by Alexa Davis
“I don’t know if you understand this or not, but I had a lot invested in this company,” she says. “I don’t just mean stock options. I mean I cared about this business like it was my own. I still do, whether you believe it or not.”
“Can we just get to the pitch so I can turn it down and go home?” I ask, gritting my teeth.
“I cared about you,” she says. “Not in that way, I mean, but as more than just your inside girl. We’ve been through a lot of things together, you and me,” she says. “I’ve never said this out loud, but I’ve always considered us to be close friends.”
“You’re appealing to the wrong emotion,” I tell her. “You’ve got a gun to my head. That’s what we’re talking about here. Only, you’re going to have to convince me to care whether or not you pull the trigger. Right now, it doesn’t look like there’s that much left you can do to me that’s not going to happen regardless.”
“You need to stop that,” she says. “Quit blaming other people for your mistakes. You know you’re the reason you’re in this mess. The board knew that without me having to tell them. You have to drop her, Nick. I don’t just mean the two of you should stay out of public places; I’m saying you need never to see that woman again. You need to stop the construction on the new headquarters. Forget you ever went to Mulholland and maybe begin nodding your head to a few things the board wants. You don’t have to lose this company, Nick. I know that you’ve carried the torch for this stranger forever, but you are blowing up a life I worked very hard to build. I’m not going to stand for it, Nick.”
“And there are the teeth,” I say, smiling.
“When I was working for you—from the moment I started working for you, I’ve been the one doing a lot of the heavy lifting,” she says. “You grew into a brilliant mind of your own, but every once in a while, you get some idea in your head, and it doesn’t matter what I say or how loudly I say it, you’re going to do what you want. That’s what scares me.”
“I’m glad we can agree on that,” I tell her and start for the door.
“The problem is that they’re rookie mistakes. You fell into a company, and you had to learn under battlefield conditions. I get that, but it also means you have some blind spots no one else on your level has,” she says, stepping in my way. “You don’t know how much time I’ve spent over the years cleaning up after you. I tolerated it for a long time because when things started taking a nosedive, I was right there to tell you how to pull it out again. Maybe you didn’t always agree, but you’d at least hear me out when things started going bad. Why is the one thing that would solve everything the one thing you won’t do? You know I know where the skeletons are.”
“Your time was up a while ago, and I’m tired of being threatened by you,” I seethe.
“There are things I will take to my grave before I even think about them when it’s not you and me talking,” she says. “I can’t let this be one of those things anymore. Not unless you turn it around.”
I told the board I might be willing to discuss the relocation. I never said I was ready to change my mind about it.
“Go to the board, then,” I tell her.
“You’re willing to lose everything for this woman who, let’s face it, you never really knew in the first place?” she asks. “Are you doing this because you’re in love with her, or because you’re in love with the fantasy?”
“I’m not an idiot,” I snap. “I’m not calling it love at all yet.”
“Then what are you doing?” she asks. “You want to move the company there because she’s there and you have it in your head she can’t leave. If you’re not doing it for love, you must be crazy, and the board is doing the right thing wanting you gone.”
“It’s always lovely chatting,” I tell Marly. “I’ve missed the way you just charge through what you want to say and don’t stop when you hit a wall. It’s admirable. But now, if you’d do me the privilege of leaving my office, we’re done here.”
“That’s it, then?” she asks. “I hope, for your sake, there’s a part of this story you haven’t already told me, because the way it looks right now, you’re intentionally trying to run the company into the ground.”
“That’s it,” I answer her original question. Everything else, I ignore. She’s mad. I get it. She’s confused, and I get that, too. The problem is one day she stopped trusting me. “There’s nothing about the move that would threaten the company except this vile perception you’ve been cultivating. Now, as much fun as it is watching security throw you out, I’d just as soon we all leave voluntarily.”
“What’s going to happen when she finds out?” Marly asks. “You know it won’t be long once the board has it. Audiences love all that gushy romantic crap.”
“What do you want?” I ask. “It can’t just be about her.”
“She was the problem before you started putting together the exploratory committee on Mulholland,” Marly says. “Whatever you want to keep telling yourself, she is the problem. If it weren’t for your preoccupation with your friend, the stranger, it wouldn’t matter what the board tried to throw at you. You’d be bulletproof.”
“Get out,” I tell her. “I’m not going to say it again.”
“I’ve never seen someone work so hard at destroying everything in their life,” she says, turning finally and going to the door. “Oh, I’ve seen plenty of people throw good sense aside to destroy others, but this level of self-immolation’s a new one on me. It’d be more entertaining if I didn’t believe in you once, look up to you.”
“You never looked up to me,” I tell her. “That’s one of the reasons I liked you. You know, before you turned into—”
“Is there any chance I can get you to change your mind?” she asks.
“No,” I answer. “How long do I have?”
“There’s no reason to put it off,” she says. “I know you’re not going to try to stop me. You’re not the type.”
“What I don’t understand is why you would do this to me,” I say. “Are you angling to take over as CEO? I’ve got to tell you, before you started showing your third and fourth faces, I was planning on handing it over to you when I retire in ten years.”
“Why would you retire in ten years?” she asks. “You never said anything about that to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her.
“No,” she says, “tell me. If you’re planning to give it all up, why not just drop out as CEO. You’ve got enough money for a lot of lifetimes. Why bother with all the scandal?”
“It never occurred to me you’d have trouble making sense of this,” I tell her. “You’re usually such a smart person.”
“There’s no shame if you can’t solve a puzzle no one else can solve,” Marly says. “I’ll give you an hour to change your mind, then I’m making calls.”
“Make your calls now,” I tell her. “I’m not changing my mind.”
Marly leaves the office, and though I’m beginning to loathe the sight of this building, I wait a few minutes. I’m not going to close myself in an elevator with her.
Marly doesn’t understand why the company needs to move to Mulholland. It’s not something I’m willing to elucidate for her, either. It’s just the way things are.
If anything, I was stupid to ask Ellie to come to New York with me. If it weren't about her boss, it would have been something else. I knew she wasn’t going to stay.
As I’m thinking about it, I don’t know that I should ever have come back to New York, myself. My presence hasn’t fixed anything. Yeah, the stock price leveled out for a few days, but when word spread the new office was still on, it started dropping again regardless.
Of course, if it keeps going on like this too much longer, I’m going to be in some serious trouble. Financially, I’m plenty secure now, but most of my money is tied up in Stingray stock. Come to think of it, I should probably check to make sure I’m still a billionaire. You fall out of that particular club and people tend to remember it.
; I stood up for my relationship with Ellie in a pretty monumental way, though. I can feel good about that.
The phone calls are going to start any minute. It’s only a matter of how long it takes Marly to cross the lobby and get outside.
It’s not an irrecoverable situation. If anything, it may help public perception. It’s not going to do anything for investors’ failing confidence, and it may just be the end of my reign as CEO, but with enough positive public attention, I’ll at least have some leverage.
That is, assuming America’s still got a bit of the romantic in her.
The situation with Ellie is precarious. I haven’t even told her I was that goofy kid from the last three weeks of junior high. When she hears everything, I don’t know how she’s going to take it.
I should have just told her, but through all the planning, all the years of planning every angle, I never accounted for just how hard it would be. Who I was then and now was going to be a shock if it was the first thing I told her about, but a lot of time has passed since I had that chance.
Right now, I’m that guy on television with all the fancy crap. That guy has power. The other guy, the spindly jackass who’d blush every time a cute girl went past, that guy has nothing. That guy was nothing.
It’s early, and I know she’s sleeping, but the first rule of damage control is to break the story first. That way you do it on your terms.
I call Ellie.
“If this isn’t God, I’m hanging up,” she groans.
It’s a good thing my ego’s not that far out of check. “It’s not God, but I’d still like to talk to you,” I say, trying to keep my tone as light as possible.
“Oh hey, Nick,” she says through a yawn. “I’d be glad you called if it weren’t the dead crack of night.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I tell her. “Listen, there’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s not how I wanted to do it, but circumstances have left me no choice.”
“Actually,” she says, “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “About what?”
“I don’t know. I feel like we jumped into this whole thing so fast, and I guess I just got caught up in the thrill of who you are and seeing the world you live in,” she says.
No.
I start again, saying, “Ellie, I know things have been moving fast, but—”
“Please,” she says. “I’ve already started, and I’d like to say this before I wake up too much and can’t get through it.”
My heart is pounding. I plead, “Ellie, just listen—”
“I don’t think it’s going to work out,” she says. “If I misled you in any way, I’m sorry. I honestly wanted to give us a shot, but I don’t think your status or your lifestyle is a healthy foundation for a relationship.”
“Ellie—”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I have to go.”
She hangs up before I can even start the sentence, “We weren’t strangers when we met.” I could have slipped it in there. She cut off nearly everything I said, but she would have heard that.
Maybe I didn’t want to tell her. Regardless, she’s going to find out, and my calls are going straight to voicemail.
It was going to be bad enough if I’d had a chance to tell her everything. Now, when she finds out, I won’t be able to fill in the gaps. If there’s any chance of a relationship in the future, it’s if I can get ahold of her before the news breaks. But there’s nothing I can do.
Naomi’s phone is off, too.
Malcolm sticks his head into the office to inform me that CNBC already has an exclusive locked down with Marly. She’s not just outing me to the board so they can leak it.
I misjudged Marly, and it looks like that mistake is about to cost me everything not telling Ellie hasn’t already. There’s nothing left but that final half step off the cliff.
The story writes itself: rags-to-riches billionaire loses everything, the story at eleven.
Cut to commercial.
Chapter Thirteen
Stock
Ellie
Nick called almost twelve hours ago, but I haven’t slept. I’m locked in my room, questioning my decision when Naomi tells me there’s someone at the door.
I drag myself out of bed, clothed in the oversized shirt that is my sleeping attire, to find Helen, my former boss’s widow, waiting for me.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m so sorry, when Naomi said we had company, I just figured it was someone else here to blame me for something over which I never had any control. Won’t you come in?”
“You sound busy,” Helen says. She’s always timid. How she and Troy ever got along is beyond me.
“I’m not,” I tell her. “I’d be happy for the company. Please, come in.”
Helen and I have never really had that many opportunities to talk, but she’s always decent to me. Nervously, she comes into the apartment.
“I really can’t stay,” she says, “but I wanted to make sure you got this.”
She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. “That night when Troy came home,” she starts, “he told me how the two of you had sold everything in the store. He wouldn’t stop going on about it until I got in the car with him and he showed me himself. You should have heard how he was going on about how every time things would start to slow down he’d cause a bit of excitement over this piece or that, and we both knew him well enough to see right through that.”
“It’s all right,” I tell her. “I don’t mind if he took credit for that. I didn’t have all that much to do with it as it is.”
“Whatever the case,” Helen says, “I knew you were never going to see your share of the profits unless I set it aside. You have to understand. Troy never meant to take money from others. It’s just when money fell into his lap, he didn’t know what else to do but gamble it and try to turn it into something more. That’s what he always used to say: turn it into something more. He wasn’t an evil man.”
“I never thought he was,” I say. It’s not quite the truth, but it’s close enough.
“Anyway,” she says, “here.”
She hands me the envelope. It’s thick with money.
“Also, the keys to the shop and Troy’s old office are in there, too,” she says. “I don’t know if you want to try reinvesting that money or not, but the option’s open if you want it.”
“Helen, you don’t have to do this,” I tell her. “You should keep it.”
“Don’t do that,” she says sharply, catching me off guard. “My husband’s dead. I get enough in the way of pity. Besides,” she whispers, leaning in closer, “before Troy left for Tahiti, I squirreled away a little for a rainy day, too.” She winks at me.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m just delivering money that’s rightfully yours,” she says. “If I may leave you with a piece of advice before I go?”
“Sure,” I answer.
“Don’t make bets you can’t cover,” she says. “Eventually, you’re going to upset the wrong person, and that person might just make a phone call to one of the guys you introduced her to the last time you went to Tahiti.”
Without another word, Helen turns and leaves the apartment.
I’m not sure, but I think she just confessed to being involved in Troy’s—but that’s impossible.
Helen came into the store once, and she saw a spider. I offered to squash it for her, but she picked it up with her bare hands and took it outside, saying she never liked to see any living thing come to harm, no matter how distasteful we may think them to be.
It was doubly impressive because the spider was a black widow. I remember, because I’m the one that took her to the hospital after she found a safe place to deposit the spider that bit her.
Nah, Helen would never do anything like that.
Now, with something to do, I tell Naomi I’m going to be out a little while and leave before she can give me yet another list of places t
o pick up horny guys. I’m nowhere near ready to tell her she can stop the smear campaign. That’s a going to be a whole different kind of a headache.
I get to the store to find the window hasn’t been replaced yet. It doesn’t look like anyone’s tried to cause further damage to the store, but something needs to happen with the window today.
Before I do that, I’m going to want to get this place cleaned up a little. I hadn’t planned on coming back here. Once the window gets replaced, the plan was just to sell the building, give half the money to Helen whether she liked it or not, and call that the end of it.
The unfortunate reality is that I don’t have anything else to do. There are no jobs here in town, and I’m not about to move. No matter how many people leave me threatening notes or call my house and hang up, this is my home, and I’m not going.
First, though, I head back to Troy’s office and unlock the door. He was always on that computer, but he would switch the screen before I could see what he was doing on it. I know it’s immature, but I’m curious.
The surprise ends up not being that much of a surprise. Everything on Troy’s computer is poker and blackjack. His browser history is made up of lists of places to find real-money games on the dark net. I know enough about the dark net never to go there.
I’m disappointed it’s not something more surprising, but also a little relieved the boss wasn’t just in there streaming hours of porn. That would have been awkward.
I call the glass repair shop and ask if they know how long it’ll be before they can get around to Rory’s, but as soon as the woman on the phone realizes it’s me she’s talking to, she loses the saccharin customer-service voice.
“We’ll get around to it when we get around to it,” I believe are her exact words before hanging up on me.
It’ll take some time, but eventually, I’m sure I can convince all these people I’m not the reason Nick didn’t hire any of them before he left town. Exactly what they thought I could do about it eludes me.
I guess people need a scapegoat when it turns out that big break isn’t coming. Who better than me for that job?