“Mr. Farber is going to get everything taken care of.” She exhaled sharply.
“Good.” I squeezed her hand. “I need to step outside. My phone has been blowing up—I have a missed call from my parents and a couple of voicemails from numbers I don’t recognize.”
“I’ll join you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“I know you started that again because you were stressed out—but remember how hard it was to quit last time…” I knew it was bad timing, but she was my friend, so I had to say something.
“Yeah.” She nodded and pushed the pack into her purse. “Good point.”
I walked outside alone and listened to the message from my mother first. I always got nervous when I missed one of her calls, but there was nothing urgent—she was just checking on me since I didn’t call after my interview. The next voicemail was from someone named Ben, who was very short and just asked me to call him. I had no idea who he was, so I moved on to the next message. It was from a woman named Melinda who worked for Rutherford Trust—and they wanted to interview me. Unfortunately, they wanted to interview me the following day—and I wasn’t sure if I would even be back in Los Angeles by then.
“Everything okay?” Jennifer met me at the door.
“Yeah.” I nodded quickly. “I got a call from someone at Rutherford Trust. I might have another interview when I get home.”
“Oh my god…” Her jaw fell open. “I didn’t even ask you about the interview with Alexio Hawkins! I’m a terrible friend!”
“You had way too much on your mind to even think about that. The interview didn’t go well.” I held up my hand. “I won’t be working at Hawkins Capital—ever.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Faith.” She leaned in and hugged me. “When do you interview with Rutherford Trust?”
“They asked me to interview tomorrow, but I’ll call them and try to set something else up.” I leaned back from her embrace. “I’m staying here with you until things get sorted out with your mother.”
“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I may—be here a while. If you’ve got an opportunity to interview with Rutherford Trust tomorrow, you don’t need to stay.”
“Let me at least call them.” I pulled away and hit redial on the number that called me.
I called Melinda and told her that I was out of town. I asked if they could possibly reschedule the interview until I returned—whenever that was. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. They wanted to make a decision quickly, and my interview was one of the last ones they planned to conduct. I wanted to just cancel it entirely so I could stay with Jennifer, but she insisted that I return home to prepare. I stayed until her mother was able to post her bond, made sure they were properly reunited outside of Farber & Jones, and then I started driving back to Los Angeles. In a way, I was glad that I wasn’t staying. The situation was going to be awkward, and I didn’t really know Jennifer’s mother. She would probably feel better going back to her home without a stranger staying with them, although I would have worked through that awkwardness if Jennifer needed me.
My thoughts returned to the interview I had with Alexio Hawkins while I drove. It was a shame that someone as attractive as him had to resort to paying women to spend time with him. I would have expected him to be charming Hollywood actresses, bedding modern day princesses, and making women like me blush with a single glance. It would have been very difficult to work for him; if he had offered me the job, I thought I was interviewing for. I developed a mild crush on him when I did my case study on Hawkins Capital but seeing him in real life took my breath away. If men like him were paying two hundred thousand dollars to spend thirty days with a woman, then there had to be a reason—there was no way he was getting that many rejections. Then again, if the stories were true about his ruthlessness—and it went further than crushing his competition—then maybe that gorgeous physique and beautiful ink wasn’t enough to make a woman stay once she saw what kind of man he really was.
I would probably tolerate a lot for a man that looks like him, but looks aren’t enough to build a real relationship on.
Traffic wasn’t bad for a Monday afternoon in California, and I got back to Los Angeles in what might have been record time—not that I had driven to San Diego very often. Being alone in the apartment I shared with Jennifer was going to be strange. I really didn’t know how long she would be gone. I assumed she would have to come back at some point for her job, but there was a chance she would stay in San Diego with her mother. I walked through the lobby and noticed a couple of strange looks from people who were getting their mail. I wondered if they had seen the news story about Jennifer’s mother—a couple of them did live on our floor, and we had interacted when we passed in the hallway. I shrugged off their strange looks and made my way to the elevator. Once I got to my apartment, I finally realized why I was getting an odd stare—there was an eviction notice taped to the front of my door.
“What the hell?” I grabbed the notice and unlocked my door as fast as I could.
I slammed the door and started reading the eviction notice. I had to take a few classes on law in college, and they were mostly focused on investment law, but I did understand most of the legalese that would have been confusing to some people. It wasn’t a true eviction notice—despite having those words in big bold letters on the top of it. The technical name was a three-day unconditional quit notice—which gave us three days to vacate the property, or the owner would file an eviction lawsuit to have us forcibly removed. The notice stated that we had violated the moral clause in our lease agreement—I had no idea what that meant, and truthfully, I didn’t read the lease agreement when we signed it. I was so happy to have an affordable place to live that I just signed the paperwork when Jennifer offered to add me to the lease.
Is it normal to have a moral clause in a lease agreement? I don’t even know—and it’s not like I can afford to hire a lawyer to figure it out.
I grabbed my laptop and quickly did some research on my own. Moral clauses were uncommon, but it was legal to include them in the state of California. The building owner was under no obligation to tell us what our violation was unless we challenged the notice and refused to leave. Once the eviction lawsuit was filed, there would be a hearing, and the owner would have to outline their complaint—or complaints—in front of a judge. If I objected, or preferably, had a lawyer object, then there would be a trial where I would get an opportunity to defend myself against the accusations. With a good lawyer, I could delay the eviction by several weeks—possibly even a few months if the judge’s docket was full.
I have a feeling this moral clause somehow ties into the charges against Jennifer’s mother, which will probably make this entire case complicated. The owner let us lease this place for pennies on the dollar—as a favor to her.
I didn’t have the money to get my own place—especially if I didn’t have a job. I might have been able to scrape together enough to live in the ghetto—but it would be foolish to do that if I didn’t have any money coming in. The worst part was that I was going to have to tell Jennifer, which would just add more stress to her situation. I read through a few more things on evictions, but didn’t find anything useful, and then decided that I needed to make the call to my roommate. She freaked out—as expected—and said she would call me back once she figured out what was going on. Less than ten minutes later, my phone lit up with her number, and her tone was a lot more somber than it was when I told her about the notice.
“Is this something that will hold up in court?” I pressed the phone to my ear.
“I asked Mr. Farber, but it’s not his area of expertise. He said the media attention on my mother’s case probably won’t help.” She exhaled sharply into the phone. “We won’t really know what he’s claiming until the hearing.”
“Okay.” I leaned back in my chair. “That will buy us some time…”
“I’m sorry, Faith.” I could tel
l she was either crying or about to start. “I’ll do anything I can to help you get a new place if we lose the apartment—you didn’t ask for any of this. I could talk to my mother and see if you can move in here—I may have to do that.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I felt tears of my own trying to form in the corner of my eyes. “Just do what you can for your mother.”
I didn’t know what else to say. It would be hard to turn down Jennifer’s help if she offered it, but I was never one to accept a handout. We got the apartment for a steal, but I still paid my fair share of everything. My phone lit up again, and I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t answer it. There was another call immediately after it ended—then a voicemail. It was the same guy before—someone named Ben. If he wanted to get in touch with me, he wasn’t doing a great job of selling himself, because he just said his name and asked me to call him. I had no idea what it was about, and if it was one of the companies I applied to, he would have led with that. I started aimlessly scrolling through my phone, looking at social media, and contemplating my situation. I did that for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door.
Hmm. We never get visitors.
“Who is it?” I pushed my eye to the peephole.
“Hello, Ms. Matthews. My name is Ben Marshall—I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.” An older man with gray hair waved his hand in front of the peephole and smiled.
“I don’t know you…” I didn’t really feel comfortable opening my door to a stranger, so I just yelled through it.
“I represent Mr. Alexio Hawkins.” He leaned forward and knocked on my door several more times. “We need to talk.”
Represent? Is he a lawyer?
“Why?” My hand moved to the doorknob, but I was still nervous about opening the door to someone I didn’t know.
“This is something we should discuss in private. I promise you want to hear what I have say.” I could see that he was getting a little annoyed, especially when he knocked several more times and his smile shifted into more of a scowl.
I should be the one with a lawyer—not Alexio Hawkins. I could probably sue him for sexual harassment after that interview…
“Okay.” I sighed and started to unlock the door.
I don’t know what this is about, but I guess it won’t hurt to hear him out.
“Thank you.” His smile returned when I cracked the door. “Can I come inside? This won’t take long.”
“Sure.” I took a step back and opened the door.
“I wanted to have this discussion at my office, but you wouldn’t return my calls.” He narrowed his eyes at me when he walked into my apartment.
“Yes, I’ve been—rather busy.” I nodded.
“Understandable. I won’t take up much of your time; I promise.” He walked over to the table and put his briefcase down. “First, Mr. Hawkins wants to extend an apology for the way the interview went.”
“How it went or how it ended?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Or is he just upset that I turned him down?”
“No, it was actually a misunderstanding.” The older man sighed. “His secretary made a mistake—he was supposed to be interviewing someone else entirely.”
“Oh?” I blinked in surprise.
“You were a candidate for a position at Hawkins Capital—the other interview was meant for a woman that…” He words trailed off for a second. “A woman that knew what kind of interview it was.”
Mr. Hawkins did seem a little confused about my credentials—maybe he’s telling the truth.
“That’s fine.” I nodded. “I don’t want to work at Hawkins Capital anyway after that interview.”
“That’s totally understandable.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his briefcase. “The situation—still occurred. Mr. Hawkins wants to make it right.”
“What is this?” I looked at the paper as he turned towards me.
“It’s a contract—one that will ensure you do not talk to anyone about the interview or discuss the details of it.” He clicked a pen. “You’ll be compensated—of course.”
“I don’t know how I feel about signing a contract.” I took a step back.
“It’s necessary, for legal reasons. Like I said, you will be compensated for your trouble.” He extended both hands—a contract in one and the pen in the other. “The figure is at the bottom.”
Two-hundred thousand dollars—that’s a lot of money—money that I really need right now.
“Hold on.” I held up my hand. “Mr. Hawkins does owe me an apology; I agree with that—but I think he should do it in person.”
“Ms. Matthews, he’s a busy man.” An annoyed look spread across Ben’s face.
“Are you sure about that?” I narrowed my eyes. “He obviously was going to make time for something—that was the whole point of the interview he thought he was conducting.”
“This really doesn’t need to be difficult. You sign the contract, take the money, and then everyone can sleep easier at night.” He sighed.
I do need the money, but if this is really a misunderstanding, then I deserve a real apology—not one that comes second hand through his attorney.
“Then tell Mr. Hawkins to come make the deal himself. The last time was on his turf—this meeting will be on mine.” I nodded. “How about tomorrow? I’m free all afternoon.”
“I’ll let him know.” Ben’s expression shifted from slightly annoyed to angry, and he tossed everything back into his briefcase.
I was letting my foolish pride play with my emotions. I really did need the money—desperately, considering the fact that I was about to be homeless. I just didn’t like the way it was offered. If the interview was a mistake and the result of a mix-up, then I wanted him to walk into my apartment and tell me that himself. I wanted to look into his eyes when he apologized and see if he really meant it. I idolized Alexio Hawkins—I practically worshiped the man for what he had done with Hawkins Capital. I didn’t want my last impression of him to be soured if that wasn’t the kind of man he really was. I’d never see him the way I once did—but I also had a little bit of power in the situation if he was willing to buy my silence with a contract.
I don’t want to be greedy, but I did learn one very valuable lesson in school—you never take the first offer without negotiating…
Six
Alexio
The next day
“She wants what?” My nostrils flared, and I growled under my breath. “I pay you to handle this shit for me.”
“Maybe we should have just led with money instead of an apology.” Ben sighed and shook his head. “More money, I assume…”
“Why didn’t you just offer her more? Fuck it, make it a million dollars. I don’t care.” I glared at him.
“Mr. Hawkins, I don’t think that’s going to work. There was something in her eyes—I don’t know.” He sighed.
Those haunting eyes—yeah, I’ve seen it.
“Fine.” I nodded. “I’ll clear my schedule and have Deana set up a meeting with her.”
“Yeah, about that…” He looked down for a moment. “She’s going to want you to come to her apartment.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I turned my chair towards the window. “Okay, thanks for nothing, Ben. I’ll remember this the next time I have a problem that I usually call you to fix.”
I didn’t want to sit down with Faith. I didn’t want to remember how tempting her curves were—or how those eyes drew me in. I was used to negotiating with people I could destroy, and I liked that feeling of control. The only choice I had was to just drown her in dollar signs until she finally caved. It was going to be a one sided negotiation, but it was the only option I had. I didn’t want the story to get out—I could already see the headlines, which would send opportunistic lawyers scurrying to find clients that could make them rich. The women I had been involved with previously were locked down under contracts, but there were always others—women that had been fired for legitimate reasons who would be
happy to jump on the bandwagon to potentially exact a little revenge and make some money in the process. I needed to cut the entire thing off at the knees before it could get out of control.
“I was able to set up a meeting with Ms. Matthews.” Deana tapped on my door and opened it. “Two-clock this afternoon—at her apartment.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I waved her off. “I’ll be there. Just email me the address.”
At least this ends today. I’m going to make sure of it.
Later that day
I arrived at Faith’s apartment five minutes before the scheduled time for our meeting. Her apartment was near the heart of Los Angeles in a pretty expensive part of town—I was surprised that she was able to afford it based on what she told me when I interviewed her. I had people on my payroll that couldn’t afford a place that nice on their own. Faith greeted me at the door, wearing an outfit that was similar to the one she wore to the interview. Her haunting eyes drew me in immediately, but I reminded myself that I couldn’t get lost in them again—nor could I get distracted by her gorgeous curves. I was there to fall on my sword—apologize for being a misogynistic asshole—and arrange the financial terms of my surrender.
“Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the dining room table.
“Sure.” I nodded and walked over to sit down.
I haven’t made a deal sitting at a dining room table since the first year I ran Hawkins Capital…
“Your lawyer said you wanted to apologize for what happened during our interview. He said it was a misunderstanding.” She sat down across from me.
“Yes.” I sighed and prepared to eat a whole fucking plate of crow. “It was.”
“Interesting…” She slid her hand over to a stack of papers. “Let’s talk about that—but first, I want to know more about you.”
“What the hell?” I blinked in surprise.
Once Upon a Daddy: A Romance Anthology Page 51
