Milk Money

by Jude E. McNamara

  “McKenna Textiles,” Lucia said solemnly

  “McKenna Textiles? McKenna Textiles?” I said, sounding to myself like a broken record. “McKenna Textiles—as in Brooks Fitzgerald Fucking McKenna—McKenna Textiles?”

  “Yes,” Lucia said.

  “What the fuck does that blowhard, social-climbing, pinhead Neanderthal have to do with this?” I bellowed. “Why would a CEO of a textile company be interested in buying some little Japanese plastics company in Princeton, New Jersey?!”

  “Calm down. Get a hold of yourself, Nicky,” Lucia snapped.

  “Why is that exactly, Lucia?” I asked, intuitively knowing I wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “Word on the street is that Brooks intends the purchase to be used for purposes of gift giving,” Lucia answered formally.

  “Gift giving? Gift giving?”

  “You’re repeating yourself Nicky,” Lucia said calmly, anticipating my building hysteria.

  I supposed one of the two of us should be calm because I sure the hell wasn’t. “Gift giving to whom?” I asked, right at the same time the light bulbs went on. “Oh hell no!” I yelled, slamming my fist down on my brand new steel grey desk. It was durable. Contemporary. The perfect purchase, meant to take a beating for both my current and future rants.

  “I have it on good authority that he wants into Senator Montgomery’s family. Apparently Brooks Fitzgerald McKenna has some political aspirations of his own,” Lucia said calmly.

  “No fucking way,” I ranted.

  “An acquisition such as this solves a couple of his problems,” Lucia spoke stoically. “He wins the favor of the family for one.”

  “And the second?”

  “He thinks a business merger will lead to a proper marital merger. A merger, business or otherwise, shores up his financial liquidity troubles. Brooks would improve his company’s balance sheets overnight,” Lucia said.

  “Merger by necessity. He’s such the slimeball.”

  “Rumor has it he’s willing to take the twenty-million-dollar risk on Joduku Plastics hoping it will turn into a cash cow down the road.”

  “Who knew that fuckwad was having financial troubles?” I said sarcastically.

  “I did,” she said dismissively.

  Goddamn, this day was rapidly going from bad to worse.

  “Apparently McKenna has made some not so good investments in the Asian markets. He’s gotten caught up in the Chinese currency fluctuations and that has stressed his company’s liquidity, forcing him to overextend his business. He’s taken out some not-so-smart business loans with some not-so-nice investors in order to stay afloat.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” I grunted.

  “If you ask me, his business is a house of cards waiting to fall. But if he marries up, of course his financial problems quickly dissolve,” Lucia said.

  “In other words, he’s looking to marry for money,” I growled. “That social climbing slug never ceases to quit. Amazing.”

  This was why I loved having Lucia as my business partner. She was thorough, never leaving a stone uncovered. This was a truism about her—business, personal, or otherwise.

  “Oh and here’s the good part, Nicky. I’m not sure Harper knows who the other bidders are yet,” Lucia continued.

  “Well that’s only a matter of time. She may not know it now, but she’ll get around to it sooner or later. And likely more sooner than later,” I said. “She has a competitive intelligence team that is second to none.”

  “Umm, that’s debatable,” Lucia said casually, not at all intending to sell Milk Money short.

  “Well one thing for sure,” when she finds out that Milk Money is her competition, I suggest everyone around better take cover from the fallout. It won’t be a pretty picture. Harper’s going to go nuclear.”

  Man, Lucia’s “news” was more like a crap sandwich. Good news on top, bad news in the middle, more bad news, and bad news on the bottom. Either way I wasn’t up for digesting any of it. I could feel myself vacillating between anger and panic. I was angry that on top of everything else I had to contend with Brooks. However, I was even more motivated at the same time to emerge the winner in this acquisition battle. But I was panicked, knowing that this was going to create a huge impediment to my working toward a do-over with Harper.

  “One thing for sure, if we emerge the winner, there will be no Brooks Fitzgerald Shithead McKenna running off gifting any companies away.”

  Especially not to my woman.

  “Big Daddy will be happy, remaining king of his food processing empire for generations to come,” I huffed, moving over to the wet bar and pouring myself a vodka. I poured Lucia a Jack Daniels neat.

  “Nobody is going to be getting what is mine. Not Brooks, not anybody,” I said out loud, gulping down vodka, pouring myself another before walking back towards Lucia and setting her cocktail down.

  “Getting what’s yours? Interesting,” Lucia cooed. She glanced at me with piercing eyes, taking a slow sip of her Jack Daniels.

  I avoided eye contact, pondering where a win would leave me with Harper. That was a piece of this puzzle that I was going to have to resolve quickly throughout the bidding process.

  “Everyone involved is going to have to face it. At the end of the day, I, Nicholas Becker, CEO of Milk Money, am going to end up with Joduku Plastics.”

  And the woman.

  “I have no doubt, Nicholas, that you will get what is yours,” Lucia said confidently, sipping her drink.

  “Lucia, we are going to be on an adventurous roller coaster the next several weeks. But one thing is for sure—I am up for this ride.”

  “I love roller coaster rides,” Lucia said, as she sat on the nearby loveseat and crossed her legs. She tossed her auburn hair back while throwing both hands straight up in the air, smiling wickedly.

  “Oh and Nicky . . .” Lucia grinned, still sipping her Jack Daniels.

  “Yeah what?” I said, turning my attention to the computer screen noticing that the Dow Jones and the S&P were up.

  “Swann Galleries called. The new Ernie Barnes piece that you want that’s up for auction . . . well there’s an anonymous bidder in play signaling he or she may be planning to outbid you. The other bidders have dropped out at four hundred thousand,” Lucia said with a sly look on her face.

  “That piece can’t be worth much more than three hundred and fifty thousand. Who in the hell is inflating the bid?”

  “Well I’d take an educated guess if you insist,” Lucia laughed.

  “Jesus, won’t that crazy woman let me have anything I want?” I shrieked. I stood up now, pacing the floor, walking in circles.

  “What shall I tell the gallery?”

  “Keep bidding.”

  “Nickkkkkkkky,” Lucia said, sounding exasperated with me.

  “Tell them to keep fucking bidding.”

  We both turned our attention to the speakerphone as we heard the Becker Towers concierge say I had a call.

  “Milk Money, God speaking,” I said.

  “It’s me, Three. Any chance you can part the Red Sea and let me in, motherfucker?”

  I didn’t even answer. I hit the entrance button. The fact that my brother was on his way up was telling. It would take him a few beats on the private elevator to reach the penthouse on the eighty-sixth floor.

  “I wonder what he wants.” I said, turning to Lucia.

  “Don’t know,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “Your brother, you tell me. I’ll leave you alone. Give you Becker boys some space,” Lucia chuckled. “Shall I go greet him?”

  “No, let him use his key. This whole Becker Foods adventure Big Daddy has dragged me into has turned into a mind fuck, so let him work to get in here,” I bristled.

  I wondered what could possibly be up with Three that was so important he was gracing my presence today. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind, than Three busted through the penthouse doors joining us in my home office.

  “Bellisima! Rest
ing my eyes on you has made my day!” Three said, speaking in Italian. “I would have come by sooner had I known you’d be here to bless the view,” he grabbed Lucia’s hand and kissed it tenderly.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to woo me, Three,” Lucia answered back in Italian. “All you Becker men are just alike,” Lucia laughed.

  “What sane man in his right mind could resist your beauty, lovely?”

  Lucia laughed heartily.

  “I’ll give you two some privacy,” she said speaking now in English. “I’ll be in the Great Room, if you need me, Nicholas.”

  “Leave my partner alone, Three. You’ve got a wife.”

  “I’m not dead Nicky. I’ve still got eyes,” Three said calmly, grinning his sly fox grin ear to ear.

  I studied Lucia as she grabbed her things, tucking her dog-eared copy of The Heart of a Helmsman by Jude E. McNamara inside her Tumi, and sauntering past Three much like the goddess she was as she left the room. Who would have thought the formidable Lucia Falco read romance? Our little secret.

  “Ahhhhh man, to be a single again,” Three said, his eyes still hungrily pinned on Lucia’s rear and filled with unleashed desire.

  Lucia was indeed a beautiful and clever woman. She possessed both beauty and brains. She was a Rhodes Scholar, and a world-traveled woman with a keen appreciation for the finer things in life. Her attributes were quite attractive. Lucia never failed to get a rise out of most men who were in her orbit. Except for me of course, which even I found strange. Harper Montgomery may have cracked my heart in two, but not my libido. But with Lucia, it was different. I didn’t see her that way, which was a good thing. Otherwise we’d never get any work done around here.

  “What brings you to these parts today, Three?” I said, turning my attention back in his direction.

  “Big Daddy, brother. He wants to catch up with you. Senator Montgomery is having a fundraiser to retire some of the party’s campaign debt. Big Daddy promised Elizabeth Montgomery, who by the way, has extended an invitation to you as well, that you would be there,” Three said.

  Three was grinning, knowing I was going to resist.

  “Oh hell no. Big Daddy is planning out my social calendar now? What the fuck? Who does he think he is?”

  “Certainly not God,” Three snickered, raising his eyebrows and pulling his lips together while swiveling his chair around, kicking his feet up on my brand new desk.

  “The Montgomery’s are Democrats,” I said. “We’re Republicans.” I moved back to the bar to pour myself another vodka.

  “No we’re Republicans,” Three said, answering affirmatively to my quiet nod of the head to see if he wanted a drink. “You’re a pretend, wishy-washy self-proclaimed Republican who’s really an Independent at heart,” he said, sipping his martini.

  “And why on God’s green earth does he want us to be there?”

  “It’s called bi-partisanship Nicky. Jesus, how did you get to be so rich and yet so stupid? It’s a good thing you’ve got me to hold your damn hand, man.”

  Three liked the feeling of being the big brother that always had to take care of me and watch my back. So I let his stupid crack go by. He was known for his sarcasm. The one thing he knew for sure, stupid I was not. I was valedictorian of my class at the Naval Academy.

  “It’s hard to get a break around here with Big Daddy all up in my world,” I grumbled. “Ever since mother died he’s turned into a regular fucking control freak,” I snapped.

  “Yeah, well there’s more,” Three laughed.

  “What?” I said, my emotions moving from pissdom to indignation.

  “He would like for you to make a fat donation to the cause.”

  “Fuck that, Three. You tell Big Daddy I said, no . . . no . . . never mind. I’ll go to Elizabeth’s fundraiser because I like her, but I plan to tell Big Daddy to his face to stand the hell down with me,” I growled.

  Three laughed so hard I thought he was going to fall on the floor.

  “Good luck with that one little brother. I’ll buy a front row ticket to that show,” Three laughed harder, throwing a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket on my desk for effect.

  “How much am I to give this time?” I asked, feeling like I might need to rethink my position. Three might be right.

  Going up against Big Daddy over something as small as a donation might be a bad move on my part. I didn’t want to win the battle and lose the war. I’d donate to this bullshit all right, but Big Daddy was going to get out of my personal life, ordering me to marry and make babies. Big Daddy could be a treacherous man. He was powerful, his reach was long.

  “Fifty thousand,” Three said, padding over to the wet bar and pouring himself a second drink.

  “Fifty fucking thousand dollars? Is he shittin’ me? To the Democrats? Really Three? Is this some kind of joke?” I asked, now a whole lot more serious.

  “Milk Money, baby,” Three said. “God doesn’t run out of riches, little brother. Maybe if you stop answering your phone sometime like you’re God, folks will stop expecting big things from you.”

  Oh wow, I was seriously aggravated now. And as for Three, he was enjoying every minute of the misery Big Daddy was putting me through. Now I knew why he came by personally to deliver this news. He wanted to see my face in person so I could fulfill his laughter quotient for the day.

  “Oh and Nicky, I saw those two beautiful bombshells of yours, Mallory and Jessica, the other day. It appears they’re going to be at this fundraiser.”

  “They’re not mine, Three.”

  “I beg to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. Apparently those two BFFs are going to be working the room, modeling lingerie that will be a part of the fundraiser’s silent auction table.”

  “Who cares,” I groaned.

  “Those Page Six pictures they took with you were hot. Who wouldn’t want to know what secrets those two angel beauties are keeping for Victoria. Yowsa.”

  “Just because they’re Victoria’s Secret models, doesn’t mean you have to come to attention every time you see them, Three.”

  “Oh little brother you just don’t know. A man can only dream. But then again, I’ll bet money your lover boy ass has knocked boots with both those angels.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell, Three,” I said, not looking at him, trying to figure out why my life had suddenly gone to hell in a handbasket.

  Things were definitely getting worse. I took inventory in my mind. Let’s see. I was going to have to fight Harper for Joduku Plastics. Fuckwad Brooks McKenna was going to be bidding against us both so he could get a shot at trying to marry my woman who doesn’t want to be my woman. And, on top of everything else I had to give fifty thousand dollars to some measly Democrats, all while fighting off two drop-dead gorgeous glam goddesses in the presence of my woman and her senator father. Life couldn’t get any more fucked up.

  “Hey Nicky,” Lucia said. “Sorry to interrupt your brother bonding moment but the gallery called. You’re up to six hundred thousand,” Lucia said sternly. “Don’t you think you should let this piece go?”

  Lucia narrowed her eyes at me as if to say, stop this stupidity, motherfucker.

  “Whatever it is, God’s got it all under control, Lucia,” Three laughed loudly.

  Lucia ignored Three but kept her eyes pinned on me.

  “Not yet Lucia,” I said guiltily.

  “Idioto stupido,” Lucia barked.

  She slammed the door behind her so loud and hard, even Three jumped.

  Tell me how you really feel.

  It didn’t take a degree in rocket science to figure out what Lucia thought of my staying in this bidding war.

  Fuck me.

  Chapter Six

  Harper

  “I believe having a baby right now will bring me a lot of joy.”

  “Oh, why is that?” Dr. Richards asked.

  I knew she was taking note of my body language, watching me as I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Dr.
Jayne Richards had been my therapist for a few years now. She had helped me through some very stressful lonely periods in my life. She knew me well enough to recognize all of my nonverbal signals.

  “I have too many reasons to count. But just offhand, I would say thanks to your helping me through some very difficult life moments, my days of panic attacks are long gone. My career is at a place where the business is going well, and I’m able to delegate to the staff without feeling like I have to watchdog my own business.”

  “That’s so good to hear Harper.”

  “I really have a great team of people working with me,” I went on. “I’m not getting any younger. My childbearing years are on the decline. I can afford it. So it’s now or never,” I shrugged.

  “Well have you considered that this is a life-changing event and that you don’t really have to choose to go it alone?” she said thoughtfully. “From what I can tell, you have plenty of suitors clamoring at your doors who’d be more than excited to share their world, and parent with you,” Dr. Richards said, prodding me some more.

  “Well none of the guys I’ve been dating the last few years really do it for me, not like . . .” I paused to reflect, rubbing my forehead.

  “You mean not like Nicholas?” Dr. Richards added, finishing my sentence.

  “Yeah, well, not like Nicholas,” I reluctantly agreed.

  “Harper, we all make choices every day. If a relationship with Nicholas still holds promise for you, perhaps you should consider opening yourself up to the idea of letting go of the past and creating the future that may be possible for you two. Pursuing motherhood alone is very do-able. But it’s a big life-changing step.”

  “Well I was thinking I could go to one of those fertility clinics, pick a sperm donor, and have my own baby without all the headache of pleasing and catering to a husband,” I said dismissively. I paused looking up to see if my words were registering any shock with Dr. Richards. But of course she showed little emotion. That wasn’t a new revelation.

  “People do it every day Harper. Some under difficult and challenging circumstances that you would never have to endure. Unlike many folks, you have the luxury to choose the marital and parental life you that want to have.” She gazed at me thoughtfully for a moment. “I could recommend some good physicians at the more reputable fertility clinics in town, but I think you need to consider keeping your options open, Harper. You’ve been playing the field with some of the most sought-after men in Manhattan, and none of them have yet to meet your standards. Surely one of them makes the cut?”