Bailout

by Kimbra Swain

  “Your bodyguard is in love with you,” he said.

  “Gosh! I hope so, since he’s my brother,” I replied.

  “Your brother? Both of them?” he asked.

  “Generally, that’s how twins work. From the same mother and all,” I replied.

  He chuckled. “Forgive me for being late,” he said.

  “I detest it when a client, business partner or enemy has so little care of a situation to not at the very least show up on time. However, I’m inclined to forgive you. Just this once,” I said.

  “Um, thanks. Why the special treatment?” he asked.

  As much as I despised my plan, it was time to go through with it. I was going to play his own game with him. I stood from the table pulling my skirt down as I did. His eyes drifted to my legs if only for a moment. I crossed the room and poured two glasses of water. Returning to the table, I sat one in front of him.

  “I can have them bring coffee if you would like, but it looks like you need a drink. Are you sick, Mr. Elliot?” I asked.

  He took a sip and replied, “I am not feeling well, but this is important so I am here.”

  “And that answers the question as to why the special treatment. I know that this is important for Bright Technologies. It’s important for the legacy your father left you with. Trust me, I completely understand how significant this is for you,” I replied. “Plus, you wore the Armani. I like it better than the Calvin Klein.” I cut my eyes away from his for a moment as if I were embarrassed at my own very calculated words.

  Stunned for a moment, he asked, “Why don’t you like the Calvin Klein suits?”

  “Well, there are two reasons. The Armani’s have a broader shoulder structure which I think fits your frame better. It lengthens your shoulders giving you a more imposing stature. Strong and confident,” I replied.

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin for a moment, then realized he didn’t shave this morning when he moved his hand. “I see. And the second reason,” he asked.

  I leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs exposing my knee. “I’m embarrassed to say, but I believe you wear the others when you are out picking up women. As a woman in this business world, I’m happy to see you aren’t here to seduce me.”

  He nearly spit his water across the table. “No, of course not,” he said.

  “Good. Let’s talk about the deal,” I said. “Have you read over the entire proposal?”

  “I have. It’s very beneficial to Bright. We stand to make a lot of money from the deal. However, it seems that Malone Enterprises would be taking a great risk,” he said.

  He was right. Taking a chance on a company like his on the verge of collapse was a risk. I’d taken risks like that before and lost, but overall, Malone could handle the collapse of Bright. Mr. Elliot and his company would be the only one to truly suffer.

  “Yes, it is, but one I’m willing to take,” I said.

  “Why?” he asked. “Seems stupid to spend money in a company about to fold.”

  “Local companies are important. I like to keep things close to home. I have investments in many ventures in Atlanta. Restaurants, clubs, start-ups and large companies. The pulse of the city is important to the life of Malone,” I tried to explain in grand terms. I wanted him to think I was a dreamer, perhaps a little out of touch with reality.

  “Clubs. Like Anardana?” he asked.

  “Exactly like that. Kellan is an old friend, and I’ve been supporting his dream for several years. He’s finally making the club an upscale go-to spot. I’m very happy for him,” I said.

  “Did you follow me there?” he asked.

  This was not a line of questioning that I wanted to go down. It would bring us to the very truth of my operations and how I handled business. I wasn’t ready for him to see that close to the inside. He wasn’t ready to understand it. However, I abhor lying.

  “I did,” I admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Mr. Elliot, please forgive me. I study my business partners in great detail to determine not if a company is ready for a deal or bailout, but if it’s people are ready. I’d thought that maybe you would attend the charity ball at Ravencrest, but you were not there. I took steps to ensure that I could observe you interact with people. To try to understand what sort of man you are,” I explained.

  Fire flamed in his eyes. He spun out of the chair but gripped the table. “That’s sick.”

  “Are you alright? You truly seem ill. We can continue this tomorrow if you would like,” I offered.

  “No, I have no desire to accept money from a deceptive woman like you,” he growled without looking at me.

  “I did not hide that I was there. You clearly saw me. There was no deception,” I replied.

  “You followed me!”

  “You have a pattern, Mr. Elliot. Several nights a week, you wear your Calvin Klein suits. You visit a mid-scale club. You engage with a woman and take her home with you. I knew you would be out to relieve the stress of today’s meeting. I understand how vital this deal is for your company. I have no issues with your lifestyle. It is what you choose it to be, however, I did want to see you in person,” I said.

  “I’m here. In front of you. You could have requested a lunch or a dinner, but instead, you dipped into my personal life,” he spouted as he stared into the main office where my workers were busy doing their jobs.

  “If you recall, I did offer to go to lunch with you. However, when you returned my call, several weeks after I tried to contact you, you set up this meeting instead of lunch,” I reminded him.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t want your money,” he mumbled.

  “Mr. Elliot, please consider the ramifications of your refusal for all of those who depend on you,” I pleaded with him. His arrogance and pride would keep him from saving his own company.

  Spinning around on me, he yelled, “Don’t you think I know exactly who depends on me, but I won’t do it this way. I won’t risk selling my soul to the devil.”

  I bit my top lip. I’d been called a lot of things in my life, but never the devil. “So, your answer is to refuse the deal? Do I hear you correctly?”

  “Yes. I don’t want your money,” he screamed, as he headed for the conference room door.

  “Jamey, please reconsider,” I said using the name his assistant Kelly informed me that he was called by his friends. I’d talked to her earlier. She’d surprised me by calling me.

  “Don’t call me that,” he spat, with his hand on the door.

  “Kelly called me,” I admitted. “She was concerned about you. Bright Technologies is important to her as it is to you. You have immense skills that need proper honing, and you could become a great businessman and extremely wealthy. Accepting this bailout from me is the first step in that happening. Humbling yourself and asking for help is difficult. I struggle with it. But there are desperate times when you just don’t have any choice. Please reconsider.”

  “Traitorous bitch,” he mumbled. “Miss Malone, the answer is no. Just to be clear, you and Kelly both can go to hell.” He slung the door open and walked out. The glass switched to clear. I stood and watched him stalk to the elevator bank. Jamming the button, he waited impatiently for the ride.

  I motioned to Sebastian and Damien who took Charity to the other side of the room toward the hallway to my office. Approaching him cautiously, I used my last weapon. “Mr. Elliot, this is your last chance. If you do not accept this deal, I will save Bright without you.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he said bowing up toward me.

  “I would, and I have the means. Please do not make me do it. We can work together on this. It should be that way. It’s your company. Do something to save it,” I begged. “Be the man your family expects you to be.”

  “That’s just it, Miss Malone. I should have never been given the company in the first place,” he said as the door dinged open. Walking inside, he kept his back to me. The doors closed as I watched the slumped shoulders of a prideful ma
n in a gorgeous Armani suit. Stubborn. Fiery. Handsome. Lost.

  I rushed to my office followed by my crew. Sitting behind my computer, I clicked the stock purchases that I’d already cued. Kelly had arranged with the remaining family shareholders to sell me their shares in bulk. Within minutes, I controlled 52% of Bright Technologies. I released a statement through my lawyer, to the press indicating that I’d bought the dying company to save it. That its current CEO, Mr. Synclair James Elliot would remain in position, but that Malone Enterprises would control the day-to-day business deals.

  “Are you really doing it?” Charity asked.

  “Yes,” I replied coldly. “Stubborn fool.”

  “He will have nothing to live for now,” she said.

  “Are you suggesting that he’s going to off himself?” I asked.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he won’t drink himself into an oblivion,” she suggested. “This is heartless, even for you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You are mad he didn’t accept you. So, what if his company dies? Why do you have to prove the point? Just let it die. We all know you are capable of turning any company around. Why do you have to prove it?” she said as Damien touched her arm. She shrugged him off and stomped out of the room.

  “Bastian, follow him,” I said.

  “Isn’t that what got you in this mess?” he asked.

  “Yes, but the last thing I want is his death on my conscience,” I replied. He quickly left the room. “Go calm her down, Damien. I’ll fix it.”

  “You always do,” Damien said leaving me alone.

  I watched my screen as the news agencies latched onto the story. Spreading across the internet like wildfire, the story of Malone Enterprises jumping into the sinking ship of Bright Technologies hit the top of every business page on the net. My office phone began ringing, and I sent all the calls to Charity’s desk. I hoped she would answer them. My personal cell phone rang with the caller ID of Javier Salida.

  “Good morning, Mr. Salida. How may I help you?” I asked.

  “Good morning, Miss Malone. Our servers are taking a beating. Did you make a big move? It only does this when you’ve done something,” he playfully accused.

  “Sorry. I forgot to give you a heads up. I just purchased the majority of Bright Technologies, and the web is going nuts. I figured we’d have some hits,” I said.

  “It’s not going to shut us down, but the company website might run a little slow today,” he informed me.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Salida,” I said.

  “You may call me, Javier,” he said.

  “Then you have to call me Alexa,” I replied.

  “I would like that,” he said as I could hear the smile on his face.

  “How about lunch, Javier? My treat?” I asked.

  He paused. “I need to keep an eye on the servers,” he said.

  I was striking out today. “Alright. Perhaps some other time,” I suggested.

  “Yes, I will hold you to it,” he said.

  “You better,” I replied. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help with the overload.”

  “I will keep you posted, Alexa,” he said as he hung up.

  Well, not a total strikeout. The phone rang again.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “He’s beating the shit out of his steering wheel in his car just down the street,” Bastian said. “I’ll follow him. You want me to intervene at some point?”

  “I’d just prefer that he didn’t do any harm to himself. You obviously can’t follow him to his home. He will go to a bar or something. Just keep an eye on him. I’m hoping he will come around,” I said.

  “Alexa, he’s not going to come around,” he said.

  “I hope you are wrong,” I replied.

  “You like him,” he suggested.

  “Why is it always like that with you, Bastian? I don’t like him. He’s a selfish, arrogant prick who would rather his company die than accept help from the likes of me,” I replied.

  “It’s not his company anymore, is it?” he pressed. I hung up on him.

  Nine

  JAMEY

  “That bitch!” I screamed banging my steering wheel. I felt sick again and barely got the door open before I hurled onto the asphalt of the street. My head spun. I should go home and go to bed.

  I dialed Kelly. “Hello?” she said.

  “You, heartless wench. You sold me out. We’ve lost everything now,” I yelled at her.

  “No, I’m saving Bright. She wants to save it. She can, so I gave her the means to do it because I knew you couldn’t swallow your pride for five fucking minutes to save us all. Two thousand, three hundred and forty-two employees, Jamey! It’s almost Christmas. They have hope now. You could have given it to them, but you didn’t. I did. So, hate me if you want to. I can live with myself at night,” she said.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I spouted.

  “She’s not getting rid of you. She told me she wants to keep you as the CEO,” she said.

  “She’s probably changed her mind now,” I said.

  “Really? What did you say to her?” She asked.

  I grimaced recalling my words to the woman. She smiled at me and coaxed me. Playing my own game, she opened the door, and I slammed it in her face. My phone started beeping with an incoming call from my lawyer. I clicked it off to voicemail.

  “My lawyer is calling,” I muttered.

  “You should talk to him. Get the details on the buyout,” she said. “It didn’t have to be this way, Jamey.” She hung up.

  Cranking the car, I decided to go get a drink and see if I could settle my nerves. Then maybe I could bring myself to call my lawyer back. It was early in the day so I’d have to find a bar that was open. Perhaps I’d just go to Serafina. I probably needed food, too. I wondered if she owned part of Serafina, too. She probably did. It felt like she was in everything now.

  I pulled up out front and parked myself. I didn’t have the money for a valet. Hell, I hoped my credit card worked so that I could pay for a meal. As I entered the hostess called me by name.

  “Mr. Elliot, so good to see you. Did you have a reservation?” she asked.

  “No, Rachel. I’d like to just sit at the bar today if that is possible?” I asked.

  “Of course, right this way,” she said as she walked me to the bar. I picked a backed stool. The bar at Serafina was beautifully carved wood. It was elegant much like the rest of the Italian bistro. I loved pasta. I picked up my phone and opened the app to my credit card. I checked to see if I had an available balance. I almost dropped my phone when the screen flashed up that I had ten thousand dollars available with no balance. I sat the phone on the bar and groaned. She was in everything.

  “Morning, Mr. Elliot,” the bartender welcomed me.

  “Morning Casper, can I get a white wine and a plate of lemon garlic angel hair?” I requested. Normally, I got the lobster, but I wasn’t sure how long ten thousand dollars would last me. “And can you go ahead and run my card? My account has been acting strangely.”

  He looked at me weirdly but obliged me. He quickly returned with the wine and my card. “Everything is in order, sir. No problems with the card. Would you like to keep your tab open, sir?”

  “Yes, please,” I muttered. Glancing up at the televisions above the bar, two of them showed replays of last week’s NFL games. The other was a business channel, and the Bright Technologies logo sat side-by-side with the Malone Enterprises logo. The closed caption flashed across the screen. The commentators were condemning Alexandra Malone’s move to buy Bright which was obviously on the verge of collapse. They continued to belittle my company and highlight her bold move. Finally, one of them admitted that if she pulled off saving the company that it would be nothing short of a miracle. She was taking hits in the press.

  For years I’d see her face on various news and entertainment channels. Always the darling of the business community. Everyone looked up
to her or feared her. I wanted to know more about my enemy. I googled her name on the web app on my phone. The first stories were about today’s takeover. All of them viewed it as a mistake on her part. I clicked the Wikipedia article for Alexandra Shelby Malone.

  As I read, Casper brought me my plate of pasta. He asked if I wanted more wine, and I said yes. Alexandra Malone, daughter of Kerrick and Melanie Malone, attended Yale business school. Worked her way up the corporate ladder at Pyramid Conglomerate where she became the first female Vice President in company history. She was only twenty-seven. She then moved back home to Malone Enterprises taking over after her father’s untimely death to cancer and her mother’s death soon after.

  The article showed pictures of her hulking brothers, both whom had played linebacker for the state college in town and were heads of security for Malone Enterprises. The article showed many of the companies that she owned or partially owned. It hailed her charity giving. There were pictures of her in long designer gowns at premiers in Hollywood and galas in New York City.

  I moved on to some other articles including a gossip column that mentioned an ex-boyfriend by the name of Garrett Shepherd who worked for the Atlanta Police Department. It was rumored that the two broke up after he proposed to her, and she turned his offer down. There was a picture of them. She seemed to be way out of his league. A good-looking man, but not rich by any means. She smiled and hung on his arm.

  Digging deeper I found an article from several years ago showing Alexandra with the Vice President of Finance at Pyramid Conglomerate, Ryland LeBlanc. I didn’t know Mr. LeBlanc, but in contrast to the picture of her with Detective Shepherd, he held her tightly by the wrist. He looked evil, and she looked scared.

  I remembered the dance last night with the man that clearly liked her. She only allowed him to get so close to her. Something happened with LeBlanc. Something happened with Shepherd. She’d turned them both away. Now she was the foremost business person in the city, perhaps in the south. Hell, as far as I knew, she was huge across the country.