Risking Ruin

by Mae Wood

  Marisa’s pulse sped up from being so near Trip.

  “I’m not bullshitting you, Marisa. I want to try this.”

  “So if you haven’t had a serious girlfriend in a year, who did you have sex with six months ago?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know we were drunk, but I’m pretty sure you told me that the last time you’d had sex was six months ago.”

  “Jesus, Marisa.”

  “Get off it, Trip.”

  “I lied, okay. Here’s my story. It’s not pretty. In my late teens and twenties, I had a lot dates and a lot of sex. I was one of those guys.”

  Marisa felt her entire being, including her heart, turn to stone. He’s exactly who I thought he was. He doesn’t give a damn about me. It’s all about the sex.

  “I told you it wasn’t pretty. Listen, though. I was out in California several years ago working on my JD-MBA when my mom got sick. Bad sick. I left school and came home. My dad was a wreck and my mom was really, really in a bad way. She almost died a few times. She’s my favorite person in the world and coming close to losing her changed my world. I saw the love my parents share and that’s what I want. I don’t do casual and I don’t have time for anyone who is interested in my last name. So, Marisa, I lied. The person I had sex with before you was a girl I’d been seeing last year. We broke up just before the holidays. I kept thinking about this hot girl who kept running by my house and through my neighborhood and I realized that she wasn’t the one for me.”

  “So why did you tell me six months?”

  Trip shrugged. “I just said what you said. I wasn’t exactly sober and I didn’t think ‘Hi, I’m Trip. I really enjoy watching you run. I’ve been thinking about you for months. In fact, I time my morning exercise to be back at the house to watch you run past while I have my breakfast’ would work. It just sounds crazy.”

  “Yeah, it does sound a little crazy,” agreed Marisa, her heart beginning to thaw at Trip’s painful and honest confession.

  “So, no, there isn’t a flavor of the week. It’s just you, Marisa.” He took both of her hands and pulled her towards him. She didn’t resist. She didn’t want to. He wrapped his strong arms around her and she melted. “Please, Marisa, please give me a chance. I know there is a lot of risk and I know I can’t fix that completely, but please, let me try. Can I try?”

  Marisa nodded into his chest and draped her arms around his torso. He kissed her solidly on the crown of her head and hugged her more tightly. As they stood there, bound to each other, the sidewalk traffic thinned.

  Eventually, Trip escorted her home, leading her into the lobby of her building. “Goodnight, Marisa. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He placed a gentle hand under her chin and lifted her face towards him. He planted a tender kiss full of care and promises on her lips. “And thank you.” The kiss lingered on Marisa’s lips as she drifted off to sleep in her own bed alone.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Vanessa was fiddling with the AV hook ups to a TV in a conference room at Selden Hodges Wednesday morning when Marisa entered. “Vanessa, good to see you,” said Marisa. The women shook hands and Marisa launched into business. “The report you sent over was very thorough. I’m impressed you were able to infiltrate the group and confirm that six of the plaintiffs are in the same divorcée support group. The pictures of the attendees were invaluable in establishing the connection. But what I’m left wondering is what the connection means. You didn’t identify one in your written report. What does your gut tell you?”

  “That’s the thing. There wasn’t talk at all about Branco or lawsuits or sexual harassment or work. All of the conversation, including the chitchat before and after the meeting, was about ex-husbands, child support, visitation schedules, et cetera. Totally within the realm of what I expected. I even excused myself for a bit to go to the ladies’ room, but left the recorder going in my purse in case they just didn’t want to talk in front of the new girl. Zilch. The conversation didn’t change. If it’s a conspiracy, then they definitely have some other meeting where they do their plotting.”

  “Do you think attending any more meetings is going to be worthwhile?”

  “I can’t promise anything. I can’t interact with the plaintiffs directly, so I just have to observe them. It’s a smallish class. About a dozen women on Saturday afternoon and a dozen women on Tuesday evening. The group leader has an attendance log and when I signed in, I flipped back a few pages to look to see who was signing in. The attendees don’t necessarily go to all the meetings. Some are Saturday folks and some are Tuesday folks. If you subpoena that attendance log and have the photos, then you’ll have the evidence of your plaintiffs all meeting in the same place at the same time. We just don’t have any hard evidence of a conspiracy yet.”

  “It’s just so puzzling.”

  “I know.”

  “Thanks for bottom-lining it for me. I expect Branco’s General Counsel to be here in a bit for the debrief.”

  “My ears are burning,” said Trip, as he swept into the conference room. “Trip Brannon. Nice to meet you, Vanessa.” Trip was crisply clad in a charcoal grey suit with a faint lavender pinstripe paired with a white shirt and bold purple and green striped tie. Seriously, does he do modeling work for Brooks Brothers or J. Press on the side? If not, he should, she mused as she appreciated the fine man who appeared before them. Trip then turned his attention to Marisa. In a wholly businesslike manner he intoned “Marisa, nice to see you as always,” but did not extend his hand to greet her. Hands to ourselves is probably the best policy. Kind of like Kindergarten, mused Marisa, as the corners of her lips turned up in a sly smile.

  “Well, I can’t wait to find out what you’ve uncovered, Vanessa. My favorite lawyer gave you rave reviews.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll get started.”

  The three sat around the table. Vanessa gave Trip a thorough overview of what she had learned. She clicked through the PowerPoint and brought up pictures of each of the plaintiffs entering or leaving the church. “What you need to remember is that this support group is not completely comprised of women suing Branco. Only about half of the group is.” Vanessa clicked her computer and a composite image of the other support group attendees filled the screen.

  Trip’s head tilted like a dog trying to understand its master. “Vanessa, I hate to interrupt, but would you mind making these pictures bigger.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll quickly bring these up for you one at a time. First, we have Carolyn.” A picture of a petite Asian woman filled the screen. “She’s the group leader. Next is Amy. She attends both sessions.”

  Trip stared at the TV screen, completely frozen. “Her name isn’t Amy,” he said quietly. “That’s Amelia Duquette. Vanessa, would you mind if I spoke with Marisa alone?” Trip didn’t remove his eyes from the delicate blonde whose face now dominated the conference room.

  “Of course not. Please just let me know when you’d like me to return,” said Vanessa, quickly leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind her.

  Trip jumped out of his seat. “Christ, Marisa. This is completely a set up and it’s all Amelia’s doing,” he shouted, striking his palms on the top of the conference table. Marisa jumped the sound of the loud smack. The animalistic rage engulfed Trip. He began pacing quickly and muttering curse words under his breath. “Fuck!,” he said loudly to no one. “She’s out to fuck me over in every possible way. She’s trying to ruin me and get Branco. I can’t believe it. Fucking bitch.”

  Marisa sat in stupefied silence. What the hell is going on here? Who is this man?

  Trip halted his steps and swung his face toward Marisa. “You have no clue what we’ve uncovered here, do you?,” asked Trip in an even tone, staring at her.

  “No, I don’t,” she admitted frankly. “Who is Amelia Dupree, er, DuBouis?”

  “Duquette. Amelia Duquette. She’s the daughter of Russell Duquette and her family owns about a third of Memphis. If my family is the cotton family, then her family is the
railroad family. Her family has been making not so subtle plays for Branco for a long time.”

  “They’ve been trying to buy Branco?”

  “Yes, well, my dad and Russell are friends. Let’s just say that I didn’t look like the most promising heir for quite a while and Russell made the most of that. He had my dad’s ear about how I would just run the company into the ground, ignore the business, or just sell it off to the first taker so that I’d be free of responsibility.”

  “Jesus, Trip, I had no clue Branco was up for sale.”

  “It isn’t and it is never going to be. I know you’re our employment lawyer and don’t have any involvement in our business dealings, but this has been a very sore subject for a long time. At one point my dad even asked me if I had any intentions of carrying on the business after him or if I’d just be happier to be rid of it. He actually asked me that! Branco is my legacy. My family built it. I’m not going to stand by and let it be sold or destroyed.”

  Marisa tried to wrap her head around the avalanche of information Trip was dropping on her.

  “And now this. It’s a complete set up. I’m certain that the play is that if the company has enough lawsuits than we’ll either be weakened and open to selling. Or, my dad will just lose further confidence in my abilities to run Branco and start talking with Russell again.”

  “Can he sell Branco without you?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. He can and he can’t. My dad owns half of the company. That’s not enough for him to decide to sell in his own right. He needs more than half of shares voting to sell the company. I own a quarter. The remaining quarter is held in trust for me until I turn forty and my dad is the trustee. So, until I turn forty, my dad decides how that quarter interest in the company votes. He gets to decide what is in my best interest regarding that quarter. If he decides it is in my best interest to sell, then he’ll just vote the trust’s shares in favor of selling and then seventy-five percent of the shares will be in favor of selling and the company will be sold. My dad holds all of the cards.”

  Marisa turned over this complicated situation in her mind. “So, how does Amelia figure in to this?”

  Trip plopped down in chair at the conference table and ran his fingers through his sandy locks. Taking in Marisa with his eyes, he came clean. “She was the woman I was seeing before you.”

  Marisa’s head began to spin. This is too much. This feels like some sort of soap opera.

  “I know I didn’t tell you who I was seeing last year. I didn’t think it mattered. After I returned home to Memphis and Branco’s headquarters following my mom’s cancer scare, Russell backed off. Like completely backed off his overtures to buy the company. I thought that he realized I was more competent that he’d given me credit for. Now I realize that he’s been waiting for me to self-destruct and because that hasn’t happened yet, he decided to stir the pot.

  “But getting back to Amelia, I started seeing her around the Fourth of July and we broke up around Halloween. I remember it was just a few days before her annual Halloween costume party because I was relieved I didn’t have to go. Our mothers introduced us. I’ve known of her all my life, but she’s six years younger than me, so we didn’t know each other growing up. She’s pretty and has some community relations job at her family’s company, which means all she does is go to charity functions and other PR events to serve as the face of the company for fluffy things. Her degree is in equestrian sciences or horse management or something else like that. Basically, I think she spends her morning riding her horses, attends a fancy luncheon or party, and is back out at the stables in the evening. Seventy-five percent of her brain is filled with horses and the other twenty-five percent is filled with shoes or shopping or God only knows what else. She was boring me to tears and I ended it.

  “Amelia comes from a good family. Our parents are friends. It was going to be one of those merger marriages like European royalty used to do – all about social standing and the consolidation and preservation of wealth and power. My dad was hoping that I’d take to Amelia and settle down. But I don’t settle. I win.

  “I don’t know how she’s involved in getting women to sue Branco. This seems out of her depth. She’d have to spend time away from luncheons or horses to do this. When was the first suit filed?”

  Marisa paused for a moment, trying to catch up with Trip’s thought process. “Umh, let me confirm the precise date, but it was right before Christmas.”

  “Bingo. I break up with her in October and by December she’s convinced someone to sue Branco. We just have to prove it.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m still processing all of this.”

  “We have to prove that the Duquette family is behind these lawsuits. We need hard evidence. If I go to my dad about this without any real proof he’ll think I’ve become unhinged, that the stress of handling Branco’s legal affairs has gotten to me, that I’m not capable of running the company, and he’ll be even more likely to want to sell. Damn it.” Trip pounded the table with his fists. “So, counselor, what’s our next move?

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Marisa stared blankly at Trip. What the hell just happened here? He looked back at her with an intensity that she had never seen before. His eyes were on fire with anger. Every muscle in his body was clenched. He radiated heat and fury.

  “Okay,” said Marisa her mind spinning out of control. Focus. We need to solve this problem. This is what you do. You solve client problems, even if it does involve spiteful ex-girlfriends and crazy corporate takeover plots. “I’d like to put a tail on Amelia, if that’s okay with you. It’s perfectly legal. The individual plaintiffs didn’t connect the dots for us at the support group sessions, so let’s see if Amelia is the common denominator.”

  “She’s more than the common denominator. She’s involved. She’s trying to fuck me over,” interjected Trip, his face still the picture of wrath. Marisa ignored his comment and anger.

  “It may be more effective to see who she meets with. We can have a PI sit on her for a few days. We can get a cost estimate from Vanessa.”

  “I don’t give a damn what it costs. I’m doing it and you’re sending the bill to me personally. I want someone on her 24-7 for two weeks. I don’t want my dad getting a whiff of this. He’d think I was wasting company money or, even worse, stalking my ex-girlfriend. Either way, I just look incompetent. And I’m not having that.”

  Marisa did some quick math in her head. “Trip, that’s going to be like fifty-k and there are no guarantees the PI will find anything.”

  “I said I don’t give a fuck how much it costs. It’s just money. I know the Duquettes are trying to ruin me and take Branco and I will not have it. I WILL NOT HAVE IT.”

  “Okay, calm down. I’m on your side. I’m here to help.”

  Trip exhaled a breath that was full of steam. “Sorry, I won’t yell anymore. I know you’re doing your job and you’re great at it. I just cannot fucking believe this.”

  “And I’m all over this and I’ll stay on this. In addition to the PI, which we will do and have the bill sent to you personally, we’ll take some more direct steps in the lawsuits. But we need to have the PI bit play out first. If there is a conspiracy, we don’t want to alert anyone that we’re on to it.”

  “That makes sense. I’ll try my best to be patient.”

  “And act normal. That means that if you see Mr. Duquette or Amelia, you cannot let on that you even suspect they are behind these lawsuits or still interested in acquiring Branco. You’re just going to have to put it out of your mind.”

  “So, I shouldn’t try romance the truth out of Amelia?”

  Marisa started and stared at Trip.

  “Kidding. I’m kidding. I’ve kept my distance for almost a year now. I only see her at the club occasionally or at parties. Just checking to make sure my Hulking out didn’t freak you out. She and her dad may be trying to screw up my company, but they’re not going to screw this up, too.”

  “Ah,” replied Maris
a, downplaying Trip’s earlier display of temper. “I’ve seen clients pitch much worse fits. That barely gets into the top ten.”

  “Good to know I can be a complete jackass in front of my lawyer, but I know not to be a complete jackass with my girlfriend.”

  “Trip,” cautioned Marisa quietly. “Don’t say that. Especially not at work.” He just can’t throw that word around like that. It just gets my hopes up. Light and breezy. Casual dating. Fooling around. Not getting attached, Marisa reminded herself.

  “Fine. Can I take you to dinner next Thursday night? I’d ask for sooner, but I have to be in Michigan starting tomorrow and then I head directly to Delaware.”

  Marisa gave the slightest of nods before speaking. “You okay now? Can we bring Vanessa back in?”

  “Sure. Let’s get started on her new assignment.”

  Chapter Thirty

  A week later Vanessa came to Marisa’s office. After they called Trip, so he could participate via speakerphone, Vanessa began to give her report. Vanessa had attended both support group sessions and had a tail on Amelia around the clock. Nothing out of the usual occurred at the support group meetings. Amelia didn’t approach any of the plaintiffs in an obvious way, and no one mentioned sexual harassment or lawsuits other than those involving former spouses. The support group looked like a dead end, and as Trip had suspected, Amelia’s days were filled with horses and social events.

  However, in between those two pole stars of horses and parties, Amelia managed to work in a morning coffee with Nida, a lunch with Mary Chandler, and an early afternoon coffee with Susan. Conveniently, all of Amelia’s meetings with the plaintiffs happened near the church at the Memphis Botanic Garden’s café. “Here’s the good news about the café,” said Vanessa. “It’s quiet and folks tend to linger. It won’t be hard for me to plant someone nearby and try to get some good audio and video of the meeting. But, here’s the thing with this. We don’t know if or when more of these café meeting will occur.”