by Hart, Alana
Megan glanced at her phone and saw that Thom's PA had already sent the information. "If we let that happen, if I screw things up that badly, then we slowly go under."
Thom stood again. "Actually, you'll go under rather quickly I think, and disappear without a trace. Once your competitors smell that you are wounded..." He smiled at each of them. "I'll do what I can short of lending money. I do wish you luck." And then he left.
Craig dropped his face into his hands. "So now we are in hot pursuit of the vultures of venture capitalism?"
Megan grinned. "I guess we are."
"When we started this company, you didn't want anything to do with them because they take over and often screw things up. I thought you said we could avoid that."
"You're right, and that might have been a mistake on my part. You and I funded the startup with the minimum we thought we could get away with. That worked okay when we weren't taking salaries and had no overhead, but operating on a shoestring has kept us from really dominating the market. In hindsight, if we'd been well capitalized we probably could have done that. We survived anyway until we tangled with Striker Industries. Bill Striker is well-funded. We have your software, but he has both money and good connections in the industry."
"So do you."
"Not like his. He's a salesman and a good one. Whatever you think of him, Bill Striker can sell things."
Craig folded his arms over his chest. "He doesn't know software."
And so Craig had dragged out his hobby horse. It always surprised her to find he still hadn't taken his blinders off, even after all these years. "He doesn't need to. He knows the customers. He knows how to wheel and deal with the distributors and how things need to be packaged to get the corporate types to sign off on purchase orders. The new program moves us into consumer software, and Striker has divisions that have been marketing consumer products, even though they aren't software, for years."
"So we give up?"
She laughed. "No. I just have to come up with the money."
"Then do it."
As Craig started to get up, Lenore stopped him. "If Craig intends to have the program ready in six months, we can't wait until then to start promotion. These action items I've spelled out have lead times and require that we commit to publication deadlines, and we get people started designing logos and artwork and ad copy. We need the money, or some of it, to start doing production work on the promotions at least three months before the launch. Even that is going to be a tight schedule."
Megan sighed. "I know." She looked at her calendar. "Look you two, things only move so fast. I can't force anyone to make a decision, but raising the money, some way, is going to be my only priority. I'll get funding of some kind and a timetable for its release. Once we have those, we can start moving on your to-do list, Lenora. I have no intention of dropping the ball on this."
The air was still tense as Craig and Lenora walked out leaving Megan feeling quite alone. Somehow, she'd never gotten used to being left alone. Sal had left her alone, and she'd never recovered from his absence. Divorcing Craig was different. She'd left him. She'd been the strong one, the one to realize the marriage was profitless for them both. Being alone because you chose it wasn't the same thing at all.
* * * *
After the meeting, Megan went back to her office intending to start making calls, but she sank into her chair feeling tired and overwhelmed and in no mood to make an upbeat sales pitch. She was drained. Empty. Business calls, especially begging calls, needed energy that she couldn't summon. Besides, it was the end of the day and catching people who wanted to be headed home wasn't the best strategy. She closed up her desk and drove home on autopilot, looking forward to arriving.
Megan loved her apartment. She bought it when the company she and Craig worked for was assimilated entirely by a larger one and their division eliminated. They got lovely severance packages; it was the first time in her life she'd ever had a windfall of any kind, and it seemed unreasonable to think such good lightning would strike twice. Their personal relationship had ruptured completely too, so Megan used some of her money to secure some part of her life. She found this apartment, felt the way it called to her and welcomed her, and paid cash for it. She'd taken pains to decorate it with things that made her feel good, with areas to suit her moods, and so that it suited her way of living. She was living alone and created a space that she loved, spacious and airy and open to draw in the north light.
At the time they lost their jobs, Craig had been working out an idea for a new program. Neither he nor the program was of any interest to the new owners, so he and Megan pooled a small amount of money and started Diamond Software. Their intention was to create a company so that he could develop his program, and she could market it. Despite their personal differences, they trusted each other professionally. As businesses go, it wasn't a match made in heaven, but it served in the high-paced streets of high tech. Craig's program was good and well received. When they decided to expand, hiring employees and taking the next step, Megan convinced Thom to invest.
Over time Megan learned that businesses didn't grow like trees and instead took a path that was more like a journey up a flight of stairs, moving smoothly over each step but needing a significant boost to manage the rise to the next one. And this rise proved the greatest challenge so far.
With her mind preoccupied, she ignored the delights of her home and headed straight for the shower, clutching the hope that she could wash away the stress that seemed to cling to her like sweat on a stifling summer day. Standing under the flowing water did refresh her and improved her mood to the point that she began to feel human again. When she dried off, she slipped into a sheer silvery silk robe that made her feel sexy and went into the living room, heading straight to the bar. She dug out a bottle of her current favorite wine, a Calcu 2011 Cabernet Sauvignon from Chile's Colchagua Valley. It wasn't an expensive wine, and she'd discovered it by accident, finding she liked its medium body and dry taste. Setting the cork aside, she got out two glasses and took them to the coffee table, putting the wine on the table to breathe and sitting down to stair through the doors to the balcony at the softening evening light as it faded. Her couch gave her a good place to sit and think. With the doors to the balcony open, the air was as fresh and clean as her body. Tucking her feet under her, feeling the caress of the silk robe on her bare skin, she let her mind deal with the events of the day. Now that she was calm it was safe to think about it again. And it was important to do it, to come to grips with what was going on. If you didn't deal with events you would inevitably be overtaken by them. A memory of Sal floated by, with him asking what she preferred? If thinking about something was unpleasant, wouldn't dealing with the consequences of being overwhelmed by it be far worse? That was Sal.
Sal had been her first serious love... no, her only serious love. A few years older than she, he'd been her teacher as well. She trusted his teachings for he'd shown her that she had the ability to be a predator in the jungle when others tried to insist she learn to be prey. She'd seen the fascinating and wonderful things they could do together. In graduate school, under his watchful eye, she'd started a small service business that prospered, and she was able to sell for a nice profit.
Now she was putting the current situation into context, gaining perspective. It was, after all, only a logistical matter, a question of shuffling future cash flow into a current project. That was what financial types were for. Her task was to find the right financial type. Dealing with financing was her weakest area... she'd damn well have to learn. It seemed to be a recurring need and a job she couldn't delegate.
As that thought resonated the doorbell rang, and she went to answer it, opening the door and seeing Thom standing there. "So you came."
"I usually do."
"Except when you don't."
"Certainty is overrated. It leads people to make dangerous assumptions." That made her smile. Uncertainty defined their relationship, was its watchw
ord, and that suited two busy executives. Thom didn't even own a home and was always on the move. As well as investing in Diamond Software, Thom managed investments around the world, flitting, at a moment's notice to Germany or France, or even Montana. The relationship evolved rather spontaneously. He made a point of being in town for Diamond's monthly board meetings, and one night she'd invited him to come by for a drink. She liked his company, enjoying the difference between Thom and the men she usually encountered. He was interesting—an attractive novelty. Despite the twenty years difference in their ages, there was a sexual attraction they were both willing to pursue. Quickly his coming to see her after meetings became something of a ritual interrupted only when Thom or she had other business that couldn't be put aside for the evening. For them both, the business was important. The sex was casual. A bonus for them both.
He came into the room moving with his customary grace. His kisses were delicate, touching her lips like a flower, even when they were insistent. He didn't command attention through force but delicacy. He was delicious, and his presence almost fragile yet he wasn't at all frail. He touched her arms, and she moved against him, her breasts against his chest as he ran his hands down her back. She tingled with delight.
She led him into the living room, and he spotted the open bottle of wine from the table and picked it up, glancing at the label and wrinkling his nose. "I should've brought something decent. I knew money was a problem, but I didn't realize things were this bad."
"Don't pretend to be quite such a wine snob. I rather like this one. It tastes good, and I can buy it at the supermarket on my way home from the office." She wanted to say more, but his attention had moved on. The moment was gone.
"What was going on in the meeting?" he asked, sitting, pouring two glasses of the deep red wine into her crystal stemware. He picked one up and held it up to the light, swirling it for a moment. "It has decent legs," then smiling at her, his eyes caressing her bare legs, "though not as nice as yours." He sipped it, inhaling air through his mouth and screwing up his face.
"I'm so glad you like it," she teased, sitting beside him, up against him, then taking her glass and sipping her own, relishing the bite of the tannin in her mouth. She knew what Thom objected to was that very crudity. Things with a bite were untamed, not delicate. Thom could be stubborn and intractable at times, but never crude.
He looked at her, weighing his words. "The meeting today. Before we leave the day behind, I need to go back to that. I wasn't sure why you dropped such a bombshell. You didn't give me any warning about this money crunch."
"I shouldn't have gotten caught out like that, and I feel stupid. I knew things were changing, but I hadn't checked the revenue for the last month, and I hadn't realized how fast the ground was moving. Yesterday, when I was reviewing Lenora's proposal, I ran the numbers so we could get a jump on things. I knew we'd have to shuffle some things, but let the bad news sneak up on me." She shrugged. "The meeting was already scheduled, so I decided we needed to talk it through, and it was easier to present it to everyone at once." She sipped her wine again. "But once you decided you wouldn't entertain the notion of putting in more money the discussion was over."
"You didn't give me compelling reasons to agree to anything. No concrete financial plan, mere speculation about payback."
"Thom, you know damn well that anything we came up with would be speculation. Why pretend otherwise?"
"Because that's how it's done."
"Not by me. I don't like doing business based on pretense or wasting time, for that matter. The question was, to my mind, a rather simple one. Are you willing to take the gamble that Craig has come up with a winner or not? You weren't." It was that simple in her mind. She wasn't even angry with him for staying out. She didn't confuse their personal relationship with business decisions. But he seemed to feel the need to defend his position.
"I have people, investors that I report to. They expect analysis, projections..."
She laughed at that. "Hell Thom, they believe whatever you tell them. Besides, you could afford to bankroll this yourself if you believed in it."
He puffed up slightly, proud that she said that about him. He considered it high praise. "You know I'm not comfortable with high tech stuff and less so with software. I'd never invested in it before you convinced me to put a small stake in Diamond."
"I know. And you've enjoyed it."
"But as I said, I've got so much on my plate, so many attractive things that I know something about... oil leases, a wildcatter in Borneo."
"Things that keep you in your comfort zone."
He sighed. "You understand."
"Which is not the same as approving."
"Yes." He blinked, glanced around. "You wish I were more of a risk taker, and I admit I've missed out on some big gains, but I've also held onto my money when others were in a panic. Why should mess with a successful strategy?"
"Maybe just so you know you are alive. Didn't you just tell me how overrated certainty is?"
He found that funny. "That wasn't with respect to money. I don't enjoy the gambler's adrenaline rush. It makes me nauseous. I'll put my intuition and ability to judge investments up against anyone's but this is too fluid. I wasn't lying about my situation. Even if you had the money in hand now, I'd be considering selling my shares. The money I've tied up in Diamond would be very useful elsewhere right now."
"Then how about helping me get past this one last hurdle? Then we won't be in a rush to find a buyer, and you'll get a better price."
His smile was knowing. "Is that how you see this situation? It's a hurdle? And the last one?"
"Yes. It's simple. An infusion of cash lets us have a good launch, one that touches all the bases. Then money starts coming in."
"Aha."
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Let's say you have a successful launch. Your program is doing well, and out of the blue a competitor launches their product—like Striker did in the existing market. What then? Of course, you'll need more cash to defend against it, to improve marketing or add features, and most likely both. Or say distributors are a problem, stalling, and the cash flow isn't enough to grow the company and repay debt. What do you do? You scramble again. You confront the next crisis. No, Megan, this isn't the last hurdle before reaching some mythic stability. Business is the ebb and flow of crises and you better be ready to constantly be juggling such things."
She tried to laugh off his negativity. "What's wrong with that?"
He smiled and refilled their glasses. "Nothing at all. For a large company that can rob cash from one product to support another, it's a just a day at the office. But you don't have that luxury. That's why I can't let you get away with telling me, or any investor, you need funding to get past this hurdle, and all will be well. Anyone investing now will have to invest more later on to protect that initial investment. That's business too. That's what you're asking me to do now, to cough up the next round of funding to protect what I've already put in."
"I suppose so."
"Megan, I'm tired of this software business. It makes no sense to me. But be careful. To convince an investor to put in the money you want, they'll want a bigger piece of the pie. My hunch is you'll wind up losing control of your company quite soon."
"So you won't help me achieve my dream."
"Would a friend help you live out a fantasy in a cave when he knew you could do so much more in the real world?"
"What do you mean?"
"I think you should sell out too. Walk away from this nonsense. I could find a buyer for a package of your shares and mine in a heartbeat. They'd have majority control and a new product. Then we'd take your money and do something really profitable."
"You want me to work with you?"
"Not work." He reached over to stroke her face. "But I want you with me, and I want you very much."
Suddenly the business conversation had drawn to a close. There was nothing more to
say once Thom had made a business decision. His intractability infuriated her, but he had good qualities, and his delicate and loving touch was one. Simply by stroking her cheek he made her feel adored. She wasn't foolish enough to think he actually adored her, but he lusted after her in his way, and he was good to be with. That made him the best thing in her life at the moment.
She barely felt it as he slipped her robe down her shoulders, but when his hand caressed her bare breast, when his fingers teased her nipples hard, she began melting. Her tough-minded businesswoman personae slipped off with the robe, in fact, she'd shed much of it in the shower earlier, leaving her vulnerable to his seduction, wanting it. Thom was a beautiful seducer, who made the transition from business partner into lover a smooth and effortless one. No way did she intend to interrupt the delightful game. If Thom wanted to close the discussion by shifting her attention from the problems of business to the joys of the flesh, she had no interest in stopping him.
As her robe found its way to a puddle on the floor, he pushed her back on the soft couch and moved over her, kissing her. Then his soft, moist lips danced down her neck and breasts, over the flesh of her rounded stomach, making her body sparkle as he kissed it and tasted her with a delicate flick of his tongue. His intrusion between her thighs made her gasp as his kiss on her pussy released tension she hadn't known was there. The sigh became a moan as he pressed his face into her cunt, his tongue exploring her. Her bare feet rested on his back, and his hands held her thighs as he ate her pussy, injecting an urgency into his delicacy that aroused her. He tasted her juices and then spread them, separating her pussy lips, letting his hands begin to work their way into her as his mouth found her clitoris and teased it out of hiding. He licked it, and her body screamed for him to rub her hard. She was so close. But he was a tormentor more than a plunderer. She endured his touches, feeling the exquisite way they built her arousal, her desire to come, her need to explode. His long fingers stroked inside her, seeming to home in on those elusive places of sexual excitement, and then she came, arching her back, pressing her cunt into his face. He licked and probed her as she came, giving her a long ride up and then down the chaotic roller coaster of emotion.
