Royally Flushed: Tech Billionaires

by Ainsley St Claire

  “Cheryl would like to go over the P&Ls with him.”

  “Okay, I’ll get it on your calendar. Your ten thirty is here.”

  “Send him in.”

  Chapter 21

  Corrine

  I’m holding to my resolve to keep my relationship with Jackson professional. It’s hard, because I can see he wants to explain, and I can tell he didn’t sleep well last night, but in the back of my mind, I wonder if his panic about my leaving is more about the strong work relationship we’ve developed.

  I don’t know what Cheryl’s found, but setting up a meeting with Dillon is not a good sign.

  My phone rings.

  “Corrine, Lisa Dixson is here for your ten-thirty interview.”

  “Send her up to the executive floor. We’ll meet in the conference room.”

  When Lisa steps off the elevator, I like her immediately. She’s a bit older than I am, if I had to guess. Her resume told me she has strong admin skills, and while she’s never worked for a CEO, she has worked for other senior executives.

  After we make some polite conversation, I launch into it. “Tell me about how you’ve managed your hours in the past when working with a busy senior executive.”

  “In my previous positions, they didn’t necessarily need me the minute they walked in, but I like to be early enough that we can map out their day and make sure there isn’t anything they’ve added to their calendar that I’m not aware of. And, I will stay until they leave or if they’re going to pull an all-nighter, I’ll take off around seven. By then it’s calm and quiet, and they don’t need my assistance.”

  I really like that answer. The hours can suck, but the rewards are usually worth it. “Mr. Graham is quite popular with the ladies and receives many phone calls a day from women trying to get on his calendar. How would you manage that?”

  She chuckles. “I think I’d handle it like I would anyone else. I’d take their name and number and the reason they want to meet with him, and I would leave it up to him. If he wants to see them, I’ll set the appointment, or if he prefers, he can do that himself.”

  She’s right on track. “Things are pretty crazy around here,” I tell her. “This position requires flexibility and the ability to juggle a lot of balls at the same time. Tell me about some of the other things you’ve had to do in your previous jobs.”

  “Well, I understand crazy. That can come with working for a startup—”

  The fire alarm begins to blare, and Todd comes over the loudspeaker, “This is not a drill. Please move quickly down the stairs and vacate the building.”

  Lisa looks at me, alarmed.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s do as we’re told.”

  Brian comes rushing in. “We need to get you downstairs quickly.”

  “What is it?” I ask, trying not to alarm Lisa.

  “Someone set off the alarm on the eighth floor. We need to get down the stairs immediately.”

  I nod and do the only thing I know to do—grab my bag and cell phone. If the building is closed for the rest of the day, I’ll need to be able to get into Gabby’s house.

  “Where’s Jackson?” I ask.

  “He’s with Ben.”

  As we descend the stairs, I smell smoke, and Lisa stops.

  “We need to keep going,” I urge.

  Lisa shakes her head. “There’s a fire.”

  “Yes, but right now, there’s only smoke, and we need to keep going.”

  Lisa shakes her head.

  I reach for her hand. “We can do this together.” I take my sweater off and offer it to her. “Here, put this over your nose and mouth.”

  The three of us walk down the stairs. The smoke seems to be thinner by the fourth floor, so it seems the fire is contained around the eighth floor.

  When we get down to the lobby, Jackson rushes over and joins us as we move outside. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. “Mr. Graham, this is Lisa Dixson. We were in an interview.”

  He looks over at Lisa. “We’re not usually this exciting.”

  Lisa has a strained smile. “My husband told me to cancel since you got a bomb threat three weeks ago. I think I’m going to pass.” She turns and walks away. Just before she disappears, I realize she still has my sweater.

  “That worked out better than expected,” Jackson quips and smiles at me, leading me across the street.

  My blood pressure rises. “Did you pull the fire alarm?”

  He holds his hands up. “Absolutely not, but I didn’t like her.”

  “How could you know how you felt about her without even talking to her?” I demand.

  “She had your sweater, which tells me she needed it to get down the stairs. I need someone who is not only good at their job but not paralyzed in an emergency.”

  I’m freezing now, and it’s beginning to rain again. I see Jim approach.

  “Someone lit a trash can on fire and pulled the alarm,” he says. “It looks like they wanted their Friday afternoon off.”

  I watch the color rise in Jackson’s face. “When can we go back into the building?”

  “Shortly,” Jim assures him. “Maybe twenty minutes or so.”

  I feel a blanket around my shoulders, and I turn to see Brian. “Thank you.”

  He nods and steps away.

  “Do you have any room under that blanket for me?” Jackson asks.

  I want to tell him to dream on. If I was smart, I’d just hand it to him and walk away, but he’s only wearing a dress shirt and jeans, and it is raining. I open up, and he steps inside. The body heat is an added bonus, and we huddle under the building’s awning across the street.

  “Thank you for sharing. I did notice that Brian brought you the blanket and not me.”

  I cock my head to the side and look at him skeptically. “He likes me better.”

  “I like you better than I like me,” he moans.

  I’m surprised by this, but he’s only trying to be charming.

  We stand in silence. I look at my watch. “You have lunch in twenty minutes at the Waterfront Café.”

  He picks up his phone, takes a picture of the crowd, and sends it off. “All set. He’ll understand why I need to reschedule.”

  When we’re permitted into the building, Brian and Ben take us back to Jackson’s floor in a private elevator, and we are in our offices in no time. But as soon as we enter the executive space, we’re overcome by the smell of shit—again.

  My stomach tightens. Ben and Brian stop us from going any farther. The smell is overpowering, and I’m trying not to gag. The elevator has returned to pick up the other executives from our floor. I walk to the stairwell, but Brian stops me and shakes his head. I pull the blanket up to my nose to stop the scent.

  I glance at my desk. Everything is on the floor and overturned, and someone has written on the walls with the shit.

  Whore

  You were warned

  You’ll be sorry

  Ben and Brian back us into the elevator when Cheryl and our VP of sales and marketing arrive.

  “What the hell?” Cheryl asks.

  “I guess we now know why the fire alarm was pulled on the eighth floor. Someone ransacked my office.” Jackson looks at me. “Are you okay?”

  Tears sting my eyes. I try to nod, but I’m not sure what I’m doing. My phone rings, but I ignore it. I don’t understand why anyone would do this.

  I’m moved to a Suburban and sandwiched between Jackson and Brian as we drive quickly away. I’m in a complete daze. When we arrive at Jackson’s building, I’m moved into the elevator and up to his apartment.

  I’m in shock. I sit down on the couch, and someone hands me a warm drink. I hold it and sit while there is a flurry of activity around me. Who is so pissed at me? What could I have done? I’m not even seeing anyone. I watch the rainfall as it hits the windows. Gabby, at some point, arrives and sits next to me.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she says.

  Before I kn
ow it, the sun has set, and Jim and Detective Lenning have arrived.

  “How are you feeling?” Jim asks.

  “I’ve had better days,” I say.

  Detective Lenning steps forward. “I’m really sorry about this.”

  I nod.

  “Who did this?” Jackson demands.

  “That’s what we want to know from you,” Detective Lenning says, looking at me.

  “I haven’t called Bobby or heard from him since the bomb threat,” I say.

  “Jim, I sent you the message he left her,” Jackson reminds him.

  “Have you been seeing anyone else?” Detective Lenning asks.

  I snort. “Not really.”

  Detective Lenning writes something down on his pad of paper. “Did you go to Hawaii with Jackson Graham?”

  I look down at the dark hardwood floors. “I did.” I take a deep breath. “We were romantically involved while in Hawaii, but not before and not really since.”

  “What does that mean?” the detective probes.

  Why not spill all my ugly, dirty laundry out in front of everyone? I’m leaving San Francisco and never coming back. “I’m Mr. Graham’s assistant. I cover his phones; I attended a funeral with him; we eat out occasionally together, just the two of us. Because this crap started, I lived here for a short time in his guest room and went to Hawaii with him for a weekend to look over his property. When we returned, my apartment had been redecorated, but because my room was so small, it got missed, so I’ve been staying with my best friend.”

  “Are you sleeping with your boss?” Detective Lenning asks.

  I’m positively humiliated to have this conversation, and when I glance at Jackson, he’s not looking at me. “We slept together in Hawaii and once after we returned, but I’ve given my two weeks’ notice, and I’m moving home to Texas,” I say just above a whisper.

  Gabby, still sitting next to me, begins to cry.

  “I see,” Detective Lenning says. He turns to Jackson. “Have you spurned anyone recently?”

  “No! I’ve not been involved with anyone for months. I go out for dinner and drinks on occasion, but that’s it. They’re only friends. No benefits. Corrine is the only woman in my life.”

  I’m shocked at Jackson’s declaration. Under different circumstances, I might have liked to hear that, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

  Gabby suddenly stands. “You can’t let her go back to Texas.”

  I close my eyes and silently pray that Gabby doesn’t tell everyone why.

  “I understand her desire to return to Houston and be far away from this fiasco, but you’re right, she’ll be unprotected there.” Jim gives me a sympathetic smile. “We have some other ideas.”

  “I’ll be fine. This crazy will leave me alone, and I won’t need any security if I’m not here,” I say. “Houston is my last choice, but right now, I don’t have a lot of savings, so I may not have a lot of options.”

  “No, I can’t allow you to go back.” Gabby turns to Jackson. “This is all your fault. You owe her money so she can rebuild her life far away from Houston and far away from you!”

  “Anything,” he says.

  “I have a solution, but let’s get through Detective Lenning’s questions, and then we can discuss options,” Jim offers.

  Jackson won’t look at me and is avoiding the glare from Gabby.

  Detective Lenning asks a few more questions. I tell him where the call logs for Jackson are. “I do pass along every call he gets, and while these women may feel like I’m the gatekeeper, he ultimately makes the decision on returning their calls.”

  Detective Lenning takes the seat next to me and looks me in the eyes. “Whoever this is, she perceives she’s been slighted by you. We know this isn’t you, and it isn’t Jackson or Bobby. For all we know, it may be someone who has never made any contact directly with you, Jackson, or Bobby.”

  “Okay.” But I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.

  Detective Lenning shifts his attention to take care of a few more details with Jackson and Jim.

  Gabby holds my hand fiercely. “Promise me you won’t go back to Houston?”

  “I’m not sure what else there is to do,” I whisper as I bite back tears.

  The weight on my shoulders is immense, and I know Gabby is right, but I’m not sure I have any other choice. All my options leave me with less control than I’d like.

  After Detective Lenning leaves, Jim and Jackson sit down with Gabby and me.

  “Do you feel comfortable talking about what’s in Houston?” Jim asks.

  “My father,” I answer.

  “Why does Gabby feel going home to Houston is so bad?” Jim presses.

  I look out the window, away from everyone. “My relationship with my father is not healthy.”

  I look over at Gabby, and she nods her support.

  “My mother was an alcoholic,” I continue. “The pressure of my father’s job as he climbed the ladder at his company was incredible. I don’t ever remember her being drunk, but I think her tolerance was so high you could never tell, and alcohol was part of an executive’s lifestyle, so it was always around. Anyway, my father was not always kind or tolerant of my mother. I was a kid, so I didn’t understand what was going on behind closed doors. He pushed her into rehab, and she’d go to meetings. I didn’t understand it, but she’d be dry, and then something would happen, and she wasn’t. She was never a stumbling drunk, but she’d make plans with me and then not show up. And every now and again, I’d walk home from school because she forgot to come get me. When I was in high school, my dad orchestrated an intervention and put her in a treatment program for ninety days. I didn’t know at the time that he also served her with divorce papers while she was in rehab.”

  I stop and take a drink of my water. My hand trembles, and I’m not sure I can continue. Everyone waits patiently for me.

  “When she was released, my father had an apartment for her, and I wasn’t allowed to see her. He told me she didn’t want to see me. He made it sound like my mother thought she couldn’t be sober and be around me—like it was my fault she was an alcoholic. I didn’t understand, and I missed her so much. Then one day, she showed up outside my school my senior year, and I spent the afternoon with her. It was so much fun. We went out for burgers and ice cream and hung out. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but when my dad found out, he cut her off financially and took away my car. We only wanted to spend the day together, and I needed my mom in my life. I didn’t care about the car, but I began to see how my father used his money to make people do what he wanted. Mom never said a bad thing about my dad, but some of the things she said and he said didn’t add up. My father remarried a very formal and cold woman named Alicia, who didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She pretty much counted the days until I left for college. Unfortunately, my mom didn’t have any skills beyond being a hostess to get a job.”

  I look around the room, and everyone is listening intently.

  “My mom did the best she could for a few years without my father’s financial help. She lost her apartment and would live on a friend’s couch or in her car. I went to college in Austin, and she would come down and sometimes stay with Gabby and me. She was drinking, and when my dad learned she was in Austin, he got ahold of her and promised her money and an apartment if she’d leave me alone, but she refused. She didn’t want to be manipulated by his money. I guess they got into a big argument about my graduation, and the week before the ceremony, she took a handful of pills and left me a long letter, and that was it. She was gone. She was buried where she grew up on Corpus Christi. I almost didn’t take my finals. I was devastated, but Gabby was with me the whole time and was my only support. She got me up off the floor, into counseling, and worked with my professors to make sure I graduated. I owe everything to her.”

  I hold Gabby’s hand and smile as the tears rim my eyes.

  “My mother hadn’t had any money since the divorce. Alicia took all her jewelry, and the
y gave her clothes away. That was upsetting, but there was one thing my mother did leave me when she died, and it was that letter. The police told me about it, but my father kept it from me. I pressed for it, but he still refused. Gabby’s father is an attorney, and with his help, we finally went to court. My father argued that it would only hurt me, but I won. The judge admonished my father for being controlling and manipulative.”

  I’m full-on ugly crying now. “I realized then how my father had used his wealth and power during his marriage to my mother, and after the divorce. He’d agreed to give my mother money if she’d sever all ties with me. He would have happily paid her off with a fancy apartment and a huge allowance, but only if she wouldn’t see me again. She didn’t agree, so he left her homeless and penniless. Her alcoholism wasn’t my fault. It was a disease. He means well, but his vision is so warped. He uses his money to get what he wants. In my mom’s final letter to me, she apologized and said without funds or a means to work, and her inability to quit her addiction, she couldn’t go on. She told me I was the best thing in her life, and she’d love me forever.”

  I’m physically drained. My head drops into my hands.

  “Thank you for sharing your story,” Jim says after a moment. “It’s important to have all the information as we plan our next steps. You need to be a part of choosing these steps, but let’s discuss them in the morning. You must be exhausted, and nothing needs to be determined tonight.”

  Jackson leads me to the guest room, and Gabby stays with me. As we lie in bed, she tells me, “You’re the strongest woman I know, and whether it feels like it or not, you have a lot of options. We just have to find the right one. You will get through this.”

  Chapter 22

  Jackson

  When I walk back into my living room, Jim hands me a glass of bourbon.

  “Thanks.”

  “It looks like you need it,” he says.

  I nod. “I fucked up with Corrine—big time.” I take a deep pull on my drink. “I won’t lie, until all this started a few weeks ago, I was very strict about our employer/employee relationship. I thought she was pretty, but that’s where I stopped. She’s an incredible assistant. Because of her, I was able to get our patent application in place and get funding for a new product we’re working on. She’s positively invaluable.”