Milk Money

by Jude E. McNamara

  “Charlotte, tell Winston to bring the car around please. Let Malcom know, I’m getting ready to go. I don’t want to be late for my appointment with Dr. Richards.”

  I grabbed my purse. Part of me was still fuming from Brooks’ visit.

  I headed out the doors towards my limousine. I caught a glimpse of Malcom’s expression as I moved to hop into the rear seat while he held the door.

  “Where’s Winston?”

  “I told him to take a break. I’m taking you myself today,” Malcom said. “We need to talk. You haven’t made much time for me.”

  “What is it?” I asked, as Malcom pulled out into the traffic.

  He was sulking. I suppose he was in some huge funk over seeing Brooks leave my office. Frankly, he’d been acting strange for a couple of weeks now, ever since the night of the wedding reception.

  “This is getting hard to watch,” Malcom said.

  “What is this?”

  “Him.”

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “Both,” he said.

  I shook my head. I turned my attention towards the pedestrians walking briskly down the street. Here we go. What happened to the days when a guy just shagged a gal and never called back again? Jesus. I must be picking wrong.

  “They don’t deserve you. They can’t take care of you like I can. I’ve told you how I feel,” he said calmly.

  “I’ve told you I don’t need taking care of, Malcom. I’m not the relationship type. What happened between us, we agreed wasn’t supposed to get serious. Now you want to get serious. This doesn’t sound like your wanting to keep your end of the bargain,” I continued. “Find someone else to focus on,” I said getting pissed for a yet second time this afternoon.

  What the hell is wrong with these guys? Don’t they know how to kiss and move on? It must be something in the water around here. Nicholas wants a re-do. Brooks thinks he wants to be married to me. And now Malcom is behaving like a lovesick puppy dog. I could feel my frustration building again.

  “I’m prepared to wait,” Malcom continued.

  “Don’t,” I said dryly.

  There was a moment of silence between us. I figured he sensed my seething. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to calm myself. “Listen Malcom, I know you take good care of me, protecting me and all. I don’t want to lose your services, but I can’t have this talk with you every time you see me out with someone new. I don’t need this drama in my life right now. If I wanted to settle down, you would know it.”

  “You don’t know what you want.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve got on my big girl panties. And I damn sure don’t need you to tell me what to do with my life. That’s not your job. And, it’s sure as hell beyond your job description,” I huffed.

  I glanced back out the window. What’s with these guys today thinking they know what’s best for me. This is my life.

  “There’s a lot going on between us, Harper, that’s beyond my job description,” Malcom snapped back. “What’s your problem exactly? Have you been hurt by so many guys you can’t find one to trust? Are you concerned about what the senator will think about us being together?” he said, his voice rising a notch.

  “The senator has nothing to do with this.” Now I was the one raising my voice several octaves. “It’s about what I think. What I want. You don’t get to make choices for me,” I snarled through my clenched jaw.

  “I’ll have Winston waiting for you when you’re done. I’ll follow behind you in the Range Rover on your drive back. Call me if you need anything. Otherwise I don’t want to talk about this anymore today.”

  “Good, that makes two of us,” I snapped, pushing the privacy button forward to raise the window that was a barrier between us. It was just as well. I was ready to declare this day to be damn over anyway.

  The marimba starting playing on my phone. For a minute I thought it was going to be a good thing to have a distraction from Malcom, until I looked down at my caller ID. Nicholas Becker. Could this day get any worse?

  “What the hell do you want? Why are you calling me?” I snapped.

  “Harper, Harper, Harper. Are we having a bad day, Kitten?”

  “What is it Nicholas? Some of us have busy lives and don’t have time to reach back in our pasts to dig up old lovers we kicked to the curb,” I snarled.

  “You’ve got the claws out today.”

  “Every time you make me have to stop what I’m doing to deal with you, Nicholas, I swear you’re going to regret it,” I hissed.

  “Oh I love it when my little kitten turns into the feral cat. It’s so damn hot and sexy when your claws come out.”

  “I told you before, I’m not your kitten.”

  “Dear, I was wondering if you’d be interested in selling me back the Sugar Shack piece? Some of Ernie Barne’s work is coming on the market. I thought maybe you’d be a sweetheart and sell me that piece. I could avoid having to bid on his next piece.”

  “And why would I do that exactly?”

  “Well, it’s not like you didn’t overpay for the piece. You and I both know that was very vengeful of you. I had a particular purpose for that piece.”

  “You should have thought about that when you purchased Global Gilliam out from under me. Two can play your game,” I sneered.

  “I see no reason to dig this up again, Harper. Let sleeping dogs lie. Will you sell me the piece or not? Can’t we call a truce on this?”

  “Nope and nope.”

  “Fine, I see you’re going to stay on your tough-muffin seat today. Sooner or later you’re going to have to come down off that high horse of yours and act like a decent human being,” Nicholas shouted.

  “Decent human being? Did you just say decent human being? I got your decent human being, Nicholas Miles Becker,” I yelled.

  Click.

  He must be crazy out of that beautiful Adonis head of his, questioning whether or not I’m the decent human being. I swear Nicky acts like he’s lost some brain matter. I am going to make that man pay through the nose every time he so much as thinks about me. Sooner or later he’ll be forced to leave me the hell alone. Take my name off his lips.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse to call Charlotte. I dialed the digits on my phone faster than usual. I was overflowing with anger.

  “Charlotte. Call Swann Galleries please. Tell them I’m bidding on the artwork after all. Anonymously please. Have them check in with me on a price ceiling.”

  “Thank you Charlotte.”

  Malcom pulled up to the curb of Dr. Richards’ office, opening the door.

  “Malcom, please let Winston know I’ll be ready in an hour.”

  Malcom nodded, saying nothing. I could tell by the look on his face he was still stewing. He looked like I felt.

  Humpf. Whatever. People in hell want ice water, too.

  Chapter Five

  Nicholas

  “Shit. Shit. Shit. She hung up on me. Harper burns my ass. How hard can it be for her to extend some shred of kindness and decency to me some of the damn time? It doesn’t cost her anything to sell me that artwork. She only purchased it to spite me anyway,” I fumed.

  “Face it Nicky, women can be difficult,” Stephen said.

  “I can’t reach back in time and change what was,” I said breathing heavily, sweating harder, wondering why I was doing this to myself. “All I can do is go forward,” I said, trying to duck my head out of the way.

  It was a dumb idea to get into the boxing ring at my penthouse with Stephen. Surely there were better ways to work off steam then to get into a ring with my own bodyguard. Stephen was an ex-Navy Seal. This was a dumbass idea.

  “Since seeing her at Mico’s wedding, it’s been harder than ever to put her out of my mind. She was looking so gorgeous, practically edible. Beautiful.”

  “She is a knockout, Nicky,” Wham. Wham. “Very beautiful indeed,” Stephen said plowing his fists into my mid-section.

  “But that fiery attitude requires me to delve deep into my too
lbox. She forces me to pull out attributes I’m not used to using,” I said, breathing harder, ducking quicker, but still taking a flurry of punches upside my head.

  “Yes Nicky, patience and fortitude are not your strong suits when it comes to Harper. I know. I’ve observed you. It’s hard for you to be in her space without throwing a few of your own grenades, too.” Stephen pounded on me.

  Oh God, why did I get into the ring with this serial killer? He’s killing me. I moved to the corner of the ring, dancing in circles to catch my breath, pumping my gloves together, hoping to appear more menacing.

  “She wants to control me. It’s bad enough Big Daddy thinks he can tell me what to do, how to do it, trying to control and plan out my life,” I puffed, stepping back into Stephen’s reach.

  It was hard for me to admit out loud, but I believed I could see myself building a life with Harper. Assuming we didn’t kill each other first. It just didn’t need to be Big Daddy’s idea.

  “That hardcore veneer of hers is so difficult to crack. She never lets her guard down with me. And she’s surrounded by that cast of impotent male clowns and that witch Mackenzie, making my job even harder,” I said, double-pounding my fists into Stephen’s six-pack.

  Stephen might as well have been made of steel. He hardly moved. “Who?” Stephen asked quizzically.

  “Mackenzie Rhodes,” I repeated. “That wicked witch queen of ice who can’t mind her own fucking business,” I fumed.

  Pow!

  Stephen laid me out to the mat. Bejesus. If I didn’t know better, that blow felt personal. It wasn’t lost on me that Stephen had been pounding hard on my unprotected abs with a good deal of satisfaction. I rose slowly on bended knee trying to get to my feet. I forced myself to steady my legs as the room spun and tilted. I was starting to feel like the fly. And Stephen was the fly swatter.

  I must be losing my mind over this woman. I’d managed to frustrate myself so much, I got this crazy idea of making Stephen put on boxing gloves today and get in the ring with me. Only an insane person would do this. Maybe I was insane. Harper was making me crazy.

  “It’s hard to stomach not being able to exert any kind of control or influence over her perception of me. I’m not a bad guy Stephen,” I said, sweating profusely, breathing more heavily.

  Stephen grinned, laughing harder with delight, all the while moving at lightning speed, throwing a flurry of punches directed at my head. I was tossed against the rope now, trying to protect my face from his stinging blows. Putting on boxing gloves with Stephen was the dumbest idea I had today. He was giving me a royal ass whipping, bruising my ego in the process. I hated losing at anything.

  “I’m the needle in the haystack, right? I’m not that damn bad of a catch.”

  “Not at all man. You’re omnipotent, remember? It’s not every day I get to punch and whup up on God,” Stephen said, bobbing, laughing, weaving, while he punched my lights out.

  I didn’t think Stephen would ever shut up talking about how priceless this moment was. He knocked me across the head, laid me out on the mat a second time, then skipped around the ring in circles like he was Muhammed Ali waiting for me to drag my sorry ass up again. Instead of this being the Thriller at Manilla, this was turning into the Thriller at Becker Towers featuring stupid ass Nicholas Becker. That was what this was.

  “I love how she gets under your skin,” Stephen mumbled. “I needed practice today at doling out a good beat down,” he continued, still blabbing off at the mouth and skipping around even faster as if he were on some kind of high. “It keeps my skills sharp.”

  Pow. Pow.

  “I can better protect you when I’m sharp, Nicky,” he said, hardly even winded.

  Protect me? Goddamn. Was he on something? Maybe I needed to start inspecting those protein shakes my housekeeper Ina liked to make for him that he drinks by the pitcher. Hell, maybe I needed to start drinking whatever that shit was he was drinking. Harper was punishing me day in and day out. And here I was abusing myself some more by getting into this fucking ass ring with Stephen.

  “If Harper and I could at least graduate to “playing nice” that would be a huge breakthrough,” I said, feeling my sense of resolve coming back.

  Bam. Bam. Bam. Stephen knocked me to the mat. I fell flat on my back looking up, my heart pounding double-time.

  This time I was determined to stay down. Hell no. I wasn’t going to get up.

  “No such thing as “playing nice” Nicky,” Stephen said, standing over me with his fisted gloves on both hips. “You play to win.”

  The sound of Lucia’s heels clicking on the marble floor caught my attention as she headed into my gym. She’d been working in the home office tracking the stock ticker, following the price fluctuations in the Japanese yen. Lucia gazed down at me on the mat much like a mother bear would look at her wayward cub. She shook her head at me. All I could do was roll my eyes at her and moan. But not before I took note that she was blushing at the sight of Stephen. She didn’t say a word but I was sure I heard her breath hitch as she glanced at Stephen’s sweaty, ripped, V-cut six pack, her eyes taking in the entire package head to toe. Never saw her look at me that way. I tried to put on my wounded face hoping to solicit some element of sympathy but Lucia ignored me.

  “It’s time you to get back to work, Nicky. You should shower first. You smell.” Lucia turned up her nose and frowned.

  “Woman, it’s a good thing you’re my valued partner that I hold in the highest regard,” I said, crawling up on my knees, slowly forcing myself to get on both feet. “Otherwise I would have thrown you across my knee and taken all my frustrations out on your sweet sassy butt,” I said, digging deep within myself to exert what little of my manhood I had left here after Stephen’s beat down. I was barely able to breathe.

  “Save it for Harper, Nicky. Get moving. We’ve got work to do. Go shower. I’ve got news.”

  I let the water run down my back relishing the hot water from the shower jets soothingly massaging my body. I hated it whenever Lucia said she had news. That was code for good news and bad news. I was sure as shit not in the mood for any bad news.

  It was bad enough that Harper had hung up on me today, refusing to sell me the artwork I wanted. I was getting nowhere in the mission of Harper and I working on a “relationship re-do.” Re-do was looking more like a no-can-do. When Harper finds out that Milk Money is going to be a contender against The Montgomery Consulting Group for Joduku Plastics, it was going to be a regular little blood bath between us. I was going to have to do a novena. Maybe call on Saint Jude, the Patron Saint of Lost Causes just to be able to get through the experience.

  I finished my shower, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and slipped my David Yurman watch on my wrist. I grabbed my favorite grey sweat pants and a t-shirt. I figured I’d be comfortable if I was going to have to take on more bad news today.

  Lucia was at the computer surrounded by my six new shiny Apple Thunderbolt display screens that I’d recently installed in my home office at Becker Towers. I walked to my desk, glancing briefly out the window—it was going to rain. I cherished being able to look at my office window and see the Empire State Building, even though the clouds were starting to turn dark and ominous, much like my mood.

  “You smell so much better,” Lucia remarked, looking me up and down. “You want the good news or the bad news?”

  Bingo. Predictable.

  “Good,” I mumbled.

  “Well the good news is that CEO Nobu of Joduku Plastics wants to see us. His assistant wants to know our availability to meet in Princeton. That means we’ve made their short list, which is good.”

  “Being short-listed is good,” I said, thumbing through the folder she handed me.

  “I’ve worked up the figures with the staff. I think we start this battle at around eight million. Nobu is asking for twenty. If at the end of the day we can land somewhere between fifteen and seventeen million, then Becker Foods has a good shot of averaging a twenty percent return five
years from now.”

  Lucia handed me a spreadsheet.

  “We’ve run the numbers twice. I think that’s where the land should be,” Lucia said, never looking away from the spreadsheet in front of her. “Once we acquire Joduku Plastics, you can transfer the assets over to Becker Foods, not that I’m completely clear on why your father is interested in this company,” Lucia said, a bit puzzled.

  That was the thing I loved about Lucia. We thought alike, almost as if we were cut from the same cloth. She was a shrewd businesswoman. Like me, this acquisition my father was engineering didn’t quite make sense to her either.

  “And what’s the bad news?”

  “There are three other bidders besides Milk Money and The Montgomery Consulting Group.”

  “And who might that be?” I asked, wondering how bad this shit project was going to be.

  “Well there’s a little plastics company from Georgia called Peachtree Plastics that’s throwing its hat in the ring, but they are not a real serious threat. They see the business as synergy with their existing business but I don’t see them having enough cash reserves to stay in the bidding game long. They’re not a worry, as I see it,” Lucia said, making eye contact with me now.

  “Who else?”

  “O’Donnell Plastics Company out of Massachusetts is bidding. It’s a husband-and-wife-owned company that has lots of capital. But our competitive intelligence team says the couple’s marriage is on the brink. Their existing company may even be up for sale.”

  “Talk about bad timing,” I mumbled.

  “Apparently it’s all bad timing. The husband got caught cheating on the wife. They may drop out before the showdown is all over. They’re trying to keep up a good front so that their shareholders don’t get antsy,” Lucia sighed.

  “And the crowning blow that you’ve saved for last is who?”

  I knew the real blow was coming next, telling myself to wait for it.