by R. R. Banks
I nod again, understanding the point he's driving at – or at least, thinking I do. “How many people does KT employ?”
“Here? There are a little more than eight thousand employees in this building alone,” he says. “But we have so many more. There are research facilities, subsidiary companies – even warehouses and general office spaces. In San Antonio alone, we employ many thousand more. And all told, KT employs more than fifty thousand people nationwide.”
I sit back in my seat and whistle low. “I didn't know that.”
He nods. “If you let your sister –”
“Half-sister.”
“Half-sister, then,” he says. “If you let her gain control of this company, she's going to break it up, sell it off, and all of those people will then be out of work. Basically, half of San Antonio is going to be unemployed.”
Thomas' presentation hits me in the gut in a way that Kendrick's hadn't. Apparently, his two-pronged attack is having the effect he wanted it to have. Looking into the faces of the people KT employs, speaking with them, hearing their stories – it made that connection to this company real for me. It made it tangible.
Which is exactly what these two were hoping to achieve – Kendrick lays out the bare facts and Thomas makes it real for me.
“You know, you and Kendrick are like a couple of scheming old women,” I say, chuckling wryly.
He shrugs. “We can be,” he says. “We just wanted to underscore what is on the line if you don't meet the obligations of your parent's estate. We thought it was important you see what's at stake.”
“Well, now that I understand it,” I say. “It still doesn't change the underlying problem.”
“And what is that underlying problem?”
“For one thing, understanding everything KT does,” I say. “I'm not a genius like you, Thomas. I'm not an engineer. Hell, I can barely do math.”
He chuckles. “I'm hardly a genius, son,” he says. “I'm just somebody who works hard and doesn't give up.”
“That's crap and we both know it, Thomas,” I say.
He leans back in his seat and takes another drink of his beer. “You do realize that your parents never expected you to master every nuance of what we do here, right?” he asks. “Nobody can. There are projects going on in this building that I don't understand. Not the first thing about them.”
“Then why would one of their conditions be that I understand the workings of KT when I assume control?”
Thomas looks at me for a long moment. “One of the biggest frustrations your father had with you was that you always took everything on yourself,” he says. “You're a stubborn kid, Brady. You have a real hard time asking for help.”
My laugh is wry. “I suppose the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree in that regard.”
Thomas smiles. “Indeed,” he says. “But I will give your father all the credit in the world. He learned to ask for help. If he didn't understand something, he learned to be comfortable asking somebody to help him understand it.”
“My father?” I ask. “Actually asked for – help?”
“He did,” he replies. “Believe me, it's a hard lesson to learn – how to humble yourself enough to admit that you don't know everything. It's not easy admitting that you aren't the smartest guy in the room and that you need help understanding something.”
I give him a grin. “I freely admit that I'm never the smartest guy in the room,” I say. “There's more I don't understand than I do. Except when it comes to football.”
Thomas nods. “One of the best lessons your father ever learned – and tried to teach you – was to know your strengths,” he said. “To know what you are good at and what you might need help with. It was an amazing transformation I saw in him over the years. But because of it, he became a lot more well rounded. Your father was a genius in his own right, Brady. He designed things that still blow me away. But eventually, he learned that he didn't know everything and learned to lean on others. And that's a lesson you'll learn. That's why that condition is spelled out the way it is in his estate.”
I cock my head and look at him. “So, what you're telling me is that they only wanted me to learn to ask for help?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he chuckles. “Do you really believe they expect you to have a thorough knowledge of everything KT does? That's impossible – and your parents never expected you to do the impossible.”
“Sometimes, it feels like it.”
Thomas chuckles. “Son, this is a lesson they wanted you to figure out on your own – that you don't have to do it all yourself. They wanted you to learn how to ask for help,” he says. “And by telling you this, I'm breaking their confidence. Kendrick wanted to tell you, but given that he's the executor of their estate and their attorney, he was bound by law. But once we learned of what Tiffany is doing behind the scenes, we decided that the stakes were too great to not tell you.”
“So, just to be clear, all I have to do to fulfill that condition is – ask for help?”
Thomas chuckles. “More or less, yes. As ridiculous as it sounds,” he says. “All they wanted was for you to humble yourself enough to learn to find the experts around you who can help you, who can help guide this company and grow it. They wanted you to learn to lean on them.”
“Experts like you,” I say.
He shrugs. “Among others,” he says. “There are good people in this company. Smart people doing some amazing things. And they only wanted you to be aware and knowledgeable about what's happening.”
I sigh and sit back in my seat, taking a long swallow of beer. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Although, it makes perfect sense now that Thomas has let the cat out of the bag. My parents were always trying to teach me lessons. Always doing things like this to make a point.
“That's a lot to digest and I'll have to think it over some,” I say. “I'm not entirely sure how to process it all just yet, hoss.”
“I wouldn't expect anything less,” he replies.
“But that still leaves us with the other condition,” I say. “And that one could prove a little more troublesome than the first. That's not about learning a lesson.”
Thomas shakes his head. “No, it's not,” he replies. “But they believed in the stability a marriage can provide. They believed it reshapes one's priorities.”
“Yeah, Tiffany is a great reminder that my father always had his priorities straight,” I say, completely deadpan.
“That – was a mistake,” he says. “A mistake he never forgave himself for making. Believe me, I saw how badly he punished himself for it firsthand. But he and your mother – though they had their ups and downs – learned to get over it. Put it behind them. Because they had a stable marriage and never lost sight of their goals or priorities. And that's what they want for you, Brady.”
“Which is great and all,” I say and grin. “Except for the part about having a wife. I have no prospects, hoss.”
He sighs and grimaces. I can tell he's about to say something he either doesn't approve of or something he doesn't like because he looks like he just ate a rotten lemon.
“Marie and I have been married a long time,” he says, looking at the framed picture on his desk. “A long, long time. We're partners in everything.”
I nod, not sure where he's going with this.
“But not every marriage is like ours,” he says. “Other marriages are – well – different.”
“I'm not sure what you're driving at, hoss.”
He sighs and runs a hand over his closely cropped hair. “I'm just saying that I have a lot of respect for the institution of marriage. A deep belief in it.”
I nod slowly, still not understanding. “Okay, I get that, but you're losing me here.”
“I guess I'm having trouble spitting it out only because I personally detest the idea,” he says.
“Let me guess, this is an idea suggested by a certain burly lawyer friend of ours,” I say.
Thomas gives me a wry grin. “Se
e? You are a lot brighter and more intuitive than you give yourself credit for,” he says. “Our burly lawyer friend and I were spitballing recently –”
“And by spitballing, you mean trying to find a suitable woman to throw in my path?”
He grins. “Something like that.”
“And? What did you two Cupids from hell come up with?”
“Well, I still believe that in two years, you can find a suitable match,” he says. “But during our discussion, a point was raised that there are marriages that are more like – business partnerships.”
“Business partnerships,” I say flatly.
Thomas nods. “Oh, I can think of a few prominent political couples whose marriage was little more than a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
I rub at the stubble on my chin. “Huh,” I say. “So, you think I just need to find a girl and propose a business arrangement? A little you scratch my back, I scratch yours deal?”
That look of distaste appears on his face again. “I'm not suggesting any such thing,” he says. “All I'm saying is that some believe it's – an option. And with time beginning to run short, perhaps it's an option you shouldn't remove from the table entirely.”
I can tell he's uncomfortable with even throwing that out there as an option. Thomas is a good man who values marriage and family above everything else. I can tell the very idea of a sham marriage to satisfy a requirement for my inheritance turns his stomach and goes against everything he believes in. But he had to be the one to float it out there because Kendrick couldn't, given his position.
The fact that he floated it out there at all though, tells me just how serious the situation is. Or at least, how seriously they're taking it.
“All I know is that this company cannot fall into Tiffany Greene's hands, Brady,” he says. “This is your father's legacy. Your legacy. And if she wins, she'll destroy it all in a heartbeat. And she will hurt a lot of people in the process.”
“I understand,” I say. “I just need a little time to think.”
“I'd expect that you would.”
I put my hat back on and get to my feet. Thomas comes around and pulls me into a tight embrace. A moment later, he steps back and gives me a smile.
“I haven't been keeping that chair warm for the last couple of years,” he says, “just to let some spiteful, greedy little girl sell it off to the highest bidder.”
“I know you haven't, hoss,” I say. “And I'm going to do everything I can not to disappoint you.”
Thomas nods. “That's all I can ask.”
I leave the Keating building and feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. The lives and livelihood of more than fifty thousand people rests on my ability to meet my two obligations – which are getting married, and apparently learning to ask for help.
My mind is swirling in a million different directions and I'm not entirely sure what to think. It feels like there's a hellacious storm brewing. It's out on the horizon, still two years away, but it's like I can see the thunderheads already gathering. The clouds are pitch black and promise to bring ruin and destruction.
Unless I can somehow manage to head it off.
The driver holds the door open for me and I slip into the back seat, lost in thought. But as he pulls away from the curb, an idea begins to form in my mind. And by the time we're halfway home, I'm feeling really good about it.
“This can work,” I say. “This can really work.”
Chapter Ten
Amanda
I climb the stairs to my apartment after another fruitless day of job hunting. I don't have enough experience for this place. I don't have the right kind of experience for that place. Everywhere I went, all I got were doors slammed in my face. It's all so frustrating and scary, and all I want to do is cry.
“Amanda.”
The familiar voice freezes me in my tracks at the top of the stairs.
Get HOT daddy HERE.
Other Works
Fake Marriage with My Friend
*This is an exclusive short I wrote just for you, I hope you enjoy it! – R.R.
Chapter One
Veronica
It's a beautiful October day in Southern California – the kind of day that reminds me of why I moved out here in the first place. The sun is out but there's a cool ocean breeze carrying the scent of the ocean. New York – where I grew up – had its own charms, but I actually feel like this is where I'm supposed to be. Much to my mother's chagrin.
The weather isn't the only reason I bailed out of New York, but it certainly helps. No, I needed to leave some things in that past – where they belong – and start fresh. For us. We needed a new, blank page to start building our life on.
I look down at Justin, my five-year-old son, and can't help but smile. He's the light of my life. My world. There is literally nothing I would not do for my boy.
We're sitting on the patio of Oscar's, a quaint little cafe that sits just off PCH, giving us a view of the Huntington Beach pier and the Pacific Ocean. Brunch at Oscar's has been a tradition for a little while now – just me, Justin, and Caleb.
“What are you thinking about?” Caleb asks.
I take a sip of my mimosa and smile. “Just enjoying the day,” I say. “And a little quality time with my two favorite guys on the planet.”
Caleb raises his glass. “I'll drink to that.”
I giggle. “You'll drink to almost anything.”
He shrugs and gives me a grin. “Guilty as charged.”
“Is that good, sweetheart?” I ask.
He nods, smiling around the big piece of his chocolate chip pancake he had stuffed into his mouth. Justin makes some sort of grunting noise I can only interpret as an affirmative response to my question.
“Smaller bites next time, please,” I say. “You're a five-year-old boy, not a wild animal.”
“Experts say both groups have a lot in common though,” Caleb says and winks at Justin.
Caleb is my best friend. I met him shortly after I'd moved to California and we'd dated briefly. But the connection – that spark – just wasn't there between us. But we've been best friends ever since. I honestly cannot picture my life without him in it. I don't think I'd want to, to be perfectly blunt. He's my rock. My emotional support. When the whole world is falling apart around me, I know that Caleb will always be there to help me put it back together again, no questions asked.
“So, how did your date with little Miss Prom Queen go last night?” I ask. “Did you have her home before curfew?”
“Oh, you've got jokes this morning,” he chuckles.
I shrug. “When your best friend is dating a girl, who looks like she's in high school, the jokes kind of write themselves.”
“For your information,” he says. “She's a sophomore at UCLA. She's studying – something. I actually forgot her major.”
“Oh, she goes to an actual college. That's impressive,” I reply. “And here I thought if she wasn't still babysitting, she'd be in cosmetology school or an online college or something.”
“Lots and lots of jokes today,” he says.
“You'd be disappointed if I didn't give you a hard time.”
“This is true.”
“So?” I ask. “How did it go?”
He shrugs. “It was okay,” he replies. “Turns out she and I don't have a lot in common. Not a lot of chemistry there.”
“I could've told you that,” I say. “Other than looking amazing in a tight dress – and believe me, I'm jealous as hell of how she looks – there didn't seem to be a lot going on upstairs.”
He grins. “No, there really wasn't,” he says. “The conversation was less than lively. And you'd look just as great in that dress.”
I scoff at him. “Hardly.”
“It's true.”
The waitress comes by to check on us, refilling our mimosas and ruffled Justin's hair, making him giggle uncontrollably. She gives us a smile and leaves again.
“What about you?” Caleb asks
.
“What about me?”
“When are you going to dip your toes back into the dating pool again?”
“Probably when this one goes away to a good college.”
I take a drink of my mimosa and look over at Justin, stroking his soft, dark hair. I'm glad to see that he took after me a bit more than the sad sack of an excuse for a father he has. Except for the eyes – Justin's steely-grey eyes are definitely his father's. They'll knock the girls dead, but they're a reminder to me of the terrible man I'd allowed myself to get wrapped up in.
But then, without that terrible man, I wouldn't have this little bundle of awesomeness in my life. Have to take the good with the bad, I guess. I just hate the idea of Justin getting old enough to start asking about his father. What am I supposed to say? As far as I know, his father – a scumbag named Glenn – is still doing time back in New York. Rikers or Sing Sing or someplace like that.
The only thing I know for sure is that I'm glad to be out of there and away from all of that. Once Glenn went inside, I'd made up my mind to pack my things and head for California. I needed a fresh start for me, but most of all, I needed to put as much distance as possible between my son and that scumbag Glenn. There is no way in hell I'm ever going to let Justin have anything to do with that man. Never.
“Come on, Veronica,” he says. “Don't you think it's time you get back on that horse? It's been how long since your last date?”
My laugh sounds a little more bitter than I intend. “I think the last date I went on was with you.”
“Exactly,” he says. “That was what, three years ago?”
I shrug. “Give or take.”
“You deserve to be happy. To have some fun,” he says and takes a sip of his mimosa.
Justin looks up at me with wide eyes and a smile stretched across his face, pancake crumbs clinging to his lips. I pick up a napkin and wipe them away.
“My life is all about this one right now,” I say, tweaking Justin's nose.
