The police officer finishes by asking if we’d like to charge her with trespassing and destruction of property. “I don’t think so,” my mom says.
He then adds, “She started with risky behavior and then moved to getting violent. If what you say is true and you both told her to move on, she then called so many times you blocked her call, and now she comes over in the middle of the night, I strongly suggest a temporary restraining order.”
I quickly respond while looking at my mother, “I don’t think we need to do that. Do you, Mom?”
“No, I think this will be enough of an embarrassment and,” turning to me she adds, “You’re leaving in a few days. Celeste won’t be coming back.”
“If you see her, either of you, call the police and reconsider the temporary restraining order,” the officer tells us before he climbs in his car.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Emerson
As I’m working out at the driving range, I get a message on my phone from one of our more high-profile clients.
TO: Emerson Winthrop
FROM: Tom Sutterland
SUBJECT: Need you to come in
Emerson,
Would it be possible for you and Mason to come by this morning? I need to speak with you both. It’s important.
Tom
I quickly call Mason, who answers the phone out of breath. I can hear a treadmill running in the background. “Hey. I just got an email from Tom Sutterland. He would like the two of us to meet with him this morning, he says it’s important. What does your calendar look like?”
“He doesn’t say what he wants?”
“No, just that he would like us to come by this morning.”
“I can only hope this has nothing to do with our mole. I’ll clear my calendar. Can I pick you up at your place?”
My stomach tightens. I don’t think this is going to be a fun meeting. I look at my watch and see it’s almost six o’clock. “I’m at the driving range but can be home and ready in about an hour?”
“Great. See you then.”
TO: Tom Sutterland
FROM: Emerson Winthrop
CC: Mason Sullivan
SUBJECT: RE: Need you to come in.
We’ll be there as soon as traffic allows.
Emerson & Mason
Tom runs the up-and-coming social media company called PeopleMover. We’re his sole investors and have provided him with three rounds of funding totaling better than one hundred million dollars and currently, we own over forty-three percent of the company. The word on Wall Street is they’re going public and when they do, they’ll go big, but they’ll need one more round of funding before they can do so.
As we arrive, we’re ushered from the lobby to his admin. An assistant leads us to an elevator that opens directly into his private office, a vast room occupying the corner of the building with floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of a vast courtyard. The two remaining walls contained a door, a low bookshelf, and a single oil painting—a contemporary piece that reminds me of a Jackson Pollack. The black glass surface of his desk is equally uncluttered: a computer, a leather notebook, and a framed photograph of a nine-year-old boy.
We invested when he had an idea and a few friends helping him. Now he has over two thousand employees.
The admin explains he’ll be with us in a few minutes and offers us coffee, soda, or water.
We wait less than five minutes when Tom comes in and sits across the desk from us. “Thank you both for coming on such short notice. What I’m going to tell you is not pretty.” Sighing, he looks at us closely. “I met with Ben Klein yesterday of Perkins Klein. He presented me with this information.”
My stomach hits the floor, flopping around like a fish out of water. I have no doubt the same is true for Mason.
He hands us a notebook, and with one look at it, we know it’s our internal research about Tom and his company. In it, it shares how much we figure we can invest in his business for the final round, what we expect the stock to go public for inititially, and where we think it will land. Additionally, it has some research on each member of the management team, which, if taken out of context, could be brutal.
Taking a deep breath, Mason asks, “Did he tell you how he got it?”
“He told me with Dillon Healy out of the picture, things were imploding at SHN and people were sharing your information. He offered us more money for a smaller percentage of business so he can take us public.”
The look on Mason’s face confirms our worst fears. Someone we trust is sharing our internal research. I ask, “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I would think about it. But Mason, if he’s getting confidential information from your employees and using it, I don’t want to do business with him. This is extremely unethical to me.”
“We appreciate your telling us, more than we can say. Are you looking for us to match Perkins Klein’s offer?” Mason asks.
Folding his hands carefully in front of him, he takes a few moments to look at our eager faces. “Mason, you and Dillon gave me money when Perkins Klein wouldn’t. I know things are unsettling with Dillon being out, but hopefully he’ll return soon.” He breathes deeply. “Let’s stick with what you have in the proposal.”
We’re stunned. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Tom gave us his answer.
Mason stands, extends his hand, and says, “We’re proud to be a part of PeopleMover.”
As soon as we’re in the car, Mason calls Cameron and asks him to pull Sara into his office. With the four of us on the phone together, Mason shares what we found.
Cameron is the first to react. “Fuuuuuck. Thank God Tom is honest, but it also tells us who some of our friends are.”
Sara says, “From a legal standpoint, if we figure out who’s doing this, we can probably have them arrested and jailed for corporate espionage. But it’ll be difficult to prove. Not that we aren’t going to go after the mole vigorously, of course, but Perkins Klein is going to deny they paid for anything. They will insist the information came to them unsolicited and they didn’t have anything to do with our downturn. They will also insist that they can’t be sure where the information they passed along came from.”
“We have a copy of the document,” Mason says. “We need to put our finger on anyone who had access to the report and figure out how we’re going to move forward.”
“When I return to the office, my team and I will begin a search of all employee files, plus do another background check and a financial check on each employee. It’ll cost us, but hopefully it can help us narrow down who might be vulnerable to espionage,” I add.
We spend the remainder of our drive back to the office talking about our list of possible suspects. I finally ask, “Do we call Dillon and tell him? He’s still officially a partner.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. My gut says Dillon is on leave, so we should wait until he chooses to return. But I’ll check with our law firm and verify,” Mason tells me.
Looking out the passenger side window, I watch the rain fall and try to piece together what’s happening.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Dillon
As each day passes, my anxiety increases. I want desperately to be back at my firm. I miss having a purpose and a reason to get up every morning. I’ve enjoyed my break, but I think I’m starting to get restless.
In preparation for returning to work, I’ve been watching the trade newspapers and magazines, and I’m seeing Perkins Klein getting more and more business. It bothers me more than anything.
Over the years they’ve gone downhill. They’ve had a tough time securing new companies that seem to knock it out of the park. Until recently, they were investing in companies that were much further down the path of development and close to going public. Those are safe investments and because of that, they have smaller returns. It’s what I always consider low-hanging fruit. These days they’ve been investing more in emerging concepts—which is our sweet spot.
It isn’t like them to chase young start-ups with angel and first-round funding.
As I’m reading the trades at the kitchen table on my tablet, newspapers spread across the table next to a notepad full of notes, my mom walks in. She pours herself a cup of coffee and looks at me. “You have a puzzled look on your face.”
“I do?”
She sits with her elbows on the table, both hands holding her cup of coffee. As she peers over the top to take a sip, she says, “What’s going on?”
With a heavy sigh, I sit back in my chair and stretch my long legs out. “I’m reading the trades and watching a competitor get business they typically wouldn’t go after.”
“I’m sorry.”
Fighting to remain unemotional, I cross my arms over my chest. “I want to go back to my job. I want to fix this, and I want to fight for the company I’ve worked hard to build with my friends.”
“You have two more weeks. Have you figured out what you want to say to them that will convince them to take you back?”
Without confidence, I explain, “I have numbers and figures ready to go.”
She smiles. “Sweetheart, I don’t think they doubt any of your ‘numbers and figures,' but I think they may be looking for something else from you to take you back.”
Leaning forward, closing my eyes, and holding the bridge of my nose, I whisper, “I’m sure they do. I don’t know what to say other than sorry.”
“Well, I think it’s an excellent start, but you might want to take some time to apologize to each of the partners. Talk about what you did wrong and be sincere. But I only worked in the accounting department of a car manufacturing company. I never owned my own business.”
I know she’s right, but I don’t know what to say to everyone that doesn’t leave me begging and crying.
I have many restless nights thinking about what I did to the entire group. I behaved horribly toward each of them, and they deserve nothing less than heartfelt individual apologies, but I’m not sure I can be vulnerable. And what do I do if they still tell me it isn’t enough for me to come back?
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Emerson
Sitting in the partners meeting, I’m worried about Mason and Cameron. I can see the stress working them over. They’ve had six financial analysts go through the financial statements of four new prospective companies. We knew them inside and out. Most importantly, we limited those who had access to our information.
I evaluated these companies’ owners, and if they had a team, I evaluated each of them as well. We have sound plans and we offer good money, yet we continue to lose them. The strain is becoming palatable. We’ve redone background checks, but nothing seems off or out of the ordinary with any of our employees.
“If we don’t get Tsung Software, we may find ourselves looking at layoffs,” Mason admits.
“What can I do?” Sara asks.
Cameron tells her, “I wish Dillon was here to sell this to Tsung. What were we thinking by asking him to take time off? What are we going to do if he doesn’t want to come back?”
“We thought we were his friends. That we love him and he needed some time to heal,” I say quietly.
With a noticeable sigh, Mason says, “You’re right. We were being unselfish to send him on a break, but we must be strong. If he’s going to come back drunk and belligerent, we can’t take him back.”
We all agree, but it still hurt to watch our earnings slip severely.
After our meeting ends, I wander by the employee lounge for my sixth cup of coffee this morning. A group of the marketing team is sitting around a table, becoming silent when I enter the room. I know they’re worried; the Tsung Software is a possible big win for us.
I smile politely, greet them, and ask some general questions about the weather and upcoming weekend plans. Everyone is cordial, but no one is overly friendly. This makes my heart hurt. I take their disappointment personally.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Emerson
I receive a text from Dillon: I’ll be home late Wednesday.
Would you like me to pick you up?
He doesn’t respond to give me information on his return, so I have no way of tracking when he’s arriving.
I’m anxious and excited to see Dillon. His distance over the last six months tells me he doesn’t want a personal relationship with me, and I’m trying to be comfortable with that. But I miss my friend. I’ve not had anyone I could talk to about what is going on at SHN.
It takes me a half day of overthinking to realize that instead of letting a friend know he’s coming, he’s actually telling me that he doesn’t need my help any longer. His lack of communication sends my brain racing into negative thoughts, putting a dark gray cloud over my head. I feel the loss of my friend like someone kicked me in the gut.
On my way home Tuesday night, I stop and pick up a few things for Dillon and for me from the grocery store. He may want the distance, but I’m determined to be civil. This way he isn’t walking into an empty refrigerator.
I leave him milk for his coffee, bread, some fresh strawberries, and a dozen eggs. As I stop by his place for the final time, I leave behind his house key in a sealed envelope with his doorman, then cry over the sense of loss I feel once I leave his apartment. I miss him so much.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Dillon
I’ve been in Detroit for almost five months. I have dinner most nights with my mom, I rarely drink, and I’m seldom going out with friends. We’re in a comfortable routine, though I can’t help but think I’m keeping her from things. I hear her friends offer rides to book clubs, bridge games, and afternoon tea, but she refuses. She tells them I’m visiting, but I can manage a night on my own and have told her as much. She just waves her hand like she’s shooing a fly away and says, “Nonsense. I want to be with you.”
We’re talking about my departure over dinner, and Mom asks, “What are you going to do?”
Sounding more confident than I am, I state, “I want my company and Emerson back.”
She gives me a broad smile with a lot of teeth. “Good. How are you going to do it?”
I lay out my plan, and she gives me some useful input.
As she drives me to the airport the next morning, I’m reflecting on the last few months being home in Michigan. “You know, Mom, I have no problem moving back and being with you for as long as you need me.”
Almost swerving off the road, she says, “I don’t want that from you, sweetheart.” She grips the steering wheel tightly. “I want you to get your company back, and I want you to win Emerson back.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. My friends miss me. It’s time I got back to book club, my bridge group, and spending time with my friends. Plus, next time you return, I’m hoping Emerson is with you,” she says with a mischievous grin.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.” She hugs me tight at the security line, and I wave as I walk away.
I’ll be back soon. I promise.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Emerson
We walk through our agenda at the partners meeting. My second direct-report employee quit over fears she was going to get laid off, but we finally had a win on the board with Tsung Software, so at least there’s some good news.
“Fiona’s departure means we’re down two people in my department. We’re already tightly taxed right now, but I think this win is what we need so our employees will begin to feel safe about our viability,” I share with the partners.
Mason says, “I know things are stressful right now, but we’re still indeed viable, and we have plenty of money coming in the door. Are you looking for anyone?”
“We are,” I assure him. “It’s a tight market. I hate to lose good people over trade gossip.”
“Me, too,” Sara agrees.
“We’ve been working on the company picnic. Are you sure we want to do this grand a party?” I ask.
“Definitely. We want to
show people we’re healthy, stable, and growing,” Mason states.
“Have we heard from Dillon?” Cameron questions. “The lawyer called me this morning and asked.”
Mason says, “That’s the next item on our agenda. I heard from Dillon yesterday, and he’d like to meet with us, though I’m not sure if I’m comfortable having him here at the office if he’s going to blow up or be belligerent. I wanted to ask you all if you thought doing it at my place would work?”
We agree to meet on Monday afternoon at Mason’s home with Dillon. My stomach turns at the thought of seeing him. I’m nervous yet excited. I hope he wants to come back. I miss him, and I’m hoping we can become friends again.
Mason’s home is on the top of Nob Hill, across from Huntington Park and Grace Cathedral. He lives in a beautiful high-rise, but in a garden apartment on the first floor behind the laundry room and parking garage. As you walk in, a dark, narrow hallway greets you, but it opens to a bright, giant living room and kitchen with a lot of natural light because it faces a colorful garden, with French doors leading to a backyard patio.
I’m surprised it’s decorated with contemporary art on the walls. He has what I think is a Dale Chihuly glass art sculpture, the couches are a shade of light blue suede, and the side chairs are light green suede.
Mason has a beautiful golden Labrador retriever named Misty. She’s a love, and greets us all with plenty of licks and nudges before leading us out to the stunning patio, with views of the neighboring buildings covered in ivy and a giant fig tree shading the backyard. There are flowers and even a spot of green lawn, an oasis within the walls of apartment building.
Mason has beers for us to drink and we chat, all of us nervous waiting for Dillon’s arrival.
Forbidden Love (Venture Capitalist Book 1) Page 15
