Jumping up and down in her excitement, she says, “Give it time. I always thought you’d be an amazing sister.”
I text Trey when we finish, but he doesn’t text or call me back. That could mean he fell asleep, or he left his phone in another part of the house and didn’t hear the alert.
As I lie in bed, I think about CeCe’s admission. A sister. She would be an amazing sister, and I do like Trey. Actually, I’m without a doubt in love with him. I really wouldn’t mind if this were to go somewhere. He’s mighty yummy. I mean, he always looks good, but when he’s naked—yowza! And that tongue. Those fingers. Holy cow, he’s the whole package.
I better watch myself.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Trey
Crap, I missed her text last night. I give her a call, and the phone rings to voice mail. “Hey! Sorry I missed you last night. I fell asleep in front of the fire again. Call me back. I’ll be working from the beach house all day and would welcome a break if you have time to call.”
I settle down and spend the day working. It’s amazing how much you can get done when you’re working without a thousand interruptions. I also call a friend I went to high school with who does deck work and make plans for him to come by this afternoon. It’s slow this time of year, but if I can get him now, he can rebuild the deck without disruptions.
I fell asleep on the couch thinking over what Sara shared about her mother. It really bothers me. I’m not sure I can do anything to affect the relationship, but I really would like to help Sara, so I call a private investigator in Seattle that I’ve used in the past, and I ask him to find Catherine. I know she lives locally to him, but that’s all I can give him. I tell him I want information on her husband and their kids. He asks me a few questions—some I can answer and some I can’t. He ends by telling me he’ll get back to me as soon as he has something.
I bounce from conference call to conference call all day, and it’s three o’clock before I know it. I still haven’t heard from Sara, so I text her: Hope your day is going well.
She calls as I begin to make my dinner. “Hey.”
“Hey. How was your day?” I ask.
“It was good. We were swamped, but that’s nothing new.” There’s a short, awkward pause. “Fell asleep by the fire again?”
“Well, I had this amazing woman who kept me up Saturday night. She was incredible.”
She has the most beautiful and sexy /. “Really? What makes her incredible?”
“You mean her hot body, the fact that she’s super smart and talented”—my voice softens—“and she’s generous and kind. And she sees me for me, despite all the chaos and crap that I bring to any relationship. Yep, she’s incredible.”
“Wow, that’s quite a list. I don’t think I deserve all that, but so you know, I do think you’re incredible yourself. But it’s about what you do with your tongue, your hands and well, that third leg of yours.”
“Third leg? You can call it a penis. Or if you prefer, dick. If you’re feeling super adventurous, call it a cock.”
She laughs hard. “I think I’d call it my toy.”
Now I’m laughing along with her. “Okay then, your toy misses you. When will you be coming to see it again?”
“I guess I should figure that out. I thought I might be able to make it this weekend. though right now, I don’t have anything on my calendar in person on Friday, so I could probably leave early.”
“How about I drive in and pick you up at your place on Thursday night after work? That would prevent you from driving over in the dark. You can work from here on Friday, and then I get a bit more time with you.”
“Let me think about it and see if I can make it work.” Changing subjects, I ask, “So, what’s going on with work?”
“We have the sale of a finance app coming up and it’s busy. What about you?”
Warmth hits me at her question, at the ease of the conversation. It’s the simple things that make me the happiest. Being with Sara, walking the beach or sharing our days brings a smile to my face and fills my heart with joy.
“It was mostly conference calls. This acquisition is challenging to say the least.”
We talk for almost an hour, bouncing from one subject to the next like a pinball.
She tells me she needs to get a few things done before she can go home.
“Call me tomorrow?” I ask.
“I promise.”
“Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, handsome.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Sara
As I ride the bus into the office, I’m reading the Silicon Valley Business Journal. Perkins Klein has won yet another prospect, one that never came to us. In the article, while not naming us particularly, they do say that they ‘chose to go with Perkins Klein because, unlike their main competitor, Perkins Klein is interested in our company goals and our software, not just the money they’ll make through their investment.’ All while stressing how successful and revolutionary their software is going to be.
This is going to upset Mason. And I know it’ll only further anger Dillon. Maybe I should head to Stinson for a month, too.
My admin texts me: Partner’s meeting in thirty minutes in Mason’s office.
Thanks. Let them know I’ll be there in ten minutes.
I’m dreading the walk into the office, knowing everyone’s bound to have read the same article. Greer rides up in the elevator with me. She has circles under her eyes, and she seems exhausted. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t quit before too long. This was definitely not what she signed up for.
When I arrive at my office, there’s already a coffee on my desk. There’s no note to let me know who the buyer is, yet one sniff tells me it's my favorite—hazelnut latte. I sink into my chair and peer around. Hardly anyone’s here yet, and no one even glances my way or acknowledges me at all. I ask my admin if she saw who left it, and she tells me she didn’t buy it, nor does she know who did.
I turn my attention back to the cup. It's a venti, frothy and still hot. I want to resist it until I know the giver, but without a conscious thought, it’s in my hand, the first milky sip creeping over my taste buds and down my throat. After only a few minutes I’m bathing in the kick of the caffeine. The time for finding my benefactor has passed; the partners meeting is going to begin, and I can’t be late. I carry my tablet in one hand and the cup in the other. Until it's drained, it’s to be within easy arm’s reach.
Dillon is pacing when I round the corner and I stop dead in my tracks, causing Emerson to run into me from behind. “Oh, sorry,” she says.
“My fault. I was watching Dillon and wasn’t sure if I wanted to go in.”
“I was watching him pace, too. He’s been angry all morning over his formulas being shared, yet his old professors at Stanford have asked him to come in and guest lecture on it. I knew when I read this morning’s paper that he was going to lose it. And he has. I must love him if I put up with this.” We both giggle.
“Is it you I can thank for my latte?” I ask hesitantly.
“No, it wasn’t me. I wonder if you have a secret admirer.”
I laugh. No admirer’s here.
The meeting is rough. Greer receives marching orders to get Tom Sutterland to be interviewed for a puff piece about how we helped their business, improved his valuation when he went public and how well he’s done. She’s also booking interviews with the business editor at the San Jose News and the New York Times. We’re quickly working our way through a PR blitz to counter all the negative press we seem to be getting.
When I return to my desk, I find a text from Trey. How are the partners doing with the latest in the SVBJ?
I pick up my phone and call him. “Hey. How’s your morning going?”
“Mine’s busy, but probably not as yours.”
“We had a meeting, and Greer’s going to be busy for a while.”
“She loves this. Don’t worry about her. How was your latte this morning?”
<
br /> “You bought me my latte? How?”
Laughing, he says, “I have my sources.”
“Well, you made my morning.” I lower my voice. “I’ll have to find a way to thank you the next time I see you.”
“I hope I see you sooner rather than later. Any thoughts on meeting up on Thursday? I’d like a few things from my condo, and I thought I’d send CeCe in and meet up with her later.”
“You don’t think the paparazzi have your place still staked out?”
“I’m sure they do. She can borrow Hadlee’s car and go into my garage, take the elevator up and get out with little attention. Even if they do spot her, they’ll get tired of following her because they’ll never know when she’ll connect with me.”
“I have another option for you to consider. They don’t know me. I could go in the front door and walk right out without the paparazzi noticing.” He’s silent for a moment, so I continue. “Of course, I could always get your stuff to CeCe for delivery.”
“I love the idea of you doing it. You’re right, they wouldn’t know you weren’t going to see someone else in the building. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“Talk to CeCe and get her thoughts, and if she prefers to do it, not a worry.”
As the day wears on, I’ve studied my schedule, and I think I can make leaving on Thursday work.
Emerson peeks her head in my office and asks, “Are you up for a drink tonight? I had an idea today and thought it might be fun to run it by you and get your thoughts.”
“Sure. When were you thinking?”
“I’d like to walk out the door right now, but how about an hour?”
“I can make it in thirty, if you prefer?”
“You can? Awesome. Meet you at the elevators.”
I begin shutting my computer down and packing up, then quickly text Trey: I’m heading out with Emerson for drinks and probably dinner. You going to be awake for a while?
Trey: Have fun. I’ll be awake.
Emerson waits until we’re in the elevator to fill me in. “I thought rather than go to our normal spot, we’d head over to Acquerello. I’m in the mood for good homemade pasta. It’s not too loud and out of our regular routine, plus I think CeCe may join us, if you’re okay with that?”
“Sure. I took Muni in today, but we can call a Lyft.”
Her cell phone pings. Turning to wink at me, she says, “CeCe’s downstairs. She just texted.”
“Well that’s easy.”
Once we pile into CeCe’s car, she turns to me. “Trey told me you were heading out with Emerson. Sorry to crash your party, but you’re two of my favorite people, and I need to talk to both of you.”
“It isn’t my party. Emerson has something she wants to run by me, but we were probably going to gossip most of the night anyway.” I giggle.
“We have time before our reservation. No worries,” Emerson’s quick to add.
We drive to Acquerello’s, chatting and catching up. “CeCe, your dad didn’t say last night, but is he upset with Trey?”
“He is, but not exclusively with Trey. We all agree that the girl recorded the video without his knowledge, but my parents are struggling with the audio, and honestly with the fact that he’s sleeping with strange women.”
I nod. “I get that.”
“They do get that the audio is faked, though, don’t they?” Emerson asks.
“They do,” CeCe replies, “but only because Trey’s been emphatic that the video is him, but the voice isn’t his.”
We head inside, sit and order, and then CeCe turns to me. “It took me until yesterday to realize you were the woman in the TMZ picture a few months ago.”
I turn crimson from my toes to my ears. “Yes.”
Emerson, who’s sitting next to me, reaches over and hugs me. “He’s staying at your foster parents' beach house. Does this mean…?”
I eye them both and say, “I’ve had a few things going on, between my affair with Henry becoming extremely public and my biological mother’s rejection. I pulled away from Trey.” I know how I feel, but he’s not said anything. I’ve been hurt so much recently, I can’t lay myself open to my friends. I need to protect something in myself. Peeking at CeCe, I tell her, “I don’t know what we are. He’s a heartbreaker, and he’s out of my league.”
CeCe’s been playing with the table bread, but she stops and regards me. “I honestly don’t know why you would think you’re out of his league. If anything, he’s out of your league.” Gazing at Emerson, she says, “Emerson is the only person in my life who knows this, but Trey and I fully acknowledge that we got lucky in the family lottery. We were born into a family with two parents who love and adore us, and who are incredibly wealthy.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Sara, I don’t know the whole story about your biological mom, but I do know that you bounced from foster home to foster home. You put yourself through college and law school—at some impressive schools, no less. Then you landed a great job where you’re listed as one of the most influential women in The Valley. You’re a self-made billionaire. You did that on your own, not with a fancy last name and not with a trust fund as your safety net.” Emerson’s holding my hand, and CeCe reaches across the table, giving me a warm embrace. “You’re out of his league. And don’t ever forget that.”
With the corner of my dinner napkin, I wipe tears from my eyes. “You win. You’re officially the president of the Sara Elizabeth White fan club.”
We all giggle, and she insists, “It’s all true. He’d be lucky to have you—and by the way, I think you’d make a wonderful sister-in-law.”
“Slow down,” I urge.
“I think we need to get away as a group,” Emerson suggests. “I understand your parents' place sleeps over a dozen people. Any chance you think they might let us do a partners retreat there? It’s off the beaten track, and we’d have the opportunity to do a few things under the public radar.”
“It isn’t fancy at all. There are two rooms with beds that will sleep couples—I think they’re both queen-size. And then there are two rooms that each have two bunk beds and a trundle—sleeping six people per room. It’s definitely rustic. Right now, the back deck needs some repair, and the kitchen is tight. But I can say it’s in a gated area on the beach in a great location.”
“I think it’s perfect. What do you think about having Sunday’s meeting at the beach house?” CeCe asks.
“Stinson Beach is on the other side of Mount Tamalpais State Park, and it can be a tricky drive after dark. Maybe it might be a better idea if we met Saturday afternoon instead. Plus everyone can make a better decision in person. And it won’t hurt my feelings if they aren’t interested.”
“Saturday sounds great. That way we don’t have to rush back to The City.”
We spend the remainder of our dinner together gossiping about Hadlee’s latest love interest and wedding planning for Emerson. I glance at my watch, then tell the girls, “It’s after ten, and I need to do a few things at home before going to bed.”
I call a ride share and text Trey: I’m in my Lyft heading home. I’ll call as soon as I get there.
He responds: CeCe already texted me.
I walk in the door, change into my pajamas and wash my face before I FaceTime with Trey.
As soon as his face appears, he says, “The patio will be done by Friday, and if your folks are okay with all the people at the beach house, I think it’s a great idea.”
“Let’s see how Saturday goes. We’ll oversee dinner. I can get Carol’s brisket recipe, and we can slow-cook that and have barbeque brisket sandwiches, coleslaw, chips and pick up some great desserts from the bakery in town.”
“That works. I’ll also have the barbeque up and working, if you want to go more basic with grilled chicken and steaks.”
“I like that. Not everyone likes brisket, and maybe we can slow-cook some ribs. It’ll be a nice mix of beef, pork and chicken.”
“You’re a woman after my own heart.”
We ta
lk for a short time, and I begin to doze off. Trey quickly realizes it and says, “I think I’m losing you. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Okay. Good night, Trey.”
“Good night, Sara.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Trey
I did manage a decent night sleep. I know I’d have slept better with Sara at my side, but we’ll get there. I take a run down the deserted beach as the sun breaks on the horizon. With each step, I run through the list of things I need to do with work and get done personally. I know if I don’t tackle the personal to-do list first, I’ll get immersed in work and it won’t get done.
Late yesterday, I met my friend from high school about the deck and told him I needed a complete deck remodel done this week. He’ll make a full kitchen area within the deck, which is easy given there’s an outdoor shower there already. I know they were only hoping for some repairs, but with some of the new materials on the market, I can get them a beautiful deck. That’s the advantage of having deep pockets. I hope they won’t mind. It’s the least I can do for them allowing me to stay here far away from the press.
The demo guys are arriving first thing today. This is going to get done quickly. The hard part is the appliances.
I text CeCe a list of things she needs to get for me that I don’t want Sara to pick up. She’s been wonderful, and I want to do something special for her. Then I call Ginger, my neighbor of many years. She’s approaching ninety and has enjoyed San Francisco through the decades. She’s never married and always has a string of beaus and friends. Most importantly, she’s always good at helping me throw off the paparazzi.
“Hey, Ginger.”
“Trey, I hope you’re far away.”
I cringe. “Is it that bad?
“The worst yet. I saw the video that girl posted. I know that’s not your voice. How stupid can they be?”
Promise (Venture Capitalist Book 2) Page 17
