by K. L. Brady
"You deserve a reply, a truthful one.” He tried to move closer to her, to hold her, but she strong-armed him, kept him at a literal arm's length.
"And trust me, I can smell BS a hundred miles away with clogged sinuses in a snowstorm," she added. "So, reach into the depths of your soul, find the truth, and speak it, or I swear by the Holy Maker of Heaven and Earth, I will make my exit from your home with a swiftness that'll give you chronic whiplash."
He heard the desperate ultimatum of a woman who'd once believed in him—but he also saw an exit strategy; did he really want out? If he did indeed love Tessa, the choice was his to make, and the time to make it was now. Unfortunately, all the turbulence had blurred his emotions.
"Okay, brace yourself. Here's the whole truth," said Cody. "I acquired Keep It Real for many reasons, the majority of which have zilch to do with Tessa Sweet. Her father called me."
"Wait a minute," she said. "He. Called you?"
"Yes. And despite this ridiculous feud, I listened because, in my heart, he's my family. He chewed his nails in the waiting room on the day my mom gave birth to me; she had some complications. Dad said he was more nervous than even he had been. He's been there with me, beside me, watching, guiding me for each and every milestone in my life. He and my father pledged Omega in college, so he was a part of my father’s life long before my own mother."
"This is all touching, but how does this sentimental tale pertain to me and you?" she asked in her usual disaffected way.
"Blood didn't make them brothers; love did. Business tore them apart, not betrayal. Now I've helped bring them back together."
"You're a good person, but I still don't understand. You don't owe anything to that woman or that family. Why put yourself at odds with your sisters? With me?”
"If you're asking me, then you don't even comprehend the kind of man I am. It's not about what I owe anyone. It's about doing the right thing. You've agreed to marry me, and you don't even know who I am."
Now she moved to him, and he jerked back. He'd peeled back an unsettling layer of their relationship.
"I'd offer you more detail if a non-disclosure agreement with Sweet Media didn't legally prevent it. But I won't breach it. If you don't trust me, we need to reconsider what we're doing here."
"Okay." She offered only a blank expression, clearly expecting a different response. "What about Tessa? How does she factor into this equation?"
"I'd like to tell you I don't care about her, but I can't."
Her face screwed into a sour pucker, and she increased the distance between them.
"She and I were raised in separate households, but we grew up at Hart. Since we were ten years old, at least," he continued. "Of course, I care for her; what kind of man would I be if I didn't? But you're the woman wearing my ring, who shares my life, my heart, and soon my home. This deal is business and nothing more. You can live with that, or you can't. The decision is yours."
"Well, I know one thing for certain," Chandra said.
"What's that?"
"You told me the truth because that's not what I wanted to hear."
"Then you're really going to believe this because I'll be honest, you matter to me, but I'm done talking about this. If you want to walk out the door, I understand. But this is me. Take me or leave me." He hadn't planned to make his own ultimatum. His stomach lurched, leaving a pit.
"Is that final?" she asked.
Cody only nodded in reply.
"Fine," she disappeared into the kitchen, and plastic bags began to crinkle. "I bought groceries. What do you say to a candlelight dinner and a hot bath?" she called out.
He should've smiled. He should've been giddy with the anticipation of the relaxing evening to come. He wasn't. "Sounds perfect."
He removed his jacket and loosened his tie, relieved that he'd negotiated peace successfully. Then he strolled to the patio. He beheld the skyline, the ocean of lights. Not even the scent of the grilling porterhouse distracted him from thinking about the question that had plagued him for five years.
Who's loving Tessa tonight?
Chapter Ten
Cody
* * *
A cruel beam of sunlight broke through Cody's mahogany wood blinds. The universe had not taken mercy on him overnight. After a sleepless night on The Chandra’s art deco couch, he was still alive and now was forced to face post-acquisition day one with The Tessa. With greatness of forethought, he'd delegated the heavy work of her handling to his COO, Kyle.
Usually, cooling Chandra off meant heating her up, but Tessa had left him too conflicted to indulge. He opted for another solution—escalating the argument until she banished him from the bedroom. He held refuge on the oversized and overpriced sofa.
Someday, he may feel guilty about weaseling his way out of making up—not today. Instead, he turned his attention to a more critical mission: hit the road early to deal with another head of the dragon.
Cody entered Hart’s offices, expecting to breeze past Kyle's empty office and grab a hot cup of his favorite Ethiopian blend. To his surprise, Kyle had arrived before opening hours and now sat hunched over his desk with his fingers dancing across his keyboard in furious beats. Cody took his cracked door as an invitation to barge in and then helped himself to a seat.
"Well, you're in early this morning,” Cody remembered Kyle's meeting with Tessa. He had no doubt his COO could handle himself with her during their get-together, but he'd warn him anyway. "I just wanted to make sure you still had a pulse after your encounter with Tessa yesterday, but I don't want to interrupt. Need any help?"
"Nah." Kyle shook his head and looked as if he could've melted in his chair. "My clash with Tessa went, well, as expected."
Cody chuckled.
"Now, I'm making some notes to prepare for the actual meeting."
"There isn't enough typing in the world," Cody said.
"You're telling me?" Kyle replied. "She's no joke. We met because she caught me listening in on her speech. She accused me of being a reporter. When she found out I'm your COO, she went full-tilt." Kyle smirked. "I chalked up my brush-with-death to an absurdly rough day. She's not usually that bad, is she?"
"No, she’s worse." Cody's hard stare dissolved into a hearty laugh. He propped his feet up on a nearby coffee table. "I'm kidding. Sort of. Dealing with her can be like chewing broken glass, but she's all heart, and it’s almost always in the right place."
"I'm not sure about her heart, but she's...spunky."
"She wants to do the best thing for all concerned even if she goes about it the wrong way. She's ambitious, yes, but she's also committed. If you work for her, you're family. If you work with her, you're blessed." The beauty of her spirit began to flourish in his mind, but he needed to put a stopper in his mouth. This was business, not love. "Don't get it twisted, though. With her kind heart comes a stubbornness that'll drive you to drink if you let it. I mean, she possesses a mule-headed determination that could compete with any jackass."
Kyle's eyebrows arched. "Sounds like you know her well."
"I used to." Cody deliberately concealed the depth and breadth of his relationship with Tessa. Enough people in his circle questioned his motivation. He didn't need to add his COO and best friend to the list. "We grew up in the same circles. My father started Hart but, together, our fathers partnered to build the enterprise."
"Oh, right. And then Mr. Sweet left, the root of the big feud."
"Exactly," he said. "But I can't imagine she's changed very much since then."
"I know a few people in creative and marketing over there. This industry is small. I've reignited some old relationships to get ahead of her next move. Rumors are crawling through the grapevine. I've heard everything from her plotting a major move to her tendering her resignation. Lots of subtle and not-so-subtle whispers but nothing rock-solid."
"I'm not surprised," Cody replied.
"Everyone closest to her, the ones who know the ground truth, stay locked down," Kyle said. "It's
like maneuvering a shield of secrecy. I've been in business for a long time. You can't buy or bully your staff into this kind of allegiance. You can only earn it."
"Can't say I'm surprised about that, either," Cody replied. "Her team is next-level. Uncle Brian and I understood going into this deal that she wouldn't concede without a fight. The only question remaining is how hard she's willing to buck against me...I mean, the acquisition."
Kyle shot him the side-eye. "One thing is clear: she'd like nothing more than to find a comfortable spot under your skin and make camp."
"Then she should think better of it. I respect her, but I'm only willing to tolerate so much. If she pushes me too far, she'll regret it. Best she lean into my plan sooner than later."
"If I may ask, what's the plan?"
"Good question. I’ll increase her market share and profits by knocking some of the edginess off of her messaging. She's never going to reach her goals, financial or otherwise, if consumers view Keep It Real as Bitter Witch Greetings. Furthermore, that's not the kind of person she is—it's who she became after...well, the point is that Keep It Real was never her plan."
"Visions change, don't they?"
"Yes, but her first approach is more profitable, and this business is about the mass appeal and the dollars. She'll come to realize the truth if she gets past her pride and ego. I'm going to ask her to oversee a Hart project, one better aligned to her original strategy. She'll do what she does best; she can't help herself. That'll be the baby step we need to expand Keep It Real's messaging, to make us a stronger company."
"So, you're really not going to ax it."
"Not today," Cody replied. "And if this plan works, not ever."
"Do you have a Hart Card project in mind?"
"Still chewing on it,” Cody said. "However, you've got a critical mission if you choose to accept it."
"What's that?"
"Help her believe she's still in charge while keeping an eye on her. The more control she believes she has, the sooner we can make the kind of progress that will benefit Keep It Real and Hart."
Kyle nodded. "I think I can handle that."
"And let me add one incentive to your motivation. My ascension to the CEO leaves my Executive Vice President position vacant. If you successfully manage Tessa, you're a shoo-in."
"Are you serious?" He bolted upright, and his eyes brightened.
Cody's appeal to Kyle's ambitions would help keep him on task.
"Of course. But I'm pitting you against a lioness. If you survive, you'll deserve to be Hart's number two."
"Only one thing left to do." Kyle glanced at his watch and stood up. "Head into the den."
* * *
He left Kyle's office, took a breath, and paused to weigh his thoughts. Ms. Dee had packed his schedule. The day would begin with a series of long, drawn-out, and unnecessary meetings, which he'd blow off. He felt like a hypocrite. His smugness over her "new" business strategy gave way to regret as he recalled the cards she created for him, starting with Let's Bee Friends; Hart cards wouldn't exist without her vision for Sweet-Hart Cards. Who was he to push Tessa to embrace the woman she used to be, especially when he'd long abandoned the version of himself that he once was?
For years, Cody suppressed the single insatiable craving he had outside of loving Tessa—creating Hart Cards. After they parted ways, he buried his inner artist and embraced the businessman. Why?
One reason surfaced above all others: art reminded him of the love he shared with her. With her gone, his dream drifted away. He lost the best part of himself to the company. Perhaps Tessa wasn't the only one who needed to reevaluate aspirations.
Maybe that's the reason he'd grown so comfortable in his relationship with Chandra. Being around Tessa always stirred up internal unrest, forced him to face his dissatisfaction with the status quo, made him want more…want it all.
Chandra embraced contentment. Tessa craved evolution, and with the Keep It Real acquisition behind him, he felt a shift.
He tightened his lips and gave into an urge, one he was done fighting. One that had evaded him for five years. He maundered to the creative studio, greeting the friendly double-takes from his staff with waves and nods. He had not descended below the Executive floor in far too long. Once upon a time, before he took Hart's helm, he avoided the C-Suites. He preferred to learn Hart operations in the trenches—from the ground up.
When Pops passed, Cody abandoned his own shoes for his father's. Hart needed the continuity at the time, so he neglected the woman and dream he wanted and accepted his duty to his father’s legacy. He never regretted the choice until now.
He slipped into his original space where he and Tessa had spent many summers. He said a quick hello to its lone resident.
"Haven't seen you down here in a month of Sundays," Rice said. His hair was more white than silver, hence the nickname. He had every single color of Docker and polo shirt known to man. This day, he wore a navy and beige combination.
Rice McHugh, his father's hand-picked senior graphic artist, was an old head, a Hart purist. He'd refused to move to the modernized creative studio claiming the intense light interfered with the energy. He resisted change. He preferred the dark. Rice still produced some of their best-selling collections of all time. Cody took a seat next to him, grabbed a hand full of colored pencils, and paused.
"I came downstairs to soak up some of your energy." Cody pulled out a sheet of paper, folded it in half, and positioned a pencil at the top. For a few moments, he froze, paralyzed by too many thoughts; a flurry of ideas bum-rushed his mind, overwhelmed him. Soon, Cody's hand found the color blue, a stroke, and then a rhythm.
“Glad to see you. It's been too long," Rice said, watching the motion of Cody's pencil. "When life gets crazy, we naturally gravitate to our creative sides. I hoped to see you sooner than later”—he paused—"Like riding a bike, isn't it? After so many years, you're scared to fall, forgetting about how you once popped wheelies."
Cody acknowledged the truth with a smile and a series of nods. He closed his eyes and let his hand lead, allowing his instinct to take him places where his mind refused to tread. When he opened his eyes, a slight grin disappeared quickly. He'd drawn a heart with a break.
Above his sketch, he wrote, "It's all my fault." Below, "I'm sorry."
The longer he stared at his creation, the more the words blurred. He lost himself in a time long passed, at least until a voice crept up from behind him and yanked him out of his thoughts.
"Cody? ... Cody?... Cody?"
He clutched his chest and looked over his shoulder. He soon realized Ms. Dee hovered near the door.
"I've been looking for you everywhere. Haven't seen you down here in forever,” she said with a smile. "Not a bad look on you. Not bad at all."
"Did you need something?" he asked, hoping to hasten her departure so he could return to his craft, his thoughts.
"The focus group? You asked me to set up one for today. The research for Hart and Keep It Real Cards?"
"Aw, man! I completely forgot."
"Took me a half hour to find you. They started about twenty minutes ago. Thought you might want to head to marketing. They're in room four."
Cody took off running.
"Hurry," she said, calling after him. "You don't want to miss anything important."
Huffing and puffing, he clambered up three flights of stairs and arrived in record time. He slipped into an entrance that led him behind the one-way glass in the conference room. He took a quick note of the participant demographics—three diverse women; three generations; he only recognized the facilitator. Cody leaned back and listened with interest.
Susan, a familiar face, said, "Now that you've all had a chance to review and read the selection of graduation messages from Hart Cards and Keep It Real, I'll pose a few questions, and you tell me what you think about the messaging? Would you buy them? Would you give them to your family members and friends? Do they speak to you, for you? Let's start with the Hart
Cards and our Gen X'er, Marie."
"What can I say?" Marie wore a Nirvana T-shirt and drank a kale smoothie. "When I need cards, I buy Hart. They're my favorites. To me, a graduation card to a loved one should convey sentiment, love, acknowledgment, and appreciation." She opened her sample and read. "Today, we celebrate your hard work, perseverance, and commitment. That's what it's all about, isn't it? I choose Hart. Yes, I said the word heart too many times, but you get the picture."
"I agree.” Alyssa, the youngest woman, flipped her pink-streaked hair over her shoulder and glanced at her constantly buzzing cellphone before shuffling through her pile of samples. "Hart always leaves a smile on my face. It's a paper hug; plus, mine almost always arrive filled with money. I prefer money over hugs."
"I've been mailing these to my family for thirty years,” the baby boomer, Leona, said. She looked queenly with her silver hair and bifocals perched on the end of her nose. "When I want to express messages of happiness, love, and hope, joy, or sometimes even ‘I'm sorry’ or ‘I'm here for you,’ I buy Hart. I mean, it's the perfect expression, right?"
They all looked around the table and nodded in agreement.
"Thank you all so much for the thought and energy that you've brought to the process," Susan said. "Is that all you'd like to offer about the Hart product?"
Everyone agreed with a nod or a thumbs-up.
"Okay, let's move on to Keep It Real. What did you think about their congratulations or graduation offering? Anyone have any thoughts?"
Marie raised her hand. "I love them, myself. I mean, sometimes you want to send sentiment, and other times you want to tell it like it is. Some members of my family need straight talk, no beating around the bush. Depending on the receiver, a card with humor can be even more meaningful.
"Let's take my nephew, for example. I swear, he took seven and a half years to finish college. Not because he struggled with the work, rather he refused to apply himself. This boy par-tayed. Okay? Stayed in the streets with his frat brothers. He rolled into class late, hungover. The evidence is a YouTube video somewhere, recorded by one of his classmates. If anyone in my family told you they believed he'd graduate, I’d advise you to take two steps to the left because the lightning's coming to take you out."
