by Claire Adams
We didn’t talk about Stephano anymore. It was a part of the past and there was nothing to talk about anymore. Officially, none of us knew what had happened to him. We only knew what we had seen in the news: Stephano Copal was shot dead in a drug deal gone wrong.
The death of Stephano had triggered an all-out gang war across southern Florida. Each gang blaming the other for the incident and none of them taking credit for what had happened until the news started saying that the person who killed Stephano was the most powerful person in all of the gangs. After that story came out, dozens of people took credit for Stephano’s death, and many of them ended up dead after they announced that they had murdered him.
Stephano’s death may not have been a legit kill of a bad guy like I had done while I was overseas or protecting clients; but I never lost any sleep over it. Sure I hadn’t pulled the trigger myself, but I had issued the order and paid a man very well for his skills in that area. It was my fault that Stephano was dead. Actually, it was Stephano’s fault he was dead. If he hadn’t been such a horrible person, nothing would have happened to him.
“Let’s get this party started,” Roxanne yelled as she climbed the steps to the plane.
Roxanne was a vivacious red head who had a personality just as strong as her red hair. There wasn’t anyone else on earth that I thought could actually handle Jackson; the two of them were paired up perfectly.
She and Jackson had been like water and oil when they had first met while trying to find Ana. But over the years, the two of them had practically molded into one person. They were both outrageous at times and had strong backgrounds that guided them in what they were doing.
“I need a drink, stat,” Jackson said as he climbed on board as well.
“I’ll grab you guys some rum and cokes; you must be exhausted,” I said as I went back to the stewardess to get the drinks started.
“Ana, oh my God you look so fucking amazing,” Roxanne said as she sat down next to Ana and the two of them started talking like they were sisters.
It was Roxanne who had given us all the information we needed to find Stephano and she had given up her life to hunt him down. If things hadn’t have went as well as they did, Roxanne would have been the one dead. We were really lucky that she had met Ana and wanted to help her when we arrived at her place of work.
“She does look pretty damn good, doesn’t she?” I said as I slid my arm around her and pulled Ana close to me.
Ana was a strong, independent woman who was taking on the world one step at a time. She had insisted on being part of my new company and I really couldn’t tell her no at all. But since we were talking about getting married and having children, Ana decided to help run the home office while I signed up new clients. We even agreed that I wouldn’t be deploying much at all, and instead hired on some of the best guys I knew to work for me.
Of course Baller and Sandbag came to work for me. After everything that had happened in Syria, there was no more business for Blankenship and a lot of workers came to work with me. Blankenship retired and sold me his client list, so I had a built-in group of clients without having to start from scratch.
“Is Jeremiah still dating that nineteen year old?” George asked.
George didn’t seem happy at all, not even going to a movie premier could make him smile. It was going to be a long trip if George didn’t get his act together and start participating in life. He was the one of us who had been living life. He got married first, had children, and was doing all that domestic living stuff well before any of the rest of us. I had been looking forward to asking for advice from him, but I figured he probably wouldn’t be interested in giving advice out now that he was going to get a divorce.
Divorce wasn’t anything I ever wanted to be part of. I was going to make sure I picked a woman that I loved no matter what, so I wouldn’t have to get a divorce.
“No, I think he’s single now. His filming schedule has been pretty crazy for the last few months.”
“He text me last week and said he was dating a starlet or something, that he’s filming his own stunts,” Chase added.
“What? His own stunts?” I was not happy about that.
The movie industry was notorious for making stars film their own stunts and then having them get hurt in the process. One of Jeremiah’s friends had actually been killed while filming a shooting scene, and somehow there had been and actual real bullet in the gun instead of a blank.
“Yeah, he seemed pretty stoked about it though, so don’t be a downer Nate.”
“Chase, since when did you become the guy who wanted to stop people from being downers. I thought you were the new, uber professional who was in charge of everything and had everything in perfect order now.”
“Yes, Nate, I am that person. But Jeremiah is having fun and you don’t need to ruin that.”
“Shut up.”
Sometimes there wasn’t anything else to say, and I wasn’t ashamed to tell my little brother to shut up every now and then. He was getting entirely full of himself lately. Chase was running the family business and doing a really damn good job of it. Jordan had her baby and he had even taken paternity leave to stay home with Jordan and their new daughter. It was a pretty progressive thing to do as a man running a company, but it set a great example for his other male employees.
As our plane took off for L.A., I used the time to catch up on the gossip about Jeremiah. We actually didn’t get to talk to him all that much and ended up trying to decipher the news stories as they came through the press.
It was a pretty awesome sight to have four of us brothers on the plane together and with our women, even if George wasn’t going to have his woman around anymore. We were all growing up and having our families and moving into the next stage of our lives.
“How much longer?” Ana asked as she cuddled up to me about halfway through the flight.
“Another hour; should we go join the mile high club?” I teased.
She lifted her head up to face me and for a second I thought she was going to say yes. But she quickly laid her head back on my chest and closed her eyes. We were both exhausted from running the new business. Every waking hour was dedicated to building stronger and getting more clients.
When we finally landed in Los Angeles, I knew something was wrong the second we got off the plane and Jeremiah wasn’t there. He had become a big wig in L.A., but when he said he would meet us at the airport, he never forgot about us. Jeremiah was responsible, despite his willingness to be wild and have fun.
We waited for him for at least thirty minutes and called his cell phone, but Jeremiah never answered us. When we arrived at his house via taxi, Jeremiah wasn’t there. It looked like he had been there in the morning, probably before going to the filming set, so we didn’t worry too much because we figured filming must have run later than normal and he hadn’t had a chance to check his phone.
The movie industry didn’t really care if your entire family was flying in to see you. There were thousands of dollars being spent on filming a scene and the studio was going to make sure the scene was completed before they let people leave for the night.
“Something’s wrong,” Ana said when we crawled into our bed at Jeremiah’s house.
He had an eight-bedroom house, so there was plenty of room for all of us to stay with him. We each had our own guest rooms and there were still a couple to spare.
“I’m feeling it too,” I said as I held Ana close to me. “Should I call the studio and see?”
“You probably won’t be able to get to someone who knows what is going on until the morning though. Maybe we should just try to sleep and call them in the morning?”
“Jackson will be able to find out,” I said as I sat up.
“Then go ask him to find out; I’m worried.”
I didn’t need Ana’s approval to send Jackson looking for Jeremiah; I just wanted to know I wasn’t acting totally crazy because I wanted to know where he was. Jeremiah was a grown up and probably
spent many nights with beautiful women and not thinking about his family; it was entirely possible he had simply been confused about which day he had to pick us up. He was likely wrapped up in the sheets with a delicious supermodel that he was dating or something like that.
I knocked on Jackson’s door and he answered it much quicker than I had expected him to. In fact, he didn’t look like he had been resting at all. His hair was in place still and his close were in perfect order.
“I know, I’m having some people track him now,” Jackson said.
“Great, let me know what you find out.”
Jackson was a professional at finding people, and if there was any doubt of where Jeremiah was at, Jackson was going to find him.
By the time 3 a.m. rolled around, we were all up and sitting in the living room as Jackson went through his contacts with the local police force to see if any of them knew where the filming at been taking place or if it had run late that evening.
The police officers have to keep the general traffic away from a filming location and they would also be the first ones to know when things had ended for the evening.
“What?” Jackson said urgently into the phone. “Life flighted? We will be right there.”
When Jackson got off the phone, we all stood still looking at him and waiting for him to tell us what was going on. Jackson didn’t tell us anything right away and instead stood with the phone at his side as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked horrible and we all feared what the news would be.
Although Jeremiah wasn’t the youngest of us all, he did seem like the youngest since Chase had started being responsible. Jeremiah was certainly the most laid back and fun brother out of all of us. Our hearts hurt at the idea he was injured so badly he had to be life flighted.
“What the hell happened? Tell us what’s going on,” I said.
“Oh, sorry. He was doing a stunt where he jumped through a window to a blow up mat that would catch him below. Apparently the wind was blowing and he hit the edge of the mat instead of in the middle. He was unconscious when they got him from the filming location and they are pretty sure he’s got several broken bones.”
We were all stunned into silence as we gathered out things and got ready to head to the hospital. As a family we hadn’t had to deal with the death or serious injury of any of us. I knew I certainly wasn’t prepared to lose Jeremiah; and I was pretty damn sure no one else was either.
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SLEEPING WITH MY BOSS
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams
CHAPTER 1
Asher
I glanced at myself in the mirror to see the image of a young man dressed in a subdued business suit reflecting back at me. He sat in silence on the sofa in the seating area, studying the artwork hanging on the wall next to the mirror.
It was a large piece, perhaps five feet across and four feet high. It consisted of a small, red square in the top left hand corner against a white background. Countering the geometric, ordered simplicity were splashes of bold color sprayed across the entirety of the right hand side in a chaos of strokes. It was as though all of the artist's pent-up rage and frustration had been poured out onto that canvas. It was a work of genius, really. In a way, that red square represented everyone, trying to play our roles and keep the madness, the chaos, contained and controlled.
A young man approached and looked up at the artwork, following the same pattern with his own eyes. He looked at the painting for a few seconds, shrugged, and then turned his attention to me.
“Hi,” he said, somewhat nervously. “Do you mind?” He motioned to the empty seat next to me on the sofa. “I have a meeting in this boardroom in a few minutes,” he added as he nodded toward the closed door to our left.
“Don’t mind at all,” I said, smiling warmly as I shifted to make more space for the newcomer. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks,” the young man replied, looking a bit flustered. His ill-fitting suit appeared to be uncomfortable, which only added to the somewhat flustered air he exuded. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his forehead and the sides of his neck.
“I'm Jason, by the way,” he said to me as he put down his briefcase and took a seat.
“Nice to meet you, Jason,” I said, extending a hand to the man. “I'm A-, er, Andrew…Andrew,” I replied as we shook hands. I caught myself before I gave away my true identity. “I'm with the Sinclair Agency,” I added.
“Nice to meet ya, Andrew.”
“Are you with Winston?”
“No. I'm also with Sinclair. You been at the agency long?” Jason questioned.
I smiled strangely and nodded. “You could say that.”
“It's my first month here,” Jason said. “I was just assigned to the PR project for the Harry Winston Watch Company like three days ago. Now, here I am presenting at a brainstorming meeting. I’m a bit of a nervous wreck. Word is the CEO of the agency Asher Sinclair isn't too happy about the performance of the latest line of athletic watches in the first quarter of the year.”
I nodded. “I heard the same. Say, what's the word on Mr. Sinclair these days? What do your coworkers in the marketing department think about him?”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Uh, don't you already know a bunch about Asher Sinclair? I mean, you did say you've been working here a while. What department did you say you were with again? I didn't catch it the first time.”
“I'm with finance. We don't chat too much about the boss in finance. I think there are too many people who have to answer to him directly.”
“Oh. Well, this might help. Check this out,” Jason said as he opened his briefcase and took out the latest issue of Forbes magazine. “There's a feature piece on Asher Sinclair in here.”
“Is there, now?”
“Oh, yeah. I've read it like three times already. The guy's like, man, I dunno, Bruce Wayne or something. I can't help wondering if he's got a Batcave and a Batsuit up in some old family mansion in the hills.”
I chuckled. “Maybe he does have a Batsuit.”
“He's an odd dude. It’s a little strange that almost nobody knows what he looks like. There aren't even any photos of him on social media or anything like that. I don’t know how he keeps such a low profile. But, I guess I would, too, if I were in his shoes. It couldn’t have been easy for him, the way he grew up.”
“And, how was that?”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You really don't know? Are you sure you've been at this firm for a while, man?”
“I just like to cross reference the stories I hear. It’s interesting how different they can be. So, what is it that you think you know about how Asher Sinclair grew up?”
“Well, rumors are that his family situation was, you know, kind of troubled. I mean, being a millionaire by age eighteen cannot make for an average childhood or normal teenage years. And then the big kicker: when his grandfather, founder of the Sinclair Agency, passed away, he left the majority shares and control of the company to Asher instead of Asher's father. Now come on; how many twenty-year-olds do you know who not only get to become sudden billionaires, but also the head of one of the most powerful PR firms in North America? That sort of stuff has got to mess with your head a little.”
“It might, I suppose. Although, for someone with the right resolve, the right constitution, with an insatiable urge to achieve and succeed, it could be the perfect trial by fire.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah, you could be right. And by all accounts, the kid pulled through that fiery trial like a beast. Ac
cording to everything I’ve heard or read, everyone was expecting the corporation to crash and burn after being thrust like that into the hands of a kid. And, I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, but shares did initially plummet.
“But, man, I don’t know what's in Asher Sinclair's blood, but there must be something superhuman mixed in. After all, here it is twelve years after he became CEO and those shares are worth three times what they were before. Three freakin' times, man! The guy's a bonafide genius. Someone even told me he's got his own personal racetrack and Formula One car he drives around it!”
I grinned. “I've heard he's a decent driver, but doesn't race formally because it would put him in the spotlight, and you already said he keeps a low profile. A genius, huh? Maybe he was just lucky and made a few really good decisions at just the right time.”
“Or maybe he really is a genius.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Jason checked his watch and dabbed at his forehead again with his handkerchief, looking decidedly nervous. “Oh boy, the meeting's about to start. You know, they say Mr. Sinclair often drops in on these meetings incognito. Because so few people actually know what he looks like, he's able to do that. Man, I sure hope he's not gonna be there today.”
“Relax, Jason. I'm sure he'll be receptive to your ideas if he is.”
“I'm new here. This is one of the most prestigious agencies in the country. I do not want to mess this up. This is my dream job! And, if Asher Sinclair is in there and I mess up or something… Oh God, I don't even want to think about it. I think I'm gonna throw up.”
I placed a reassuring hand on Jason's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“Relax, kid, relax. I'm sure you've got some good ideas. Present them with conviction and passion, and chances are you'll impress the team, and maybe even the boss himself if he's in there.”
