by Alexa Davis
Reeves says, “As confidence-inspiring as all this is, you’re forgetting that Mr. Snodgrass—”
Ellie nearly chokes on her wine. “I’m sorry,” she says, covering her mouth, “please continue.”
“As I was saying,” Reeves continues, “though Mr. Snodgrass—”
Ellie starts tittering.
Reeves looks over at her and clears his throat. “While Jacque—”
Ellie’s cackling loudly now, and it looks like this Hail Mary is going straight out of bounds.
“I am so sorry,” she says. She’s still covering her mouth, but she hasn’t quite managed to stop laughing. “It’s just the contrast,” she says. “I didn’t know that was his—please continue.”
Whether this is some off-the-cuff new strategy or not, Reeves is starting to get flustered and nobody else seems to want to jump in. Finally, Verne says, “You can drag us through this if ya want, Nick, but it ain’t gonna matter.”
“Actually,” I say, “it does.”
I look over to Jacque, still the inappropriately-named, gangly white boy he’s always been. He sighs loudly. I just hope he’s remembered the remarks he wrote beforehand. He does not improvise well.
“I know a lot of you are surprised to see me tonight,” he says, his voice flat. “As you know, I am not known for knowing everything.”
And he’s off-script. I discreetly nudge him with my elbow.
“Right,” he says.
I was hoping the nudge would get him back on track, but instead, he reaches into the back pocket of his baggy slacks and pulls out a piece of paper with handwriting on it. He starts reading directly from it. “As you know, I am not known for having all the answers any more than any of you. However, when this business was started, there were a few key principles that set us apart. One of those, as you well know, was the principal that if we couldn’t afford to take care of our people, we had no right being in business. It’s no secret you’re planning to move the company to …” he trails off and lifts his thick glasses. “Oh,” he says, “China, but this goes against the very foundation of who and what Stingray is, was and should be.”
Reeves says, “Mr. Snodgrass, if you wanted—”
Ellie snorts with laughter, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“If you wanted to take control of the company,” Reeves says, “why is it you didn’t come forward before now?”
“Right,” Jacque says, and moves his index finger in a straight line down the page. “Ah, here it is,” he says.
At this point, I’m not even sure I want Jacque as CEO.
“I was concerned that any movement on my part to step in to replace Nikolai while he was chief executive officer would undermine his position. I hope you all know I support his work to keep the company here,” he says.
Geraldine says, “I think we’re all avoiding the elephant in the room. I don’t mean to be cruel, Jacque, but as one of your many duties as CEO, you would be a very public face of the company.”
“That’s the whole point, don’t you get it?” Ellie asks. “He’s going to be the public head of your company, so when you announce Stingray’s staying here, your whole public image gets an overhaul. He’s stepping in to protect the employees of the company. Tell me, how does that play in the press?” she asks. “I’m sure between the ten of you, we can work out the minor issues. The fact is, by his very presence at the helm, Stingray recovers all the trust you’ve lost fighting among each other these last months.” Ellie takes a sip of her drink. “Also, he’s got robot Pomeranians, and they are adorable.”
I forgot to tell Yako to give Ellie grape juice instead of wine.
“She has a point,” I say. “In fact, I’d say it’s the only thing that makes sense. If you move the company, it might go under, it might not, but you’re also forgetting that it’s in the bylaws, and you haven’t replaced me as CEO to be able to overturn it.”
“Nominate me CEO,” Verne says.
“No,” Reeves objects, “you’d run the company into the ground!”
“Oh, like you’d do any better?” Verne shoots back.
“I’d do a lot better than you,” Reeves says.
Mason starts in with, “I’m the vice-president. Doesn’t it only make sense I should be CEO?”
Then Geraldine says, “I’ve been doing your work since they dropped you in a chair and put a suit on you.”
They go back and forth, undercutting each other with every breath and basically proving to me, if not to themselves, that none of them can take the position. Even if one of the members were to get it, the other seven would always be there plotting.
After a few minutes, I nudge Jacque and tell him, “Step in. Quiet the room. Show them you’re a leader.”
Jacque nods and says, “Hey, everybody?” Nobody looks up, so he says, “Hey guys, let’s all be quiet now.”
This isn’t working.
Ellie whistles loudly with two fingers in her mouth. We’re all covering our ears as she politely nods toward Jacque.
Verne is saying, “Jesus!”
Jacque says, “If you’ll read the relevant section of the bylaws…”
Marly comes in, does what she’s supposed to do by setting a copy of the bylaws in front of each board member, and leaves the room. I was starting to forget what it’s like when things go as they’re supposed to.
“We’re all aware of this, but while we’re fighting it in court, the company’s going to lose everything,” Reeves says.
“So don’t do that to the company,” Ellie says. “You may be able to retire and make sure your grandkids’ grandkids are taken care of, but replacing Nick with Jacque is the only way out of this now. It’s obvious this is what you should do. Otherwise, you will be blamed for it. The three of us will make sure of it.”
The room is silent.
Everyone’s looking around, but nobody wants to be the first to have an opinion.
Jacque says, “By the way, while I’ve been away from Stingray, I haven’t stopped working. I got a lot of really cool stuff, but if I have to take it somewhere else, I guess that’s just the way it goes.”
Whoever teaches Jacque to talk in front of people cannot possibly get paid enough for the chore.
Reeves looks around the table at each board member individually, still placing himself above them. They all fall in line, though.
“It appears we don’t have a choice,” Reeves says. “I would prefer we don’t make the announcement until—”
“Yeah,” I interrupt. “We’ll find someone to work with him.”
This has been the most stressful night of my life.
Epilogue
Kola Kitanabu
Ellie
We’re sitting on the beach, Nick and I. I’m lazily watching the deep ocean waters swell in the distance.
It’s been one year since Jacque took the helm at Stingray and the company’s prospering. I am still waiting for my own robot Pomeranian, though.
Everywhere around me, things are so well-kept. When Nick gave that money to the people of Kola Kitanabu, they put it to good use. No one’s building a mansion in this rainforest.
People still recognize Nick everywhere, but thankfully, fewer recognize me. In the States, some people walk up to Nick to shake his hand while others walk up to tell him what a jerk they think he is.
I guess that’s the way it’s going to be, though.
Right now, Nick and I are celebrating our engagement. I have to say, with all his money and taste, I was hoping for more than the standard down-on-one-knee with a ring proposal, but he’s got a while to make it up to me.
I reach over and snatch my champagne glass and take a sip.
It’d be great to say we never had to deal with Stingray anymore, but even as Jacque has brought the company all the way around and even started breaking internal profit records, he still calls Nick at least once a day to ask advice on how to deal with this person or that. At least they got him to talk in front of people without s
ounding like an angsty teenager.
It took a while.
Max is standing at the edge of the shore, biting at the waves as they come over him. Sammie’s pooping in the sand. This is the life.
Naomi steps to the side of my beach lounger and says, “Trevor has the car ready whenever the two of you would like to go.”
For the last six months, Naomi’s been my personal bodyguard. I know they say it’s not a job for family, but at the same time, she’s the most conniving person I know, and if anyone’s going to try anything, she will have already thought of it first.
“Are you just going to sit there drinking or are you going to acknowledge that I’m speaking to you?” she asks.
I look over at Nick. He says, “Thank you, Naomi. That should be all for now.”
My sister walks off with a grunt and I finally ask the question. “Why don’t you like Naomi?” I ask. “You’ve been civil with her for a long time now, but you didn’t like her from the first time I introduced you to her.”
“That was the first time you introduced me to her,” he says, “but it wasn’t the first time I met her. At Mulholland Junior High, the jocks were the worst to me physically, but she was the worst to me psychologically. It wasn’t even a race, either. She was just flat-out brutal.”
“Yeah, but what did she do?” I ask. “She must have done something to make you hold that grudge so long.”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” he says.
I clear my throat and hold up my left hand, making a big show of his diamond ring on my finger.
He sighs. “I was in drama class one day, and she was in there talking to one of her friends. She wasn’t even in the class, but she was always in there anyway. It always bugged me that the teachers just went along with it.”
“That’s it?” I ask.
His face goes a deep shade of red, but he says, “Yeah.” In a rushed voice, he says, “That’s what it was. They just let her get away with everything.”
“I don’t buy it,” I tell him. “What’d she do?”
“We had a substitute teacher one day,” he says. “Her name was Miss Trilby, and despite the fact she was teaching teenagers, she wasn’t too cautious about the way she dressed. So I’m sitting there and I have to ask her this question, but I don’t want to because I had a raging boner from staring at her chest from the back of the classroom and I didn’t want her to know. But I was a teenager, and she was wearing a very low-cut top, and it was making it impossible for me to pay attention to what she was actually teaching.”
“You’ve really come a long way, haven’t you?” I tease.
He rolls his eyes. “Long story short, Naomi noticed and she didn’t just blab, she pointed. I was there with my legs crossed and a coat on my lap, but everyone was laughing and Miss Trilby was up there with a red face, shaking her head.”
“Oh my god,” I say, setting my champagne glass back on the small table between and behind us. “You’re the kid Naomi was calling the lumberjack.” I start laughing. Even though I know Nick does not appreciate it, I can’t help myself.
“Yeah,” he says. “Was it the worst thing to ever happen to me? Probably not, but it sure as hell felt like it at the time.”
“So,” I say, “are you about ready to call it a night? It is getting pretty late if we’re going to catch that plane back home to New York.”
After much deliberation, I decided we should keep the beach house.
“Yeah,” he says looking at me, a smile crossing those tempting full lips.
He holds up his glass, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. All the forethought in the world wouldn’t have prepared me for any of this.
Picking up my champagne flute, I clink glasses with Nick.
I’m not sure what the future will hold. I’m just glad we’ll be meeting it together.
Somewhere behind us, Naomi is shouting, “Will you come on already? It’s getting dark and I’m wearing sunglasses!”
I have to chuckle as I say the words, “So I’m marrying the lumberjack, huh?”
Nick groans.
“It’s okay, honey,” I tell him. “I’ve got your back.”
I whistle and Max comes running. He stops just in front of me, his tail wagging.
I lean forward, saying, “Max, do you see Naomi?”
Max looks past me toward the car.
I ask Max, “Do you want to give her kisses even though we all know she hates that?”
Max licks my arm and wags his tail even harder than before.
“Good boy,” I say. “Now get her!”
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From the Author
I hope you enjoyed Stingray Billionaire series. My next book comes out soon but if you want to get an email as soon as it’s published then click here. I’ll also include you in all the giveaways I do automatically.
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BILLIONAIRE’S TRUST
By Alexa Davis
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Alexa Davis
From the Author
I hope you enjoy Billionaire’s Trust. If you want to get an email as soon as my next book is published then click here. I’ll also include you in all the giveaways I do automatically.
CHAPTER ONE
Dax
"What the hell is wrong with you, Beck?" I yelled. "You fuck up everything you lay your hands on!"
"Aww, c'mon, Dax," he said with a hangdog look. "I didn't do it on purpose. It's not that big of a deal, only a couple of ounces got lost."
"Lost my ass," I said as I rubbed my eyes and then looked at him. "Beck, I don't care if you are my fucking brother, if you don't get your shit straight and run your business right, I'm gonna fuckin' kill you."
"Dax, it's not my fault," he whined. "I sold the stuff the way you told me, it's just that your connection shorted me on the buy."
"Bullshit," I said. "He's never once shorted me before. This is your fuck up and your fuck up alone. Get your shit straight, Beck, or I'm gonna have to do something you're not gonna like."
"Fine, whatever," he said as he turned and walked across the empty floor. He stopped before he got to the door and turned to look at me as he spoke. "You're not always going to be on top, you know, big brother. Someday, someone is going to come along and knock you off your throne and then where will you be, huh?"
"Let them try," I said as I held his gaze. He looked away first and then shoved the door open with a loud bang before walking out into the street.
I turned to the figure sitting in the shadows and said, "Keep an eye on him, Riza. He's gonna fuck things up for all of us, I just know it."
"Don't be too hard on him, boss," she said as she stood up and stretched. "He's young and wants to impress you."
"That may be, but I'm not going to risk the entire business for his growth opportunity," I said. My younger brother was a Class A screw up and had been his entire life. It wasn't entirely his fault.
We'd spent the first years of our lives in a violent home before my father, a failed inventor, shot my mother, a financial analyst, and himself and left us orphans. We'd been placed with my father's mother, an Irish woman who ran a grocery store on San Pedro and lived in a shack behind the store. We didn't know it at the time, but she was in the early stages of dementia and often left the store closed up and us to fend for ourselves while she wandered out into the streets on Skid Row looking for a way back to her hometown of Dublin.
When she was home, it was obvious why my father had ended up the way he had and why we rarely saw my grandmother while he was still alive. She held the firm belief that children who were heard rather than seen should be severely punished in ways that would have
horrified even the toughest disciplinarian. Gram hated Beck and often punished him for minor infractions that I was allowed to get away with. Needless to say, I looked forward to the days when she'd disappear and leave us on our own. They were a respite from the torment and abuse.
With no one to check up on us, I quickly got used to being the protector and provider. We didn't really have to struggle much, since my grandmother was well connected in the neighborhood and people looked out for us, but it took awhile for Beck and I to figure out the system. By the time my parents died, we were living in an abandoned house that had no running water or electricity. The switch to the Grand brought us into a different world that was more consistent in many ways, but still left us on our own for long stretches of time.
Gram had little interest in us, aside from ordering us to stock shelves or haul boxes into the storage area from the truck that arrived every Monday. She didn't bother to buy us any clothes or toys or even register us for school.
I had to figure all of that out on my own.
We moved in with my grandmother when I was ten and Beck was eight. By the end of the first week, I knew which neighbors would feed us without asking questions and which ones were inclined to call nosy social workers. I learned to call Elsa, the woman who ran the liquor store on the corner of 6th Street and who knew my grandmother the best, and let her know that Gram was gone again. Elsa was the one who helped me order clothing for Beck and I and register us both for school. I quickly became wheeler-dealer and, as a result, I was able to maintain a good front and keep people from asking too many questions, despite the oddness of our living situation.
Beck was too young to know just how strange our situation was, but he quickly learned to follow my lead and do as I told him. He knew that not following directions would often lead to something terrible, so he became both cautious and reckless in the way he behaved. At home, he was a silent child who hid in the storage room or a closet to avoid the wrath of Gram, but at school, he was a hellion who refused to follow the rules or even stay in his seat. On more than one occasion, I'd been called out of class to go to Beck's classroom and deal with his misbehavior, since I was the only one he'd listen to. It was exhausting caring for both of us, but I didn't see any other option. So I shouldered the burden and did the best I could to ensure that we were fed, clothed, and had a roof over our heads.
