Bailout

by Kimbra Swain

  “Were the tablets defective?” I asked.

  “No, ma’am, but generally, when we receive them from Bright they are already loaded and ready to go. We run a quick virus and tracking scan on them. When they checked the first piece from the last shipment, the software was loaded improperly. IT couldn’t find a tracker device in them; however, they did remove keystroke recording programs from every tablet,” he explained. Keystroke programs save every keystroke on a digital device whether a personal computer or something as small as a smartphone. If Bright was trying to track keystrokes, then I definitely didn’t want to deal with Mr. Elliot or his company.

  “Did we contact Bright with this information?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I spoke to Rosa Vanderwall, head of distribution at Bright. She apologized and offered to replace the tablets, but we were already using them after they were reformatted. She then offered a partial refund. The details I emailed to you earlier,” he explained.

  “Alright, I’ll take a look at them later. All of this is very concerning,” I said frankly, in front of this group. I didn’t operate hiding behind closed doors. Every one of my employees could know any part of our normal meetings. However, when it came to things like this, we kept them quiet until all the facts were determined. “If that is all Mr. Blankenship, you may go so you can attend to your departmental matters.”

  “That’s all, ma’am. If you have any questions, my contact in IT who prepared the reports is Javier Salida,” he said. The mention of Javier’s name sent chills down my spine. Good chills. The man was gorgeous, but never gave me the time of day. My eyes met Charity as she smiled. She knew my idle infatuation with the hot Latino IT guy. Sebastian saw the exchange, and I warned him with a scowl not to mention it.

  “Thank you, Asher. See you tomorrow,” I said as he exited.

  “Go talk to Javier,” Sebastian suggested.

  “Shut it,” I replied.

  “What? He’s got info on Bright trying to spy on us. I think it would be worth the trip to the deep dark dungeon of IT,” he laughed.

  “I suppose I should talk to him, but I’ll call. No need to delve into the depths of nerddom,” I replied.

  “You like him,” he teased.

  “Enough,” I said. “Charity, your turn.”

  She held the remote to the television that lowered from the ceiling. It flickered to life showing various pictures of Synclair James Elliot. “He’s fond of Armani and Calvin Klein suits. He consistently wears expensive watches, but no brand preference.” She flicked through more pictures. “He eats lunches at Capelli’s, The Brown Box and Serafina.”

  “I’ve never seen him at Serafina,” which was my favorite lunch spot.

  “Then you weren’t looking. He was there last week when we ate there,” she said.

  I scrunched my nose trying to remember. “Where did he sit?” I asked.

  “He sat next to the windows. He was having lunch with a beautiful redhead. I looked her up. She’s his personal assistant, Kelly Tolbert,” she said.

  I closed my eyes recalled our lunch at Serafina’s. I had the lemon garlic angel hair pasta, and Charity had the shrimp salad. Sometimes having a photographic memory wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. My brain would hurt with the overload of information that I could store. I actually spoke to a shrink about it once, and he gave me some pointers on how to file and store the information so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed.

  In my mind, I scanned the room. My eyes rested on the red-headed beauty. She was stunning. A dark green business dress with black pumps. She sat with her ankles crossed taking notes as the man with her spoke. He held a fork in his hand waving it around as she jotted on her notebook. She had a glass of water, and he had a white wine. Looking closer, I saw the bottle of chardonnay on the table. He dipped his fork into his plate and pulled it full of pasta and lobster. He’d ordered the most expensive pasta dish on the menu for lunch. After the fork passed through his lips, he turned slightly toward my direction. His jaw sported a slight shadow of dark brown hair. His lips curled on the edges as a smile formed, and he laughed at something the woman said. Bright green eyes flashed like a traffic light. I watched him in my mind for a moment knowing that the room waited for me to return to our meeting. I saw something in Synclair James Elliot that I didn’t expect, kindness. I expected the smug look a billionaire playboy, but instead, he listened to everything she said with interest. Although she was beautiful, his eyes never dropped to her cleavage or her legs as she crossed and uncrossed them.

  Returning my attention to the room, they all stared at me. “They are related,” I said.

  Charity said, “I told you.” She slapped Damien on the shoulder.

  “How did you know that?” he asked.

  “How much is it worth to you?” I asked.

  His eyes flickered with something dark before he muttered, “Just curious.”

  “No, seriously, there is a bet here between the two of you. What’s the prize?” I asked. Sebastian cleared his throat. I pulled a throat drop out of my pocket and tossed it to him. It hit him on the shoulder as he laughed.

  “Nothing,” Charity said. “She’s his cousin.”

  “How did you know?” Sebastian asked, making me avoid the bet conversation.

  “She was gorgeous, well endowed. He never once looked at her breasts or at her legs as she crossed and uncrossed them at the table. Other men were definitely looking,” I said.

  “What else?” Charity prodded.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You saw something else,” she said knowing me too well.

  “A look he had that I didn’t expect. His face was almost kind,” I replied.

  “He’s hot,” Charity said as Damien elbowed her in the corner of my peripheral vision.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked.

  Charity’s department was the clothes, hair, and preferences. She handed me a complete workup on him down to his favorite wines and beers.

  “My turn,” Damien piped up. “Three to four nights a week he visits a club. He always leaves with a pretty girl. Returns to his downtown condo and leaves within several hours. He never leaves with the girl, but never sees the same girl more than once. He tends to prefer blondes, like you, dear sister.” I rolled my eyes at him, but it was important information. I wasn’t beyond batting an eyelash to get a business deal to close. Sex was out of the question, but I could flirt if needed.

  “What about the girls?” I asked.

  “They leave at various times after he does. I hacked into security at the building. There are plenty of photographs on the thumb drive. Rather explicit. Thankfully for me, he doesn’t seem to lean toward any sort of kink. He fucks them and sends them on their way,” he said.

  “Thankfully for you?” I asked.

  He grimaced, “Remember Harold Meacham?”

  I groaned. Harold Meacham was one of our previous business bailouts. He liked to dress as a baby and fuck the babysitter. I’d seen some weird shit before, but Harold Meacham, CEO of Axis Food Distribution was a piece of work. Poor Damien had to watch all of the tapes he’d made of his proclivities. “Let’s not remember him,” I said. We’d finished the deal with Axis Food, and the business was booming. The man had a kink, but he ran a good business. As long as I made money, I didn’t care about his poopy diaper.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he does have an ex-girlfriend. Ex-fiancée actually. They went to college together at Harvard. They were engaged for a year after they graduated. He moved back here, but she started graduate work at Colombia. He went up for a surprise visit only to find her fucking one of her professors. He hasn’t had a serious relationship since,” Damien said.

  “How did you obtain this information?” I asked looking at the pictures of Mr. Elliot on the television.

  “That’s my job, sis,” he said.

  I spun the chair around and eyed him. “Tell me,” I insisted.

  He knew the look i
n my eye. I wasn’t playing. “He works out at the gym I go to. One of my buddies down there, Myles told me about it. Apparently, he and Myles were work-out buddies for a while. Elliot doesn’t go to that gym anymore.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Money,” he simply replied. I knew Damien and Sebastian worked out at ATL Gym in Midtown. It was pricey. Elliot was in a deep enough hole that he canceled his gym membership.

  “Okay, Bastian,” I said.

  Charity tossed him the remote. He clicked through a few more of her pictures pulling up the personal bank accounts and investments of Synclair James Elliot. His 401k and stock portfolio showed promise, but in my opinion, needed some tweaking. As his personal credit cards and bank account clicked on the screen, I was astonished. He was deep in debt and broke. So broke that if he spent more than fifty dollars at this particular moment, his bank account would be overdrawn. I leaned back in the chair and stared at the screen.

  Mr. Elliot with his kind eyes was broke. The assets of the company were tied up in unsellable real estate. Mostly warehouses and manufacturing plants. It had very little cash flow, from which, he, personally, had zero cash flow. He didn’t attend the charity ball last night even though I knew for a fact he was invited. I’d hoped to watch him last night to get an impression. However, he never showed. It would be embarrassing to attend a charity ball when you had nothing to give. He was a charity case. One that would be in my building tomorrow desperately needing help. Something told me he wouldn’t be desperate enough to ask for it.

  “Well?” Charity asked.

  “We will have the meeting, but I’m undecided,” I said asking for the remote from Sebastian. He handed it to me. I clicked back to two photos side by side of Mr. Elliot. “Does he go by Synclair?”

  “No, he goes by Jamey,” Charity replied.

  “He goes by Synclair in the clubs,” Damien added.

  “Hmm,” I tapped the top of the remote on my cheek staring at the pictures. One he was in a deep blue Armani suit with a light blue shirt. The cobalt blue tie had tiny dots on it, and the red handkerchief in his pocket stood out. The other picture he wore a slim black Calvin Klein just outside of a club I recognized in downtown Atlanta. A crisp white shirt with no tie. The black suit didn’t frame his shoulders making him look thinner than he was whereas the Armani gave him plenty of room making him look business-like and intelligent. I clicked back two pictures of a similar Armani suit, but this time he wore slender rectangle frame glasses as he studied a newspaper while sitting in Serafina’s. I liked the Armani’s better.

  “She’s a sucker for a nerd,” Charity interrupted my thoughts. I blushed. She was right. It’s why I had a crush on Javier Salida. He too would occasionally wear thick black rimmed glasses that framed his deep brown eyes. It drove me nuts.

  “Hmph,” I responded as Damien chuckled.

  “So, what’s the bet?” I returned to the earlier conversation.

  “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” Damien asked.

  I spun the chair around and looked at him. “Oral?” I asked. They both blushed. “Look, the two of you aren’t fooling me. I actually approve. So, go have your fun.”

  “You approve?” Charity said.

  “We don’t need her approval,” Damien said.

  “Yes, we do! It’s my job! It’s not like she’s going to fire you,” Charity protested.

  I laughed as Sebastian shook his head at me. “I’m not firing either of you. Stop hiding shit from me. See y’all tomorrow.”

  She got up and hugged me. Then took his hand and left the room. I swiveled to look at Sebastian.

  “Oh, hell, you have that look,” he said.

  “What look?” I asked.

  “You are up to something,” he said.

  “Where is he tonight?” I asked, knowing that we were still following him.

  He looked at his watch then back at me. “We will know in a couple of hours. It’s still early for him, but he went out last night. I doubt he will go tonight.”

  “He will go tonight. He’s nervous about tomorrow and will want the distraction,” I surmised.

  “Sounds like great fun,” he groaned.

  “Call Arturo. He can take me,” I said of his back-up.

  “No way. I’m going with you,” he insisted.

  “Bastian, I’m a big girl. You don’t have to follow me around,” I insisted.

  He rubbed his forehead. “I promised him,” he said.

  I rolled the chair over to him and touched his cheek. “Daddy worried too much. Look at me. I’m fine. This company is thriving. I’m damn good at what I do. You don’t have to watch me constantly. Move back in with Damien or get your own place. I feel like I’m holding you back.”

  He looked at me with loving eyes. So much like Daddy. “I’m right where I need to be,” he said. “Where I should have been before.”

  “It’s my own fault all of that happened. I can’t dwell on it,” I said.

  “But you do. You won’t even consider having a relationship with anyone. You aren’t over it,” he said referring to the real reason I left Pyramid Conglomerate. Daddy’s cancer was one reason, but things had transpired there that changed my entire being and outlook on the world. Things I had nightmares about. Things I never talked about, but Bastian knew.

  Four

  JAMEY

  “So, is everything done?” I asked Kelly.

  “Yes, sir. All your papers are in the file folder in your briefcase. You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” she asked.

  “No, if what they say about Alexandra Malone is true, I don’t need her thinking you are my girlfriend. I need to be able to make my moves on her,” I said, trying to give her a smoldering look.

  She grimaced, then rolled her eyes. “If she is who they say she is, then she knows we are related, and my presence wouldn’t be a distraction. I might be your only ally in the room.”

  Tomorrow would decide if Bright Technologies, my company, would close its doors. I needed the bail-out from Malone Enterprises. I despised the idea of working with Alexandra Malone and her charity-flaunting ass. My company probably wasn’t worth bailing out after the recent mistakes I’d made trying to save it. I’d been distracted for far too long, and the company was sinking faster than the Titanic in the Atlantic. She was a rich snob who took over Daddy’s company and got everything handed to her on a golden platter. She’d skipped the silver ones. Everything she touched turned to gold. I needed that touch. The employees depending on me needed that touch.

  “Armani or CK?” Kelly asked flipping through my closet. We’d decided to finish our meeting in my condo in Midtown Atlanta. Later on, I’d go blow off some steam. Possibly pick up a lay for the night and work out my frustrations in another frivolous sexual encounter. The fact was, I was getting tired of the one-night stands, but with Bright dying out, I couldn’t have a relationship. Plus, memories of Tracy, my ex, constantly filled my mind. It had been years since our break-up, but my heart still hurt. I should have known it was too good to be true. She was a big-time lawyer in New York City living with the professor she left me for at Columbia. I was a fool to leave her up there. If I had continued my studies, maybe we would still be together. I was anxious to get home to my parent’s company. I knew Dad wanted to retire, but the whole thing had been thrust into my lap when he died.

  “CK tonight. Armani tomorrow. The navy one,” I said. “I’m fooling myself. This isn’t going to work. She will see straight through me.”

  “If she does, then be honest with her. Tell her you want to save your company, and you will do whatever it takes,” Kelly suggested.

  “I don’t know how to be humble,” I said.

  “You better learn, because if you don’t make this deal, we will all be out on our humble asses,” she reminded me. I groaned and slid my glasses onto the table beside me. I rubbed my eyes. “Maybe I should just go to bed.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Kelly said bending over to kiss
me on the forehead.

  “Let me know if you think of anything else that will help me,” I said, as she gathered her purse and jacket.

  “Good luck,” she simply replied. The door clicked behind her. Kelly was the last relative on the planet that would speak to me. I’d made an ass of myself at the last family holiday dinner. The frustration the company going under got the best of me. Several of my family members would have been more capable of running it, but Dad left it to me. All of them resented me for it, and when I admitted that I didn’t want to run it. They were offended. Kelly, who had been dad’s assistant, was the only one that stuck by me. I was thankful to have her.

  Now I was faced with practically begging the biggest business celebrity in the country for help to save Bright. If it weren’t for the last deal I made, it wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully, I’d covered my tracks and kept the deal with the Abrego Cartel hidden. If she found out, I wouldn’t have to worry about Bright closing. I’d be dead. The Cartel would kill me.

  One day looking through the newspaper, I picked up on a few local companies that I could easily buy out and liquidate. After checking their meager financials, I realized the four companies were gold mines. They had a ton of equipment and real estate to sell that could make easy money for me. The stocks were flowing on a regular basis. I decided to swoop in and buy them up. However, the companies were actually fronts for the Mexican drug cartel known as Abrego Industries. Juan Abrego and his right-hand Chevaka Jimenez ran the local outfit. I’d bought the companies and liquidated them so quickly that they had no time to react.

  One night as I left a club in downtown Atlanta with a saucy brunette on my arm. Five men surrounded us. They shooed the girl away and dragged me into an alley where they beat me senseless. I had no idea what I’d done to deserve such a beating until I woke up tied to a chair in an empty warehouse in Douglasville. Chevy Jimenez sat in a large leather chair in front of me with a thin naked woman on his lap. As he spoke to me about the crimes I’d committed against the cartel, she took him in her mouth and sucked him off. His icy stare bore into me, and I admit that I was scared.