They begin to post shortly after 2:00 a.m. for the East Coast papers. I sift through the various articles and e-mail them to the team as they come in. They’re incredibly complimentary, which eases my mind for a moment. Over the next few hours, I watch the Midwest papers and then the West Coast.
Round one goes to SHN.
Since I was up half the night, I sleep late into the morning, knowing Benchmark will strike as soon as they see what’s going on. Checking the wires after grabbing my first jolt of caffeine, I note several papers that weren’t invited but are rewording the stories for their local audiences. I go for a late-afternoon run, quickly finding that, while there’s something to be said for what the push of endorphins does for my mornings, it’s not as strong for the afternoon.
Our clients have been instructed to contact us if they receive any calls about commenting on less than positive coverage, but I haven’t heard anything. Crickets. The silence is making me very nervous. Living in Napa for a while wouldn’t be too bad. At least I’d be close to Andy and my mom.
Staying up for the second night, I watch the newswires. My nerves are worse than they were last night. All I can do is pace. The stories start at 2:00 a.m. and push across the wires in the early hours. The more in-depth coverage continues to be relatively positive. We hit some bumps with our clients who have government contracts, pushback from their internal employees about hiring issues, and those accused of skirting tax avoidance and harassment. I pull the newswires on Benchmark, Argent Capital, and Carson Mills—our major competitors. There’s some bad-mouthing us from Carson Mills, but the reporter responds by calling them out on it.
Then I see what I’ve been waiting for. Benchmark does a piece on the inaccuracies of our forum and where we’re wrong. Things that were planted for the mole.
I e-mail the team and Jim. Okay, here we go.
Jim is the first to respond. I’m tracking their information.
Mason adds, When do you respond to the news source?
I tell them, I’m on it. I’m using the New York Times this first round. Stay tuned.
After a few clicks and a brief phone call, I see our counter to the Benchmark article that proves our information correct. I then watch the other papers pick it up.
Round two, SHN.
I begin receiving notices from our PR agency that clients are receiving calls validating possible misinformation. This is where it gets tricky. The agency is well-versed in spin, but we need our spin to be factual and how we’re going to back it up. This is where it could become interesting. I’m getting regular updates, and I start feeding compressed updates to the team via a secure server outside of SHN’s network.
We watch our first piece of coverage go sideways. The article discusses the falling apart of SillySally, which we heavily invested in. Their CEO was having multiple affairs, his wife was suing him for divorce, and some less than positive actions got him booted from the company by his board, which we orchestrated. The company has struggled to find their footing with their new CEO. We knew this would be coming.
We then see some articles about old clients where we didn’t manage things correctly. This was also expected.
This round goes to the mole.
It’s Wednesday when the hit pieces start. The hardest isn’t with our investments, but the team personally. With me, they concentrate on my mother’s mental illness. They have quotes about Cameron being into S&M, which actually makes me laugh to think he likes spanking Hadlee. Whatever floats their boat. They call Dillon an alcoholic and talk about how Mason makes constant mistakes and the team covers for him. Sara is a primadonna, and Emerson is a tyrant, both of which couldn’t be further than the truth. There’s a big hit piece on the Arnaults and their association with SHN, asking the question of whether Charles is really the person behind SHN and our success. None of our news sources are asking why these hit pieces on us about our personal lives matter, and I’m getting nervous.
I put a call in to my cousin. “Vannie?”
“GiGi, I’m watching this from New York. This is getting ugly.”
“It is, and I’m vulnerable right now. The press is going for page reads and not content. What does your brilliant mind think?”
She launches into her opinion on page reads and pushes for a solution, just as I hoped she would; I’m too close to be objective since they’re attacking my friends and me. She comes up with an idea, and I like it. “Are you sure you’re comfortable doing this?”
“Absolutely. This is when our jobs get fun.”
“Thank you.” I feel Zen and know this is the right avenue to take.
“I’ll call you after I have some luck.”
“I’ll be by my phone.”
I’m stunned when she calls back twenty minutes later. “That was quicker than I’d expected, but then again, I started planting stories this morning,” she explains.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, I might have gone after the CEOs of your main competitors, figuring they were going to go low.”
I see the wires pick up stories about our three major competitors’ failures, with comments about the leadership in all three instances. This is either going to get people to back off, or the news sources are going to drive this to page reads and a war among venture capital companies in the Bay Area where no one comes out on top.
This is a no-win for any of us.
I pull out my grand finale, which will either work or it won’t. I call my contact at The Wall Street Journal and arrange for the typically reclusive Charles Arnault to do a one-on-one interview later this afternoon at the Fairmont Hotel.
Tanya from the Journal arrives, and she’s ready for this no-holds-barred Q&A session. I’m in the back chewing on my thumbnail. Dammit. I hate when I do this. I’ve had too much coffee and not enough food this week.
I listen to her question Charles, starting soft and then attempting to go for the jugular. He answers each of her questions with confidence and acknowledges problems when necessary. I notice after a while that she isn’t reading from her prepared questions, but I don’t want to break up the conversation. She’s running late, and I’m getting nervous that she’s going to miss her deadline and this won’t run, which will send us into the weekend with the lousy coverage.
Finally, I hear her say, “Okay, I have what I need, and I have a deadline. Can you excuse me”—she looks down at her phone—“for the next twenty minutes?”
Everyone stands back, and Charles and I step into the hallway outside of the room. He pulls me in for an embrace. “Greer, this has gone better than we expected. Regardless, we’re ahead.”
When Tanya emerges, she hands each of us a copy of the article she posted. I thank her but don’t want to be too eager, waiting until she leaves to read it.
In 1984, Charles Arnault cofounded Sandy Systems with his wife, Margret “Margo” Lerner Arnault, to market the technology they codeveloped for connecting computer networks. The Arnaults designed and built routers in their house and experimented using Stanford's network. Initially, the Arnaults went to Stanford with a proposition to start building and selling the routers, but the school refused. It was then that they founded their own company and named it "Sandy Systems," taken from the name of the city to the north.
Sandy Systems’ product was developed in their garage and began selling in 1986 by word of mouth. In their first month alone, Sandy Systems was able to land contracts worth more than $200,000. The company produced revolutionary technology, giving them domination over the marketplace. Sandy Systems went public in 1990, Charles Arnault retired from the business five years ago, and their son currently sits at the helm. His experience with venture capital money was not positive.
“After funding the company for three years by mortgaging everything we owned and putting everything on credit cards, we made an absolute bozo no-no. We decided to take money from a VC. He got 30-odd percent of the company for $2.6 million. Margo and I were very naïve. We used his lawyer and agreed to a four
-year vesting agreement. We would get 90 percent of the founder's stock after four years, but we didn't put enough in writing and learned the hard way.”
Charles Arnault is the grandson of Winston Arnault, the famed shipping and railroad magnate. When he chose not to join the family business, he and Margo were on their own. “Margo’s family had a small business. I always thought if someone invested in your business, that meant he or she believed in it. I assumed our investor supported us because his money was tied up in our success. I didn’t realize he had decoupled the success of the company from that of the founders.”
It wasn’t until a friend of their daughter, Caroline, came to him and asked for his advice that he ever wanted to work with a venture capital fund again. “I don't believe all VCs are adversarial, but the first thing I tell everyone is ‘You need to look out for yourself.’ I’m an advisor to Sullivan Healy Newhouse. I was introduced when a friend of my daughter’s was being approached by them to buy her business. I was incredibly impressed by how they presented themselves. We had set the expectation that the business would be worth a certain amount, and SHN came in with a better than competitive offer. They were honest and very forthcoming. Their ethics drew me to advise them when they asked. I have nothing but respect for the team at SHN.”
When asked about his advisory role, Arnault is quick to downplay his input. “These guys don’t really need my advice. Doesn’t mean I don’t offer it, but I’m more of a sounding board as they grow and face multiple situations that they’ve never faced before, having reached personal success at such young ages.”
As SHN grows, so does the Arnault input. Charles and Margo have contributed personal income into SHN’s funds as payment for his time. “Having my children involved adds another layer to the advice. Both Trey and Caroline run large successful companies in their own rights, and they bring a younger perspective that I’ve never dealt with.”
I do a cursory glance through the remaining article, stunned at how hard she went after him and yet essentially wrote a nice puff piece. “This may just end it all with us landing okay.”
“Greer, I’ve never been prouder of you.” He brings me in for another tight embrace.
An enormous weight lifts from my shoulders. I bite back the tears, realizing with everything going on with Andy, work and my life, this is exactly what I needed.
Sending the article out to the team, I include a note: Jim, it’s up to you and your team. It looks like the hit pieces on us have some real inside information.
Just as I press Send, my phone begins to light up as it hits the wires. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to calm my nerves. What the stock market does next is what will determine if I fucked up.
Dillon reports, Our investments are going like crazy. Some are up over 200 percent and others 50.
I got something accomplished this week. For a change, I was out in front of the news rather than reacting to it. I may not have to move to Napa after all.
I can’t help but be a tiny bit disappointed about that fact. It would’ve been the perfect excuse to be close to Andy.
Now I want to see my boyfriend.
Me: Are you home this weekend? May I come for a visit?
Andy replies almost immediately. I’ve been told they’re releasing me tomorrow. I need a nurse. Will you be my nurse?
Me: Only if I can wear a short white uniform with no panties and lots of cleavage.
Andy: I’m hard already.
Me: I’m leaving The City now. I’ll come by the hospital tonight and be there when you check out. I can stay at my mom's.
Andy: You can stay at my place.
Me: My mom’s is good until Genevieve is comfortable. Even if that takes a year or two, I’m good with it.
Andy: You’re too good for us.
Me: I love you, and you’re a package deal.
Me: See you soon.
Andy: I love you, too. I can’t wait to see you. (Nurse uniform not required.)
Me: Okay, I’ll leave it at home.
Andy: What? Bring it if you have it.
The traffic leaving The City is terrible. I was hoping for a quick trip up to St. Helena, but unfortunately the traffic is thick both ways, and it’s after five when I finally arrive at the hospital. I walk up to his room and peek in before I enter, finding Sophia talking to him in rapid Italian.
She sees me and breaks into a wide grin, then offers me a hug. “So wonderful to see you.”
“It’s been very busy at work.”
Andy breaks into a giant grin and holds his arms up for a hug. “We’ve been watching the newspapers. Your work has been very exciting this week.”
“I think it’s going to calm down for a minute.”
Throwing her arms up in frustration, Sophia says, “I’m glad you’re here. The doctor isn’t telling me much because of some silly privacy laws. Maybe you can get him to tell us what he’s not supposed to do so I make sure he follows doctor’s orders.”
“I’ll try. No promises though.” I chortle as if I have any influence in getting the doctor to talk to me.
She leans down and kisses Andy on the forehead, then leaves in a flourish.
He hasn’t let go of my hand since he hugged me, running his fingers over my knuckles. “Hey, where’s your nurse uniform?”
“You’re not home yet,” I tease.
“No sneak peeks?”
I’m shy all of a sudden. Our last visit was not what we expected, and nurses are running in and out of the room, so I’m not interested in giving him any shows. Instead, I ask, “How are you feeling?”
Andy lets out a sigh of boredom or frustration—it’s hard to tell for sure. “Ready to go home and sleep all night in my own bed without interruptions.”
“Well, I might’ve brought something to lift your spirits.” I remove some cartons of Italian food from his favorite place. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s not as hot as it should be. The traffic was terrible.” I look around, making sure there aren’t any spies hiding in his room. “Do you want me to find a microwave?”
Andy spots the takeout dishes and his eyes twinkle. “No. I knew there were many reasons to love you. Any woman who’ll bring contraband into the hospital is an angel sent from heaven.”
“You may be disappointed, because I think I’m half angel, half devil,” I flirt.
He scoops a big piece of ravioli into his mouth, and I’m not sure if his moans are for my comments or his dinner, though I’m assuming the latter. He eats as if he hasn’t had food in a month, taking little time to breathe or even say anything.
As he finishes his last bite, a nurse walks in and spies the empty food containers. “Where did that come from?” she asks, eyeing me carefully.
Uh-oh. I’m in trouble now. I mean really, what can they do to me? Kick me out?
I scramble and finally say, “I’m sorry. It was my dinner, and he was just finishing off the leftovers.”
“Just a small taste,” Andy says as he stifles a laugh.
“Uh-huh, sure.” Turning to me, she adds, “Next time bring some for the staff, too.”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You breakin’ him out tomorrow?”
My heart beats faster, and my smile is so wide my cheeks hurt. “That’s the plan.”
“Well, make sure he doesn’t go crazy. He’s going to get one hell of a headache if he works too hard. They’ll send you home with instructions. Make sure he follows them.” She abruptly turns and leaves.
Andy waves toward the door. “See what I put up with?” He lowers his voice and teases, “I need a naughty nurse to take care of me.”
“We’ll see. When’s Genevieve due?”
“I don’t think she’s coming.”
I’m completely floored by his response. I’m not nearly as close with my father and I would still go out of my way to be at the hospital when he was being released.
“Are you sure? I would think if her father is getting out of the hospital after a five-day stay when he origin
ally told us it was only going to be three, she’d be here to push your wheelchair to the door.”
“I’d be surprised if she knew.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but I can see it bothers him.
I know he doesn’t mean to be callous toward his daughter and her feelings, but I’m not interested in being the reason they fight. I sit on the bed next to him and rest my head on his chest. “I don’t want what happened at my last visit to happen again. Can you call Melanie and find out?”
“Right now?”
I sit up and look him in the eyes so there’s no question of my sincerity. “Yes, before it gets too late.”
He grabs his phone and makes the call. “Hey, Melanie. Greer’s here to take me home tomorrow. Is Genevieve coming by?” He listens a few minutes, then replies, “She is?”
My heart sinks. I’ve had a long week, and I want time with him, but not to exclude her. Melanie is doing most of the talking, Andy giving the occasional “Uh-huh.” Then he says, “No, have her come. Greer and I will make other plans. Is she planning on spending the night?” He listens for a few moments. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”
His face falls in disappointment, and I know what he’s going to tell me before he does. “It seems like you’re right.” He tosses his phone on the table in frustration. “I want a naughty nurse.”
He’s so cute when he pouts. I love that he looks like a petulant little boy, but I need to reassure him. “We have plenty of time for the naughty nurse. Figure out when you’re coming down to San Francisco. My mom had a furniture delivery this week, and my plan is to stay tonight at her place, sleep until I can’t stand it, and then drive home tomorrow morning after I can function again.”
He’s still pouting, but we both understand this is our reality when it comes to us dating. “This is the second time you’ve been accommodating.”
“As long as you’re keeping track. We need to ease her into a relationship with me. I’ve been in her shoes, and when I was forced, I never got there.”
Temptation (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #4): A Second Chance Billionaire Romance Page 18
