by Bobby Cole
“Sinclair’s. Not too far from downtown… on Fairview Avenue—in the old money side of town. I can’t see the street number, but everything’s fine. I’ll learn something we can use. I can feel it.”
“You call me if he gets too friendly or if you feel uncomfortable. Be careful.”
“Don’t worry. This guy thinks he’s a player. I can control him like a hand puppet. Already have. Later.” She closed her cell phone, grabbed her purse, shut and locked her door, and then strolled toward the restaurant.
In a parked car across the street sat Gates Ballenger III, watching his date walk. He popped a Viagra, rubbed himself, and thought, Absolutely the best performance-enhancing drug ever created.
He chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair and then drank the last swallow of his imported beer. He quickly got out and hurried to catch up with the hot young blonde.
Opening the restaurant door, he saw Meagan Massey standing, waiting. He immediately apologized for being late, making up a lame excuse about a conference call that he couldn’t finish in time.
“You know you’re not supposed to keep a lady waiting,” Jenny said rather curtly. She could tell by the look in his eyes what he wanted. Game on, she thought.
“I’m so sorry. You look fabulous,” he added and meant it.
“Thank you,” she knew he expected her to compliment him back, but she didn’t. “Shall we eat?” She noted his outfit looked new—everything an expensive brand name.
“Certainly,” Gates replied and turned to face the maître d’hôtel.
“Good evening, Mr. Ballenger. Your usual table is ready,” the headwaiter said, ogling Jenny.
“Thank you, Tony.” Gates was certain she was impressed by the way he was being treated. Gates was a big tipper, but only when using the company Amex.
“Tony… a bottle of Caymus Cabernet Sauvignon, Special Selection, please. Two thousand seven, if you have it. If not, I’ll settle for the two thousand two,” Gates said in his most sophisticated voice. Jenny tried to keep a straight face.
“I’m so sorry. I assumed you like wine,” Gates said, turning to Jenny to apologize.
“That’s fine. You’re doing good… so far,” she replied as the waiter handed her a menu.
“Wine Spectator’s review of the two thousand seven vintage is as descriptive of you as it is the wine: ‘firm, ripe, and muscular,’” Gates quoted, laying it on thick.
Jenny ignored this comment, held up her menu, and said, “So how’s the food?”
“The food here is outstanding! And later, you’ll have to try one of their chocolate martinis.”
Jenny nodded and then glanced down at the menu. She realized that she was more nervous than hungry. She searched for some words she recognized.
“So tell me, how’s a beautiful girl like you single?” Gates asked as he dropped his menu. He knew what he wanted.
“Who said I was single?” Jenny asked, taking a sip of ice water.
“Oh, I… uh… I just, I assumed. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were married, but it’s not a problem with me. I actually prefer married women,” Gates said trying to recover.
“Who said I was married?” Jenny asked again.
Gates paused a moment to recover and then said, “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I was a bit presumptuous. Let me start over. Tell me about yourself… please.”
“I’d rather hear about you.”
The waiter set the wineglasses on the table. He overheard her words and knew Gates must be in heaven because he certainly loved to talk about himself. He offered the wine bottle for Gates’s inspection of the label. Gates nodded his approval. Upon receiving a small sample, Gates made a spectacle of going through the motions of looking at, smelling, and tasting it. He gestured his acceptance and directed the waiter to pour their glasses.
When the waiter left, Gates said, “Well, where do I start? Let’s see. I grew up here. My family’s been in Montgomery so long people say they helped dig the Alabama River… in a supervisory capacity, of course,” he added with an air of superiority.
“But of course.”
“My parents owned half the county that has now been developed, so money’s never been a real concern. After college, I worked for an ad agency here, sort of cut my teeth—learned the ropes, ya know—and then at twenty-five, I established my own firm, the Tower Agency. And now that it’s solidly on its feet, I’ve started backing off some. You know, tryin’ to enjoy life more.”
“So how does your partner fit into your livin’ the life of Riley?” she inquired, hoping he didn’t think it odd that she had asked about Cooper.
Perfect, Gates thought. Thank God she didn’t ask about the messy parts, the ex-wives.
He said, “He’s just a minority partner. I call the shots. Cooper is—,” he stopped mid-sentence when the waiter approached to refill their wineglasses.
Gates drained his second glass before the waiter left the table. “Just leave the bottle and get another ready,” he instructed.
“Where was I? Oh yeah. Cooper’s very important to the business. I depend on him to run things. I work him like a dog, but he loves it—a classic workaholic. He’s more married to his job than his ole lady. He works; I benefit!” Gates bragged.
It was obvious to Jenny that if she kept Gates drinking and talking, she’d get all the information she needed without really asking many pointed questions or ever raising any suspicions.
Gates continued, “I’m tryin’ to decide what my next business move will be. I’m sort of in an enviable position.” As soon as he set down his empty glass, the waiter immediately refilled it.
“Are you ready to order, sir?”
The waiter gave Jenny a knowing glance.
“Do you want me to order for you?” Gates asked. “I’ve tried everything.”
Jenny smirked at Gates’s arrogance. “No, I prefer to order for myself, thank you. I’ll have the Shrimp Athenian.” Jenny said and folded her menu, handing it to the waiter. She had no idea what she had just ordered but felt safe with a shrimp dish.
Gates slowly nodded his head. “Bring me the Blue Cajun Filet, cooked very, very rare. It doesn’t have to be warm inside. Oh, and bring artichoke dip as an appetizer.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You were sayin’ you’re in an enviable position?” Jenny asked, trying to keep Gates on topic.
“That’s right. I’m about to sell the agency, relax, and then really enjoy life. The whole world’s in front of me,” Gates made a grand sweeping gesture with outstretched arms, “and I just have to determine what I wanna do. I might develop real estate or just play golf. I haven’t decided.” Gates was trying to make his story sound as impressive as possible. He followed with a large swallow of wine.
“What about your partner?” she asked, sipping her wine.
“Oh, I imagine he will stay in the business somehow… he’ll have to, he won’t get as much as me. He’ll do okay, but his wife’s lifestyle is way too extravagant for him to stop workin’. She spends every dime the poor, stupid bastard makes.”
Gates’s mouth was running faster than his mind. After a few seconds it caught up with him. He said, “Please keep all this to yourself. It’s not for public consumption yet.”
“Of course. Who’s gonna buy it, if I may ask?”
Gates took another huge swallow of wine, glanced around the room to make sure no one could overhear, “MidState Bank. Ever heard of ’em?”
“No, I don’t think so… should I?”
“Probably not, but you will. It’s just a local bank, for now. Small by most standards, but they are a steady, dependable financial institution, and I hear there’s merger talks in the works… with a huge New York City bank.”
“You must be so excited. When’s your deal happenin’?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Soon. Very soon. We’re in the final stages of negotiatin’,” he slurred. “I’m so glad you came to dinner with me. You’re soooo beautiful.”
“Thanks. Me too,” she f
orced a smile.
“I bet all the guys tell you that.”
Jenny played along. “Not really. I don’t date much.”
“Yeah, right. So tell me about you.”
“Well, there’s not much to tell. I was a dancer at the Moonlight Club in Atlanta before it shut down,” she said and watched his mouth literally drop open with excitement and obvious anticipation. She continued, “I made enough money—tax-free—to be comfortable while I decided on another career. My uncle’s a bigwig with the insurance group, so that got me in the door. I really don’t have to work that hard.” Her story just flowed without much thought. She knew he would be distracted, thinking about her being a stripper. She could have said anything after that.
“Wow, I always wanted to date a stripper… I mean, dancer.” His mind was racing. I’m havin’ supper with a real live stripper. I bet she knows moves… I’ve… I’ve got to get her to do a lap dance for me. This is gonna be the best night of my life!
She didn’t say anything for a while, watching the wheels turn in Gates’s head. Then she casually asked, “So… how far in the hole are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw the bettin’ form on your desk. All gamblers wind up losin’, eventually.”
“Not me. In fact, I’m up. Actually, I just bet for the hell of it. You know, for entertainment purposes.”
“What about your partner? What’s his name?”
“Oh shit… Cooper? He doesn’t gamble… he doesn’t have any vices. He just works… and hunts… and fishes.” Gates wanted to get the conversation back on track, so he said, “I’ve heard that most dancers are surgically enhanced. Are they?”
“No. Not all of us. These babies are one hundred percent nat-u-ralle.” Jenny pushed out her chest and gave a little laugh.
“Oh. My. God! I like natural. I love natural,” Gates said enjoying the tête-à-tête. “So what was your stage name?”
“Destiny,” Jenny replied without missing a beat and was surprised that the first name she thought of fit so well. She grinned.
Gates’s mind was whirling at an incomprehensible speed. He could hardly breathe. He poured himself more wine and topped off her glass.
“So… Destiny,” Gates winked, “after supper, I’d love to show you my place.”
“Maybe. We’ll see,” she replied with a slight smile. “I just love hearin’ about your business. Can I…” She stopped when the waiter approached.
Gates was really excited now. Maybe. That’s practically a yes, he thought.
The waiter carefully delivered their entrées. Jenny caught Gates staring at her Wonderbra-enhanced cleavage and acted as if she enjoyed it, giving him a wink and wily smile. Once everything was in place, the waiter retreated to the kitchen. Jenny was wondering if the Client worked for MidState Bank. That could be the connection. There’s potentially a lot of money at stake if I can believe anything this drunk idiot’s sayin’. But why single out Cooper? What’s his story?
“What I was about to say was, can I ask a stupid question—something I’ve always wondered about?” she continued as she gently skewered a shrimp with her fork.
“Sure… anything,” he replied, wiping sweat from his brow with his napkin.
“How do you determine how much a business is actually worth?”
“Well, there’s a bunch of ways. A good startin’ point is three times gross sales or billings or seven times net income. Some fits are strategic, some are for diversification, and some are to get additional market penetration, so what you’re willin’ to pay really depends on how bad you want it.” Gates’s slur-filled explanation was intended to impress her with his business acumen.
After taking a small sip of wine, she asked, “Well, how badly do they want your business?”
“Bad, really bad. We’ve got positive cash flow—almost as good as the insurance business—and in election years, the amount of cash coming in is staggerin’. They can take our surplus cash and invest it in their other businesses. We’re actually a better investment than an insurance company ’cause ad agencies don’t have the exposure of massive claims… like hurricanes and floods and tornadoes, ya know, that kinda thing. Makes sense for them to buy us.”
“Sounds like you’re gonna make enough money to be set for life.”
“That’s right,” Gates lied. All he wanted was to impress her for one night. She didn’t need to know the truth, he thought.
“How exciting,” she replied with a slight wiggle, causing her hair to sway. “Good for you. It’s so great seein’ someone’s hard work pay off.”
Gates went on a tear, talking nonstop—except to excuse himself once to run into the men’s room to do a bump of coke—for another twenty minutes, explaining in greater detail the elements of selling his business and making a case for the bank’s acquisition of his business rather than an insurance company, with its commensurate exposure to complex financial instruments such as derivatives.
Jenny basically tuned him out after he came back from the bathroom. She ate most of her meal and had a taste of dessert and a cup of decaf before he finished yammering. Toward the end of his monologue and without Gates noticing, she reached into her purse and grabbed her preplanned distraction, something she knew would buy her some time.
When Gates finally paused long enough to request another bottle of wine, she said, “Excuse me. I need to run to the little girls’ room,” and stood.
She walked around the table, leaned close to his ear, and whispered seductively, “Here’s a little sumpten for ya to think about till I get back.” She then pressed into his hand a dark red, lacy thong. She smiled alluringly and then sauntered toward the restroom.
Gates watched her walk away, admiring her skintight black leather skirt. He didn’t know what she had placed in his hand. He put it on his lap and then opened his hand. Beads of sweat burst out on his forehead. His palms began sweating too.
Just as Jenny planned, Gates Ballenger III sat stunned for several minutes. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the restaurant or see anything other than the panties. He wondered how she could have possibly taken them off at the table. He took a big gulp of wine. Looks like I still got it, he thought and smiled.
Jenny rounded the corner and then slipped out the restaurant’s front door and into the fresh night air.
CHAPTER 25
Brooke helped Grayson finish his math homework. He then took a quick shower. She saw him pull on his pajamas and collapse onto his bed, with his hair still wet. She went to him and gently rubbed his head and kissed him good night.
“Good night, sweetheart. I love you.”
“Night, Mom. Love ya too.”
Brooke watched him for a few seconds and then left him to fall asleep. She poured herself a glass of white wine from a box in the refrigerator, armed the alarm system, and then curled up on the couch and clicked on the television. Twice she considered getting up to check her Facebook account but both times decided that she was too exhausted.
She lay back and closed her eyes. She thought of Cooper, and it made her smile. He was mesmerizing to her. She really knew very little about his home life, other than rumors that he wasn’t happy in his marriage and what she had surmised from their recent conversations. She had wanted him for some time, but not for a simple affair. She wanted more.
Brooke wanted Cooper to leave Kelly for her and decided that she had to make him think leaving was his idea. She had never done this before, but without remorse Brooke had been building a trap for Cooper. It had taken months for him to display interest, and now he was primed to act on it. Having gotten his attention, she was ready to fast-forward everything. The upcoming football game was the perfect opportunity. In the obscurity of the massive crowd, they could flirt openly. Maybe I can seduce him. One time with me, and he’ll never go back to her.
Swallowing the last bit of wine, she clicked off the television and walked down the hall to Grayson’s room. He was sound asleep. She lightly kissed his warm little ch
eek and smelled his still damp hair. Her son was priority number one. She kissed her fingers and touched his forehead; then she quietly walked down the hall to her bathroom for a soak.
Once the bathtub filled with hot water, she shed her clothes and quickly climbed into the bubble bath. Within ten minutes she was relaxed, almost comatose. Only her head and toes poked out of the suds.
When the landline rang, she decided to let it go to voice mail. For three weeks, every night at about the same time, someone called from a blocked number and didn’t say anything. She was far too comfortable and relaxed to entertain some teenager’s prank. What she really wanted to do was write in her journal, it had been well over a month, maybe more since her last entry, but she hadn’t been able to find it. Where the hell did I leave it? she wondered.
Closing her eyes, she sank beneath the bubbles.
CHAPTER 26
Cooper was walking out the door, heading home, when he noticed the clock read 5:55 p.m. He stopped. Every time he saw clock numbers matching, he thought of his wife and the deal they had made when they were dating. They agreed to think of each other whenever they saw a clock read synchronized single digits from one through five. He was surprised at how often he noticed it.
He decided to call Kelly to see if he needed to get anything on his way. He sat back down at his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed his home number.
“Hello? Dixon residence,” said Ben Dixon, answering the phone on the first ring.
“Hey, Ben. How’s my little buddy?”
“Fine.”
“How was school?”
“Fine. Dad? Can I have an allowance?”
“We’ll talk about it when I get home. I’d rather call it a commission. There are no allowances in life.”
“What’s a commission?”
“We’ll talk about it when I get home; I promise, okay? Let me speak to Mom.”
“MOM? MOM, IT’S DAD!” Ben screamed as loud as he could.
Cooper looked out the giant windows at the city’s skyline. From this vantage, he could see a number of historic old buildings. He focused on a metal adornment atop a law office, which once was a dry goods store. The ornamental piece appeared to be a casket. The local legend is that the owner was terrified of floods, so when he died, his will directed that his body be placed inside the metal vault, high above the city.