Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  She started to reach her hand out but hesitated.

  "It's okay. You can pet her."

  I watched while she stroked Abby's soft fur. Her dirt-streaked face leaned closer and closer to the dog's warmth until her arms wrapped around the canine. Abby lavished the childish face with licks, then rolled onto her back. The poor thing buried her face in Abby’s fur, and I saw her body start to shake slightly, then I heard the small sniffling.

  Double shit. Now I really didn’t know what to do.

  The boy dropped his attitude and plopped down beside her. He wrapped an arm awkwardly around her shoulders. His own frame was slumped as if they held the weight of the world. I supposed they did at that moment.

  After a few minutes, he straightened and reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out half a chocolate bar. He handed it to her. "Here, Jilly. Take it. We'll be okay. I promise."

  Jilly sniffed. "Don’t you want some?"

  He shrugged. "I'm okay. You take it."

  She lifted it to her mouth, then stopped and broke the already small piece in half. "Here," she said, her face softening as she looked adoringly at him. "Together, remember?"

  I read the war of expressions on his face. It wasn't hard to tell he wanted it, but he also wanted to do something special for her. He shook his head. She shoved it in his face with a determined look. Maybe she was more resilient than I'd credited her for. At least now, thanks to her brother, I had a name.

  He took it and silently ate while they both pet Abby, who loved the extra attention. They also both kept eying my tent.

  It was getting dark, and they still didn’t show any signs of wanting to go home. Maybe after a night on the run, they’d see it wasn’t so easy. Tomorrow I could take them somewhere and call someone. But in the meantime, I had to figure something else out.

  "Look." I pointed to their box. "That was a good idea, but it's not like cartoons. It’s not big enough for both of you to sleep in. Not to mention, it'll fall apart when it gets wet, and it will get wet at some point tonight. If you're willing to open it flat, it'll protect you from the ground. I've got some extra tarp you can use to rig up an overhead cover. It'll be like having your own tent." I went inside my tent and came out with a couple of blankets. "And you can use these to stay warm and pad the bottom."

  Jilly’s eyes lit up, but Jack stared at me with suspicious eyes. "Why should we trust you?"

  "You probably shouldn't. But you don't have much to lose at this point, am I right? I mean, you're what, seven?"

  "Ten." Defiance blazed in his eyes.

  "Oh, okay. That's totally different."

  Waiter? We'll have a healthy serving a sarcasm, please.

  The girl's hand gripped the boy's. "I like him. He has a dog."

  Dear lord. She'd never survive more than a couple of days out here if that's her trust test.

  Her brother snorted, apparently on the same wavelength.

  "Fine." I shrugged. "But don't come waking me up when it storms tonight."

  Both of their faces turned a shade paler. "How do you know it's going to storm? Are you one of those metro-ologists?" Jilly asked.

  I snickered. "No. I can sense it." It was true; there was a certain stillness in the air and that specific scent that comes before it rains. Not to mention I saw it on the weather app when I was on the public computer at the library earlier, but what's the harm in letting her believe in a little magic for now?

  "Besides, I saw this behind your ear. They only grow out of certain people if it's gonna rain." My hand slid behind her ear, and when I opened it, there were two small packs of jellybeans. I’d found a large bag of them on clearance last Spring. Usually, I rationed them to only one or two packages a week, but tonight seemed like an emergency.

  Jilly's eyes lit up, and even the boy cracked a smile. "How'd you do that?" she demanded, her hand flying up to inspect her hair.

  "The question is, how did you do that? I’ve never actually seen Jilly beans before, only heard about them."

  "You mean jellybeans?"

  "Nope. Jilly beans. That is your name, right? Otherwise, they couldn’t grow there if your name was Winifred or something. I mean, Winny Beans just doesn’t sound right, right?"

  She laughed, an adorable sound that made me realize something had been missing from my life up until now.

  "That's Jack. He's my brother."

  I put the names together. "Like the nursery rhyme?"

  Jack made a growling noise, but Jilly nodded, making her long curls bounce on her shoulders. She was a cute one, for sure.

  And that was how we started, one of those defining moments for all of us. Turned out, I really enjoyed their company, but they deserved better than me. When I heard Jack’s plan to steal food when they were hungry, I knew what to do. I’d been there and done that, and I didn’t want the same for him.

  An hour later, I’d called Carla, the social worker who’d been kind to me, even though I didn’t make it easy on her as a rebellious teenager, always finding ways to get into trouble and need to be placed in a new home. The last home had been my breaking point, and since I was only months away from aging out of the system, I chose to stay on the streets rather than another home. I’d already felt judged and labeled as riffraff except by the community of people I’d found under the bridge.

  Carla was the only person I trusted to do right by the kids. Jack’s expression was sullen, and Jilly cried in Carla’s arms when she came to take them. I made the social worker promise was to keep them together. And that’s how they came to stay at the Children’s Home. Carla arranged for me to be allowed to visit twice a month. I started off telling myself I was just visiting them to check on them, but it was clear in short order that I needed them, too. Meeting them made me determined to do better, to move up in the world. They were the only ones who saw me for more than a kid from the streets.

  It was harder than any of us thought it would be. I signed up for every extra hour I could get at the warehouse, scrimping and saving every penny possible. During the warmer months, that meant staying in the tent camp so I didn’t have to pay rent. When winter settled, Carla finally forced me to either find an apartment or give up my visits, so I found one that was pretty much a dump, but at least it had heat, kind of.

  Carla and the kids encouraged me every step. She helped me open a bank account by co-signing it, got me enrolled to work on a GED, and threatened to spoon-feed me my balls if I got caught shoplifting again. I guess she hadn’t forgotten some of the mistakes I’d made a few years ago.

  Over two years later, we were on different paths, but I made sure mine still crossed with theirs whenever I could make it happen. Jilly never lost faith in me, but I wasn’t sure about Jack. I just needed one more of those defining moments that pushed me up rather than pulled me down.

  Chapter 3

  Mena

  I cringed as the presenter tapped his note cards on the table for about the millionth time. If this had been a drinking game, we’d have been wasted seven minutes into the speech. Then again, maybe the rest of the past forty minutes would have been more tolerable. At least I could chalk up his behavior to nerves.

  His partner was worse. I guess he thought he was portraying confidence, but he kept quoting himself with phrases such as, “Like I’ve always said…”. At least he could have quoted people with more significant thoughts that have stood the test of time. As he concluded his speech, he smoothed his hand along his gold tie and black shirt. With his teal-colored suit, he reminded me of a peacock. He had the manners of one, too.

  He winked at me. “As I’ve said, you can bet we're going places. I think we'll make you a great partner. If not you, then someone else, but we prefer it to be Faris Capital."

  Of course, you do. You're smart enough to know we're the best, yet too dumb to realize you think you'd be a partner. I only just managed not to roll my eyes.

  "Like I said, we’re on the cutting edge of technology and business with us would be beneficial to us both."r />
  He strutted to my position at the head of the table and held out his hand; however, his eyes were locked on my chest as they had been throughout their presentation. I gritted my teeth as I stood, offering the barest of a handshake. I spit up a little in my mouth when he started to rub his thumb over the back of my hand.

  I yanked my hand away, not hiding how I wiped the front and back of it on my skirt. "If we decide we can do any business with you, we’ll let you know. As they say,” I drawled, “don’t call us. We’ll call you.”

  "I look forward to hearing from you. Maybe we can discuss more over dinner?"

  I took a second to look up. "No." Then I stuffed everything into my leather tote bag.

  His smug smile dissolved faster than the stain remover we manufactured.

  My father, ever the diplomat, rushed to fill in. He shook his hand as well as the other representative’s and escorted both to the door. He waited until everyone else on our committee filed out except our CFO, Jeff Farr.

  "That went well. I think we should consider them.”

  I looked at Jeff like he’d grown another head. “You’re kidding, right? They were terrible. Young and inexperienced with no real direction. They just want someone to fund their playtime in the lab. I want someone with a chemistry degree who can be innovative, not mix baking soda and vinegar while their mommies make them a snack.”

  “They’re not much younger than you, Mena,” Papa said.

  Ouch! Days like today, I felt much older than I really am.

  “Fine. If you can’t be reasonable about finding a team to work with, then let’s discuss selling Sherebad Paper," Jeff said.

  "What?" I crossed my arms. "Why would we do that?"

  Jeff stared boldly at me. "It's a drain on the company. While you’re out trying to invent some new…whatever it is, that brand is heading toward the toilet."

  "It’s not open for discussion. That was my mother's company. When Faris Capital absorbed Sherebad Paper, it was for an inhouse benefit to package our own products as well as to continue selling theirs. I've studied the numbers. Our costs would significantly increase if we had to outsource. It’s also the reason I’m creating a new lab with new goals. We have a responsibility to our consumers and our community to decrease our footprint and be responsible for our waste. Finding better ways will put us way ahead of any other industry."

  Jeff threw his hands in the air. "It’s a pipe dream. It could be years before this innovation happens. FarCap is not in the business of environmental exploration. We should stick to making cleaning products. There are no solutions to replacing print paper. The world is going paperless, and paper factories all over the country are going under."

  I glared at him. "We're. Not. Selling. Sherebad Paper. We’ll go into making other paper products if we need to."

  Jeff tsked at me. "Tissues and toilet paper are your answer? Because there aren’t already enough products for people to choose from?” His head shook back and forth as he continued as if he was talking to a child. I guessed he thought he was. “That shipped sailed long ago. You're letting your emotions get to you, Mena. You are a brilliant young woman; no one can deny that. But your lack of experience is showing. I know this is a sensitive topic, and I appreciate that it was your mother's company, but emotions and sentiment cannot keep that brand afloat. Nor are you in a position to make a decision."

  Jeff was going to drive me to need blood pressure medicine. "I've spent my entire life preparing to lead this company. I've gone to school and studied with the best. I know FarCap inside and out, better than any outsider,” I said through gritted teeth as I pointed at him. It was only my father's hand on my arm that kept me from climbing across the table and wrapping my hands around his neck.

  "Experienced learned from books is not the same as experience," Jeff said. "A good leader would—"

  “Not be bullied into something,” I snarled.

  Jeff turned to my father. “Surely you see this doesn’t make sense. You listen only because of who she is rather than—"

  "Jeff. That's enough. You go too far," my father intercepted. "Will you please leave us?"

  With a last condemning look at me, he gathered up his tablet and the portfolios and left. I knew it wasn't the last time he'd challenge me, but I was glad for the reprieve.

  "Mena, I’ve supported your quest to start up an environmental lab. But you reject company after company to get started. We’re running out of interested laboratories, and the Advisors have doubts about your idea already. If you'd just consider one of them…"

  "So, I should accept a lousy company to make the Advisors feel I’m competent? That would make me weak, Papa, and a poor leader. It's harder to say 'no.’ Further, I won’t consider selling off any of our brands, and I won’t be made to shut up just because I’m a woman or young. No one cares more about Faris Capital than me. I know every brand, every product, and everything it takes to produce them. And I will make this lab work once I find the right fit. It’s a waste of time and money not to have the right people in place, and if that means waiting, we wait.”

  Papa threw his hands in the air. "Stubborn to the core! You’d do wise to control your temper, Jasmena, and remember that I’m still the CEO. You’ve much to still learn. And you wonder why some question me about where your future lies here?"

  "It shouldn't even be a question, Papa. As your only child, you know it’s tradition that I should be named in the succession plan as CEO. It’s only since Jeff came on board and convinced you to create an Advisory Board and started pushing the idea of an IPO that this has become an issue. They’re just a bunch of chauvinists who are afraid of a woman leader and potential shareholders’ reactions. If I’d been born a son, this wouldn’t be a conversation."

  My father flinched. For that matter, so did I. His reaction was because he knew I was right, but even I could tell I sounded like a whiny princess with my words. I dialed back my anger. "I’m sorry, Papa. But you know it's true.” I turned my head back toward the window.

  I stared out to the city streets below. The view was as familiar to me as my reflection. It should be; I'd looked at it almost my entire life. The only difference was I no longer fit in the windowsill. It wasn't just that I felt entitled to the position by my birthright. I loved this company and the legacy my family had built. I'd literally grown up here.

  I knew by the squeaks and groans that he'd resumed his seat at the gleaming oak table. My father was not a lean figure; it was apparent he enjoyed good food—and a lot of it. I'd long been echoing the doctors' advice that he pay more attention to his health. I still needed him around but combined with high blood pressure and the stress of managing Faris Capital, and he was gunning for a heart attack. He knew it, I knew it, and the Board of Advisors knew it. Thus, there was a recent push to name his successor as CEO—just in case.

  For over a hundred and fifty years, we'd been a family-owned company. Papa was the sixth generation to take over. Prior to him, succession hadn't been an issue; it was always passed to the oldest son unless he proved to be a ne'er-do-well or didn't want the reins. He inherited sixty percent of the company while the remaining forty percent were distributed between his siblings if there were any. Often, they took on smaller but still significant leadership roles. And believe me, that forty percent wasn't something to scoff at, even split two or three ways.

  The situation had only been challenged once—during the third generation since the founding. Abraham Faris and his wife Aisha had only birthed a daughter, Jasmine. The solution had been to find and marry her off to someone capable of taking the reins of the company. I supposed it was part of an ancient hierarchal mentality that had crossed the ocean along with my ancestors who had fled the ancient city of Agrabah, part of the old Ottoman Empire, to avoid persecution in the early nineteenth century.

  Mikel Knight was the son of other immigrants who’d also found success during the Industrial Revolution. Both families had created strong companies; together, they could create a d
ynasty. A marriage was arranged. The name of the company remained Faris Capital, but it relocated closer to the Knight holdings in Boston. The company grew bigger and more diverse, eventually creating cleaning products that could be found in virtually every household in the States.

  I knew my father loved me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he was disappointed that he didn't have a son before my mother died. And her having been the love of his life, he'd never married again. So that left me, the daughter who coincidentally had been named for the grandmother who also hadn’t been good enough.

  However, I was determined not to let history repeat itself. While I didn’t have to worry about an arranged marriage, I had to worry about hostile takeovers from within my own company. I knew my father was proud of all I’d already accomplished. Thanks to skipping a grade in elementary school, having enough credits to finish high school a year early, and graduating college in three years, I was able to finish my masters by twenty-four. Granted, I had almost no social life. But it allowed me to begin work at an administrative level at FarCap. After a couple of years working in several lower-level leadership positions, I now held the position of Senior Vice President. At twenty-six, I was the youngest female to hold such a position. Several claimed nepotism, but we were a family company. And I challenged anyone to find where I hadn't worked my ass off. I reluctantly understood the Board's skepticism. I didn't understand my dad's.

  "And you, Papa? What do you say?"

  His eyes closed as he bowed his head. "I worry I’ve placed too much responsibility at your feet too soon. You’ve never had a life outside of this company. Jeff thinks I allow you too much leniency because you’re my daughter. We both know I’d never let another VP speak as you do."

  "Jeff," I snorted. "He’s too arrogant and money-hungry. You take his advice more than anyone’s. Even mine,” I added bitterly. He knew I was against becoming a public company.

  Tired brown eyes lifted to mine. "He's good at his job. It because of him that we discovered that someone was skimming money from the accounts. He also restructured our finances and updated the entire system to run more efficiently. Under his leadership, overall profits have never been better."