Royally Flushed: Tech Billionaires

by Ainsley St Claire

  My hair is done and my makeup is as good as it’s going to get when Brian alerts me that he’s downstairs. I grab my coat, slip on a pair of come-hither pumps, and as I ride the elevator down to the lobby, I put in our coffee order for a mobile pick up at Starbucks.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m at my desk, pulling up Jackson’s calendar and walking into his office with his coffee.

  “Good morning, Mr. Graham.” I leave the door open, just as I do every morning.

  “Good morning, Ms. Woods.”

  He licks his lips, and his eyes are on my breasts as I approach.

  “Nice shoes,” he says. “You’ll have to wear those later.”

  “Maybe,” I whisper with a smile. I walk him through his schedule, and before I finish, his phone’s ringing. When the calls start at seven thirty, that means it’s going to be a busy day.

  Our work is nonstop all morning, and before I know it, I’m ushering Jackson out for his lunch. I need a break, and Gabby has been bugging me to meet her. I call her, and we agree on a spot halfway between our offices.

  When I walk in, Gabby is already waiting for me. Before my coat is off, she starts her inquisition. “So, you weren’t at my place last night.”

  “Jackson invited me to a late dinner.”

  “Which ended when you got to work this morning?”

  “Shush! People I work with eat here, too.”

  “You’re fucking your boss and you’re moving. Why do you care? Can he talk you out of running home?”

  “No, and I’m not running home.”

  “Then what are you doing?” She reaches across the table and grasps my hand. “I want you to stay. Quit your job, find something that uses your degree, and sleep with Jackson as often as you want.”

  “I have a degree in political science with an emphasis on environmental policy. I’m using my degree. I could find something else, but it’s not likely to pay any better than what I have now, and I’m done living in a closet. Also, there’s no one who wants to send me poop bombs or destroy my apartment back in Houston.”

  I try not to sound too emotional. I enjoy my job. I make shit money, but Soleil Energy is doing something, and while I can’t do the math required for any development, I work as the assistant to the CEO. It’s my way of contributing to the cause I studied in school. Unfortunately, it’s too hard to live in this town and be successful.

  Gabby rolls her eyes. “You could find something here if you really wanted to, and you shouldn’t let a crazy lady run you out of town. They’ll find her eventually. Promise me you won’t give up just yet.” She raises an eyebrow, and when I don’t respond, she forges ahead. “How about tonight we get together before I meet Damien for dinner? Evidently my ability to see you when ever I want is going away.”

  “I can’t. I have dinner plans tonight with Jackson. I’m going to cook.”

  “He’s in for a treat. What are you going to make?”

  “Something easy. Probably my fajitas.”

  “That man will propose by the end of the night if you make your mom’s margaritas.”

  I laugh because when we turned twenty-one, she shared her recipe. It’s equal parts tequila and Everclear, which is pure grain alcohol and one-hundred-ninety proof. You don’t taste it, but it definitely has a kick, and it softens the bite of the tequila. They were very popular with family friends, and she was always asked to bring them to parties, but she’d never shared the recipe.

  “No, they can’t sell Everclear in California, so he’ll be stuck with just tequila. It tastes the same anyway.”

  “Why are you really moving home to your father? You know that will be a mess.”

  “The job I do pays the same in Houston as it does here, and the cost of living is a fraction of what it is in San Francisco.”

  “Use the experience you’ve gained the last year to find another job that pays better.”

  “I love my job at Soleil. Nothing will ever compare.”

  “Then demand a raise. He knows he’s paying you shit money. Tell him if he wants to keep you, he needs to pay you more.”

  “Do you know how many phone calls he got this morning from strange women? He got eighteen. Yes! Eighteen. He can’t stop those calls. They will come regardless, and even if he makes a commitment to me, what if one day the temptation gets to be too much? My dad cheated on my mom, and every single boyfriend I’ve ever had cheated on me.”

  “Not all men are pigs.”

  I fight the tears. “I know, but every relationship has its challenges, and when that happens, sometimes they forget their promises.”

  “I think you’re wrong. And if he isn’t willing to change his world for you, then fuck him. You don’t want him.”

  I need to change the subject. “Like what Damien did for you?”

  She smiles. She’s so in love with Damien, and they really are right for one another. “He’s great isn’t he?”

  I nod. “What cute thing has he done for you lately?”

  “He’s taking sailing lessons so we can go on a sunset sail, just the two of us.”

  “Awww, I love that.”

  We transition to lighter topics, and after we giggle our way through the rest of our lunch, we part ways, and I head back to the office. It’s a busy afternoon, and the phone seems to ring continually. I’m able to answer some questions, but I keep a running list of those I can’t and will need to call back after I have the answers. I also take sixteen calls from women chasing Jackson. I just add them to his list. I don’t keep them from him, but they seem to think I do. If he wants to talk to them, he has their numbers.

  While I wait for Jackson to return from his last meeting, I start looking at the job boards in Houston. There isn’t much if you don’t want to work in oil and gas. I find a job for a political and environmental affairs position at my dad’s company. I apply. I know if I were to ask him to walk my resume in, they’d interview me and probably hire me, but I want to do this on my own.

  Based on the lack of tech jobs open in Houston, I move over to the Austin job boards and apply for a project manager position at an environmental startup. That has promise. I need a real plan if I’m going to move back to Texas. If I return to Houston without a job, I’ll have to move home. I’ll be at my dad’s mercy, and he’ll have me doing whatever he says.

  My cell phone pings to notify me of a text.

  Jackson: Sorry, but I’ve been pulled into a dinner meeting. Please still meet me at my place. I’ll try not to be too late.

  I take a deep breath. I ordered groceries this afternoon and had them delivered. I try to push back the bitterness of disappointment. I wanted to impress Jackson with my cooking skills. I text Gabby.

  Me: Dinner plans canceled. Still open to meet for drinks?

  Gabby: Absolutely. Same bat time, same bat channel?

  Me: Yes. See you in 20.

  I alert Brian that I’m heading out to meet a friend for drinks. I text Jackson.

  Me: We’ll try dinner another night. I’m meeting Gabby. Talk later.

  As I walk in, Gabby is walking out. “Let’s go somewhere else tonight,” she says, grabbing my arm.

  “What? What do you mean? I’m in the mood for one of Tom’s mojitos.”

  “I think the Cuban place up on Cole has the best mojito.”

  “Okay, but I need to go to the bathroom.” I dart around her to the ladies room.

  As I exit, I look over the crowd of happy hour drinkers and spot Jackson, who is with Jennifer or Valerie—whatever the fuck her name is.

  Now I understand. I’m not leaving. I want Jackson to see that I know he’s lied to me.

  I sit down at the bar, and Gabby sits next to me. “I’m sorry.”

  I put my arm around her shoulder. “You’re a terrific friend. I knew this would happen. I should have listened to my gut. I’m going to have a drink here, and then I’m going back to your place tonight.”

  “Sounds like a great plan.” She looks over at the bartender “Tommy, please bri
ng my friend here a mojito and for me… Well, I think I’ll have the same.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Jackson spots me and comes over. “I know this looks bad, but I swear it isn’t what it looks like.”

  I take a big, deep breath and try to paint a smile on my face. I will not cry in front of him. I cannot give him my power. “Don’t worry about it. I’m leaving soon. I get it.”

  “She called and needed my help—”

  I hold up my hand to stop his lies. “Really, you don’t need to explain. I’ll see you at work in the morning.”

  “Please…” he begs.

  Tom puts my drink down in front of me. In one gulp, I drink half the glass, and my hand is shaking. Jackson just stands and watches me. I pull a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet and place it on the bar. “Thanks, Tom. Keep the change.” I turn to Jackson and take a deep breath. “Mr. Graham, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Gabby, I’ll be at your place.”

  “Nothing is going on with Valerie. She had an emergency.”

  “I believe her name is Jennifer.” I turn and walk out, and Brian follows me to the car. I ask him to take me to Gabby’s, and my cell phone pings.

  Jackson: Please, let me explain. I’m begging you. I’m sorry.

  I turn my phone off and hold back the tears until I’m securely in Gabby’s apartment and in a hot bath. Of the hundreds of bars in the city, he picks the one I go to the most? My tears flow. Sleeping with him was such a colossal mistake. And on top of that, I fall for him? From the moment I started almost a year ago, he’s had a string of women. I ended up being one of them. I’m so angry with myself.

  When the water turns cold and my fingers are pruned, I finally get out.

  I smell Gabby’s popcorn—her ultimate comfort food—before I see her. I put on some yoga pants and a T-shirt and head out to the living room for some BFF love.

  “Hey.” She hands me a large glass of white wine. “I’m not excusing him not telling you what he was doing, but I think she lied to him about why she wanted to meet him. She ran out after you left and made a huge scene.”

  I do find some comfort in what she says. But this will always happen with Jackson. I should have let my mind win. Instead, my body did. But I’ve let myself get burned for the last time.

  “Thanks for coming home,” I tell Gabby. “I know you had other plans.”

  Gabby brings me into a hug. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

  Chapter 20

  Jackson

  I’ve managed to fuck up huge. When Valerie called, she said her boss had asked her brother to do something, and he’d landed in jail. She implied that she had information from him about my company, and she said she needed my help. I didn’t even want to see her, and of course, she picked the bar Corrine would come to with her friend. Fuck!

  Boy, was Valerie mad when I told her I couldn’t help her. Her story had started to sound fishy, and I realized it was all a ploy to get me to take her home with me. We’ve been out a few times, and I slept with her once in a hotel room at a trade show. It wasn’t that memorable. I’d never take her to my place. Corrine is the only woman I’d allow in my home.

  Fuck.

  I keep thinking about what Corrine’s friend said after she left. “You were the one I needed to convince her to stay. You were my way to keep her from going home to that miserable house. You saved her from Bobby’s shit, took her on a whirlwind trip to Maui, and promised her everything. But now instead of showing her she can stay, you’ve done everything every man has done to her her entire life. You’re a first-class jackass.”

  I tried to explain, but her friend wasn’t interested.

  “Why?” I scream at myself. There is no excuse for meeting Valerie without telling Corrine.

  I call Brian. “Did she get back to her friend’s okay?”

  “Yes.”

  I can hear the anger in his clipped answer. “Did she agree to have you pick her up in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  That’s a good sign. At least I know she’s coming in to work. I can talk to her then and apologize.

  “What time?”

  “I’m picking her up at seven ten.”

  “Do you want to pick me up first?”

  “She warned me that if you were in the car, she’d wait and go in later.”

  “I really fucked up.” I rub my hand through my hair, trying to figure out how to fix this when she won’t talk to me.

  “Yes, you did. I’ll pick you up at six forty.”

  “Goodnight, Brian.”

  Brian doesn’t respond and hangs up.

  Even he hates me. If he’s not going to be respectful, maybe I should call Jim and have him replaced. No, I’m an ass. That’s one of the greatest things about Corrine. Everyone likes her.

  I look out across the darkness and watch the lights of the cars crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. Corrine is special, and I don’t know how I can fix this. We were already on thin ice. The timing of this mistake couldn’t have been worse.

  I don’t sleep well despite being exhausted. I keep thinking of ways I can get Corrine to stay—a big salary? Lots of stock options? An apartment? Clothes? Another long weekend in Maui? Everything I come up with, I can think of twenty reasons why she’d reject them. She wants to stand on her own two feet. A significant salary increase or stock options are too little too late now. But Soleil Energy will suffer without her, because I will struggle without her.

  Sleep eventually comes in small spurts. When I watch the clock turn five, I give up. I throw back the sheets and walk into Corrine’s room. I smell a trace of her perfume, and it makes me miss her more. While I work out and run five miles on my treadmill, I work on a plan to convince Corrine that while I made a huge mistake, she can’t walk away from something that could be amazing.

  Brian arrives as promised. A week ago, I was enjoying Corrine by my side in the beautiful sun in Maui. Now I’m here in San Francisco, Corrine isn’t talking to me, and despite the sun not being up yet, the rain indicates it’s going to be a gray day.

  When I get to work, I can’t concentrate. But I know what I need to say, and I know how I’m going to say it.

  I watch for her, and when she arrives, I’m flooded with relief. There was always the chance she’d never come back to the office. She comes in as usual with my schedule and phone log, along with my coffee.

  “Please shut the door and sit down,” I ask.

  She takes a deep breath. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she looks exhausted. It pains me to know I did that to her. She shuts the door and takes a seat across from me. Without any chance for me to talk, she begins walking through the phone log.

  “You need to return phone calls to Mason Sullivan, your IP attorney at Dunn Gibson, and Jeff Wong.”

  My head whips up. “What does Jeff Wong want? Did he say?”

  Corrine shakes her head. “No, his admin called and asked for you, and when you weren’t available, they asked that you return the call.”

  “Corrine, please? Can we talk about what happened last night?”

  “No. We’re two professionals, and our relationship will remain that way.” She looks down at my schedule and tells me where I need to be and when.

  “Corrine, this isn’t acceptable to me. I’m so sorry. When she called, she told me she needed my help.”

  Corrine stands to leave. “We have no commitment to one another. I think we should keep the relationship professional. I have four interviews today for my replacement, and I’m hoping two will make it to you for final approval.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I say much more forcibly than I mean to.

  Her shoulders fall. “I guess I shouldn’t have had sex with you in Maui.” And with that, she turns and leaves.

  She’s infuriating. Why won’t she listen to me? And what is she even talking about? I really fucked up yesterday, but I wouldn’t change our weekend in Maui for anything. I don’t regret our personal relationship.

  She can’t
leave me.

  “I left a message with Jeff Wong’s admin to call you back,” I hear over the speaker. I feel completely gutted. She’s not giving me any room to fix this.

  My phone rings, and it’s Cheryl Wedgewood, my new CFO. “Good morning. How are you today?” I ask.

  “I’m doing okay,” she says. “I was here somewhat late last night, and I will be here this weekend. Can I come in and show you a few things this morning?”

  “Of course.”

  I sit with Cheryl for the next two hours, going through some puzzling things Jeremy did.

  “You’re privately held, so we won’t have any stockholders upset, but these three ‘vendors’ have a monthly payment of just under ten thousand dollars,” she says. “And I can’t find them registered with the Secretary of State as real businesses. I need to go back, but it looks like these were set up a while ago.”

  I take a deep breath. “That means our investors’ money is at risk.”

  “I have some forensic auditing experience, but I think we’ll want to get ahead of this with Dillon Healy at SHN.”

  A sharp pain in my head starts at the base of my skull and works its way to between my eyes. How is everything falling apart at the same time? “This is not good. Let me know what you find. Do you think you’ll have answers by Monday? I’d like to get on Dillon’s calendar.”

  Cheryl nods. “I’ll work all weekend.”

  I call Corrine.

  “Yes, sir?” she answers.

  “We need to finish our conversation. Are you free for dinner tonight?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not. Is that all you need?”

  “I need you. But I’m also asking if you could please call Dillon Healy and see if he can meet with Cheryl and me on Monday. Move anything I have scheduled around to meet him at his convenience.”

  “Would you prefer a meal?”

  “No, I think this will be better in his office or ours.”

  “What should I tell him it’s regarding?”