by Sienna Ciles
“You've got a housekeeper, Pete. Call her and tell her you're not coming back tonight. She can turn them off.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that's true. I'll do that now. Well come on then, Jax, let's get some sleep.”
We stood up and took one last look out over the city. Then, as we turned to go inside, I stopped and gave him a quick hug. “You're my best friend, man,” I said. “And if you ever need anything, I'm here for you. Don't ever forget that.”
“The same goes for you, Jax,” he said. “And thank you for tonight. I needed it.”
“I know, man, I know. So did I.”
* * * * *
I woke up with a groan and hit the snooze button on my alarm clock. I had been dreaming about her—about Lanie. It was weird, seeing as we had only met once, and it had been such a brief encounter. Yet since we had met, I hadn't been able to get her out of my head. And I couldn't even get away from her while dreaming, apparently. Again, I cursed myself for not getting her number. I really, really needed to see her again . . . But how? I had searched Facebook for the name “Lanie,” but nothing came up. I didn't know where she worked or what she did, so I didn't know how I would be able to find her.
However, I didn't really have the time to think about that right now. I had to get up—despite the pounding headache—and get showered so that I could get on the plane and get down to LA.
I had to admit that I felt a little annoyed at my aunt for forcing me to do this. I now had to take a day off work and lose valuable time for this. I realized that I did have a lot to learn about how to be a successful CEO, and I appreciated her help . . . but why had she only taken an interest in me now?
When my parents had gone through hard times in New York, when my dad's business had failed and they had gone bankrupt, where had she been? Cara, with all her millions—no, billions—had been strangely quiet and elusive when we really needed her help. We hadn't heard from her in years—it was as if she had just cut us off.
And now, years later, when I had made some money and stood on the verge of becoming massively wealthy, now she suddenly reappeared into my life, offering help and assistance. It was hard not to feel like she was up to something . . . But what that could be, I didn't know. And for the moment, I didn't have the time to worry about stuff like that. If I didn't get moving now, I was going to miss my flight.
With a groan, I heaved myself out of bed and trudged over to my bathroom, hoping that I would feel a little better after a good hot shower.
* * * * *
The taxi dropped me off outside the building where the merger meeting was to be held. I had dressed in one of my black Armani suits, and had gone to a barber just before getting dressed to get a shave with a straight razor and to get my hair neatened up. I wanted to look my best, to look as professional as I could for this. I caught a glimpse of myself in the tall building's mirror-finish glass, and thought that I looked pretty decent. I would make a good impression, I hoped.
“Well hey there, partner, you're right on time!” said a strangely familiar voice from behind me.
I turned around and saw Chad—the jerk my great-aunt had had a meeting with—standing behind me. He too was attired in a smart designer business suit, and he was holding a briefcase.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised to see him.
“Well hello to you too, Cooper,” he said with a smirk. “What do you think I'm doing here? Jeez, aren't you supposed to be a genius or something? I'm here for the same meeting you are.”
“How are you involved in all of this?” I asked.
Just being around this guy, with his obnoxious sneer and his arrogant attitude, was getting my temper to rise. I really couldn't stand him.
“Representing your Aunt Cara,” he said.
“No, wait, that's why I'm here,” I countered. “I'm representing her.”
He shook his head, still wearing that annoying smirk. “She didn't tell you, huh? Well she sent me as well. We're both here to represent her interests. Well, technically, I'm here to represent her interests. You—you don't have the experience or the ability to do that. I do. You're just here to observe, to try to learn something . . . if you can.”
I didn't really know what to say in response to this. I really wanted to have some sharp comeback, some comment that I could slam into him like a punch to the jaw—but nothing came to mind.
“See you inside, Cooper,” he muttered, and walked briskly into the building.
Great, just great.
“Thanks, Aunt Cara, thanks a lot,” I muttered under my breath.
I turned to head into the building, but just then my phone buzzed in my pocket. I got it out and saw that it was an email notification. I opened my email account to check what had just been sent, and I saw that it was a message from Jackson “Bill” Wallace. This was interesting . . . Was it the Bill Wallace, the billionaire investor?
I opened the message and read it.
Dear Ernest,
You are a man of great potential—and potential is one of my chief interests. You are also a man of generous financial standing. I believe that great men, such as you and I, should work together for the betterment not only of ourselves, but for society as well. With this in mind, I have organized a ball—an occasion at which you can network with like-minded folk, but also learn about how to give back to society in a meaningful way.
Seating is strictly limited, so a prompt reply as to whether you will be attending would be appreciated. Reply to this email to confirm your attendance, please.
Yours sincerely,
Bill Wallace
I checked the date of the ball and saw that it was to be held next Friday night. It sounded like a good networking opportunity, and I figured that since I didn't have any plans, I might as well attend. I typed out a brief reply saying that I would be attending and sent it, and then headed into the building for the merger meeting.
CHAPTER 9
Lanie
“We can take care of the guest list and invitations tomorrow, Miss Carmichael,” said Bill.
I did my best to hide my disappointment, and put on a fake smile that I hoped he couldn't see right through. “Uh yes, yes of course, Mr. Wallace.”
“Well that's all for today then. I'm going to do a bit more reading, and then will have a nice relaxing bath and head off to bed. You know what they say, ‘Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.’ And I may not be a spring chicken any more, but sticking to the advice in that old adage has served me well throughout my eight decades of life.”
“I'm sure it has. So, am I coming back here to work tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Yes. Working from home has many advantages, for me at least, so I prefer to work here. I'll expect you at seven in the morning, sharp.”
I nodded. “I'll be here at seven, Mr. Wallace.”
“You'd do better to arrive earlier than that, my dear—just a helpful hint. Seven at the latest. I do not tolerate tardiness. Strict punctuality is a quality that I value, young lady, and you'd do well to take that to heart. Good evening!”
I stood up and got my bag. “Good evening, Mr. Wallace. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
He gave me a friendly nod and a smile. “I'll see you in the morning.”
I walked off the porch and headed to my car, then climbed in and drove away. While I was thinking about what I had learned, an image of Jax popped into my head, and with it, a pang of longing. I wish that I had gotten his contact details. I really, really regretted not doing that. Damn it! We had had such an immediate and powerful connection! It was so rare to have that kind of connection with anyone. I really should have made an effort to find out a little more about him. I sighed and shook my head.
“You have to grab opportunities with both hands as soon as they arise, Lanie,” I whispered to myself. “Because sometimes, if you let them slip away, they don't come back. Sometimes you really do only have one shot, and if you waste it . . . you waste it.”
/>
Feeling sad and disappointed, I drove back to my apartment and had a quiet evening in, getting to bed nice and early so that I could be up early enough to get to Bill's house by seven the next morning.
* * * * *
I got to Bill's place at exactly six forty-seven. I parked my car in the street and walked hurriedly up to his door. I knocked on it and put on a big smile, eager to make a good impression.
“It's not locked, Miss Carmichael,” came his muffled voice from inside. “Come on in.”
I walked in and found Bill in the same spot in his reading chair. This time, however, he was not alone. A middle-aged woman was busy cleaning the house. She looked up at me and smiled.
“Esmerelda,” said Bill, “this is my new assistant, Lanie Carmichael. She'll be coming here every day to help me out with the business side of things.”
Esmerelda walked over to me. She was plump and had a large, pleasant face with a charming smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Carmichael,” she said, her voice colored with a Latin American accent.
“It's nice to meet you too, Esmerelda. Please, call me Lanie.”
We shook hands and then she got back to cleaning. I walked over to Bill.
“So, Mr. Wallace, are you ready to get started on the plans for this ball you're planning on throwing?”
He heaved himself up out of his chair and slipped a bookmark into his book. “Yes, yes, let's go and get on with that. Come, we'll go to my boardroom to work. Well, it's not much of a boardroom in the traditional sense of the word, but it has a nice big table that we can work on. Come, this way.”
He shuffled along, leading me to a large room at the back of the house. Inside the room was a very large dining table, where we then sat down. There were two notebook computers on the table, and he pushed one across the table to me.
“This is yours,” he said. “It's got all the information you need on it, copied from my hard drive.”
“Thank you.” I turned it on and then looked up at him when I was ready to start. “All right, Mr. Wallace,” I said, “I'm ready. What would you like me to do?”
“I've got a list of names I wrote up, people I want to invite to my ball. There's a spreadsheet on your computer of all their names and email addresses. It's a large file, and there are maybe five hundred, six hundred names in it. I'm only inviting one hundred of those to the ball though. So, I'm going to read out a name from my list, and you're going to look through the spreadsheet and find their email address, and send the invitation—which I have already composed—to them. Can you do this?”
I could, of course—anyone possessing basic computer literacy could. This was a job for a PA, not a CEO-in-training. I felt so frustrated right now that I wanted to scream. However, I kept my cool and simply nodded, forcing my lips into a smile.
“Yes Mr. Wallace, I can do that.”
He smiled. “Very well. Let's get started. The invitation letter is on your desktop. Now, let me begin with the names. First up, Marvin Rockefeller.”
“Wow, is he a member of, you know, the Rockefeller family?”
“He is indeed, Miss Carmichael. If you ask questions about every guest, though, this process is going to take a lot longer than it should, so I would appreciate it if you could simply do the work in silence.”
I nodded, blushing.
“Have you found his email address?”
“I have,” I said as I located it.
“Good. Next is Ernest J. Cooper IV.”
Wow. What a name. I almost wanted to laugh. Imagine having to go through life with a name like that! School must have been hell for him. I imagined him being some ultra-conservative, stuffy old man. Nonetheless I found his email address and added it to the list.
“Done, Mr. Wallace,” I said.
“Good. Next . . .”
* * * * *
The hall Bill had hired out looked fantastic, and I couldn't help feeling a jolt of pride rushing through me as I looked at the decorations, the expertly placed lighting, and just how well the theme worked with the building. It was Bill's ball, yes—but it had been my hard work and the decisions I had made that put all of this together.
I was dressed to the nines, as was everyone else here. It was a strict black-tie event, and the people who were arriving in limousines and luxury vehicles were all dressed in utter finery. They were, however, almost all above the age of sixty, it seemed. I felt like a child compared to everyone else here.
I was standing outside greeting the guests and checking off their names as they arrived. Again, a duty more suited to a personal assistant, but I was getting used to having to do these things now. I had had my initial investing/market-and-trend-observation lesson with the whole Plant Power thing, but that had been the only one thus far. I was wondering when I would figure out what the next lesson was—if there had even been another lesson somehow slipped into all these PA duties Bill had me doing.
A long black limo pulled up to drop another guest or two off. “Nothing unusual here,” I thought as the white-gloved driver hurried out to open the doors of his car and helped his passengers out.
The woman he helped out of the limo looked very elderly—perhaps in her mid-eighties. She was, nonetheless, stylishly dressed, and was wearing some exquisite jewelry.
From the passenger door on the other side of the vehicle came a very different guest. He was my age, it seemed, and was very good-looking. He was tall, well built, and looked very dapper in his tuxedo.
Still, there was something . . . I don't know, off, about him. Maybe in the almost arrogant way he smiled at me. Or in his deep-set green eyes, that roved over my body and seemed to undress me as he stared at me with unabashed lust. It was good to see someone my own age at this event, but this guy . . . I don't know, he sort of gave me the creeps, as good-looking as he was.
“Good evening, sir, good evening, ma'am,” I said as they approached my table. “Could I have your names please?”
“I am Ms. Cara Smoot,” said the old woman, her tone cold and almost strident. “And this is my business associate, Mr. Chad Burton.”
I checked the list, and found Cara's name—but I couldn't find Chad's.
“Um, excuse me Ms. Smoot, your name is here—but you're listed as the plus-one of a Mr. Ernest J. Cooper IV.”
“Yes, that's correct. And I instructed him to contact you people and tell you that I would need to bring my business associate here in addition. I don't see why this is a problem.”
“Um, I'm sorry Ms. Smoot, but Mr. Cooper definitely didn't inform us about anything like that.”
“Typical, just typical,” she muttered. “That man is utterly unreliable.”
Chad chuckled arrogantly and then said, “Look, “there's obviously been a little bit of a miscommunication issue here. Let's just pretend that you did get the message, and that I was added to the list, and then you can let me and Ms. Smoot in. All right?”
I had noticed his hand sliding slowly along the surface of the table while he had been talking, and he stared deliberately down at it, gesturing to me that I should look at it too. He pulled his hand away subtly.
There were now five hundred dollar bills sitting on the table in front of me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing here—they were trying to bribe me! What was I going to do? Obviously, there was no way I was going to take a bribe. What kind of person did they think I was? But also, I wasn't exactly a bouncer either. This situation was getting increasingly tense and awkward.
“Come on,” said Chad with a sneer. “You know what to do. Let's make this a win-win situation for all three of us, huh?”
Just then, however, I heard a familiar shuffle coming up the path behind me. I turned around and saw Bill hobbling over. He smiled as he and Ms. Smoot made eye contact—but it was a cold smile, a fake smile. I could tell right away that there was no love between these two.
“Well look who it is,” he said coolly. “Glad you could make it, Cara.”
“Well, yes,” she said, turn
ing her nose up. “And this waitress, or whoever this is you hired, is giving me and my guest a very unwanted dose of attitude.”
I wanted to scream! I was giving her attitude?! After she had just tried to bribe me to break the rules?!
“Mr. Wallace,” I began, speaking hastily and trying to contain the rising emotion in my voice, “I wasn't—”
“Hush, my dear,” he said. “Why don't you go inside and have a drink. I'll handle this and take over the table for the next couple of minutes.”
“I just—”
“Don't worry about it, Miss Carmichael,” he said. “Please, go inside for a while and just take a few moments to relax.”
I nodded and walked briskly inside, my temper at boiling point. I made a beeline for the closest waiter and got a glass of champagne from the tray he was carrying, then drank half of it in one gulp.
I walked over to a quiet corner and sat down, shaking my head. I still couldn't believe the nerve of those two! What horrible people! I was glad that Bill had showed up to handle it, because I really didn't know what I would have done. I guess dealing with people like this was a lesson in itself. I was sure to encounter plenty of them in the world of investing.
Just as I was about to take another sip of my champagne, however, a voice I knew interrupted me.
“Excuse me,” the voice said, “is this the takeout line for Plant Power?”
I looked behind me and gasped with surprise as I saw a man with a handsome smile standing there. It was Jax! He was here!
CHAPTER 10
Jax
I drove my Maserati into the parking area, got out, and walked over to the reception table. I was surprised to see Mr. Wallace himself manning the table. I didn't know him personally, of course, but I did know his face, like most people in business circles did.
“Hi, Mr. Wallace,” I said, extending a hand to him as I reached the table. “Thank you for inviting me here this evening. It's a great honor.”
He smiled warmly—a pleasant, grandfatherly smile that instantly had me feeling at ease.
“Welcome, Mr. Cooper,” he said.
