When Blackwell entered the room, she wasn’t alone—she was with a nurse, who came to my bedside while Blackwell hung back.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Wenn?” she said. “Are you in any pain?”
“No,” I said, not wanting any more drugs because I wanted to remain alert. “I’m actually feeling fine.”
I saw her glance up at the monitors, which were still beeping furiously—and thus giving me away.
“I’m just upset,” I said. “You can understand why.”
“Of course,” the woman said. “Perhaps you’d like something for your anxiety.”
“I’ll calm down,” I said. “My husband was just here. We talked about the loss and we both became upset—that’s all. But thank you.”
“You can have food soon,” she said. “Pretty much just liquids at this point, so there’s not much to choose from. But I’ll leave the menu with you, and you can alert me when it’s filled out. You must be hungry at this point.”
“More thirsty than anything. Is it safe to have water now?”
“It is. Let me get you some.”
“That would be perfect. But would you give Barbara and me thirty minutes first? I’d like to speak to her in private, if that’s OK?”
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes with some water,” the woman said, and after leaving me the menu and writing down my vital signs, she was off.
“Well,” Blackwell said when the door shut behind her. “Brava.”
“What does that mean?” I said, looking at her as she crossed the distance between us.
“The performance you just gave, of course. Award-worthy. Who knew you had that in you? I always saw you as a rough-and-tumble sort of girl, to be honest. Hardly the wolf in sheep’s clothing I just witnessed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do, so don’t lie. You’re in pain—physically and emotionally—but you just showed her none of it on purpose. And truth be told, in the process, you also just blew one hell of an opportunity. That woman would have given you a Xanax as big as your ass if you’d asked her for one—not that you could have swallowed a pill that big. But no, no—you eschewed it. You tossed away the opportunity as if these moments just come to one easily. So naturally, I’m curious, because who on Earth ever gives up the X when it’s within arm’s reach? Not anyone I know.”
“Well, you just met her then.”
She sat down next to me, and fingered her hair out of her face. “So I have. Alex said that you wanted to see me. He looked shaken. Any idea why?”
I told her about our conversation.
“I’m a mess,” I said. “I don’t even recognize myself. I came on too strong toward the end, and I regret that. My emotions are everywhere at this point. I just feel as if I need an outlet, Barbara, and for me, Wenn is it.”
“You’re both going through a lot,” she said. “And actually, I can see each point of view. The pain of your miscarriage is too great. What you suggested to him was psychologically sound. You think that by throwing yourself at Wenn you can distract yourself from the pain. And who can blame you for wanting to? On paper, it sounds logical, even though it will only serve as a distraction until any problems at Wenn are fixed. After that, your focus will return to your child and linger there until you fully face and absorb your loss. As for Alex, he’s more worried about you right now than he is about Wenn. I’m not even sure if he gives a damn about Wenn after what happened to you and to the baby.”
“That’s who he is, and I love him for it. All you need to do is look at him to see how upset he is. Do you have any idea how much that kills me? That’s why I thought we could band together and fight for Wenn if we have to.”
“What you need to understand, my dear, is that Alex might not want that. We all grieve in different ways.”
“When you lost your child, what’s the first thing you did?”
She lifted her chin at that, and I could see in her eyes that she knew where I was about to take this. “You already know the answer, because you know me. Naturally, I went straight back to work. I threw myself into it.”
“So, you see?”
“To a point, I do. But I was alone in my grief, Jennifer. Charles knew nothing about the pregnancy. He didn’t go through the thrill of finding out that we were pregnant as I had. I cheated him of that—or perhaps I saved him from it, depending on how you look at it. Because I miscarried before telling Charles, our lives were able to go on normally until we decided it was time to have children. After that, things were good for years before that son of a bitch cheated on me. But here’s where our situation differs—Alex has gone through the highs of your pregnancy from the start, and also the lows of not knowing whether you’d lost the child after the crash. So, you see, it is different. You want to fight for Wenn because you believe that it can distract you from the pain. And I won’t lie to you—for a while, it probably will. It’s been said that our work saves us. There’s truth to that, and I’m here to tell you that I know it for a fact. But I’m also here to tell you that prolonging the grieving process comes at a steep cost. What you won’t deal with now you’ll only have to deal with later—and what good is that for either of you?”
“Won’t the blow be softened by then?”
“The shock of your loss will be gone, of course, but not the blow. Either way, you’re still going to have to face the full weight of it at some point.” She glanced away from me. “I’m just not sure if that point is now.”
“What does that mean?”
“You really should rest.”
“And if you know something that pertains to me, I really should be told what that is.”
“We both know that while I left you alone with your husband, I wasn’t exactly sitting on my ass.”
“I know you weren’t. You already know something about Wenn. So, what do you know?”
“Nothing good.”
“What does that mean?”
“Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is. Stephen Rowe is now CEO and chairman of the board.”
“You mean, interim CEO…”
“I wish that’s what I meant. Ten days after we went missing, it was largely assumed by the public that all of us had perished in the crash. Our stock was all over the map. Without Alex as Wenn’s frontman, stockholders pressured Wenn into electing a new CEO and chairman of the board to right the ship. From what I understand from my conversation with Ann, a meeting was held, Rowe lobbied hard for both jobs, and he got them. Your husband no longer runs Wenn, Jennifer. Stephen Rowe does.”
“You can’t be serious…”
“I’m afraid that I am.”
“But Alex has controlling shares.”
“Your husband was considered dead. And not just by the public and the board. On the morning of that tenth day, authorities held a press conference and went on record to say that it was unlikely that any of us had survived. It was that statement that launched everything into motion. That’s when the board had no choice but to do what they did.”
“But Alex is alive. The world knows that now. Certainly, this can be reversed.”
“Under these circumstances, that might be more difficult than it sounds.”
“Why?”
“Every company controlled by a board has its bylaws. Wenn’s bylaws are clear. If the CEO is not fit to complete his or her duties, then a new CEO shall be elected. Same goes for chairman of the board. The presumption of death allowed the board the lawful right to go to a vote, which they did. Now, with the knowledge that Alex is alive and well, everything has just been tossed into the murk. Could Alex fight this? Of course he could—and should. The good news is that because he has controlling shares, he’ll still have a seat on the board. But here’s the thing, Jennifer—it would be up to the rest of the board to consider the circumstances at hand, and decide if another vote should take place. They could vote Alex back into his former position
s, or they might decide, that in the wake of the SlimPhone overreaction, that Stephen Rowe is the jolt of new blood that investors need to believe in Wenn again. Ultimately, it’s up to the board, through which your husband has one vote.”
“The chairman of the board is an invisible title. If it hadn’t gone to Rowe, I’m not even sure if Alex would care that he lost it at all. But the CEO is the public face of the company, and having Rowe as the face of Wenn is something Alex won’t stand for. Look,” I said. “What about the information I have on Rowe? Certainly the board wouldn’t want a personal scandal to hit Wenn’s new CEO and chairman of the board while the company remains under such pressure.”
“I would imagine that they wouldn’t. But what do you have on Rowe that’s concrete?”
“Nothing yet, although he believes that I have photographs.”
“And if he calls your bluff? What will you do then?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to know.”
“What stymies me is that he had the balls to take those jobs even when he thought that I had the goods to crush him.”
“He thought that we were dead. What did he have to lose? Presumably, whatever he thought you had on him died with you.”
“And yet here I sit, quite alive.” I nodded toward the door. “I think you’d better get Tank,” I said. “In fact, before we lose more time, I think you should get him right now.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
When Tank entered the room with Blackwell, he grabbed a chair by the door that led to Alex’s bedroom and pulled it up next to Blackwell’s chair as she sat down.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like I can help my husband. But first let me ask you this—how is Lisa?”
“Worried sick about you.”
“Where is she?”
“Overseeing Alexa and Daniella.”
“And how is that going?”
“They’re behaving.”
“Well, that’s a surprise.”
“They’re very concerned about you.”
“I think that each of them did a lot of growing up during our two weeks on that island, so I’m glad to hear that they’ve fallen in line—especially Daniella.”
“They all want to see you.”
“They can after this. I especially want to see Lisa—but this first.” I looked at Blackwell. “Where is Alex now?”
“Speaking with Ann via Skype in the conference room.”
“How far away is the conference room?”
“Just two rooms over, and the doors are closed.”
“Then let’s not take long.” I turned to Tank. “I know that Alex is concerned about me, which is why I want to keep this between us for now. When the time is right, I’ll tell him everything. This isn’t about secrets between me and my husband. It’s about him not worrying about me while I do what I need to do. Does that make sense?”
“It would make sense if I knew what you want to do,” Tank said.
“Stephen Rowe is now the CEO of Wenn Enterprises. He’s also chairman of the board.”
“So I heard.”
“He’s now had a day to absorb the fact that all of us are alive. And I bet he’s not too happy to find out that we are. Especially me—the one who threatened to expose the truth about his affair with Janice Jones. Because, if I could prove it, I doubt it would go over well with his wife, let alone with the board at Wenn. The thing is, Rowe is no fool. He thought I was dead, but now he knows differently. And because he dared to go after my husband’s positions at Wenn and actually won them, he knows for a fact that I will come after him for it—and fast. So I don’t think I’m imagining anything when I say that Rowe is probably in the process of covering his tracks. Does that sound fair to you, Tank?”
“I would imagine that he’s scrambling to do just that.”
“To make Janice Jones disappear?”
“What do you mean by ‘disappear’?”
“Depends on how Rowe handles her. Let’s just hope for her sake it’s not with any kind of force.”
“Regardless of what he has in mind, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he’s in the midst of getting rid of Jones as we speak. He certainly won’t want her there when we land in New York. As you said, he’s no fool. He knows what’s coming. And he’ll do everything in his power to conceal his relationship with her.”
“Which is why I need you to stop him before he can. Can you do that?”
“A lot can happen in twenty-four hours, Jennifer. He could have sent her to Europe at this point. Or to California. Maybe Mexico. Or he could have done something worse. But what do I know? I don’t know what their relationship is like, I don’t know Rowe, and I don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“You said you learned about Jones because you’re friends with Rowe’s chief of security.”
“That’s right.”
“Have you been in contact with him?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I need you to be. When I was on that dance floor with Rowe, I bluffed about having photographs of him and Jones entering their favorite no-tell hotel in Times Square. If I challenge him—which I plan to do—I need to leave no question in anyone’s mind that he did indeed have a two-year affair with a stripper. You said that he bought her an apartment. I need to know if that apartment is in her name or his. If it’s in his, his wife, Meredith, likely doesn’t know about it, though she’ll certainly question why he bought it without telling her. The problem is that the presence of a mere apartment won’t be enough to bring him down. So, here’s what I need from you—I need proof of their affair. Can you do that?”
“I can try.”
“Here’s my bet—on some level, Rowe already has severed ties with Jones. But how has he done so? That’s the question. Has she been forced out of her apartment? Is she now out on her own? Or is he taking a softer approach so she won’t retaliate against him?”
“Maybe he bought her off.”
“He could have, but even if he did, Rowe doesn’t have the kind of financial war chest Alex has. Find her, let me know when you do, and I’ll come through with a check large enough to get her to talk to us.”
“To what end? Few will take a former stripper seriously, particularly if word leaks that you cut her a check.”
“I understand that, which is why I want to talk with her first. Don’t you see, Tank? Any woman in love with a man—and I can guarantee you that on some level Jones still loves Rowe, regardless of how he’s handled her—would have photographs of them together. Emails. Voice messages on her phone. And then there’s that diner in the Village that they’ve frequented. What’s it called? Molly’s Diner? If they were together for two years, surely someone on the staff would remember them as regulars. And what did those people witness between them? A happy couple having dinner? A couple in love? If they did come to know the staff, did they go by aliases? If that’s the case, it won’t bode well for Rowe. Beyond that, the mere fact that he was there so often with her would be difficult to explain away. And then there’s her apartment complex—does it have doorman service? If it does, what do they know? And are they willing to talk? What I’m charging you with is difficult—I understand that. But we have to help Alex. We all need to fight for him because Rowe essentially has stolen Wenn away from him. I won’t have it. None of us should. We need to find Janice Jones, we need to find out if the apartment Rowe gave her is listed in her name or in his, and then we need to make an airtight case for the board, the media, and Rowe’s own wife. We need to show that Stephen Rowe is not the man he pretends to be. He’s unfaithful. He’s a liar. And he’s married to Meredith, who was born into one of America’s most influential families. Her family is considered American royalty, for God’s sake. Our burden is to show to her, the board, and then the world exactly who her husband is. And once we have concrete evidence of that, then we can use the press to take that motherfucker down.”
* * *
When Tank left the
room, I asked Barbara to stay.
“How long before we can get back to New York?” I asked.
“Do I need to remind you that you just went through surgery?”
“It was hardly life-threatening. The bullet cut clean through me, and they sewed me up. Before long, I’ll be as good as new.”
“Your surgery was a bit more invasive than that.”
“Not by much. We need to get back to Wenn.”
“Your husband is tending to Wenn as we speak.”
“Using Skype isn’t like being there in person, Barbara. Alex needs to face every board member himself and try to reason with them. We might not even have to go after Rowe if they agree to another vote that will bring Alex back as CEO and the board’s chair. But the longer we wait on this, the bleaker our odds are of making that happen.”
“Jennifer, the doctor is unlikely to release you for at least another two days.”
“So, I’m a prisoner? Give me the paperwork that absolves the hospital of any legal ramifications of letting me go early, and I’ll sign it so we can get back in the air.”
“Alex won’t allow it. You’re his main concern.”
“Then we’ll compromise. Wenn can send a plane to collect all of us. One of Wenn Air’s 757s. We’ll hire a doctor and a nurse to assist me on the flight back to the States. Part of the plane can be sectioned off and used as something of a hospital room. Certainly, that should put everyone’s mind at rest when it comes to my health. As for Cutter, we’ll have his family flown in on that plane. I’m sure they want to be here with him anyway. We’ll fly them in at once, and we’ll put them in a five-star hotel that’s close to the hospital. Then, they can be with him until it’s safe for him to come back home to us.”
“Your stitches are so fresh, there’s a chance that the cabin pressure might be too much for them to take at this point,” she said.
Annihilate Me 2: Omnibus (Complete Vols. 1-3, Annihilate Me 2) Page 40