though,” she said, reaching across the table to cup her hand over Rebecca’s. The waiter came to the table, and they both ordered crepes with fruit, chocolate and whipped cream, and, of course, another round of mimosas.

  When the server left, Rebecca smiled and clinked her glass against Alana’s again. “Hear, hear. I didn’t really have a lot of friends in New York. I was just so focused on work. I dated a few guys here and there, thanks to the internet. But it’s hard to make friends when you’re a grown-up.”

  “You’re telling me.” Alana laughed. “I’m in desperate need of some female company. My only friends sometimes act as if they forget I have breasts.”

  Rebecca laughed. “How do you do it? How do you work with those guys? God, you can just smell the testosterone when they walk into a room.”

  Alana laughed and sipped from her glass and leaned over the table, bringing her face closer to Rebecca’s. “I’m going to let you in on a secret. They’re so busy strutting their stuff and showing off their feathers, they don’t realize that I’m actually running all of this.”

  Rebecca almost spit out her mimosa, but she swallowed and looked at the other woman in awe. “Behind every successful man there’s an even more badass woman.”

  “You’re goddamn right there is,” Alana agreed.