by Amy Brent
“So, how was your weekend?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t do much. Just flew out to Vegas to look at the Ferrari I bought.”
“Did you drive it back?”
I snorted at him. “You don’t actually drive a car like that Henry. I had them load it onto a climate-controlled car hauler I borrowed from Earnhardt for transport back to Chicago. It should arrive in a day or two.”
A look of judgment came to his eye. “How much did you end up spending? On a car?”
I waved a hand at him, as if the question smelled bad, but not as bad as my answer. “I spent more than I should have, but not as much as I would have.”
“Tanner, how much?”
I blew out a long sigh. “Twenty-eight-point-seven mill for the car and another ten-percent in auction fees,” I said, shrugging off the number like it was pocket change, because that’s what it was to me. He scowled at me. “Okay, so it went a little over estimate. It’s not a big deal. In five years, it will double in value.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’m always right.”
“Are you?”
I glanced over to see him scowling at me. I held out my hands and asked, “What’s up your ass this morning?”
“Your little show on Friday with the Goldman people is what’s up my ass,” Henry said. He gave me the look my dad used to give me whenever I disappointed him, which was most of the time. He shook his head slowly and clicked his tongue. “I’m not going to let you blow this deal, Tanner. It’s too important.”
“I’m not going to blow the deal, Henry,” I said, giving him a dismissive wave. “I really don’t understand why you’re so upset. I thought I was quite the gentleman in that meeting.”
“Of course, you were.”
He blew out a long breath and shook his head again. Some days Henry shook his head so much that I expected it to come loose from his neck.
He said, “Do you have any idea the position you have put me in with the Goldman people? And with Anderson, asking them to completely rework their executive team’s schedule for the week?”
I huffed. “I don’t give a shit about the Goldman people. They work for us, remember? And the Anderson executive team will be out on their ears the moment the final documents are signed if they’re not careful.”
“Well, I do give a shit about them,” Henry said seriously. “Unlike you, I don’t have billions of dollars that lead me to think that I can be a total ass in front of people. Honestly, Tanner, sometimes you act like a spoiled teenager rather than a successful business man. What is your deal?”
“I don’t have a deal,” I said with a sigh. “I just get bored and I like fucking with people. I keep telling you to stop making me attend meetings, but you keep insisting on bringing me along.”
“Because, like it or not, you are the face of Wright Enterprises. You’re the bad boy that gets all the press. You’re the guy that does the Ted Talks that make millennials hang on your every word and spend millions on your products.”
“Do they really?” I asked, pretending to be serious. “Hang on my every word?”
Henry threw up his hands. “You’re being ridiculous.”
I patted his knee. “Henry, you have my word that I will not do anything to mess up this deal. Scouts honor. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“You were never a scout,” Henry said, glancing out the window as if he could no longer stand to look at me. “And honor is something you know nothing about.”
“Ouch,” I said with a smile.
Still facing the window, he said, “I emailed Stan Roberts and told him to leave Candice Carlson in Chicago.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You what?”
He turned to stare me down. I had never seen Henry look more serious. “I told Stan that Candice can remain on the team, but it would be best if she operates from their office in Chicago. So, she will not be coming to Tucson with us.”
Now it was my turn to be sanctimonious.
I asked, “Do you think that’s really fair to Miss Carlson? The poor girl did nothing but show up to a meeting. If anyone should be knocked out of going to Tucson, it’s me, not her.”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it,” he said. “And you have to go. There is no getting out of it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that she was a distraction to you in the meeting. Therefore, I expect that she would be a distraction to you in Tucson. And we can’t have you distracted.”
I shook my head and gave him the disappointed look he so often gave me. “Henry, I thought you were smarter than that.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
I tapped a finger to my chin and made a thoughtful face.
“Would you rather have me distracted and out of the way in Tucson? Or would you rather have me attend all the big meetings and do everything I could to kill the deal?”
Henry’s mouth dropped open as the little lights came on inside his perfectly-coiffed head. He tugged his iPhone from his jacket and found Stan Roberts direct cell number.
“Stan, Henry Costas,” he said, smiling at me. “Please disregard the email I sent you earlier about leaving Candice Carlson in Chicago. After further consideration, I think she will play a vital role in the success of the Anderson acquisition. Yes, that’s correct. Fine. We’ll see you at the airport in an hour.”
Candice
The moment I arrived at Goldman on Monday morning, I received a text from Stan to come to his office. I just blew out a long breath and reconciled myself to the fact that I was being booted off the team.
I had cried myself dry over the weekend, so this morning there were no more tears to give. I put on my armor and emerged from my apartment ready to do battle and take whatever hits the day might bring.
Candice Carlson, the girl who wore her heart on her sleeve and cried at the drop of a dime, was left at the apartment.
Candice Carlson, corporate cunt and hard-assed bitch emerged.
In a moment of pure optimism, I had packed a suitcase for the trip and brought it to the office. I dropped it off in my office on the way to see Stan. There was no way I was going to show up at his door with a suitcase and the assumption that everything was just peachy. Everything wasn’t peachy. I could feel it in my bones.
Stan was standing behind his desk neatly stacking papers into his briefcase when I tapped on his door. Juliette, Bob, and Irving were sitting on the couch in Stan’s office like the three monkeys that see, hear, and speak no evil. Bob and Irving stared into their coffee cups. Juliette had her eyes glued on Bob. There was a slight smirk of satisfaction on her face.
“Morning, Stan,” I said, forcing a smile to keep the tears at bay.
“Morning,” Stan said curtly, glancing up at me. He stared into my eyes for a moment, no doubt choosing the words that would let me down the quickest and easiest. I was dumbfounded when the corners of his lips curled into a smile.
“Just wanted to get everyone together to let you know what the itinerary is for the week,” he said. He came around the desk with four pieces of paper and handed them out to the group.
“Henry Costas emailed that to me earlier. I forwarded a copy of the email to each of you, but I wanted to give you a hard copy we can review in the car on the way to the airport.”
“That’s it?” Juliette asked. She cut her eyes at me. They all did. They all seemed a little surprised that I was still on the team. I certainly was.
“That’s it,” Stan said, moving back around the desk to finish packing his briefcase. He held up his wristwatch when nobody moved. “That’s it. Let’s go, people. The car leaves for the airport in twenty minutes. I’ll meet you all downstairs.”
The Wright Enterprises corporate jet was fueled and ready for takeoff when we arrived at the private hangar. We were met by Henry Costas on the tarmac, but I didn’t see Tanner anywhere.
That was probab
ly a good thing. After the hot imaginary sex we’d had, I wasn’t sure if I could keep from blushing when we came face to face.
The Wright corporate jet was as over the top and impressive as its owner. Pristine white on the outside with the bright red Wright Enterprises logo on the tail; expensive leathers and exotic woods on the inside.
There were eight passenger seats, four on each side of the plane. The seats were configured in sets of two that faced inward to a small table between them.
I buckled in across from Bob for the three-hour trip to Tucson. Henry Costas sat across from Stan. Juliette took the seat directly behind Stan and spent most of the trip hovering over them like an over-eager stewardess. Irving put on a pair of dark sunglasses and would probably sleep the entire way.
After the fastest and smoothest take-off I’ve ever experienced (it was literally like being inside a bullet fired into the air), I opened my laptop to review the itinerary for the week. I looked around the cabin. Still no sign of Tanner. I wondered if he’d changed his mind about joining us in Tucson.
A few minutes into the flight, a man’s deep voice crackled over the speakers mounted in the ceiling above our heads. “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Wright Enterprises flight number 69 with nonstop service from Chicago, Illinois to Tucson, Arizona.”
I smiled. There was something vaguely familiar about the pilot’s voice.
“There are blue skies ahead and we should arrive in Tucson in approximately three hours, twelve minutes, and sixty-nine seconds.”
Bob frowned at me and pointed at the speaker above his head. “Is that Tanner Wright’s voice?”
“The aircraft we are flying today is a brand-spanking new Gulfstream G650 with a price tag of seventy-two-million dollars and sixty-nine cents. The Gulfstream G650 will comfortably accommodate eight passengers and four crew members, can travel up to 7,000 nautical miles nonstop at a max speed of 0.925 Mach, making it the fastest private jet money can buy. I mean, that’s really fucking fast, people.”
I rolled my eyes at Bob. “Yep. The great one himself.”
“So, ladies and gents, on behalf of the real captain and your flight crew, I hope you enjoy your flight and if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.” The speaker was silent for a moment, then he added, “Oh, over and under, I mean over and over, I mean, ah fuck it, you know what I mean.”
I did my best to appear unimpressed, but I was grinning like the Cheshire Cat on the inside. Tanner may have been an obnoxious douchebag billionaire, but he was growing on me. Just a little.
A moment later, the cockpit door sprang open and Tanner appeared with a satisfied grin on his face. He was wearing his usual jeans and a t-shirt, but had added a black sports jacket and a pilot’s cap. He was still wearing the ratty tennis shoes and no socks.
He came through the cabin like a whirlwind, greeting everyone, asking if he could take our drink orders, asking is we needed our membership card to the mile-high club validated. When his little show was over, he set the pilot’s cap on Bob’s head and asked if he might borrow his seat.
Bob was as thick as mud when it came to taking subtle hints. He adjusted the cap on his bald head to ride low over his eyes, but didn’t take it off. He peered up at Tanner with a look of confusion on his face. “I’m sorry, you want to borrow my seat?”
“If you don’t mind, Captain sir,” Tanner said, snapping a salute and clicking his heels together. “There’s another seat over there across from the gentleman who appears to be dead or sleeping very soundly.”
Bob craned his head to look at Irving, then looked up at Tanner and forced a smile. “Sure, I mean, all the seats are the same. Right?”
“That they are,” Tanner said, taking Bob’s hand and tugging him out of the seat. He patted Bob on the back and pointed at the seat across from Irving. “So, since they’re all the same, you won’t mind taking that one.”
I watched as Tanner made a show of escorting Bob to the other seat. He called over one of the flight attendants who stood like sentinels at the back of the plane and asked her to please take good care of his best pal, Bob.
The flight attendant, a gorgeous redhead that looked as if she’d just fallen out of a magazine, put a hand on Bob’s shoulder and promised to take good care of him. Bob gazed up at her like a pound puppy falling in love with its new owner.
I glanced around the cabin. All eyes were on me. Costas and Stan sported matching frowns. If Juliette’s eyes were lasers, they would have already burned through my head.
Fuck them, I thought.
I have not done anything wrong or inappropriate. I am not going to let these people diminish my worth.
I am not going to let them judge me.
I am not going to run into the bathroom and cry like a baby.
I am not going to cry.
I am not.
I am…
“Wow, I didn’t think he would ever leave,” Tanner said with a broad grin as he slid into the seat across from me. He signaled the other flight attendant and she immediately appeared at our table.
“Well, hello, Patricia,” Tanner said with a playful look. “How are you today?”
Patricia, who was the blond clone of the redhead, put her hands behind her back and gave him a picture-perfect smile. “I’m excellent today, Mr. Wright. How are you?”
“You certainly are,” he said, smiling up at her. “And I am fine, thank you for asking.”
“Can I bring you anything?” she asked.
“Yes. I would like a cup of black coffee and a honey bun.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She smiled down at me. “And for you, Miss?”
I stared up at her with my mouth hanging open. She was gorgeous, but there was no pretense or condescension in her eyes. She was there but to serve at the master’s whim. Lucky her.
I finally said, “Um, that sounds fine. I’ll have the same.”
“Don’t forget to warm those buns, honey,” Tanner added with a wink. I saw her smile back at him and immediately suspected there was something more between them. I mean, he was a hot billionaire playboy and she looked like a Victoria’s Secret model moonlighting as a flight attendant. Who could blame either of them if they had mutually joined the mile-high club. I wondered how many times Tanner’s membership card to the club had been stamped.
“So, Miss Carlson,” he said with a sigh. “How was your weekend?” He leaned back in the seat and dug into his pants pocket. His fingers emerged wrapped around the red rubber ball.
“Um, it was fine, Mr. Wright. Thanks for asking.”
“Look, if we’re going to be working together you have to stop calling me Mr. Wright,” he said, making a goofy face. “That sort of title puts a lot of pressure on a guy. Call me Tanner.”
He made me smile, which made him smile.
“Okay, Tanner. Please call me Candice.”
As if on cue, both of us glanced over to find the other passengers staring at us, as if we were performers on a stage and they were the dumbfounded audience witnessing a show they never expected to see. Tanner gave them a hard look and their stares quickly went away.
The attendant delivered our coffee and honey buns. I closed the laptop and stowed it under the seat to make room.
The coffee was steaming hot. I had to let it cool before attempting a sip. How awful would that be, sitting across from a handsome billionaire full of himself and innuendo, then I burn my tongue on hot coffee.
No thank you, that’s one embarrassing moment I don’t need.
Tanner, on the other hand, seemed to have no fear at all of scalding his tongue. He picked up the coffee and blew a cooling breath into the cup, then took a cautious slurp.
“Wow, hot,” he said, smacking his lips. He set down the cup and picked up the honey bun with his free hand and bit off a huge chunk. He closed his eyes and moaned at the taste.
“Have the hot honey buns, people,” he said loudly.
I watched him for a moment. He was almost like a kid; a b
ig, rich, obnoxious kid. He was hot as hell and manly to the max, but there was an innocence there, as well. Maybe he was like me. Maybe the public Tanner and the private Tanner were two very different people. I’d probably never find out, but it certainly was an intriguing prospect.
“So, Candice, let’s talk business,” he said, his tone and expression turning formal again. He sucked the icing from his fingers, then wiped his hand and lips on a napkin.
He said, “Give me your thoughts on the Anderson acquisition.”
“My thoughts?”
“Yes, your thoughts.” He leaned in and peered at me from under his eyebrows. “You’ve read the acquisition documents, I assume.”
I nodded. “I have.”
“And you’re read the company prospectus?”
“I have.”
“And you have our in-house research on Anderson’s financials.”
“I do.” I had to smile at him or my face would crack.
He held up the rubber ball between us on the tips of his fingers and fixed his eyes on it, as if it were a crystal ball that foretold the future.
“So, what do you think? Are we getting a good deal? A fair deal? Are we raping and pillaging their village? Or are we being taken to the bank? What are your thoughts?”
I licked my lips nervously. I knew everyone was listening. Stan would have told me to tell Tanner what he wanted to hear. Juliette would have told me to refer the question to Stan. But I wasn’t being paid to be a yes-woman or to dodge important questions.
I cleared my throat and told him what I really thought.
“Well… Tanner, I think the price you’ve offered is fair, but I do have some concerns about Anderson’s profit and loss statements for the last ten years. There were some discrepancies in the P&Ls that --”
Henry Costas cut me off. “Those P&L’s have been fully vetted by our in-house accountants. There’s no need for you to waste time there, Miss Carlson.”
That was news to me. Reviewing the annual P&L’s since the company opened in 1974 was one of the tasks I’d been assigned, and I told him so.
