Promise (Venture Capitalist Book 2)

by Ainsley St Claire

  “Really? Wow. Thanks. What can you tell me about him?”

  “He’s a doctor, tall with brown hair and brown eyes that are so yummy. He’s funny and outgoing.”

  “Why is he single?”

  “He’s been building his practice and really doesn’t meet women in his business that he can date.”

  “Okay, that makes sense.”

  “Can I give him your number?”

  “I suppose so. But give him my cell phone number. It’s 415-555-1212.”

  “His name is Kenny Johnson. Let me know how it goes. And I want to be invited to the wedding.”

  She hangs up and I cringe. Wedding? I don’t think so, but it might be fun to go out on some simple dates and enjoy some time with someone who isn’t in technology.

  I go back to work, and less than thirty minutes later my cell phone rings. I don’t know the number and I have a deadline, so I let it go to voice mail. After I get my contract out, I listen to the message and am surprised it’s Kenny. Cindy must’ve really sold me to him. He sounds anxious. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

  I call him back, and he answers on the first ring. “Hi, Sara.”

  “Oh hi. I was returning your call.”

  “Cindy told me a lot about you, and I thought we might get together. Would you like to meet for dinner?”

  I guess I need to like a guy who jumps right to the point. “I suppose we could. I live in San Francisco. Where do you live?”

  “I’m down in Monterey. There’s a cute place down here by my house that serves the best calamari.”

  “Well, that’s a little far. How about we consider something in the middle? Maybe San Jose?”

  He agrees, and next Saturday night we schedule a place to meet in San Jose.

  Saturday, I leave with enough time to meet him, though the weekend traffic is really tough and it takes me almost two hours to get to San Jose. When I arrive, he’s already there in a big Chevy F-150 that is built up on off-road wheels. We talk a few minutes, and he tells me to follow him to where he wants to go to dinner.

  I follow him in my car down the highway toward Monterey, and as each mile passes, I realize he’s leading me into Monterey. I left his cell phone number at home and I can’t seem to find it in my call history while driving. I should turn around, but every mile we pass, I tell myself, Well, we’ve gone this far. It’s too late to turn around now.

  I follow him to a house close to Carmel, south of Monterey. He grabs me by the hand once I open my door and leads me to the backyard. People are everywhere, and it seems there’s a big barbeque going on.

  An older couple comes forward, and the woman pulls him into a big hug. “Kenny! You made it.”

  He turns to the couple and says, “Mom, Dad, this is Sara. She’s the woman I’ve been telling you about.”

  Instantly, he’s introducing me to a line of people—his mother, father, three brothers, a few cousins and several aunts and uncles. I’m stunned. I’m not sure if these people understand this is our first date.

  Joining his brother and cousins to wrestle in the backyard, the aunts and wives of the brothers and cousins join me to sell me on Kenny. I’m so overwhelmed that I’m speechless as I’m peppered with questions.

  “How long have you and Kenny been dating?”

  “Have you decided if you guys will live in Monterey or in San Francisco?

  “Did he tell you about how he’s an amazing chiropractor, and he’s cornered the market at the demolition derby?”

  “Has he asked you to join us in Lake Tahoe next week yet?”

  I do the math in my head, and with traffic, it’s most likely a three-and-a-half-hour drive back to my place, if the traffic is decent, and it’s now after nine. I can’t get Kenny’s attention, so I make polite excuses and leave.

  As I reach my car, Kenny comes running up. “You’re leaving already?”

  “I am.”

  He reaches out and pushes my hair out of my face. “Anything I can do to persuade you to stay?”

  “You’re sweet, but I don’t think so. It was nice meeting you.” I get in my car and use the GPS to find my way home.

  It’s after midnight when I pull into my driveway. I’m too tired to be disappointed.

  CeCe calls late the next morning. “Well?”

  “I met his entire family.”

  “Entire family? Like parents?”

  “And three brothers, cousins, and their spouses. Plus aunts and uncles. It was a family barbeque that he tricked me into going south of Monterey!”

  Laughing to the point of snorting, CeCe tells me “Time to go back to the drawing board.”

  “No. I’m taking a break. I’m done for a while.”

  “Please don’t give up.”

  “I love you, CeCe, but maybe I’m still licking my wounds about my last love. Let’s focus on your dating life.”

  “Honey, I’ve long been a lost cause. Care to join me for a ride to my parents’ tomorrow?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Sara

  I’m sitting on the floor with one of the Arnaults’ dogs in my lap and enjoying the heat of the fire. I stroke the dog’s belly, and she’s obviously content.

  Charles and Jim, the private investigator, are talking about our mole. We’re going after a few new companies, with the entire company working toward the same goal. We actually want to win these, and while we’re hoping our mole has moved on, we’re also prepared for it to go to our competitor.

  “Where are you with your research?” Charles asks the group.

  “We’re about done. Our program manager is collecting it all,” Cameron replies.

  “We have keystroke monitors on his system,” Jim says. “So if he sends it to anyone outside the company or downloads it to a cloud or thumb drive, we’ll know.”

  “When are the presentations?” Charles asks.

  “We go on Wednesday,” Mason responds.

  As the meeting breaks up, Trey holds my hand to help me stand, then asks in a low voice, “How are you?”

  I take a deep breath. “I’m good. And you?”

  “I miss you.”

  His revelation catches me off guard, but I can’t think about him right now. This thing with work is crazy, and I can’t allow him to get too close. If he were to reject me like my mother’s done, I don’t know if I’d ever recover.

  Closing my eyes, I lean back and take in the subtle tones of his cologne, letting my mind slip into how pleasant it would be to spend time with him. All I can think to say is “It’s nice to see you.” I head toward CeCe’s car.

  He races after me. “Sara, please. Talk to me.”

  He pushes me against the car, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, asking permission to deepen the kiss. I open my mouth. When his soft tongue meets mine, my belly dips. In a split second, the kiss becomes forceful and heated.

  We hear CeCe yelling for me and I break away.

  Trey growls in my ear, “This is not over.”

  Wednesday’s presentation includes the program manager, Steve Bassel, plus Mason, Dillon and Connie from Cameron’s team, who’s an expert in the technology they’re using.

  We are watching the clock and beginning to get nervous. It was only supposed to be an hour and it’s been almost two. Cameron, Emerson and I all pace. We’re like expectant fathers waiting for the birth of our first child.

  Annabel stops by my office. “Hey. You have a second?”

  I glance up and I don’t, but I invite her in to sit down anyway.

  “You’re here a lot of long hours. I was wondering if you’ve ever considered hiring help?” she asks.

  “Well, of course I have, but we’re a complicated business. If I were to add someone to my team, they would most likely be another attorney.”

  “I understand that, but I’d like to plant a bug in your ear. You share Carrie with Emerson, and both of you could use an admin specifically devoted to you. I know our business and I’m constantly helping Carrie so I was hopi
ng that, if you and the other partners were going to open up a spot on your team, you would consider me.”

  I’m impressed by her determination and looking out for herself. “Annabel, I think that would be a great idea. I’ll run it by the partners.”

  She stands up and smiles. “Thank you, Sara.”

  I go in search of the team and rejoin them for the wait. When Cameron’s cell phone rings, we all pounce. “How did it go?” he asks, putting the call on speaker.

  “It went well,” Dillon says through the line. “We spent most of the conversation dissecting the money and ownership percentage. We didn’t get any commitments, but we expect to by Friday.”

  “Mason, what do you think?” I ask.

  “Well, they really drilled down on the numbers, and I spoke about some of the benefits we would bring to the table. Cameron, Connie was really good with the technology. She was able to speak very succinctly to their chief technology officer, and together they mapped some places where she could add value. I don’t know, I think we may get this one.”

  “Well good,” Cameron replies. “Get on back here and let’s celebrate.”

  Like the remainder of the company, I’m anxious for the team to return to the office, but my to-do list is long, so I throw myself into my work while I wait. My e-mail pings and I quickly check it, hoping for good news. I open the first link and my face falls.

  My phone rings. “We’ve hit the wires and not in a good way. Meet at Charles’s at seven,” Greer tells me.

  This doesn’t sound good. My stomach does a few somersaults.

  Cameron walks into my office, looking as if he’s going to cry. “I can drive if you’d like.”

  “Sounds good. Do you need a few drinks? We can take my car if you prefer.”

  “Let me check with Mason. He may join us, and then we’ll go in his Range Rover.”

  “I’m fine either way. Leave in twenty?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

  Before shutting down my computer, I check the PR alerts, and I cringe. “What the hell?” I page through probably five hundred links. These aren’t TMZ but business publications—The Wall Street Journal, every major newspaper and business journals.

  I open the San Francisco Business Journal. The article is a complete slam piece. They go after all of us, and our research. They have quotes from the evaluations of Baker Software’s team and confidential financial projections. These are Dillon’s proprietary plans for financial success, and this is a roadmap for the industry. This information is incredibly hurtful. It leaves us appearing as if we aren’t interested in any of our investments’ long-term success, only the quick profit.

  I scroll through the mainstream publications and find the same information, but they go after Mason, Dillon and Cameron personally, giving it a real gossip flare. Some of what they’re saying is outright lies.

  Maybe driving is going to be a mistake. I think I need a good drink, too.

  Mason insisted on driving, and Dillon and Cameron are with us. “This is a fucking nightmare,” Cameron growls.

  Dillon is on the phone with Emerson, who’s stuck in traffic coming from the East Bay. “Don’t do anything stupid. Take your time.” He listens for a few moments, then says, “Oh yeah, we’re pissed.”

  “Pissed isn’t even half of it,” Cameron chimes in loud enough for Emerson to hear.

  Dillon turns away from him so he can continue his call. “Yes, I’ll make sure we have something for you to eat. None of us has had anything either.”

  Picking up my phone, I call CeCe. “Hey, we have a company emergency, and Greer has called a meeting at your folks’. All the partners are working their way there now.”

  “I heard. Trey and I are on our way. We’re at the South San Francisco exit on the 101.”

  “So are we. I’m with Dillon, Mason and Cameron. Emerson’s working her way to the Bay Bridge now. Listen, we all ran out and haven’t had dinner. We don’t want to be difficult for your parents. Can you tell me who delivers to their neighborhood?”

  “I’ve already ordered from a friend’s restaurant. It’s Indian and amazing.”

  I smile. “I think we can all make that work.”

  We spend the evening regrouping. Greer brought our PR firm’s account manager with her, and together they’re sending out our response, setting up interviews on the morning shows in New York and contacting news writing sources to have them write counter articles. They also write an e-mail to every employee and client about what’s going on, which is also released to the media to show our perspective.

  With that behind us, we talk to Jim, our PI. He’s beside himself without an answer. We do know Steve didn’t send or copy the research, but that’s about all we have right now. He needs more time, and we hope by Sunday to have more answers. This kind of publicity will have a significant impact—and not in a good way.

  It's almost three o’clock in the morning before we start to break up the meeting. Some of us will head home, but Mason, Cameron and Dillon are going with Greer to our PR firm’s office, where they have a studio for all the morning show interviews.

  Emerson is kind enough to give me a ride home.

  It’s going to be a long week.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Trey

  Tim Lucas: Dude! Where are you? We’re getting together with Monkey Business at The Chapel tonight. My buddy from college works for the band and got us tickets and backstage passes. Are you coming?

  I glance at the text message and debate. Getting backstage tickets to one of the world’s biggest bands and a small and intimate venue sounds appealing, but I’m not sure I want to go out.

  Tim Lucas: Are you in or out? I need to give my buddy a number.

  Me: Count me in.

  Tim Lucas: Cool. We’ll meet my buddy when they’re warming up and we can hang with the band. Be there at 7.

  Me: Sounds good. See you tonight.

  I take a Lyft over to The Chapel and arrive about ten minutes early. I ask the ticket taker where I’m supposed to go, and she directs me to the back door, where I see a bouncer the size of an NFL offensive lineman. His arms are crossed in front of him, and he watches me carefully as I walk up.

  I explain who I am, and he checks his clipboard. I’m on the list. Nice. He hands me a badge that has my name and says “All Access” then allows me to enter the chaos backstage.

  I don’t see any of my friends, so I hang back and watch as everyone sets up. I’ve never been backstage before, and it’s pretty interesting to see all the activity.

  After a while, I spot my friend talking to someone else, and I walk over to join the group.

  Tim shakes my hand, then turns to the guy next to him. “Pete, this here is my buddy Trey.”

  I extend my hand. “Hey, Pete. Thanks for the passes. What a treat.”

  “No problem,” he says. “Enjoy the show. If you don’t mind, let the band do their pre-show routine, and after the show you can hang out. I heard Jimmy, the bassist, has whiskey his dad brews. It’s good if you like whiskey.”

  “We do,” Tim replies. “What are you up to during the show?”

  “I’ll do a few things. We’re heading on the road and working on our sets, checking out sound and music flow. There’s someone from my team at the label who’ll be watching how the audience responds. These kinds of shows are for the fan clubs and all the background work. We’ll run through some bigger pieces with lighting and choreography at a sound stage in the coming weeks.”

  “Who would’ve known so much goes into a show,” I say, almost to myself.

  “We’ve got to give the fans value for paying at least a hundred dollars a seat—and that’s the cheapest Monkey Business ticket. They go up into the thousands, and that’s before the brokers get involved.” Pete turns to me. “You seem surprised.”

  “I am. I didn’t think about the music business as anything more than fun. Naïve on my part, for sure.”

  Pete laughs. “Oh t
his is a business all right, and we’re expected to be profitable. I’m the business manager for the label. They have a band manager, but he doesn’t always travel with them, just takes a cut of what they earn. He’s more interested in venue contracts and making sure the guys get along. I watch every penny and make sure the band is taken care of to the requirements of their contracts while also ensuring the label makes money. It’s definitely a fun business, but it’s also a real business.”

  I feel a tap on my shoulder. Knowing exactly who it is, I turn and hold out an arm. “Pete, I’d like you to meet my sister, CeCe.” Glancing around, I see the group joining her and my stomach drops. “And her friends Greer, Hadlee and Sara.”

  Sara has the same look of dread that I feel. What a mistake it was to date someone in my social circle. Well, not so much a mistake, because I never would’ve known that I was capable of finding someone I could connect with and be attracted to. I now understand the phrase “Don’t pee where you eat.” I wish I knew how long it was going take for this ache to lessen.

  Pete’s eyes light up and a bright smile covers his face. “Nice to meet you, ladies.”

  “Nice to meet you, Pete,” CeCe gushes, clearly smitten.

  Pete walks through the same rules he gave us, and then we all stand to the side, catching up and watching the bevy of activity. I chat with Greer and Hadlee, and Tim talks to CeCe and Sara.

  I can’t believe she’s here. I wasn’t prepared for this. Despite Monkey Business being one of my favorite bands, I wouldn’t have come had I known Sara was going to be here. She’s dressed so sexily: tight jeans, a black sweater that hugs all the right places, black boots. Her blonde hair is piled high on her head with sexy tendrils falling delicately around her face. Her lips are a dark red, and I want to kiss that lipstick right off her lips.

  I’m a mess.

  As the band goes on, Tim walks around with a large bottle of whiskey and a stack of Solo cups, passing out drinks to everyone backstage.

  I should’ve stopped at one. I was buzzed, but I continued to drink, and I don’t remember much of the performance. I have a vague recollection of walking out of the venue and walking into a neighboring bar, but after that, it’s a complete loss.