These have been long and hard weeks, particularly with the hacker mess. We may not get to the price we were hoping, but we believe it’s going to do well.
I keep thinking about Jim pushing for a security team. I can’t imagine I’m more than a blip on their radar; I don’t know much, since I didn’t deal with investors.
My mind wander to Todd and his adorable dimples, that washboard stomach, those sparkling brown eyes, his kind heart, and great taste in music. It depresses me a little bit that he’s going to make an awesome boyfriend for one lucky girl one day.
Now that we’re in the friend zone, I don’t know how to get out. I’m not even sure he wants to get out. He’s never once made a move, after all.
Chapter TWELVE
Todd
I had a good time at last night’s dinner, and I really learned a lot. During my daily call to the New York office, I share with Angus about SHN’s advisory roles. “We’re privately held, but it would be great to have something like that. Locals who know the ins and outs of San Francisco business and people better than I do, but who also aren’t necessarily investors, so they’re making business decisions not based on short-term gains but long-term.”
“You’ve only been there for four months, and you’ve made strong inroads. I like the idea. Let’s work out a plan at what it would look like.”
It’s always a good place to be when Angus doesn’t want to think about something and chooses to act quickly instead. Putting together a plan is a way of making the idea a reality. He’s a great guy to work for.
I’m developing a nice routine, going to work each morning long before dawn. The city’s silent, but it offers me the opportunity to get organized before the markets open at six—I’ve already talked to the team in New York. Yes, it’s tough, but it takes me less than thirty minutes to get up, shower, and get to my desk, so it isn’t too bad.
I brought along four people from the New York office, including Thomas, who was promoted to be our managing broker. He’s a hard worker and is originally from the West coast. He walks into my office and sits down. “I was given box seats for this weekend’s 49ers game. It belongs to Tom Sutterland from PeopleMover. It’s my understanding that he’ll be there with his wife and kids, so it might be out of place for a bunch of bachelors to go hang out trying to pick up chicks. Any chance you can procure a date who isn’t somebody you pay for the night, and enjoys sports? It might do well with Tom?”
“I know a nice girl in my building I can ask.” I think fondly of Cynthia. If she’s available, I think she’d have fun at the football game.
“You know you’re never supposed to shit where you eat.”
I know he’s right, but I’d never admit that to him. “Not a worry, we’re friends.”
“If she’s cute, can I go out with her?”
“No, because I don’t want you shitting where I eat either. You’re a man-whore, and she’s a nice girl.”
“A nice girl? Man, you’re tough.”
“Go work and make us some money today.”
Looking at my watch, I see it isn’t even 6:30 a.m. I know it’s too early to call Cynthia, so I text her instead.
Me: Are you up for a 49ers game in box seats on Sunday?
She immediately texts me back.
Cynthia: Sure. It’s the early game this week, so we have to be able to go from there to the Arnaults’. Are you okay going there again this week?
Me: Sounds like fun. Dinner tonight?
Cynthia: Wish I could. I’m getting ready for one of our investments to go public. Rain check?
I can’t help but be a bit disappointed.
Me: Rain check.
I haven’t seen much of Cynthia this week, and it’s putting me in a bit of a funk. She occupies too much of my thoughts.
After a rough meeting with my staff, Thomas stays behind. “Dude! You seriously need to get laid. I’ve met some girls who could probably do the trick. In fact, if you’re up for it, you most likely can talk two of them into it at the same time. The girls are super-hot here in San Francisco and up for anything.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Not my thing.”
“Well do something, because if you stay like this, these guys are going to walk.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
But I know he’s right. I’m being unreasonable. We have more work than we know what to do with. I know who I’d like to have sex with, but it’s a bad idea. I need to put it completely out of my mind.
The week has flown by, and I finally have the chance to spend some time with Cynthia. Saturday morning, we head to the farmers market again. As we wander the stalls, I pick up a bunch of stuff that I’ll never eat, but I feel silly walking around with her and not buying anything. In the back of my mind, I think about the security advisor suggesting Cynthia have a detail and her blowing it off. I grew up in a pretty bad neighborhood, and I know how to defend myself. She’s all of five-foot-nothing; I could pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and not even strain a muscle. I want to make sure she’s going to be okay.
“What are your plans today?” I ask.
“I should probably work, but we have so few glorious weather days, I can’t help but think I should do something outside.”
I don’t want her wandering the streets alone. I’m positive this security advisor is right and she needs protection. I rack my brain for something we can do together. “If you remember, you promised me a tour of the city.”
“You’re right, I did. I think we should attack one neighborhood at a time. This is a big city with lots of things to do.”
“Maybe we could set some time aside every Saturday to visit a neighborhood and have dinner there.”
“That sounds like a great idea. Should we start today?”
“Sure, why not? That’s if your work isn’t calling you instead.”
“I can make it up later this week. Now I have to figure out where we should start. There are so many different places to go.”
I think for a moment. “You mentioned Haight-Ashbury. Why don’t we consider going there?”
“Okay. I’ll see you about one in the lobby. If you have a tie-dye T-shirt, I suggest you wear it to blend in,” she teases.
I’m excited to spend time with Cynthia. Until I met her, I’d spend my afternoons hanging out with Thomas, drinking beer, and watching sports games. I never played tourist in New York, since I went on all the field trips as a kid. Occasionally I’ll play golf with CeCe’s friends, but spending the afternoon with Cynthia seeing the sights will be much more fun.
We meet in the lobby and grab a rideshare into the Haight. As we arrive, Cynthia turns to me with a look of panic. “I should warn you, you’re most likely going to get a contact high from just walking around. Are you going to be okay with your work?”
I was worried she was going to tell me something awful, but now I just laugh. “Are you asking if they drug test me?”
“Yes, I am. The air will be thick with pot.”
“I’ll be fine.”
The rideshare driver drops us at Buena Vista Park, offering a spectacular view of all of San Francisco. “After the 1906 earthquake—people talk about it like they were here—these panoramic city views really stuck to people. There are a lot of photos of the devastation.”
“I can only imagine.” I look out over the many neighborhoods that make up San Francisco and imagine the destruction of an earthquake.
We head west on Haight Street and see the street art—bright and colorful murals on the sides of the buildings.
I lean down and discreetly tell her, “These must be really bad for those on acid trips.”
Cynthia nods enthusiastically. “I love the musical history of San Francisco, and the Haight seems to have the most.
She guides me to the Magnolia Brewpub, named after the Grateful Dead song. “I never got to see the Dead play, but I bet they were amazing.” We get a table and order two beers. “The beers are made down in the basement.”
“Really? I never would’ve guessed.” I’m in heaven. This is music nirvana.
“They have an interesting and eclectic menu, but I love the sausages here.”
“You like sausage? A woman after my own heart,” I tease.
She giggles. “My favorite is the ‘Naked on the Board.’ It comes with sauerkraut and homemade stoneground mustard.”
Our lunch is relaxing, and we compare notes on our favorite Grateful Dead songs. After I pay for lunch—I thought she was going to arm wrestle me for the bill—we continue our tour.
Walking a few more blocks, we admire the various independent stores and quintessential San Francisco Victorian homes. Cynthia stops by what looks like a typical San Francisco house—multiple colors, lots of things that make it look like a gingerbread house. “This is where they held Patty Hearst, the kidnapped terrorist and revolutionary bank robber.”
We’re deep in conversation about today’s politics as we walk uphill on a narrow lane. All of a sudden, Cynthia demands, “Stop where you are. You’re standing where Sid Vicious overdosed and broke up the Sex Pistols in 1978.”
I let out a deep belly laugh. There are so many reasons to adore this woman, and this is one of them.
We continue talking and walking when she stops at another large house. “We need to pay our respects to the former flophouse of the Grateful Dead’s Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, and Pigpen.”
I’m stunned by how much Cynthia knows about the neighborhood. “Janis Joplin had a hard time hanging on to leases in the 1960s, and she sang ‘Freedom’s Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose’ at the corner of Haight and Ashbury.”
She points to the clock overhead. “You’ll notice it always reads 4:20, better known as the international bong hit time.”
“I outgrew that in high school,” I share.
“I know. Me too. The contact high I get in the neighborhood gives me a big headache.”
I suddenly realize we’re holding hands. I don’t know who reached for who, but it seems so right. Pulling back might seem rude, and I’m a little conflicted. My little head loves the heat and the jolt of electricity between us, but my big head is yelling, “Danger!” I ignore my big head and hold her hand while we continue to explore.
“San Francisco has a few famous quotes, first being Samuel Clements’s ‘The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco.’ And down on the grass of the park, where the hippie movement is credited with taking off, it’s said, ‘If you can remember the summer of love, then you probably weren’t there.’”
We walk around some more, the air laced with pot and sandalwood incense. We see people who are obviously wasted ogling Day-Glo Grateful Dead posters at the corner of Haight and Ashbury Streets. “What’s amazing is that in this city, you can get so caught up in your work, the great food, and so many things to do, but the history here is pretty remarkable. This neighborhood was the turning point of an entire generation.”
Today has been perfect, and Cynthia has been the perfect friend. We had fun running around a cool neighborhood and enjoyed hanging out. I hope we get many more days like today.
“Thank you for showing me the Haight. I do think I may be high from all the residual pot smoke in the air.”
She giggles, a sound that’s quickly becoming my favorite.
Today was both quintessential San Francisco and music. Perfect for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable with a woman before.
When we return home, I talk her into coming up to my apartment. We’re both exhausted and overwhelmed. “What a great day.”
“It’s one of the many neighborhoods in San Francisco. I have to admit, I chose one with a heavy music theme since I know you enjoy it as much as I do, but be forewarned, there isn’t really any other neighborhood with that much music trivia.”
“I look forward to exploring the next, whichever neighborhood you suggest.”
“Well, maybe we should look at some closer to Telegraph Hill.”
“I’m good for whenever you’re up for it. I really enjoyed the tour, and I like hanging out with you.”
She smiles at me, and I worry for a second that I’ve overshared.
We order pizza and watch the latest action adventure release. It’s comfortable spending time with her, watching a movie on my big screen. I could get used to this.
“We need to watch movies at your place, not mine. You have a better screen.” She yawns and stretches, and I can’t help but notice her breasts. I wonder how soft they are, what her nipples taste like.
“I don’t care where we watch movies, I enjoy your company.”
She blushes. “What did you do when you were in New York? I’m sure you didn’t hang out with any of the chicks who lived in your building.”
“You again with the 90’s vernacular.”
“What can I say? I was born a decade too late.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Stop dodging the question. What did you do when you were in New York?”
“I had a group of friends from work, but they were never truly friends, more acquaintances than anything. We were competitive with one another at work, and it would roll into our personal lives when we’d go out. Some of them used their money on drugs and hookers, but that was never my style. I think that’s why Angus liked me so much. I wasn’t rowdy and crazy, and I believe it’s why he sent me here to start the San Francisco office.
“Did you have a girlfriend?”
I’m not sure how much I should tell her. I guess she’s been pretty honest with me, so I should be honest with her. “I had a few girlfriends, but no one serious. People serve different roles in my life.”
“So you had someone you hung out with like me, and then you had someone else you had sex with.”
“No, I’ve never just hung out with women. This is new for me.”
“It’s new for me too.”
I like spending time with her, and I get the vibe that she likes spending time with me too. But she is awfully tempting, and I still worry about her living in my building.
My little head wonders how nice it would be to be inside her, and it takes all I have to calm it down.
Chapter THIRTEEN
Todd
I’m beginning to enjoy my lifestyle in San Francisco. It’s very different than New York, with a slightly slower pace, and I’m okay with that. I feel like I got off the hamster wheel by moving here, despite how busy we are opening a new office.
We’re meeting early to go to the football game. I text Cynthia to let her know I’m on my way down to the garage. The elevator stops at her floor, and we ride the remainder of the way down together. I can’t help but admire how good she looks, her chestnut hair cascading down her back with a slight curl, jeans, platform boots, and a 49ers T-shirt that’s tight in all the right places.
I should be rethinking this platonic relationship with this girl. She’s smoking hot.
“Who are you predicting to win today?” I ask.
“I’m not sure who’ll win. I think the people in the box will be the fun part today. Tell me a little bit about your client.”
“This is a guy we’ve had our eye on for some time. Not much happens in Silicon Valley that he doesn’t know about. My managing partner and I discussed going there as a couple of bachelors but figured that might not go over well, since he’s much more family oriented than many of our potential clients.”
She giggles, a soft, beautiful sound. “I can see where that would be a challenge.”
“I know it’s a little bit different than our dinner. He isn’t an investor, rather someone who has a few connections into some interesting companies throughout the Bay Area here. I want to get a feel for how things are going, which will determine how we do some investing.”
She sits up straighter in the car seat. “How can I help?”
“Just be yourself. Talk to his wife, talk to other people there, and enjoy the game and what’s going on in the box.”
�
�Not a problem.”
Tom Sutterland, CEO of PeopleMover, sees us walk in and immediately comes over. “Cynthia, what are you doing with this New York City thug? Are you dating this guy?” He hugs her and kisses her cheek.
I feel so stupid that I didn’t realize she might know Tom Sutterland. Of course she does, and like everyone else, he adores her.
“Tom! I didn’t know you’d be here.” She hugs Tom’s wife. “Jennifer, so great to see you. No, Todd and I are only friends. You remember Caroline Arnault? She introduced us after they met while she was in New York City for Fashion Week last spring.”
“What a small world.” Jennifer smiles at me as we’re introduced.
“Jennifer, how’s your work with kids in the Middle East?” Cynthia asks.
“We’re busy with refugee camps.”
God, she’s good. She’s the person who knows what’s going on in the Bay Area. How could I be so naïve?
“You’re doing great work.”
Another couple walks in behind us, so we make our way to the buffet table and start filling our plates.
I’m in awe over how well Cynthia works the room. “I’m impressed. You seem to know almost everyone here.”
“Well, it’s the Bay Area. SHN made many of these people millionaires, some of them billionaires.”
It didn’t even occur to me. “I feel stupid. I swear I remember you telling me the story of how SHN was the sole investor in PeopleMover. I promise you, I was paying attention when you shared that with me, it just slipped my mind.”
She giggles again, and the pulse in my cock rivals a beating drum. “Whoever does your research should do a better job.”
“I think you’re right. I should fire them. Wait! I do my own research.” I shake my head more out of embarrassment than any other reason. “You probably know more people than anyone in the Bay Area.”
“I don’t know about that. Between my old company and SHN, I’ve worked in venture capital for eight years. I’ve seen a lot of these people go from having a good idea to success, and sometimes close to losing everything.”
Obsession: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #5) A Billionaire Russian Mob Romance Page 8