by Alexa Davis
“There’s one thing I don’t understand, though,” she says. “Why would you move the company to Mulholland? You said you knew it would always be my home, and you’re right, but why move the whole business?”
“Just the headquarters,” he says.
“You know very well what I mean,” I tell him.
He kisses me on the forehead, saying, “One of the things you talked about on our walks was how much you wanted to be a teacher. You said you knew it since you were a little kid, but that you’d never get the job because of the way things work in that town. I never understood why you loved it so much.”
“I don’t follow,” I say.
“If you weren’t willing to leave Mulholland, the only way you’d get to do what you want is if there were enough jobs in town, the place could start running as if it’s at least trying to exist in this century. Only, I realized something just now,” he says.
I say, “What if I don’t want to be a teacher anymore, or what if I’m okay with leaving Mulholland, or what if—”
“Yeah,” he interrupts. “That.” He says, “I need to sit down.” He does, and I sit next to him.
“I’ve been avoiding that store even though I own it,” I tell him. “It was never what I wanted to be doing. I thought maybe being the boss a little while would change that, but I want something more engaging than sitting on a stool and hoping someone walks in that day.”
“What about leaving Mulholland?” he asks. “The company’s moving, so the headquarters is just going to sit there until someone decides to buy it or tear it down. After the way the people there turned on you over nothing, I can’t imagine you’d want to stay there.”
He lucked out that I’m so predictable. That’s just part of growing up in a small town, though. You get used to some things, even though they’re not always the most convenient or the most pleasant.
Of course, that was before he actually came into my life. Ever since then, I don’t think I could stand living in that place anymore. I’m just surprised the townsfolk haven’t decided to trash my store again. I really should figure out what I want to do with that.
“How do you feel about irony?” I ask.
Luckily, he got booted as CEO, and thus the Mulholland office isn’t tying us down there. All right, “luckily” probably isn’t the right word there.
We talk for a long time, eventually moving from the kitchen floor of the penthouse to the living room. Some big things come up, but mostly we just try to fill in some of the pieces we’ve missed since we’ve seen each other.
After a while, we’re both tired, but neither one of us is ready to admit defeat and call it a night.
It’s half past eleven when Nick’s phone rings. He answers it, and I’m half asleep on the other end of the couch. I’m fighting a losing battle.
For a while, I kind of drift in and out of hearing Nick’s part of the conversation, but when he says, “I’ll see you soon,” my eyes open.
“Ellie,” Nick says, shaking my leg.
“What?” I groan.
“Wake up,” he says. “Something’s happening.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
No Hard Feelings
Nick
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Ellie asks as she looks over the place settings on my dining room table.
“No,” I answer, “but it should.”
I’ve only been gone from Stingray a week, but just to show there aren’t any hard feelings I decided to invite the entire board over to the beach house on Long Island for a nice dinner. At least that’s what I said when I called Reeves and had him spread the word.
It took a couple of days for all eight to come on board, but they think I’m still trying to recover the company. When I told them I had no intention of working for Stingray in any capacity, though, the last of the holdouts caved.
Yako Inoue is catering dinner tonight, and the house is starting to fill with the mouth-watering aromas of this evening’s menu.
“I’m going to finish getting ready,” Ellie says, and I nod. A lot is riding on how things go tonight. I should probably finish getting ready, myself.
In business, most of the time, it’s not what you want, but how you ask and how much leverage you have when you do. Ask too softly and nobody will take you seriously. Ask too forcefully and people will tell you no just to knock you down a peg.
It’s simple psychology.
I’ve never had much success with the middle of the road, though. In my experience, it’s best to make everything black and white. Then paint what they want to do with every color of nightmare you can put together.
That’s diplomacy.
I get dressed in one of my softer navy blue suits, something that says I certainly dressed for the occasion, but I’m not trying to prove anything. If they’re going to stay long enough to get railroaded, I need to come across nonthreatening. At least until it’s time to drop the hammer, that is.
Cinching up my tie, I head to the bathroom to check up on Ellie.
“How are you doing?” I ask. She’s looking up at the ceiling, dabbing mascara under one eye.
“Almost there,” she says. She switches to the other eye, and after a few strokes of the brush, she stands up straight. “How do I look?” she asks.
She’s in a sleek, black dress that beautifully hugs, but doesn’t stifle her form. Over her hands, she’s wearing long, black gloves that go up past her elbows. They’re the same fabric as the dress.
“What’s the stone in these earrings?” she asks.
“Red Beryl,” I answer.
Ellie looks in the mirror and takes a deep breath. Blowing it out, she says, “Is everything in place?”
“It should be,” I answer. “Have you seen Marly?”
“No,” she says, “I just came in here to finish my makeup and then the gloves and the earrings. By the way, there’s something I should tell you before dinner starts.”
“Can it wait?” I ask. “I know we have a few minutes, but I want to look everything over—”
She interrupts me, saying, “You know how I said I didn’t know you got fired, but I was so cool about it when you told me?”
“You talked to Nolan,” I state.
She answers, “I talked to Nolan.” Patting me on the shoulder, she says, “After the way he cut me off and forced me to buy a plane ticket instead of make a phone call—which I expect to be reimbursed for, by the way—I thought I’d have a little chat with him while I was waiting for you to get back to your office. He acts all tough on the phone, but you narrow your eyes at the guy and he starts quivering. It was sad, really.”
“Does this have anything to do with tonight? If not, I really would like to get out there,” I tell her.
“Just listen,” she says. “Since you weren’t talking about it with me, I figured you were either trying to handle it emotionally before talking to me—which is stupid—or you really did think I knew about it, but still didn’t say anything—which is also stupid.”
“You’re pretty smug for a trophy girlfriend,” I smirk.
She smacks me on the chest, saying, “You should be nicer to people who do nice things for you, like help put together a dinner party where nothing goes wrong.”
“I take your point,” I tell her. “Please, continue.”
“If I’m honest,” she says, eyeing me like she’s trying to keep me in place, “I thought you were doing some sort of inside baseball or whatever they call it and the whole thing was over my head,” she tells me. “However, I did know you hadn’t been able to find or get ahold of Jacque, so I thought I’d try my hand at it.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. “How’d you even find his number?”
“You know how Naomi’s always snooping through everything, no matter who it belongs to or how expensive it is?” she returns.
“Yeah,” nod. “So?”
“Well, up until very recently, I hadn’t done that in a long time,” she says. “Where do you think Nao
mi picked it up? Anyway, I didn’t call him. I found his address and went, hoping he still lived there.”
“When did you do all this?” I ask. “We’ve been together pretty much the whole time I’ve been—”
“You’re a heavy sleeper,” she tells me. “So, the security guard wasn’t going to let me through or even get a message to him, but I wasn’t ready to give up, so I climbed the fence.”
I’m not sure I believe any of this, but it’s an interesting story. I ask, “You climbed the fence?”
“Okay, so I didn’t climb the fence so much as I grabbed an empty nearby trash can which thankfully had a sturdy lid, set it around the side of the fence so the security guard wouldn’t see me climbing over and dropped down to the other side,” she tells me.
Okay, now I believe her. The fence around Jacque’s is nine feet high and there’s not a lot to grab onto until the top. Not that I’ve ever tried it personally.
“I think I tripped a motion sensor or something, because that’s when I heard the sound of a lot of dogs in the distance. I tried running for a minute, until I realized they were all Pomeranians. There had to be fifteen or twenty of them and they all just surrounded me. They weren’t really nipping at me—and anyway I was wearing long pants, so it wouldn’t have mattered if they were—but the way they were all crowded around me and jumping up on me, I was afraid to move because I didn’t want to accidentally kick or step on any of them.”
“Behold the brilliant mind behind all of Stingray’s best technology solutions,” I tell her. “He drew up schematics for them before he left the company and I had a few people work on it after he was gone.”
“What?” she asks. “Those weren’t real dogs?”
“It’s hilarious he was using them for security,” I tell her. “No, it was a little, if you’ll excuse the expression, pet project he thought up one day. We offered to market them to the public, but he just wanted ‘an even twenty-three of them.’”
“Well,” she says, “it worked. The security guard heard everything and he didn’t even run on his way over. Apparently, this had happened before. When he walked up, the dogs all moved out of the way—which makes a lot more sense now I know they’re not real. Anyway, Jacque must have overheard all of this, because I could see him looking out the window in my direction. I don’t know why I thought it would work, but I shouted out my name to him and my connection to you and what you did for the company.
“Whoever’s behind the gossip mill at your office is fantastic, by the way. Nolan had just about everything you told me. I didn’t want to say anything, but I thought you should know in case you start hearing stories about me on drugs or trying to beat up the former co-chair of your lost company or however they’ll spin it if they get ahold of it. I was really only shouting up to him because nobody had been able to get through. I’m surprised that lawyer of yours didn’t try something like that. He didn’t shout back or come down or anything. So, there’s my damage control out of the way for the evening.”
“When was this?” I ask, baffled.
“The first night I was back here,” Ellie says. “I waited until I knew you were asleep, because I knew you’d tell me not to do it. I would have told you sooner, but it did take you awhile to finally tell me yourself that you gave up the company, so I think fair’s fair,” She straightens my tie. “We should probably get out there, though,” she tells me. “Our guests should be arriving soon.”
Ellie gives herself a conservative spritz of perfume and we come out of the bathroom.
We’re coming out into the front room and it looks like the first cars are starting to pull into the driveway through the open front gate. Ellie and I position ourselves appropriately off to one side of the entryway to properly greet our guests.
Verne is always the first to arrive anywhere, because he likes to get started on the booze early. I shake his hand and smile as he comes in and I introduce him to Ellie. Next is Geraldine, then it’s Mason, then it’s Iman, then Howard, then Nancy, then Bertrand and last, as always to show up is Daniel Reeves.
I’m gracious, even kind to all of them as they arrive and Ellie is nothing but charm as she meets the people I’ve been complaining about so long.
We chat for a while over cocktails, but when Yako says dinner is ready, she won’t wait longer than two minutes to serve before she throws everything out and starts again. The most skilled people in any profession, I’ve found, are always a little crazy.
When we’re all seated, Yako whispers in my ear that we’re under two minutes, but if I want her to come back, I should more properly prepare my guests. I nod and try not to laugh.
The food is in front of us within ten seconds.
“Well, good evening everyone,” I say. “Welcome, and I hope we can all have a pleasant evening.”
I feel like a moron talking to these people this way, but there’s no need for nastiness.
“I’m sure the board joins me in my appreciation for inviting us to your home,” Reeves says. “I hope there aren’t any hard feelings.”
“Of course not,” I tell him. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty on all sides, but we don’t have to make this dinner all about work.”
“I think that sounds lovely,” Reeves says.
This is going to be the worst part of the evening, but one of the most necessary. The people sitting around this table, Ellie excluded, are the most vengeful, conniving group I’ve had the misfortune to know up close.
What’s more, they’re not stupid. Not one of them is sitting comfortably in their chairs, yet everyone’s smiling. They all know something’s coming. What happens now is Ellie and I try to divert them with kindness and hope it doesn’t come off like the charade it is.
“So Verne,” Ellie says, giving just the right amount of eye contact, “Nick tells me you have a gorgeous vacation home just outside of Sao Paolo, Brazil. I’ve never been there, but I’ve always been interested in the culture. How have you experienced Brazil?”
We still need to work on her posh talk a little, but she is captivating as she speaks.
Verne looks around the table and then to Ellie, saying, “Give it to you straight, I ain’t experienced a whole lot about it. Built the thing five years ago went there once to pick the site and once to see it after it was done. Some of the locals been tryin’ to get the place torn down cause they said I built it in a rainforest, but what do they think I was tryin’ to do?” he says, wheezing laughter.
I’m still nervous, but Ellie manages to maintain her smile as she finds out I wasn’t joking about the solipsism I’ve had to deal with from these people.
“It must be lovely there,” Ellie says, leaning forward, but just enough to show her interest.
Verne shrugs and says, “I suppose.”
“And just how is a handsome man such as yourself still single?” Ellie asks and I can hardly hold back my amusement.
He waves his hand dismissively. His face is a little red. With that, Verne is disarmed.
By the time we’re to the third of five courses, Ellie has everyone eating out of the palm of her hand. She’s a natural negotiator, and the best part is they should be very wary of what’s happening right now, but they’re not. All of them are resting back in their seats, smiles and laughs galore. I’m glad nobody brought a date, or this would get really awkward. Fortunately, nobody in the room expected a straightforward evening, and it looks like nobody wanted to have their significant other around when things invariably turn.
By the time we’re finishing up the fifth course, I grab my wine glass and tap it with a fork. It lets off a dull thunk.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say and drink the whole glass down. Naturally, seeing me do this, a few of the board members laughingly take their own drinks. Mine, of course, is grape juice, but they don’t know that.
What I need here tonight is a tentative yes, or at least an indication there won’t be any sort of obstruction to what I have in mind. Even with the contract that removed me from
my position, the board hasn’t taken care of everything. Still, if they all get their lawyers on this before there’s some credible indication they’ll do what they need to do, then tonight’s a waste of time. I just need something I can hold them to when they try to fight this.
After wiping my mouth, I tap the glass again with the fork.
Eight people laugh and Ellie just rolls her eyes. That’s the difference between a drunk audience and a sober audience.
“Well,” I say, “we’re about to bring out dessert, but before we do, I just want to tell you how pleasant it’s been having you all here. I know we’ve had our ups and downs, especially recently, but there’s no reason we can’t be civil with one another.”
“Hear, hear!” Handler shouts.
Yeah, they’re drunk.
“Now, I know I said earlier the night didn’t have to be all business, but if you’ll indulge me one brief aberration, we can get right on to dessert,” I say.
Eight people, though drunk and charmed, all seem to clench up at the same time.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I have no interest in trying to get back in with Stingray.”
They relax, but not much.
“I know I don’t have rights as chairman of the board, but I would like to propose someone as my replacement as chief executive,” I tell them. “Why don’t you come on out?” I call toward the front room.
It’s supposed to be this shocking reveal that has everyone so flabbergasted they crumble without a fight, but as Jacque is making his grand entrance, the toe of his shoe catches the floor just wrong and he barely stops himself falling completely.
Jacque’s three steps further into the room when he removes his suit coat and lets it drop to the floor. He’s loosening his tie as he says, “I told you, Niko, I hate these stupid clothes.”
Yeah, that’s right, board. Tremble in fear.
“Why did we have to do this all dramatic anyway?” he asks. “You know I hate talking in front of people.”
This is why I was CEO instead of Jacque. He’s more of a free spirit than a businessman. At least that’s the bullshit line he’s been feeding people forever.