by Kahlen Aymes
“Yeah, Dad. On my way. Unless we can put this off?” Alex asked hopefully.
His father laughed. “It won’t take long.”
“Dad, listen, I was going to meet Darian for a few drinks. I promised him I’d play racquetball this week and had to blow him off because of the Toronto trip.”
“You can’t give your old dad five minutes?”
“All right.” Alex wasn’t due to meet his friend for almost two hours but was exasperated that he had to delay looking in the folder in front of him. He sighed, closed it, and put it in his right hand desk drawer, then carefully locked his desk. “I’ll be up shortly.”
On the walk to the elevators, he searched his mind for what his father might want to discuss. The Wellington takeover was going well, he’d taken care of the situation in Toronto, and an offer of employment had been made for the replacement of the incompetent CFO in Munich. Not bad for a week’s work, so what in the hell could it be?
Charles’s office was two floors below, and Judy, his young assistant, smiled at Alex as he walked out of the elevator. She flushed and straightened her hair. Alex smiled at the obvious nerves he created in the girl. She was pretty, but a little shy. Light brown hair and slim figure. Not beautiful. Not memorable, but competent. He lifted his hand and pointed toward the door. Judy nodded and Alex walked into his father’s office, closing the door behind him.
Charles was on the phone, presumably with Alex’s mother, if the content of the conversation was anything to go by. Alex settled himself in one of the leather wingback chairs in front of his father’s huge antique desk and waited for the call to end. This office was a great deal more old-fashioned than his. The furniture was collectors’ items, and the walls were well-lined with Charles’s classic book collection. Alex’s own taste was more modern, more open, and a good deal less cluttered.
“Okay, darling. I’ll be home in an hour.” His father was dressed similarly to himself: expensive designer suit, custom-made Egyptian cotton shirt and silk tie, Italian leather shoes. They both looked like they stepped out of a GQ magazine and right into the corporate world. Alex released the button of his suit jacket as he waited. “Alex just came in. Yes, I’ll tell him.” Charles smiled and then replaced the phone into its cradle.
“Your mother said she expects you for dinner on Sunday. Cora loves Max, but she wants to see you, too.”
Alex rolled his eyes in mock aggravation and then joined his father’s laughter. “She sees me all the time. I suppose I can manage dinner, providing she doesn’t invite one of those simpering women from the country club.”
Charles’s eyebrows shot up and his face sobered. “Your mother just wants to see you happy, Alex. She thinks you need someone to take care of you, and you know how much she dislikes Whitney.”
Alex sighed. “Well, Whitney’s history, so that’s no longer a concern.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. We broke up a couple of weeks ago… old news. Why isn’t Mom on Cole’s ass? He’s so busy screwing around his dick is about to fall off, so why am I the focus every one of her matchmaking attempts?”
His father sighed and nodded in understanding. “Amazing you should bring up Cole, Alex. He’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He needs guidance. He seems a little out of control lately.”
Here we go again! Alex thought and ran an impatient hand through his full head of hair. “Not just lately. Why now? And, why am I always assigned with babysitting duty? “Out of control” is Cole’s middle name, Dad.” Alex’s impatience with his older brother was clear and Charles’ brows dropped in a frown as he contemplated his next words carefully.
“You don’t give him enough responsibility.”
“That’s because I’m in charge of the bottom line. I don’t enjoy flushing millions down the toilet because you want to give Cole some leash, and I’m the one in the hot seat with the board of directors. He isn’t focused and you know it.”
Charles shook his head. “I know in the past it’s been a problem.”
“No shit, it’s been a problem,” Alex interrupted his father shortly. “I love Cole, but all he wants to do is show off and fuck around. You asked me to take responsibility and I have, so will you just let me do my job?”
“Alex. Please, just listen. I’m very proud of you. For both stepping up to take the helm and the incredible growth you’ve attained for the company.” Charles got up and went to the sideboard, pressed on the top, and the cabinet opened to reveal a complete wet bar. He pulled down a glass and filled it with two fingers of Chivas. He turned toward his son and offered it to him before pouring one for himself. “It’s much more than I or the board ever expected. You’ve done exceedingly well and so quickly.”
Alex accepted the glass and pulled at the knot of his tie, loosening it, and then reaching in and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “Thank you.”
“All I’m asking is that you help Cole. I want to put him in charge of something, even if it’s small. He feels useless.”
“Maybe because he is useless. He’s the epitome of lazy. Has he expressed interest in being productive or is this just another attempt to get him to get his head out of his ass?”
Charles eyed his youngest son as he considered his words carefully. “I think if we can figure out what motivates him, we’ll have better luck.”
“Ugh,” Alex groaned. “How the hell am I supposed to do that when he doesn’t even know? It’s just easier to run the company and give him money to screw off. Believe me; it will be more cost-effective in the long run. I’ll just put him on the payroll and have accounting direct deposit into his account.”
“Alex,” Charles said sternly, “he’s your brother, and you will help get him involved.”
“You can’t force Cole to get involved, even if I do agree… and being involved isn’t the same thing as being productive. Hell, who gives a shit about productive? I’ll settle for not destructive.”
“Like I said, find something he has an interest in.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed, and he ran a hand across the dark five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw.
“Okay, I’ll try to find a project that he can’t fuck up. A merger or something where we can’t help but make a shitload of money, but you realize that if I do that, it’s still me. He won’t learn a goddamn thing. Cole has no ambition to invest the time it takes to find deals like that or figure out which businesses are worth more in pieces, which to acquire, and which to leave on the table. It isn’t something someone learns overnight or without sincere interest!”
“Alex!” Charles retorted sharply. His son’s blatant honesty was one of his more prominent traits, and sometimes he would benefit from a little more tact in his delivery.
“What? You know I’m right, Dad. This business… it’s a gut feeling and research and seeing the big picture. It’s finesse. Cole lives in the moment. I can show him the processes and where to look, but he has to want to learn, and he has to be hungry. You may have to face it; he might not have what it takes. Why don’t you just put him in charge of procurement or something, for Christ’s sake? Let him order the fucking paper clips.” His full lips lifted in the start of a wry grin.
Charles put a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder and squeezed. He knew the expression on Alex’s face was teasing. “Thank you, Alex.”
“Can you promise me something, though?”
Charles nodded slightly. He knew his son and the way his mind worked—the two of them were so much alike. Alex always got the job done, could always be counted on, even if it meant putting his own life and needs on hold. “Sure, son.”
“If he doesn’t take it seriously this time, if he blows a bunch of money or worse, makes Avery a laughing stock, this will absolutely be the last time you will ask this of me. I’m done after this.”
Charles shook his head sadly. “That’s a reasonable request.”
Alex stood up and re-buttoned his jacket before striding over to the bar, rinsing out his glass, and settin
g it on the marble countertop. He sighed heavily and then moved toward the office door.
“Okay, and can you please speak with Cole first? Let him know this is it and that he will follow my instructions exactly. I will drop him on his ass before I’ll run around after him and clean up another one of his messes.”
“Alex, before you go, how are you doing after the split from Whitney?”
“Seriously? I’m golden.” He smiled, thinking of the new challenge sitting in his desk drawer. “Right as rain.”
“I’d like to see you settle down, son. Let some nice woman really know you. You deserve the kind of relationship that I share with your mother. There really is nothing to compare to being in the arms of the woman you love.”
“Sure, Dad. I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex scoffed, throwing the words over his shoulder as he left the room. “Have a good night. I’ll see you Sunday.”
Judy looked up from her desk and cast an admiring glance over Alex as he passed.
“Goodnight, Mr. Avery.”
“Goodnight, Judy. Enjoy your weekend.”
Fucking hell, Alex thought to himself as he walked quickly back to his office to pick up the file from his desk. He glanced at his watch and started to make his way out of the building, racking his brain for something he could give Cole to do that wouldn’t cause too many issues if he failed. Alex dug for his car keys and made his way toward the elevator. It opened to find Darian walking out and catching him off guard.
“What are you doing here, man? I thought we were meeting at Murphy’s at 6:30?”
“It’s damn nice to see you too, Alex! Change of plans.” Darian’s dark eyes glanced over the thick red folder in Alex’s hands. “Taking work home? You dedicated motherfucker.” He shook his head as he backed up into the elevator again and waited for Alex to join him.
Alex chuckled. “Hardly. But I’ll let you believe that.”
Yeah, whatever, Darian thought. Alex was the most workaholic son-of-a-bitch he knew, but it had paid off in spades. His focus had made a lot of people a lot of money, and Darian was one of them. He took stock tips from his friend and also purchased stock in Avery whenever Alex had a particularly profitable deal in the works. Alex never gave him the details because that would be considered insider trading, but Darian paid attention to what was going on at his best friend’s company. He kept track of Avery Enterprises in the trade magazines and watched how the stock was trending. When Alex bought stocks for his personal portfolio, he would let Darian know and he would follow his lead.
“Seriously, what’s in the folder?”
Alex frowned, not sure he wanted to tell Darian that he was investigating the lovely Dr. Hemming. He was itching to read every last report, but he’d have to wait a few hours until Darian got rid of whatever wild hair was currently up his ass.
“My father’s on my case to keep Cole busy, and I’m trying to come up with something that won’t cost us out the ass.” The tone of his voice was amused, but Darian was well aware of how serious the situation could become.
“Yeah. I know how pissed you were last time when he let that merger with Sullivan fall through. Why don’t you put whatever that is in your car and I’ll drive?”
Alex was perplexed. This was unexpected. “You didn’t turn gay on me, did you? Because I’m not really dressed for a date, and I don’t want you to be my bitch.”
“Shut up, dickhead. You’ll be kissing my ass in about 40 minutes. I’m about to give you a gift.” Laughing, Darian shook his head, silently admonishing himself for what he was about to do. Alex closed his passenger door and used his remote to relock it.
Alex slid into the passenger side of Darian’s Cadillac Escalade and stopped to watch the other man’s expression as he buckled in.
“Really. Where are we going?”
“To a karaoke bar in Schaumburg.”
Alex sat further back in his chair and burst out laughing. “Yeah, right. Sure we are.”
“No, we are, Alex.”
“Is this payback for my blowing off the racquetball? I’ll give you a thousand dollars if I don’t have to watch you sing karaoke. And, in the suburbs? Are you fucking kidding me with that shit?” He was still chuckling as he leaned an elbow on the door and brought his right hand up to his mouth. “You know I don’t drink in the suburbs.”
“You’re a snob, Alex.”
Alex considered this for a moment, the amusement clearly written all over his face. “I can live with that.” He paused for a few seconds then continued, “This isn’t the type of joint with jizz all over the walls, the waitresses have 5 inch fake nails, and you get STDs just from sitting on the bar stools, is it?” Alex was smirking as he said the words, and then his straight, white teeth flashed in a huge smile as he took his sunglasses out of his inside breast pocket and slid them over his vibrant green eyes. “Because my mommy warned me about places like that,” he mocked dryly, tongue-in-cheek.
A deep laugh burst from Darian’s chest. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his friend’s face when he saw her. Fucking priceless. “This is a very special establishment, Alex. You’re going to really love it, even if it is lacking the tasty accouterments you just described.”
* * *
The man at the end of the bar nodded in Angel’s direction. He was attractive in a slick, snarky sort of way, wearing an expensive suit and linen shirt that he left open at the neck. Angel inwardly cringed at the mass of dark hair on his chest that looked grotesque against the fake tan and glitter of gold around his throat. She had a feeling that if she went over and squeezed him, oil would literally ooze out onto the hardwood floor. There were several other men eyeing her as she stood at the bar in her stylish designer suit and Jimmy Choo’s.
She hated coming into places like this alone. Becca’s parents lived in Schaumburg, so the girls would sometimes go out near their home so they could watch Jillian. It was Becca’s twenty-eighth birthday, and Angel had agreed to meet her at one of her favorite hangouts.
She turned back to her drink, trying desperately to keep her nose from wrinkling in disgust and silently praying that the man wouldn’t make a move. It had been a rough day, and this place, with its fast-talking men who thought they were God’s gift to women, wasn’t anything she really felt like dealing with.
Wine glass in hand, she looked around, taking in the details of her surroundings. It was dark; an array of black marble and mahogany hardwood floors, deep red upholstered furniture, and low lights. There were speakers along both sides of the room and opposite the entrance, a stage with a small dance floor directly in front of it. The music was loud and the talent was, well… marginal, at best. Angel didn’t understand it, but Becca loved this place, and it was her birthday after all. It’d been a while since she’d stretched her vocal cords, and she highly doubted that she’d imbibe as Becca would desire her to do today.
The shark at the end of the bar raised his chin in a nod at the same time as he lifted his glass. Ugh. Angel tried her best not to visibly grimace and simply let her lips smile slightly before she turned around in her chair, only to be faced with an array of the same from different sources. Some of them were attractive, she had to be honest, but it took a lot for her to look twice at a man these days. They were more work than they were worth. Her mind darted to the day in the paint store with longing. That would have been a man worth meeting.
Angel was aware that she was attractive, but she worked at it and didn’t take it for granted. She had been plain growing up, mostly because she had no mother to show her how to do make-up or take her shopping. Although Joe tried, what did he know about guiding his young daughter on her journey into womanhood?
She’d since made up for it in spades. Her skin was flawless, her nails perfectly manicured, wardrobe impeccably tasteful, yet, hinting at sexy, and hair and make-up meticulous in every detail. When she was working, it mattered, but when she was alone or at home, she didn’t think twice about her appearance.
Angel thumbed through the ka
raoke menu as she waited; opening to the page and artist where she knew Becca would gravitate. Her phone rang and she retrieved it from her purse, glancing at the faceplate as she did so. Darian.
“Hey, Darian.”
“Hi. I’d like to meet you for a drink tonight before the show. Can you do that? I have some ideas for promotion and wanted to talk to you about it.”
“Can’t we do that at the studio later? It’s my best friend’s birthday, and I’m meeting her tonight.”
“I see. Well, can I just meet you there? I won’t intrude long.”
“Umm…” Angel glanced around, not sure if Becca would be pissed at her boss crashing their girl’s night out or if the establishment was particularly the place for a business meeting. “It’s a karaoke bar out west, so I don’t think it would be a good place to talk. It will get loud in here soon.”
Darian laughed. “Karaoke! I didn’t take you for a singer, Angel.”
“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes at the jab. “I told you. It was Becca’s choice, not mine.”
“Look, I’ve had a hell of a day and wanted to unwind a little. I thought we’d kill two birds with one stone, and maybe I’ll even let you fly solo tonight.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Angel smiled as Becca finally walked in the door, and she waved her over. “Okay. We’re at Red. It’s out by Woodfield Mall. Do you know where it is?”
“Sure do. Can I come now?”
“Okay. I only have a couple hours until I have to get home and change before the show, so the sooner the better.”
“I have to make one stop first and then I’ll be right out. You know rush-hour traffic though; it might take me a good hour.”
“No problem. See ya in a few.” Angel hung up the phone and hugged a smiling Becca in greeting. “Happy Birthday, you gorgeous bitch.”
The two women laughed together as Becca stole Angel’s drink from her hand and took a sip. “Looks like a tasty crowd tonight.” Becca turned toward the bartender. “Steve, can you send over a couple of Cosmopolitans and keep them coming?” She grabbed the music binder from the top of the bar and lead Angel toward a table near the front. Many of the tables were already filled with various men and women, some of whom Angel recognized from other times that they’d been there.
