“Yes, sir.”
Feeling at peace, he turned and walked back toward his house, ready to deal with his lawyers and start the next phase of his life.
* * *
Big Bill walked into his board room, glanced at Jeremiah, and smiled when he saw his almost imperceptible negative nod. “Well, gentlemen, I understand you were both good boys and waited patiently. I appreciate that. Cigar?” Big Bill opened his humidor and offered the lawyers their choice of some of the finest cigars available on American soil.
“We’re more than happy to wait,” Jeremy responded as he stood and shook his client’s hand. It’s your money, after all, he thought to himself, and we’re charging you for every minute. “We have some significant matters to discuss.”
“I hope you’ve got some better ideas than the ones you had last time we met. What’s the total amount I’ve paid you?”
The lawyers were not surprised by his opening salvo, as this was the way Big Bill began every one of their meetings. “At the end of last month, the total attorneys’ fees for all of the matters we’re handling for you was close to three million,” Scott answered.
Big Bill nodded his head, leaned back into his leather chair at the head of the table, and gazed at the ceiling while he enjoyed the first few puffs of his cigar. “That’s a crapload of money, wouldn’t you agree, boys? For that much money, I should have bought and paid for at least one judge’s summer home on some damn shoreline by now, and all this nonsense should be at an end. Why am I still talking to you boys and paying your bills?”
“Bill, your comments suggesting we should pay off a judge are untenable. We have never, and will never, agree to do that. Let me be clear. If you ever suggest this again, or if we find out that you’ve engaged anyone else to pursue such a course of conduct, we’ll immediately file a motion to withdraw and report the judge and any lawyers you involve.”
In a sudden fit of laughter, Big Bill used his immense size to propel himself out of his chair. He continued laughing as he walked over to the sideboard and poured a shot of whiskey into a cut crystal glass with his plantation’s initials chiseled into its side. He then walked over and slapped Jeremy on the back. “For Christ’s sake. You’re such a pussy,” he said, sitting the whiskey bottle and two more glasses on the table. “Pour yourself a drink and get off your high horse. I’m not suggesting you bribe a judge.”
“Great. Then there’s no problem. Now, shall we move on to the reason for our visit?”
“You boys have thirty minutes.”
“We’ve got good news. The Bermudian authorities have decided they’re not going to prosecute. Your former mistress has refused to testify. There’s little point in proceeding without her testimony, and they don’t want the bad publicity the case would bring to their little tourist island. That means the statutory rape charge is resolved, so to speak.”
“Well, boys”—Bill paused while he puffed on his cigar, which now appeared sopping wet from his constant sucking—“here’s what I think. Neither of you did jack shit to get rid of that trumped-up rape charge except dot some i’s and cross some t’s, while I had to give away a significant amount of money and my Bermudian home. I could have done that on my own and without paying you out the ass.”
While both lawyers were used to Big Bill treating them like dog shit, his lack of appreciation and constant insults were still soul-crushing at times.
“Bill, whether you like to admit it or not, you were staring down the barrel of serious criminal charges that carried significant jail time. We’re the ones who worked on Wilhemena’s lawyer to convince her not to pursue her preferred course of action. As you know, Mona has quite the reputation for getting her clients in front of TV cameras so they can air all the dirty laundry they have against the defendant to the whole nation. It would have been quite the coup for Mona to have announced on TV that she not only expects to get significant compensation for her client but that she is also cooperating with prosecutors to take you off the street so you can’t molest other teenage girls.”
Big Bill grew still. Using his cigar as an extension of his finger, he leaned across the table and pointed it at Jeremy. Little bits of spittle flew out of his mouth as he snarled, “Don’t ever say that to me again. If you do, I’ll make sure you never work in this town or anywhere within a thousand miles of here.”
“Bill, I understand how you feel, but Wilhemena’s lawyer was gunning for full prosecution and monetary compensation. Based on the evidence they have, there’s no reason she couldn’t have gotten her wish. I want you to understand how serious this was. We had to convince Mona that if she pushed for prosecution, we wouldn’t be able to get any money or the home for her client—that the only way we could get you to contribute to Wilhemena’s future was if she gave you room to breathe—outside of jail. Once she understood we would drag out any civil litigation and you would refuse any compensation if you were thrown in jail, she finally relented.”
“Let’s get one thing clear between us. Wilhemena wanted what I was giving. She knew exactly what she was doing. I don’t care how old she was.”
Neither lawyer responded to his crass comment. The matter was legally closed, and it wasn’t their job to instill moral character into their clients. If Big Bill wanted to believe there was nothing wrong with his conduct, then so be it.
As the silence set in, Big Bill suddenly felt uncharacteristically tired. He needed to get all these matters behind him and move forward with the next phase of his life.
I need a personal lawyer, he thought. One who is loyal to me and won’t pontificate about what I can and can’t do. My next mistress will sign an airtight agreement that spells out the terms of our relationship. That way I’ll never have this disruption again. Lawyer first, new mistress, second.
Thinking about his plans, Big Bill felt the pressure that had been building inside him lessen. Feeling better now that he had decided his new course of action, he ordered, “Let’s move on. My next meeting starts in five minutes. What’s the status of the insurance lawsuit?”
“The plaintiff, Fontaine Development, is claiming you and others on the board ordered the slow pay of insurance claims to increase company profits and thus, the value to the board.”
“Yes. I’m aware. Have you dug into Trever’s involvement in this matter?”
“Bill, if we go down that avenue, it might put your son’s partner and their firm at risk.”
“Hmm. Let me see,” Big Bill said as he held his hands in the air, palms up, and acted as if he was weighing different amounts in each hand. “Either my fortune, heritage, and reputation are ruined or my son’s firm or his partner goes down.” Suddenly, he used the full force of his arm and swung it down so hard on the table the whiskey glasses jumped and almost fell on their sides.
“Jesus. What the hell are you doing?” Scott asked, grabbing his glass.
“We’ve had this conversation before. Apparently, neither of you understood I was serious. I ran the board. I did not come up with any schemes to harm anyone. I am not an expert in insurance. I run a tobacco plantation and simply had the idea to bring together a number of wealthy people to provide the initial capital to create an insurance company. That does not make me anything other than an investor.”
Taking a document out of his satchel, Jeremy asked, “Then why do we have one of the only smoking guns I’ve ever seen in all my years of litigation? This is your handwriting, and right here, in black and white, you wrote, ‘delay claim payments and increase ROI.’ How do you explain that?”
“You explain it! You’re my fucking lawyers. But apparently that doesn’t get me very much since I need to come up with all the theories. How about telling the jury I was writing down what someone else was saying? And that someone— Trever McGowen, one of the founding partners at Acker, Smith & McGowen—was the one who was giving us business advice. By the way, my son was running the legal end of things, getting the company off the ground and approved by state
regulators. He was not involved in the consulting side. That was all Trever, so I want the focus totally on him, not my son. Got that?”
“No one is going to believe that.”
“Why not? I’m not in the consulting business, but Trever is. And, by the way, it’s your goddamn job to make sure everyone believes whatever the fuck our theory is. That’s why I’m paying you the big bucks, right? Now get your asses out of here, and go get the evidence we need to pressure Trever into settling, with his or the firm’s money, and make this all go away.”
As the two lawyers headed out the door, Big Bill shook his head in disgust. Goddamn lawyers today have no sense of how to get things done. They’re all so afraid to play hard ball it’s as if the only qualification you have to have nowadays to practice law is the loss of your balls. Snorting out loud in agreement with himself, Big Bill signaled Jeremiah.
“Sir?”
“Jeremiah, I’d like you to find out all you can about Trever McGowen and his grandfather. Use whatever means necessary. Understood?”
“Completely.”
“Then, begin a search for my first in-house counsel. I want someone who will think outside the box, not some mealy-mouthed, run-of-the-mill, spineless lawyer—someone who understands how to get things done, will cover my ass, and won’t bother me with the details. Understood?
“Yes, sir. I’ll get on that right away.”
“Oh, and one more thing, Jeremiah.”
“Sir?”
“He must be loyal to me. Understood?”
“Completely.”
“Good man,” Big Bill said, slapping Jeremiah on the back a few times as he walked out the door to his next meeting.
CHAPTER
31
“WELL, THAT WAS interesting,” Victoria said as she kicked her shoes off and threw her coat and purse on the table. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to look at Armond. “Wow. This room is stunning. Is this yours?”
“No. It’s yours. Mine is next door.”
“Well, thank your father and mother for me, will you? This is amazing. It’s bigger than my apartment.”
Preening a bit, Armond said, “Almost anything is bigger than your apartment.”
“Ah, there he is, that snotty Beverly Hills boy I love to hate. I wondered where he was today,” she said, walking into the bedroom to change into something comfortable. “Hey,” she yelled, “my clothes are hung and put away. So is my makeup.”
Rolling his eyes, Armond said, “Really, Victoria. You’re going to have to stop acting like a country bumpkin. Our staff handles all of this. Everyone except the pilots has more than one job when we travel. It’s likely Chen was the one who unpacked your clothes. Be sure to thank her.” He winked and walked out of her bedroom. “I don’t know about you,” he called, “but I’d like a drink and dinner. I’m famished. I’d rather not go out, if that’s okay with you?”
“Bless you! There is no way I want to sit at dinner and have to act all speak only when spoken to.”
Picking up the menu, Armond asked, “Shall I order?”
“Yes, I’m starved, and I’ll have some—”
“Let me guess,” Armond interrupted, “red wine, full-bodied and smooth, no tannin aftertaste. You’re such a mercurial creature when it comes to food and drink, it’s hard to keep pace.”
Walking out of the bedroom in her favorite ripped jeans and cotton tee, Victoria messed Armond’s hair as she walked by. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m a woman who knows what she likes. One of my many assets, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Yes, so you’ve insisted in the past. And, don’t screw with my hair. You know it annoys me.”
Victoria walked up behind him as he was opening a bottle of wine and smooshed both her hands into and all through his hair. Turning quickly, Armond grabbed both her wrists, flipped her around, and pushed her back against the bar. “You have such an odd sense of humor. It’s going to get you into trouble one of these days,” he said as she leaned her head back laughing.
“Armond, you’re so easy to rile. It’s hard to pass up the opportunity,” Victoria said.
Catching her scent and feeling her body between him and the bar, Armond couldn’t help but push slightly forward. Victoria was suddenly still, alert that something had shifted. He tugged gently on her hair, her face turning up toward his, and bent down. There was a moment’s hesitation. Then, he kissed her.
Pushing him gently away, Victoria was mortified. “Armond. What just happened?”
He smiled, watching panic run across her face. “I believe that’s called a kiss.”
“I know what it’s called, you dolt. But why?”
“Because I wanted it, and so did you.”
“Don’t tell me what I want. I don’t know why all the men in my life continue to believe I need to be told what I want or how to feel. First Robert and now you.”
Armond turned to pour a smidgeon of wine into her glass. “Here, taste this, and tell me if it meets with your very untrained, yet finicky approval.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Victoria said as she took the glass and sipped. “Yes, it’s perfect. Thanks. This is terrible. We work together. I’m your company’s lawyer. Shall I resign? What will we tell your father?”
“What the hell are you talking about? It was a kiss. You do know you can’t make babies by kissing, no matter what Sister what’s-her-name told you? And why in God’s name would we not work together anymore or, even more concerning, tell my father?”
“Because you’ve ruined everything,” Victoria almost wailed.
“You know, I believe you might be even more dramatic than some of Renoir Productions’ self-absorbed stars. Now,” Armond said as he handed her an overly large pour of wine, “sit down, drink your wine, and decide what you want to eat. Nothing’s changed. We’ll eat and discuss business as usual.”
“Fine. I’m fine with that as long as you can handle it.”
Armond raised his trademark eyebrow. “Yes, Victoria, I think I can manage.”
* * *
After a few hours of eating and reviewing the investor files, Armond stood, stretched, and looked at his watch. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had it.”
“Well, suck it up, mon capitaine. We need to finish this last one. Our meetings are first thing in the morning.”
“Fine,” Armond said, returning to the sofa and opening the last folder.
Victoria looked over at him. “You know, it’s close to seven in the morning, Pacific time. Technically, we’ve been up all night. I think it’s safe for you to take off your tie. I doubt any investor is going to come busting through the door at this hour.”
“I can see from your very trendy attire that you have no qualms about dressing down. I, on the other hand, prefer to do business in business attire. It keeps me focused.”
Victoria shook her head at his stubbornness as she flipped through the last of her papers. “Well, well, well. Look at this. It seems we have a real live female as an investor candidate. It can’t be true. A woman who walks, talks, has a brain, and her own money? Seriously, I thought you said I had to be seen and not heard, yet here she is,” Victoria finished as she set her file down and walked over to the table to sip the last of her peppermint tea.
“Look at her name.” Armond tapped his pen against his folder and waited for Victoria to retrieve and flip open hers.
“And?” Victoria asked.
“She’s American. Her bio says she was born in the United States and brought to Asia at a very young age. She’s apparently lived in several countries and, it seems, made a fortune in the auction business. She owns some of the most well-respected auction houses in Asia.”
“She certainly seems to have a healthy bank account. Your accountants concluded that her business is solid. I do have one question, though.”
“What is it?” Armond asked, skeptical at the tone in Victoria’s voice.
“Since she’s A
merican, can I speak at this meeting, or do I still need to sit in the corner like the good little girl that I’ve been?” Victoria asked sarcastically.
“I’m not sure yet,” Armond answered, surprising Victoria.
“She’s American and a woman in business to boot! What could possibly be your reservation?”
“She was born in America, but she’s lived in this part of the world most of her life. Let’s not assume she follows our traditions. We should know within the first few minutes.”
Standing, Armond walked over to the table and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. Smoothing it meticulously over his arm, he turned and looked at Victoria. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Do you want to meet for breakfast?”
“No. I’m going to see if I can run somewhere near the hotel. Do you think we can stop at a Starbucks to grab coffee on the way to the meeting?”
“Just soaking up the different culture, aren’t you? You can take the girl out of the South Side but—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know the rest. Get out. See you downstairs at eight thirty,” Victoria interrupted, walking after him to bolt her door.
Wide awake and curious, Victoria walked over to her laptop, used the secure connect Renoir Productions had given her, and logged on to do a little research. The information they had received from the accountants was too vanilla. Who was she? Did she have a family? Had she been educated in the States?
After about thirty minutes of searching, Victoria gave up. She considered herself a consummate researcher, yet she’d turned up absolutely nothing about this woman. Exhausted, Victoria got into bed and turned on the English-speaking TV channel for background noise.
CHAPTER
Private Agendas: A Victoria Rodessa Legal Thriller Page 13
