by J G Barber
She wipes away the tears from her face. “I’m serious, Paul. I’m done.”
He connects with her eyes. “I hear you. Read.”
She opens the envelope and reads the agreement letter. Her jaw drops. “A million and a half cash bonus?” She can’t believe it. “And a hundred thousand shares?”
“Shares, not options. At ten bucks a share, that’s another million on top of my vested shares and outstanding options.” He gives her a moment to process the data. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, Laura. If I close this deal, we are done.”
She still can’t believe it. “If you close it?”
He smiles his signature boyish grin. “We have a new investor with the inside track. This is happening.”
She screams and leaps into his arms. “I forgive you.” They go crazy, dancing and screaming around the house until they run out of gas. “I expect a rain check,” Laura demands.
“We can see Barbara on Saturday, right?” Paul negotiates. “I have to fly to L.A. tomorrow. Meetings all week.”
She pulls away. “Los Angeles?” Her moment of vulnerability explodes into panic as she recalls her version what happened in L.A. on his previous trips: suspicions about drug-fueled parties and affairs, two car accidents, and the reported suicide of one of his female business contacts.
He tries to reassure her. Their relationship never recovered from the last incident. “This is the last time we must go through this, Laura. I promise.” He sees she’s not buying what he’s selling. “I asked. No employment agreement. Once I close the deal, I’m free and clear.”
She re-reads the stock agreement, shaking her head in mistrust. “It says here the company reserves the right to revoke all or part of this agreement at its sole discretion.”
He shuts her down. “That’s standard. My option grants say the same thing.”
She breathes to calm herself. Once she’s centered, she checks her feelings. “Something’s not right about this, Paul.”
“Something hasn’t been right about this for a long time.” He holds out his hands. “We have our ticket to freedom. Are you with me?”
She refuses to take his hands. “Here are my conditions. You stay home with me on the weekends. We see Barbara on Saturdays. No car accidents or tragedies. And no drinking until after you’ve closed the deal.”
“Done.” He invites her to take his hands. “I commit to Laura Douglass, my beloved wife. Home every weekend. Barbara on Saturdays. No drinking, no train wrecks, no tragedies. Just a shitload of money.”
Laura sets down the documents and takes Paul’s hands. “We are rich! We are rich! We are FUCKING rich!” they proclaim together as they dance around the house again.
Chapter Six
LOS ANGELES, PRESENT DAY
On the ground at LAX Airport, Paul waits with Lorelei by the curb outside the terminal. It’s a beautiful smog-shiny day in Los Angeles; warm enough for Paul to consider taking off his jacket. Before he can act on the impulse, the valet delivers a sea blue Gemballa Mirage GT—one of the sexiest and priciest cars in the world. Based on the Porsche 980 Carrera GT, it sells for upwards of $750K.
“I’ve read about this car,” Paul blurts out in car geek awe. “Only twenty-five were made. Is this yours?”
“Borrowed.” Lorelei grins. “I save my money for more important things.”
Like mermaid art? Paul snarks to himself. The valet opens the gull wing doors. Paul watches Lorelei slide into the driver’s seat and take the wheel, impressed by her calm confidence and grace. The valet loads their luggage in the front trunk. Paul struggles to cram his lanky body into the passenger seat.
Lorelei whips the Gemballa out of the parking lot and onto the road with the skill of a professional driver. Paul watches her navigate the traffic, fixated by her driving and the subtle, undulating movement of her breasts as she steers. He pulls himself out of a trance. That’s hot, he admits as he watches her dart between and around other vehicles to speed up their arrival at New Century Digital Distribution.
Eighty-inch TVs dominate the lobby. They showcase New Century’s vision of a global entertainment business. Consumers can access video, audio, games, apps and partner content on any smart device you own. They combine all the features their competitors offer, on a single platform. In addition, New Century plans to lead mass adoption of 360 video, virtual reality, augmented reality, and mixed reality content.
Lorelei hands Paul a badge and leads the way in. As they walk through the halls, she’s greeted again and again. She doesn’t introduce Paul. Instead, she prompts him to follow her after each stop, treating him like her obedient lap dog, not the driver of the deal he’s expecting to be. Paul can’t process the pattern interrupt. He fights to maintain his composure for the moment that counts.
Lorelei enters Jerry’s office without knocking.
Jerry pushes his chair back to stand, but remains behind his desk. He’s fit, attractive, and dressed like Paul. If it wasn’t for the tinges of gray hair, he’d pass for Paul’s age. The walls of his office tell his story: dotcom golden boy achieves Hollywood success by applying the principles of self-reinvention. “Paul Douglass. We meet again.”
Paul sets his computer bag down on a chair. He Jerry’s hand across the desk. “Good to see you, Jerry.”
“How was your flight?” Jerry asks.
“Intolerable,” Lorelei complains. “I’m never flying commercial again.”
“Well, we must do something about that for your next visit.” Jerry winks to her and turns to Paul. “Paul, since we already know each other, I’m gonna give it to you straight. I’m already sold.”
Lorelei and Jerry share a look that confirms for Paul they already agreed to a deal. This is a dog-and-pony show. Paul glares at Lorelei for an instant. You’ve orchestrated the whole show, haven’t you? Paul thinks. Lorelei grins.
Jerry continues. “I could wield my corporate authority to make this deal happen. But you know I don’t like to dictate change. It hurts morale. That’s why you’re here. Your job is to bring my team on board with ADMS.”
Paul nods. “Got it.”
Jerry walks around his desk. “They have a long list of concerns. I’m sure you’ll be able to address them. If everyone likes what they see, you’ll negotiate with my right hand, Donny Sturges. I have to warn you, he’s a tough nut.”
“I appreciate the heads up,” Paul replies. Jerry’s always been honest with him and he respects that.
Jerry grabs Paul’s shoulder. “Come on up to the house while you’re here. We’ll cover off on the details.”
That was easy. “I will. Thanks, Jerry.” Paul extends another handshake.
Monica interrupts them. Content acquisition manager by day, party girl by night, the body of a porn star, and the cunning of a predatory animal, all wrapped in a tight white button-down and short wool skirt that begs to reveal the surprise underneath. Women like her shouldn’t be allowed to dress like this at work. “We’re ready for you, Jerry.”
Jerry lays his hand to Monica’s shoulder. “Paul, this is Monica. She finds great content for us to distribute. And she knows our consumers better than anyone. She’ll be working with Donny on the ADMS tiger team. Monica, why don’t you take Paul around to meet the crew?”
“Come with me, Mr. Douglass.” Monica connect with Lorelei before she bolts down the hall.
Paul loses himself in a fantasy of the two women together, devouring each other’s lips, their breasts merging into a unified mound of flesh. He shares a guy moment with Jerry. Paul detects a subtle flash of guilt on Jerry’s face. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking. No way, Jerry. You didn’t.
“Let’s go, Paul,” Monica calls. “Everyone’s waiting to meet you.”
Lorelei moves Paul along with a hand on his back and closes the door on Jerry. She falls in behind Monica and Paul, studying their mutual attraction. Promising, she muses to herself.
First stop, Donald Sturges, the man Jerry warned Paul about. His counterpart is a c
hiseled SICAL male with magnetic good looks. He’s a sharp negotiator who knows how to party and outlast everyone else. “Donald, meet Paul Douglass,” Monica says. “He’s our guy from ADMS. The new COO, I should say.”
Paul sizes Donald up as he shakes his hand. “Donald, a pleasure to meet you.”
Donald checks out Paul head to toe. Monica slides an arm under Paul’s arm. “I’ve heard about you,” Donald says. “Is it all true?”
“I suppose you’ll find out as we get to know each other.” Donald shoots Lorelei an approving smirk.
“Where’s Sir Elmo?” Monica asks, letting Donald know with her eyes that Paul belongs to her.
“Server room.” Donald feigns disappointment as Monica leads Paul away.
New Century’s mid-twenties head of IT, Elmo Foster, wears his hair at mid-back length, complimented by epic body jewelry and tattoos worthy of an Inked magazine cover. “Dude!” Monica exclaims.
Elmo responds with a hug. “What up, girl?”
Paul checks out the server room, fascinated with the blinking lights of the servers. He walks up and down the rows of racks to see what’s there.
“This is Paul,” she says. “The guy I’ve been telling you about from Seattle.”
Elmo replies his conversation with Monica in his head. “Aha! The ADMS guy.” He checks out Paul’s suit. “You related to Jerry?”
“Nah, I just buy my suits from the same tailor.” Paul scans Elmo’s ensemble. “Nice threads.”
Elmo performs a 360 to give Paul the full show. “As you can see, I have my unique style.”
“Be glad you don’t have to wear the monkey suit,” Paul says. “I look forward to working with you, Elmo.”
Elmo shakes Paul’s hand. “Likewise. It will be epic.” Elmo expects Monica’s question. “You’ll find Dandridge in his lair.”
Paul follows Monica to the cubicle where Hal Dandridge spends most of his waking life. New Century’s embittered in-house legal counsel is around forty, but his tired suit, salt-and-pepper hair, and dark-circled eyes add ten years to his look. He’s the misfit of the crew. “Hi Hal.” Monica gives him a full body hug.
Dandridge blushes and extracts himself from the hug. “Hi, Monica. How are you?”
“Sexier than ever.” Monica winks. “Hey, I want to introduce you to Paul Douglass, the COO of ADMS.”
He shakes Paul’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Paul. Mr. Weisbaum told me we would work together. Looking forward to it.”
“That’s what you say now,” Paul teases. Dandridge replies with a deadpan stare.
“Always so serious.” Monica wraps an arm around Dandridge’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’ve tried everything to get him to lighten up.” She smiles as Dandridge pulls away and returns to his desk chair. “We’ll see you at ten, Hal. All-day meeting to figure out our game plan. Executive presentation next Monday.”
“I’ll be there,” Dandridge says as he immerses himself in his computer screen.
Lorelei prompts Monica to leave with her eyes. “Talk to you in a few, Paul.” Monica smiles to Paul and disappears down the hallway.
Lorelei leads Paul into an empty six-person conference room nearby. She closes the door. “There you have it. These are your new best friends. Win them over, and the rest will take care of itself.”
“I can do that.” Paul’s instincts tell him she’s about to set him up for something he won’t like. He moves to the other side of the table to create some distance between them.
Lorelei rests her hands on the table and leans toward him. “I know you’re on a healthy kick and all that, but the crew likes to party. Even Dandridge, though he’ll never admit it. We need to spoil them rotten.”
Paul’s commitment to Laura replays in his mind. “I know how to party.”
“It will be irresponsible,” Lorelei warns. “Saddle up for the ride right now.”
A knock on the door saves him from having to respond to her statement. Lorelei lets the crew in. Monica hands Paul his computer bag. He stations himself in front of the TV screen and preps his laptop to present the investor presentation he put together before the trip. Lorelei sits at the far end of the table and Monica sits at her right hand. The men take the remaining seats. “All right,” Paul says. “Let’s get started.”
The crew exits the conference room after an all-day session, leaving Lorelei and Paul alone. Paul slaps his laptop closed and collapses in his chair with a sigh. “That was intense.”
“You aced it, Sailor.” Lorelei rests her hands on Paul’s shoulders and starts a neck massage. Paul melts into her touch, as her electric sensuality radiates from his neck down to his groin. Just as he’s feeling it, she releases her hands to leave him wanting more. “Need a ride to your hotel?”
“Sure.” He packs his computer bag as his shaking head disagrees with the choice. Lorelei grins as she observes the incongruence.
Lorelei drives the Gemballa through the busy L.A. streets as if it was a sexual act. Thrust. Slow. Stop. Thrust. Intense. Slow. Pump. Explode. Paul sits with his laptop bag at his feet, smartphone in hand, mesmerized again by her and the ride. Lorelei opens the top two buttons of her shirt. “This is fucking sweet,” Paul blurts out as she reveals the seductive V formed by her cleavage. “Excuse my language.”
“Be yourself. I don’t mind.” She breathes in deep, expanding her chest. “I must admit it, Paul. I’m impressed.”
So am I. “Yeah, it went well today.” Paul yanks the laptop bag onto his lap.
Lorelei infuses her voice with a soft and subtle musical cadence that places Paul in a semi-conscious trance. “You’re as good as they say, Paul Douglass.” She arches her back. Paul drops his smartphone, but he doesn’t notice. Lorelei has captured his full attention.
Laura clutches her smartphone as it rings over and over. Voicemail again. She tries texting. Again, no response. “If he’s out drinking, I’m divorcing him,” she says to the bunny.
She tosses the phone on the couch and grabs her laptop. Laura reads The Paranormal Society website Ellen referred her to. Her graduate studies opened her mind to the concepts of spirits, demons and gods. But the psychologist in her still struggles to accept paranormal explanations for human behavior. Ellen used Laura’s need to understand what is happening to her husband to convince her to read this website.
Laura reads a passage from the article, “Possible Signs of Demonic Possession:”
“A victim of possession can sometimes become aggressive, physically and emotionally abusive, and excessively violent. Issues with explosive rage, anger related issues, personality disorders, mood disorders and social anxiety issues should be ruled out before such changes can be considered psychological signs of demonic possession and/or the changes in one’s personality must be accompanied by other signs of potential possession.”
Paul came from a broken home, she reminds herself again. “He’s got to deal with the grief of losing his parents,” Laura explains to the bunny. “Therapy is the right choice. Ellen doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” The bunny sniffs to agree with her. Laura composes a text to Ellen and then deletes it. No point. Barbara will help us figure this out. Thank god Paul agreed to continue seeing her.
Paul hunches over his laptop on the desk in his hotel room, replying to the day’s emails. He reaches into his travel case to grab something, coming up empty-handed. “Where’s my damn phone?” In a panic, he searches his briefcase, baggage and the entire room. No smartphone. He grabs the hotel phone and dials. “Laura?”
“There you are!” Laura exhales her worry. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I lost my phone.” He thinks through all the places it could be. “I must have left it in Lorelei’s car.”
“Lorelei? Who’s Lorelei?” This name sounds familiar to her. From the song Paul sang to her. Laura revisited her research on siren myths after their encounter at Whidbey Island. In her master’s studies, she learned how many cultures, modern and pre-biblical, incorporated a siren myth. Lorel
ei was the German myth.
Paul gets up from the desk. He grabs water bottle from the mini-bar. “Lorelei Andressen. Our new investor. I told you about her before the trip.”
She’s pissed. “No, you didn’t tell me this before…”
“Yeah, I guess I didn’t. She’s kinda hot,” he teases. Bad idea. He hears her anger in her breathing. “It’s a professional relationship, Laura. Lorelei knows Jerry and everyone at New Century. She’s our inside track to closing the deal.”
Laura launches off the couch and walks along the lake windows to calm down. You fuck her and I’m done. “You promised me this will not be another one of those fucking around in L.A. trips.”
“I’m not fucking around down here.” He puts the phone on speaker, snaps the cap and removes it from the water bottle. “I never fuck around down here. It’s all business, Laura.” Jesus Christ, woman, for once could you trust me?
Laura can’t hide her vulnerability. “You’re not drinking?”
“No. I’m working.” He slugs the water, wishing it was a coke with Jack Daniels. “Closing the big deal. Making us rich. Remember? No drinks.”
Laura visits the bunny. She opens the cage to stroke his fur. The bunny looks up at her. I don’t trust him. “OK. I believe you. I love you, Paul.”
“You too.” He ends the call. A day of travel, meetings, sexual tension and marital stress catches up with him. Exhausted, Paul disrobes, turns out the lights, and crawls into bed. Within seconds, he passes out and sleeps undisrupted for a few hours.
The laptop display emits an eerie glow that permeates the room. Paul writhes in bed. His snoring distorts into a supernatural buzz that permeates the room. His eyes open.
A translucent mirage of Lorelei stands at the foot of the bed. She’s the 16th century blonde from St. Goar, Germany, gorgeous in a farmer’s dress that pushes up her breasts to invite desire from any man who sees her. “My dear Erik,” she says. She opens her hands to invite him toward her.
Paul can’t take his eyes off her. He fights through his confusion and the blankets to plant his feet on the floor. “Lorelei?” He takes a few hesitant steps toward her.
