by Lexi Whitlow
“Linda Davies forwarded me your reply to Darryl last night,” Jenna says. “Your little feud with him could cost us the company! I saw what was being said online this morning. All because you and your boyfriend had to go out in public and get your picture taken together. You should have known there was potential for that to blow up.”
I fix her with a cold glare despite the fire that’s rising in my chest. Best friend or not, I’m not going to sit here and take that from her.
“So I can’t go out in public with Justin?” I ask. “Because someone might think we’re business partners? I didn’t even know there was anyone there with a camera, Jenna! And besides, I’m not going to live my life in secret just because Darryl Lawrence has a grudge against Justin and me.”
“Perception is reality, Sarah.” Jenna’s more worked up that I’ve ever seen her. “If people believe that you’re in bed with Justin Lucas, they’re going to think that PinkBook is on the decline. When that happens, share prices drop and everyone starts deserting the ship.”
“She’s right,” says Candice. “My team can’t confirm or deny the report about the data breach and the FBI; all they know is that someone hacked us, and it’s entirely possible that the user data ended up in the hands of a shady information broker. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because the story is already out there.”
My anger is boiling now, but I have to take a deep breath so that I don’t direct it at them. This isn’t their fault, it’s Darryl’s. And I have to face the fact that some of it was mine, too. I should have handled this yesterday, and I should have been more diplomatic.
“I told Justin this morning that responding to rumors just gives them credence that they don’t deserve, and it makes matters worse. Now, we’ve got a ton of new content ready to roll out this week, and if we focus on that, we can get the public’s attention away from the bullshit and focus it back where it belongs. This will blow over.”
Jenna and Candice turn to Millie. “What do you think?” Candice asks. “You’re CFO; how much danger are we really in if we ignore this?”
“It’s impossible to know.” Millie sounds like an ER doctor talking to a nervous family. “As you know, all our capital is tied up in the new content, and we’re relying on that to even out subscription revenue. If that happens, we’re gold. But if shareholders act on these rumors before the rollout and start selling, the price will drop. That doesn’t mean all that much in the short term, but it does open up the very real possibility that someone will snatch up those shares, which could lead to new ownership. And I think we can all agree that would be the worst-case scenario.”
She’s right. PinkBook is the result of the four of us, no one else. When we went public, we made sure that we maintained a growth curve that kept the board from questioning us. They trusted us to keep the ship on course, and we rewarded that faith with good dividends and a rising stock price.
But then we hit the perfect storm: we lagged on content, then we got our user data stolen and finally Darryl Lawrence started being an asshole. The board will only take so much before they start to get nervous. Even Linda, who’s been our biggest cheerleader since Day 1, is forwarding my texts to Jenna.
“Candice,” I say. “Can you guarantee the new series will be ready to stream by Thursday?”
She nods. “That much is still on track. Everything is just going through a final de-bugging and we should be good to go.”
“Good. I think we need to push that as hard as we can. Netflix and Hulu don’t care about our stock prices, they only care about content. So let’s leverage with them on an announcement. We can use their good will to shore us up through this whole thing. More people will pay attention to their brand names than any business blogger.”
Jenna nods, and for the first time this morning, her armor seems to come off. Thank God—I’ve known for years that she’s not someone you want to go head-to-head with for very long.
“I could set up a joint news conference,” she says. “Get some of their execs to share the podium with you and announce everything.”
“Do you think they’ll agree?” asks Candice.
“They’ve been wonderful partners so far,” I say. “If it doesn’t cost them anything, I’m sure they’ll spare some people.”
“I’ll get to work on it right away,” says Jenna.
“Great. Candice, can you—”
“Double check the rollout deadline and put more resources on the data breach? On it.”
“I’ll get on the phone with some media contacts I have,” says Millie. “Feed them the story that it was just a weekend getaway in the Hamptons and that nothing shady was going on. They trust me.”
“Atta girl,” I grin. “Confuse ‘em with the truth.”
We stand there for a moment, looking at each other, all of us unsure of what comes next.
“This is the Gang of Four that turned PinkBook into what it is today,” I say finally. “The ones who turn adversity into opportunity. And this is why I would never, ever want to work with anyone else.”
Jenna steps forward and wraps an arm around my neck. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I was just scared.”
“We all were,” says Candice. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I’m not sorry,” says Millie.
We all turn to her, our mouths open. She gives us an evil grin.
“I just didn’t want to be that girl who goes along with everything the crowd says. That’s not what PinkBook is about.”
We all break up into giggles and clutch together in a group hug. It’s more cathartic than I would have imagined, because all of us have tears streaming on our cheeks. Eventually, we break apart and wipe at our eyes with our palms.
“All right,” I sniff. “Enough lollygagging. Time to get to work.”
As they file out the door, I stop them with a “One more thing.”
They turn to me, their eyebrows raised.
“This is going to be a street fight,” I say. “It’s time we showed everyone why we call ourselves a ‘gang.’”
They nod in unison and then head out of the office, and in my mind all I can hear is Eye of the Tiger.
The buzz on my intercom brings me out of the work coma I’ve been in for the last three hours. It’s rare that I get so much uninterrupted time to get stuff done, and I let myself get carried along by the steady flow of striking things off my to-do list.
I glance at my watch to see that it’s already 12:15. It must be Evelyn at reception telling me Justin is here to pick me up for lunch.
I hit the button. “Tell him I’ll be right out, Ev.”
“Uh, Ms. Bauer, Mr. Lawrence is here. He’s, uh, insisting to see you.”
My stomach goes cold at the sound of his name, but at the same time I feel a flame rising in my chest. I didn’t ask for this meeting, but now that it’s here, I’m glad of it. That little prick is going to get both barrels.
Rein it in, Rocky, my brain protests. Look what your anger did yesterday. Play it cool.
I take a deep breath and let it out through my nose before hitting the button again.
“Send him in, please.”
Thirty seconds later, Darryl Lawrence storms through the door of my office to find me sitting behind my desk, ensconced in spreadsheets.
“What can I do for you, Darryl?” I ask without looking up.
“Actually, it’s what I can do for you. First off, I wanted to apologize for that bad business yesterday. I was out of line.”
I look up at him and motion for him to sit.
“I appreciate that, and I apologize as well. Not that it’s an excuse, but it was Sunday.”
“If only it was still Sunday,” he sighs as he takes the chair opposite me. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news by now. Things are—well, PinkBook is in a bit of a pickle, to say the least.”
“We’ll be fine,” I say evenly. “Is that all you came here for?”
His eyes flash; every time I do this, his face telegraphs the fact that he hat
es being talked to in that manner by a woman. Which is why I do it as often as I can.
“We both know that’s not true, Sarah. This company is at the beginning of a tailspin. But I’m here to offer my services to help pull it back out.”
My grin is sharp as a blade. “That’s very nice of you, but my people are on it.”
“Your people are guppies, Sarah; I’m a shark. I can make this go away with my influence in this city. All I want in return is for you to acknowledge my role in founding the company. That’s not so much to ask, is it?”
I fight against the bile rising inside me and manage to keep my voice under control. I’m not going to raise my voice, but the time for diplomacy is over. I was stupid to think otherwise.
“Pardon my bluntness, Darryl, but you were more than fairly compensated for your initial investment when the company went public. If I remember right, you netted $1.5 million in stock, which, if my math is correct, is a hundred times your buy-in. Even the most savage of sharks would be quite satisfied with that kind of return on investment.”
He smiles, but his eyes are blazing. “Exactly my point. I leveraged my investment to a huge degree. I could do the same now, if you just let me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head slightly as if to clear it. “I must have misheard you. Are you taking credit for PinkBook’s success?”
“You have to admit, Sarah, it was my money that got this place off the ground. And I’ve been here every step of the way.”
“You’ve been to monthly board meetings!” So much for keeping my voice down. “And all you’ve done at those is suck up to the successful members and try to convince them to get into business with you!”
Any hope I had of this thing not going off the rails flies out the window as he pushes himself out of his chair and points a finger at me.
“If you think the board is just ignoring all of this and saying, ‘oh, Sarah will fix everything,’ then you’re dreaming,” he growls. “Go ahead and check the NYSE: stock prices are already dropping. I’ve talked with board members who’re already hinting at selling before things get worse. They’re not going to offer you help, Sarah. As far as I can see, I’m the only one doing that.”
I blink at him, astounded by the fact that he would believe I’d ever buy such a line of utter bullshit.
“By doing what?” I ask. “Quashing rumors that I’m pretty sure you started in the first place?”
His eyes widen; he knows I’m onto him now. But it instantly turns back into a smug grin.
“I could simply tell them I got my lines crossed,” he says. “Everything’s fine at PinkBook, it’s all been overblown, the executive has the confidence of the board. All I ask for is recognition.”
“Of course!” I snap. “Because your name is already in the Dumpster in this city, and you need another one to drop so that you can con even more people into giving you money!”
“I am still a member of this company’s board, and I’m not going to be spoken to like that.”
“You need to leave,” I say, but there’s no force behind my words. He’s rattled me more than I would have thought possible.
“You don’t tell me when to leave, little girl,” he sneers.
“All right, then,” says a voice from behind him. “I’ll do it.”
We both turn to see Justin standing in the office doorway.
“Get the fuck out of here now, Lawrence,” he says. “Or trust me, you’re going to regret it.”
18
Justin
Darryl Lawrence’s eyes almost fall out of his head when he sees me. The only reason his teeth aren’t flying out of his head, too, is because we’re in a public place and Sarah is watching.
“You have no business here!” he shouts.
“Lower your voice,” I say evenly as I close the door behind me. I can hear people starting to murmur in the outer office as it thwacks shut behind me. “I apologize for my language, Sarah. Everything all right?”
The look on her face tells me everything obviously isn’t all right, but I’ve already said I’m not going to meddle in her business. Sure, every part of me wants to toss this creep down the elevator shaft, but I’m going to bite my tongue and let her deal with it.
For now.
She clears her throat. “Mr. Lawrence was just leaving, Justin. I’m ready for our lunch.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Lawrence snipes. “This is far from over.”
“Do I have to call security?” asks Sarah.
He rolls his eyes. “I’m on the board, remember? No one’s going to remove me from this place.”
“I’d be more than happy to,” I offer. “On the assumption that security won’t, that is.”
Lawrence quails and holds up his hands in mock terror. “Oh, no, the incredible Justin Lucas is mad at me! Whatever will I do?” The look vanishes, replaced by his trademark sneer. “I said it before, Lucas, this is none of your concern. Why don’t you go find a nursing home to close down or something? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Ruin people’s lives for profit?”
Sarah lets out an exasperated sigh. Now that she’s had a chance to compose herself, she’s back in the fight.
“You’re not talking to him, Darryl, you’re talking to me. And I say we’re done.”
He ignores her, which is somehow worse in my eyes than anything he’s said so far, and keeps his eyes fixed on me.
“You think you’re some sort of wunderkind, don’t you?” he asks. “The upstart billionaire who figured out how to predict when companies are vulnerable. Except here’s what you don’t get, Lucas: in this city, people aren’t just in it for the money. It’s the responsibility that comes with knowing that your money puts food on the table for thousands of people. That those people look up to you and respect you. And that you’re one of the truly important people who stand above it all, running the show.”
“You must be talking about your father,” I say. “Because you sure as hell aren’t talking about yourself.”
That gets him going. “You’re nothing but a motherless white trash computer geek who found a secret key to the back door and made off with the safe! What do you produce, Lucas? Nothing! You deal in misery. You buy it low and sell it high and pocket the difference. You can point to any spot on the skyline and you’ll see a building my family built. What can you point to in this city and say ‘I did that’?”
“I could toss you out the window and point at you while you fall,” I shrug.
“You cocky little bastard,” he hisses. “I’ll tell you what the real power brokers in Manhattan say about you: they say you need to be put down like a rabid guard dog. That you’re nothing but a cancer on this city, eating things from the inside. That you always have been and always will be low-class trash. Your mother didn’t want you, and neither does New York.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say. “I’ll make sure to leave them off the guest list for my next social gathering.”
“Speaking of that,” Sarah chimes in, “the Preston family was pretty impressed with him at their party this weekend. I don’t recall seeing any Lawrences there, though. They must have been too busy saving the Big Apple from ruin.”
I grin as her fists dig into the top of her hips. That’s my girl.
Lawrence rounds on her. “My family owns this town!” There’s honest-to-God rage in his face now. “You think you can waltz into New York from whatever little shit-splat you crawled out of in Indiana and be taken seriously by the movers and shakers here? Don’t make me laugh!”
“Your family owns it,” she says. “Not you. All you own is debt and a failing company. And I’ll be damned if I let you use my company to shore up yours.”
“Your company?” he laughs. “You honestly believe you and your dyke friends are anything more than window dressing? You’re just a pair of tits and a smile, honey. Trust me, if you and your so-called ‘gang’ were plain-looking, this joke of a company would never have gotten off the ground, and you woul
d have been crawling back to your weird little family with your tail between your legs. You’d be churning butter right now instead of talking back to one of the biggest names in Manhattan.”
I see Sarah’s face drop, and suddenly my teeth are clenched. I worked for years to tame the temper that was a result of the life I lived growing up, but it’s still there under the surface. And if what I’m about to do upsets Sarah, then I guess I’ll just have to deal with that later. No one is going to talk like that about her when I’m around.
“That’s it,” I growl. Instantly my hand is grabbing the collar of his jacket. “You’re outta here.”
The look of horror on his face is priceless. I’d bet a billion dollars that no one has ever laid hands on him like this in his life. The fact that I get to be the first makes it that much more satisfying.
I pull him out the door and into the main office, where everyone suddenly scatters away from the area outside Sarah’s office and pretends to be busy. A few can’t help themselves from watching the spectacle, though, as he struggles in vain and shouts curses like a duck quacking into the wind.
“You’ll all pay! I know every one of your names! Oh, you’ll regret this! I’ll sue!”
As we reach the reception area, I see a pair of uniformed guards arriving. Evelyn must have called them when the shouting started. They’re big, burly guys, and they’re about to pull us apart when I yank Lawrence towards me so that his nose is only inches from mine.
“If you ever try to get in a room with Sarah alone again, you’ll pay in every way imaginable,” I hiss. “I’ll break your company, and then I’ll break you.”
The color drains from his face as the guards grab us each by the shoulder. I throw my hands up and put on a smile.
“A misunderstanding, officers,” I say amiably. “Mr. Lawrence was late for a meeting and I was helping him out.”
They watch him pull down his collar and smooth his jacket, trying to regain his composure.
“Is there a problem, sir?” they ask.
