Whole Latte Love (The Jewells)

by Ayala, Rachelle

  “I see.” Carina tilted her head and touched her chin. “That’s why you wanted me to replace the earnings comparable with some nebulous discounted future cash flow.”

  “Exactly. Since no one can see the future, we give it the best case prediction. Hockey stick. Always hockey stick.” Rebecca hooked her finger and traced an upward swoosh.

  “So, essentially, we’re inventing revenue.”

  “No, we’re projecting it based on market data and economic trends. Of course, we’re optimistic.” Rebecca picked up a hockey stick and handed it to Carina. “Congratulations. I’m offering you a job upon graduation and you’ll be the keynote speaker at the Intern Banquet next week. Make sure to invite your parents.”

  Carina gasped. She got the offer! Her parents would be so proud. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of. Keynote speaker at a bulge-bracket investment bank end-of-summer banquet, the envy of all the other interns, and an opportunity to be visible to the owners and partners of the firm as well as their honored guests: senators, congressmen, international bankers and professors from the leading business schools.

  Her throat tightened and she placed the hockey stick on Rebecca’s desk. “I can’t take the job.”

  “What did you just say?” Rebecca’s mouth dropped into the shape of an oblong oval.

  “I quit.”

  Carina strode out of Rebecca’s office and flicked off her voice recorder. Gotcha, bitch.

  “Carina! How dare you walk out after all I’ve done for you?” Rebecca stomped after her. “I’ll make sure you’ll never work in this industry, ever.”

  “Wonderful. Feel free to badmouth me to anyone who’ll listen.” Carina opened her desk drawer and removed her personal items. She stripped her ID card from her wallet and threw it on the desk. “Thank you for an enlightening education on the world of high finance, or should I say, low down skanky dealing.”

  “You’re finished,” Rebecca shouted. “You’ll never be a banker.”

  “Hallelujah.” Carina raised her fist. She spun on her heels and marched down the corridor. Her coworkers emerged from their cubicles like prairie dogs looking out of their holes, but no one said anything.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dylan pulled a plastic box from under his bed. Turkestan roaches, the latest in the feeder roach market. Unlike the crickets Carina killed, they didn’t smell and make noise, and they were easier to keep clean and could thrive off dried dog or cat food.

  “Come on, Bella,” he said to the tarantula, “eat up. You’re going home to your owner.”

  Using a long pair of metal tweezers, Dylan grabbed a male roach and dropped it in front of Bella. The roach scurried around Bella’s legs. She swooped on it and gobbled it up.

  After she finished her meal, Dylan put Bella in her plastic carrier. He then scooped Tykie, the bearded dragon, from her terrarium and put her on a towel draped over his shoulder.

  He checked his cell phone to make sure of the time. Rebecca’s admin had left him a message to meet at Rebecca’s place over lunch.

  “Show time.” He tucked Bella’s box under his arm and marched to the BART station.

  An hour later, he emerged from a taxicab in front of Rebecca’s Russian Hill penthouse. The breathtaking view from the top-level street entrance boasted a panoramic scene sweeping from the Presidio and the Golden Gate Bridge to the North Bay Marin headlands.

  He texted Rebecca and she came to the door.

  “This better be good.” She waved him into the combination living area with floor-to-ceiling windows. A high, exposed-beamed ceiling gave the penthouse an open feel.

  Rebecca, as expected, was perfectly put together. Lush red hair sprayed into place, lips lined, eyebrows tattooed and her signature beauty mark penciled in.

  “I brought your babies back.” Dylan set Bella’s box on the Louis XIV-style entry table near the doorway.

  “I see. Well, thanks.” Rebecca ignored Bella and strode to the bar. She tipped open a decanter and poured him a drink. “Glenrothes Vintage 1987, sold out. Distilled the year of the stock market crash.”

  Dylan inhaled the elegant spicy and softly fruity bouquet, then sipped. Smooth, caressing, seductive, much like Rebecca, but with more depth and pull through.

  He set the glass tumbler on the counter. Gently, he untangled the lizard’s claws from the towel and placed her on Rebecca’s couch. “Goodbye, girl. I’m going to miss you.”

  Rebecca swallowed her scotch and her cheeks reddened. “I’m proud of you, Dylan Jewell.”

  A hornet’s nest of emotions buzzed his head. “Proud? What are you talking about?”

  “Rich said you’re going on the tour.” Rebecca crossed the room to the sliding glass door. “View’s better on the balcony, come.”

  At his hesitation she added, “I’m not going to push you over the edge.”

  “How do you know I won’t push?” He stepped to the railing, unable to suppress a grin.

  Rebecca looped her arms around his waist. “I go down, you go down.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I have plans.” Dylan took her hands and removed them from his body. “So what are you so proud about?”

  Her lips twisted. “It’s obvious. You managed to fuck up a sure thing. Rich was going to give you the job of your dreams, but you’d rather screw me on the pre-nup, didn’t you?”

  “I’m just glad my father sees through you.” Dylan sniffed. “I know you’re Pretty Kitty. What I don’t know is why you’re trying to send me on a tour when you told my father you’re recruiting me for his firm.”

  “Wait a minute.” Rebecca’s eyebrows knit. “What does Pretty Kitty have to do with your tour?”

  “You deny it? My lawyer says you’re fronting for a charitable foundation.”

  She leaned back against the railing and laughed. “You ought to fire your lawyer. Pretty Kitty is unrelated to the foundation. Rob Swindle, who used to work for me, runs it.”

  “Maybe you better check why he’s using foundation money to invest in the tour.”

  The color dropped from Rebecca’s face. Her jaw tightened and she clutched the base of her neck. “Get out. I have work to do.”

  “I’m not leaving until I get answers.”

  “You and me both.” Rebecca stomped from the balcony and flipped through her purse. She extracted her cell and made a call. “Did you invest Warspring funds in a local rock band?”

  Dylan stuck close to her, but all he could hear was a booming male voice.

  “I’m pulling the management contract,” she screeched. “I don’t care that it’s a small portion of the investment fund.”

  The voice at the other end laughed.

  “Oh, I get it,” Rebecca said through gritted teeth. “You thought you’d get revenge for your own ‘short’ ‘comings.’”

  She made a wry face when she emphasized the words ‘short’ and ‘comings.’

  Dylan turned away. He didn’t need to have heard that cut down.

  Rebecca pushed the ‘end call’ button and shook her phone.

  “Who was that? What happened?” Dylan asked.

  “Rob Swindle invested in your band. He used my foundation’s funds, but I’m cancelling it. There’s not going to be a tour.”

  A wet blanket descended on Dylan. No tour. What would his bandmates do? They’d counted on him to sign and get their bonuses and salary advance. Nico had sold his car already, and the others were ending their leases.

  Too bad he’d been right in suspecting the overly generous terms. It had all been part of Rob’s revenge on Rebecca.

  Anger rumbled and boiled. All of Rebecca’s manipulations were for nothing—unless he could make a deal.

  Dylan tapped Rebecca’s shoulder. “Think you’d want to sponsor a tour for my band mates? I’ll stay behind if you want, maybe even take up a job with my dad.”

  Rebecca’s mouth spread with a sidelong smile, and her hands slid up Dylan’s torso, caressing every muscle. “Now you’re talking. You know, I might ju
st consider it. Here’s what I want.”

  “Go ahead.” He swallowed something gritty in the back of his throat.

  She wiggled her toned abdomen against his crotch. “Don’t forget. I can tell if you’re lying.”

  Shit. Disgust ground in Dylan’s gut as Rebecca’s breath steamed in his face, a mixture of alcohol and coffee. She pressed her lips against his, but he twisted away.

  “Kiss me,” she ordered.

  “No, you’re my father’s fiancé.”

  “Not if you’re going to be a partner at Jewell Capital. I’d rather have the younger, more virile Jewell, especially since he’s hung like a horse and fucked his last date so good she missed an entire day of work. What did you do, keep her tied up in your bed?”

  “What did you say?” He pushed himself from Rebecca’s grip.

  “Too bad she only did you for a job offer.” Rebecca crossed her arms, pushing up her breasts, and shook her head.

  “You leave her out of this. You’re the one who made her do it.”

  “She seemed quite willing, even bragged about it.” Rebecca swiped her cell phone. “Texted me everything. You know what gets me? She seemed so innocent and sweet, but she’s an effing slut.”

  “She’s not.” Dylan’s blood pressure surged. “You pressured her into this. You manipulated her. She’s just an intern. All she ever wanted was to work hard and do a good job, but you made her take on this project.”

  “Oh, she did a great job all right. She got the suspicious Dylan Jewell, the guy who’d never spend the night, to service her all night and into the next day. You had her so knotted up she didn’t even return my calls.” Rebecca threw her head back and laughed. “Too bad she used you. No one, I tell you, no one will ever love you the way I did.”

  “Thank God for that.” Dylan marched to the door. He glanced at Tykie, who hadn’t moved from her position on the leather couch and patted Bella’s box. “Bye, girls.”

  “And you know what the punch line is?” Rebecca continued to gloat. “The idiot quit. After all that, she quit because she couldn’t take the heat. She was never cut out to be an investment banker. No guts. No glory.”

  What? A electric spark zapped the back of Dylan’s scalp. Carina actually quit! Yes! A rumble of laughter erupted low in his belly. Wow, that woman would never stop amazing him.

  Dylan exited Rebecca’s lair, slamming the door behind him. He whipped out his phone and called Carina. Again, it went to voicemail. He texted her: Hey, Car. Let me know you’re okay.

  Where would she go now that she quit, or had Rebecca been lying? And what was this about missing a day of work? Carina would never do this unless something was seriously wrong. He called her again.

  Dammit. Answer your phone.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dylan crossed the street and entered the lobby of Mogul Bank. A receptionist eye-balled him up and down, a seductive smile brightening her face. He faltered. Was his fly down or had Rebecca left him rumpled?

  “May I help you?” She handed him a tissue and pointed to her own cheek.

  Oh crap. He probably had lipstick on his face.

  He wiped the side of his mouth. “Yes, I’m here to visit Carina Chen. She’s a summer intern analyst.”

  “Sure, fill out the visitor’s log and I’ll look her up.” She typed into her computer. “How do you spell her last name again?”

  “C. H. E. N.”

  “Nope, not here. Let me call HR.”

  The elevator opened and a group of interns exited. Dylan recognized them from the club. Bunch of arrogant pricks.

  “Oh, look, it’s Jewell’s boy.” A tall, brown-haired man stared down his nose at him. Not an easy feat since Dylan was taller than him. “I’m Hal Becker, Harvard. My dad is your father’s frat brother.”

  The man with the sandy blond hair who’d danced too close to Carina snickered. “Looking for someone?”

  “Uh, no.” Dylan stepped away from the receptionist’s desk.

  “Sir?” the receptionist said. “She’s no longer working here. Terminated this morning.”

  “Yes, terminated.” The blond guy rubbed his hands. “I’m now the lead on the project she worked so hard on.”

  “Whatever.” Dylan turned to the receptionist. “Thanks for your time.”

  Worry struck his heart, and he ran to the BART station. Where had Carina gone after she’d left the laundry room if she skipped out on work?

  An hour later, a text message arrived as he was walking toward his apartment. It was from Owen: Call me. It’s about Warspring International.

  Dylan punched in the number. “What’s up?”

  “Things are getting more and more interesting.” Owen chuckled. “Did you know your mother was the founder of Warspring?”

  “What?”

  “Yep. Ava Jewell. She left Rebecca as the trustee.”

  “What the hell?” Dylan slumped onto the mosaic bench in front of his building. “Why?”

  “Says here Rebecca Morley is the trustee until your father designates a new one.”

  How could his mother have left the trust to Rebecca? Sure, they’d been close, and Rebecca had always worshipped his mother. But this? Pain gripped Dylan’s temple and his eyes ached. How could Mother have favored Rebecca over him?

  “Owen, listen up,” Dylan said. “I have to get control of Warspring. My friends need to go on the tour, and I have a plan. We can do charitable benefit concerts and philanthropy. I’m going to structure a tour that’ll make sense financially and benefit the children.”

  “Okay, okay,” Owen said. “I’ll call your father and challenge the designation.”

  “Thanks, let me call my dad, too.” Dylan hung up and knocked his head against the wall. How the hell was he going to tell his Dad Rebecca came on to him and then ask for control of his mother’s foundation?

  Taking a deep breath, he placed a call to his father.

  Rich answered on the third ring. “I’ve got your lawyer on the other line. If it’s about Warspring, I’m transferring it to you.”

  “Wait, there’s more.” Dylan rubbed his sweaty palm on his jeans. “Rebecca came on to me today.”

  “Let me end the call with Owen. Hold on.” His father’s voice was strained.

  He returned a minute later. “Okay, you have control of Warspring. Tell me what happened with Rebecca.”

  Dylan gave a summary, leaving out the part about Rebecca wanting the younger Jewell. “And the worst part of it? She claims no other woman could possibly love me as much as she. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really very sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Rebecca has issues, deep seated psychological ones.”

  “You’re telling me. Are you going to break up with her?”

  “No, I’ll keep her on a tighter leash.”

  “You deserve better,” Dylan said. “Why would you stay with her?”

  “That’s not for me and you to discuss.” Rich’s voice was gruff. “You go fix things with your girl, the Asian one. She’s the one who really loves you. Stop letting your anger cloud that spidey-sense you have. She turned down a lucrative job offer from Rob Swindle, and I heard she was offered keynote speaker for the Mogul Intern Banquet next week with a guaranteed return right before she quit.”

  “But, she went along with Rebecca’s schemes.” Dylan squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his aching temples. “Maybe she got a better offer or found something else she’d rather do.”

  “Maybe.” His father hung up.

  Chapter 30

  Dylan packed the superworms and roaches into live insect shipping crates and brought them to the post office. He couldn’t be sure Rebecca would have the time to order Bella and Tykie’s food before they starved. Dammit. Why had his mother trusted Rebecca when he couldn’t even trust her with her own pets?

  Maybe she saw something in Rebecca no one else did. His mother had always believed the good in every person, been overly forgiving, even telling him to love and honor his father despite his failings.
Could Mother have loved Rebecca too? Felt sorry for her since she had no family?

  Dylan paid the postage and wished the clerk a happy day. Walking down the steps of the historic building, he took a deep breath. This was Berkeley, his home for so many years. Now that he had the foundation, he could go anywhere in the world.

  But where would he put down roots? He ambled down the sidewalk, walking by the bronzed squares filled with poems, some depicting the people’s struggle, others the existential dilemma of a soul, a spirit yearning for meaning.

  He was drawn to Cups #5 by Robin Blaser [see photo]. True love was a battle, and a jewel under the skin was neither light nor dark. Carina was that jewel, the one worth fighting for.

  Once again, he felt her arms around his legs, her tearful eyes begging him to forgive him. His hand shook as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He’d always been forgiving of others. Why couldn’t he forgive Carina?

  One problem. She wasn’t answering her phone.

  He called Sheila. “Is Carina still around?”

  “Actually, she doesn’t want me to talk about her plans with you.” Sheila’s voice was cold.

  “What?” Dylan turned at the corner and stood under the shade of a building. “Did she say why?”

  “She did, but considering how you treated her, I’m not sure I should let you know.”

  “I never meant to hurt her.” A deep, grinding pain constricted his chest. He plugged his other ear to hear above the traffic noise. Why was Sheila blaming him?

  “I should never have introduced you two,” Sheila continued. “I told you to be careful with her, that she wasn’t experienced. But you made her feel like a slut after you took her virginity.”

  “Wait, you don’t have the entire story.” Dylan gripped his phone tightly. “She only slept with me because Rebecca told her to. I’m not the one judging her if she feels bad about it now.”

  “Forget it.” Sheila huffed. “If you can’t see that Carina’s not Rebecca, you’re a lost cause. Bye.”

  Dylan hung up. What hurt even more was Sheila’s attitude toward him. Sure, he wasn’t a saint, but he’d always practiced random acts of kindness and prided himself in being considerate of people’s feelings, especially women. How could his friend side with Carina?