by J G Barber
Paul walks out onto the tarmac with his bags. Lorelei waves to him. She’s dressed as a Hollywood power player: custom fitted business skirt suit, button-down shirt, and oversized celebrity sunglasses. She mesmerizes him as she struts across the tarmac to the MaverickONE jet. Her body moves like no woman’s he’s ever seen. Beautiful. Irresistible.
Lorelei extends a hand to help Paul onto the stairs, the way a gentleman would do for a lady in times past. They board the jet and Paul stows his bags. They strap into luxury seats facing each other. Paul studies the jet’s interior and Lorelei’s exterior. “I still can’t believe Jerry loaned you his personal jet,” he says to her, awe-struck.
“Welcome to Hollywood, Sailor.” She hums a tune below the frequency range of human hearing. “Did you talk to your wife?”
Paul feels the tune resonate through his chest, enlivening him in a way he’s never felt before, opening a flow of energy in his heart and groin. He wants to devour her with his eyes and his tongue. It takes all his will to resist her pull. “Yes. We worked it out,” he lies.
“Good.” She stops singing and shifts her focus to her tablet. She reads through the latest version of the New Century management presentation. “Nice work. You and the crew work well together.”
“I told you, Lorelei, I know how to close this deal.” With her eyes on the tablet, he scans her body. She catches him looking.
I’m yours if you want me. Her eyes and body language project the thought, but her lips say, “You understand the dynamics of this deal. But you’re missing something. The key to the close.”
“What’s your stake in the deal?” Paul counters innocently, ignoring her feedback.
She feigns surprise. “Art didn’t explain this to you? Okay. Cards on the table. My company’s investment in ADMS provides bridge capital to keep the company running while we close this deal.”
Art’s omission shocks Paul, but he’s not surprised. His lack of transparency about the company’s financial health is number one on Paul’s list of things Art has done to fuck up his life. Two previous acquisition deals failed due diligence Paul represented what Art told him but the books were out of integrity.
“I asked for you to be promoted,” Lorelei says. “We all know this deal won’t happen with Art in charge. The board has confidence in you and me, working as a team.”
He fumbles for words, rattled by post-traumatic stress as he finds himself again at effect of Art’s missteps. “Okay.”
She enjoys seeing him rattled. “Okay. And we need to continue working as a team with the crew to get the deal done. You’ve dealt with New Century’s inertia, you know what I’m talking about. We can’t give them any clues that ADMS is financially vulnerable. I have a good story for the historicals. The revenue numbers speak for themselves. Our pitch needs to focus on their immediate need. Now is the time to act or they’ll miss a massive, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Paul can’t hide his skepticism. “I’ve been saying that to Jerry for two years. It hasn’t worked.”
Lorelei leans toward him, grinning mischievously. “Here’s what you need to do: go to Jerry’s house without me and put the fear of loss in him. We can drive a fast close by playing takeaway. Jerry doesn’t like to lose.”
He scoffs at the suggestion. It offends his sense of honor. “The integrity of the deal speaks for itself.”
She’s not surprised by his lack of emotional intelligence. It’s the key trait of Douglass men that she’s exploited for centuries. But she has to make him just smart enough to help her close the deal. “You haven’t closed the deal with that approach, have you?”
Paul shakes his head. He checks his desperation level. Yep. On the verge of being willing to do anything to get Art out of his life and move on the world sailor’s life he’s dreamed of since his teens.
“Trust me, Paul. I have a lot of experience closing deals.” Her eyes and body repeat the invitation. I’m yours if you want me. Paul crosses his legs and resettles in his seat to hide a growing interest in her offer. Lorelei continues to instruct him. “Convince Jerry we have another suitor. You can’t tell Jerry who it is, understand? It’s ‘confidential.’”
Paul processes the Hollywood truth of how to close the deal. I don’t care, he tells himself. This time I’m cashing in. Fuck integrity. Whatever it takes.
Laura parks outside the martial arts studio in Kirkland where she’s being trained in Krav Maga. She learned about the deadly Israeli mixed martial arts from one of her master’s degree cohorts and started the discipline while she was still in school. Being able to self-defend feeds the warrior inside her. It’s helped her stay married to Paul despite her fear of his rage. She keeps the classes a secret from everyone, paying for them in cash. Today, Laura feels the need to ramp up her skills, to deal with what lies ahead.
As she suits up in the locker room, her mind sifts through the events in the last few days. A truth brewing deep beneath the surface for their entire marriage is revealing itself, turning her dysfunctional life with Paul upside down.
Leucosia’s emerald green eyes enter Laura’s mind. She hears a soft and subtle song, a loving melody infused with sadness and longing. As Laura ties her shoes, her desire builds into a wave so powerful she lets go into a spontaneous orgasm. She breathes deeply a few times as the aftershocks dissipate. Who was that woman? Why am I so attracted to her?
“Laura, we’re ready to get started.” Her instructor’s voice brings her attention back to the task at hand. She ties her shoelaces and runs out onto the studio floor, invigorated by the orgasm and ready to fight.
Laura returns home after her workout. She checks in with the bunny, rubbing her belly as the bunny observes. “You okay in there?” she says to her unborn son. Laura grabs her phone and considers calling Paul to talk about her experience with Leucosia. That familiar worry eats away at her gut again. “I’m being ridiculous,” she says to the bunny
Laura grabs her computer and starts journaling furiously, talking as she types. “I don’t know what to do about my husband. Is he suffering from unresolved grief, or is Ellen right? Why won’t Barbara work with us? Why is he so fascinated with that old spyglass? And who were those two men at the graveyard, anyway? And what about me? Why do I want to fuck that redheaded woman so badly? I haven’t been with a woman since college and haven’t wanted to be with one. There is something else going on here that none of us understand. I’m out of my league. I don’t know what to do.” She recalls the lyrics Paul sang to her. She types an excerpt into the browser. “And that with her dulcet-voiced power, was done by the Loreley.”
The search results contain links to The Song of the Loreley, an 1822 German poem by Heinrich Heine that became the most popular song in Germany in its day, Die Lorelei. Lorelei reads about the Loreley Rock in St. Goarshausen and the myth of the siren Loreley, whose song lured sailors to their death on the rocky shores of the Rhine River. She discovers the UNESCO National Heritage Site where tourists visit the Loreley statue today.
Laura ponders the synonym of the Loreley and Lorelei names. “What if Ellen’s wrong and I’m wrong? What if they are same woman? Could Paul’s Lorelei be a modern-day siren? And could that redhead be a lesbian siren?” She laughs. “Sounds like one of those trashy Michael Douglas movies Paul loves. No way this is happening for real.” Laura heads for the bathroom to take a shower.
Chapter Eight
Paul drinks in the poolside experience at Jerry’s mansion. The Hollywood Hills property features stunning views of the well-manicured landscaping, the Sunset Strip, and the L.A. Basin at sunset. A delicious Hispanic house servant delivers a tray of Mexican style drinks. “Mine’s the virgin,” Paul reminds her. She bends over to give Paul a front view and Jerry a rear view—and the reverse as she delivers Jerry’s drink. The men share another guy’s moment.
Jerry offers Paul a cigar from a box of Cubans. “My team wants to do a 90-day trial before we commit to the acquisition.”
“Interesting.” Paul
grabs a cigar from the box. “That didn’t come up in our discussions last week.” He cuts and lights the cigar. “Jerry, you know I’ve wanted to do this deal with you for two years. My promotion comes with the expectation I’ll complete an acquisition this quarter. Consider this a first look deal.” Paul hands Jerry the cutter and lighter. “I can’t wait that long for your people to decide what you’ve already decided, Jerry. It’s now or never.”
Jerry cuts off the tip off and lights his cigar. “They’re not sold yet, Paul. That’s your job.”
“Here’s an idea. We’ll fly the crew up to Seattle next week. I’ll show them why the who’s who of 21st century entertainment and social media have offices in Seattle: Amazon, Disney, HBO, Hulu, Facebook, Microsoft, Nintendo, T-Mobile, plus all the small gaming companies and VR startups. We’ll immerse them in local experiences and the fine products of Washington state agriculture. And remind them they’ll be able to partake every time they fly up on business. That should win them over.”
Jerry nods as he takes a big drag from his cigar. “Set it up.” He exhales.
Paul remembers his lie to Lorelei. He never discussed the crew’s trip to Seattle with Laura. She wants me out of all this as bad as I do. She’ll let me off the hook. “We think the presentation is ready. Any feedback?”
Anna enters with a drink in hand. Jerry’s wife is a case study in Botox overuse and plastic surgery gone wrong. She interrupts. “You’re not going to bore me with business talk, are you?”
“Of course not, darling,” Jerry says, apologetic.
“Please, join us, Anna.” Paul inhales again.
She sits next to Paul. “How is your lovely wife holding up in all that cold and rain in Seattle?”
He exhales over his head to keep the smoke away from Anna. “She finished her master’s degree. We just celebrated our tenth anniversary.” He omits Laura’s pregnancy to spare himself another round of questioning.
“Congratulations.” Anna notices the house servant is hovering at the edge of the patio, listening to their conversation. She glares at the young woman as she sips her drink. “Remind me, please, what is her name?”
“Lorelei,” Paul responds. Jerry coughs. Paul corrects himself. “Laura. Her name is Laura.”
The house servant smirks. Anna notices. She turns her eye on Jerry and shoots him a puzzled look. Jerry blows a cloud of cigar smoke. Anna turns to Paul. “We’d love to have you both over for dinner. Does Laura travel with you?”
“I’ll be sure to ask her.” Paul chugs his drink to cover his shame and emotional confusion about the two most important women in his life. Ah, cold.
At the end of the evening, Jerry walks Paul to his car service pickup. Paul waves to Anna before she closes the front door. “Do not speak her name in my home,” Jerry snaps. “Ever. Understood?”
“Jerry, my apologies.” Paul studies Jerry’s extreme agitation. “If there’s a problem with Lorelei, I’ll take care of it.”
Jerry shoots Paul a look that shakes him to the core. “You don’t have the slightest clue, do you?”
The car service arrives just in time to save Paul from answering the question. He shakes Jerry’s hand. “Thanks for having me over. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jerry doesn’t let Paul’s hand go. “Let’s just get this deal done and appease the Goddess.” Paul digests the disturbed look on his face. “Don’t make the same mistake I did.” Jerry lets go of Paul’s hand.
Paul gets in the car. He processes their soul-shaking interaction as the driver leaves. Holy shit. He must have fucked her. That means she’s got him by the balls. Paul overrides his anxiety by replaying his mental tape of imminent freedom, early retirement and sailing around the world.
Back at the hotel, Paul paces as he talks through his anxiety and the ramifications of inviting the crew to Seattle. “I just committed to a week of playing host for a crew of L.A. party people. That’ll go over well. At least I don’t have to worry about Barbara anymore.” Paul remembers his parting conversation with Laura. “She’ll never understand… Hell, I don’t understand it. I lived the original ending of Fatal Attraction, before they reshot it. The only difference: I never slept with her. All the punishment with none of the rewards.”
Art pops into Paul’s mind. “Focus! I have to talk to Art and prepare the staff for the visit. I doubt he told anyone about the pending acquisition.” Jerry’s deeply disturbed look blinds his mind’s eye. “And then there’s Lorelei fucking Jerry and Monica. This implies a level of sexual manipulation I have yet to comprehend. Thank you for warning me, Jerry. What did Alexei say? Strap yourself to the mast.” Paul yanks his laptop out of its bag and opens it on the desk. “Balance those conflicting commitments, bitch.”
Paul throws himself onto the bed in defeat. “That’s it, I’m fucked.” Paul curls up in the fetal position and lies there until he can’t stand it a moment longer.
He jumps to his feet to reclaim his self-confidence. “Laura. Sweetheart. You know how important this deal is to us, right? Well, representatives from New Century are coming to Seattle next week. I’m required to entertain them while they are here. Yes, we will drink together. Look, Laura, I’m not doing this to hurt you or violate my commitment to you. I have no choice. I have to do whatever it takes to close this deal, or we’ll end up with nothing. ADMS is out of money and Lorelei’s investment was only a bridge to keep us in business long enough to close this deal. This is my last and only shot at realizing our dream.
“Your dream, not mine,” Paul says in Laura’s voice. “Fuck you! I hate you! I’m divorcing you.” A wave of panic overtakes him.
A wave of rage replaces his panic. Erik’s eyes overlay Paul’s. I will show you the way, Erik says in Paul’s mind. It’s the first time he recognizes Erik’s thoughts as distinct from his own. Paul tries to process the divergence in his thoughts, but the rage is all-consuming. All he knows is, when the rage overtakes him, he feels powerful and protected, and he gets shit done. Paul sits down at the desk and channels the rage into his laptop and his work.
New Century’s management packs the conference room. Jerry and Lorelei sit in the back. As he talks, Paul points to the systems diagram displaying on Samsung’s The Wall, the massive 146-inch TV in the room’s front. “The ADMS digital media box office is the only fully integrated, single-source solution for video, music-on-demand, games, apps, VR, AR, MR, individual purchases and subscriptions over 5G, 4G LTE, broadband, cable and satellite. Stream or download content in the cloud to PCs, Macs, set-top boxes, game consoles, DVRs, Internet TVs, tablets, smartphones and smart home devices.”
Paul scans the room as they study the slide. Everyone nods. No detractors. He continues, “Digital rights management, payment processing, ad scheduling, merchandising, social media integration and app store modules enable multiple revenue streams. ADMS analytics allow you to track and forecast views, downloads, income, residuals and profits. Advanced Digital Media Solutions positions New Century Digital Distribution to compete with the established players from day one. ADMS is the platform that enables New Century to ascend as the dominant global player in established and emerging channels worldwide.”
He gives the audience time to digest what he just said. “Questions?” All heads turn to Jerry and Lorelei. At her prompting, Jerry shakes his head. The room remains silent and obedient. Paul notices the entranced stare in their eyes. He tilts his head as he feels the subtle vibration of a song outside the human audible range. He looks at Lorelei. Her mouth is open ever so slightly and her throat is vibrating.
Paul continues. “As we all know, Seattle is home to technology and software development offices for the leaders in the digital entertainment industry. Donald, Elmo, Hal and Monica will join us in Seattle next week. We’ve invited them to meet our staff, inspect our operations, and learn more about your new home in Seattle.”
“Thank you all for your time,” Jerry says to conclude the meeting. He nods approval to Paul on his way out. The room clears, l
eaving Paul and Lorelei alone.
“No questions,” he says as a challenge to Lorelei.
“Not much to say, Sailor. You nailed it, as always.” She smiles innocently, fluttering her eyelids.
“Have you talked to Art about the crew coming up to Seattle?” Paul asks, attempting to disrupt his desire to nail her on the conference table. The male intensity of his presentation left him feeling virile, ready to express it, and unable to hide it.
She notices his erection. “I have not,” she says, all business. “That’s yours to do. We need Art to stay out of our way.” Lorelei wiggles her fingers, projecting her energy to further stimulate his desire. He’s ready to jump her bones.
Lorelei snuffs his desire with a look and turns away to reply to a text message from the Hispanic woman who works as Jerry’s house servant. “Good work, sister,” she types. “You’ve earned your place at the celebration of desire. We’ll take care of your travel expenses.”
Paul’s hooked by her takeaway move. He tries to grab her attention. “I’ll talk to Art. I’ll take care of it.”
“I know you will.” She grins. “The 90-day trial is a smoke screen. You need to spend the rest of our time here pulling the crew’s concerns out of them. We’ll resolve them in Seattle next week.”
Paul nods agreement. “I’m on it.” He leaves the room to hunt down the crew.
The desire Paul stimulated washes over her, flushing her cheeks. Lorelei checks her surroundings to convince herself the coast is clear. She slides a hand under her skirt to satisfy herself.
It’s Thursday night. The MaverickONE soars off the tarmac, headed back to Seattle. Jerry and the crew agreed that Paul and Lorelei needed a business day in Seattle to prepare for the crew’s arrival. No one mentioned that Paul still needed to talk to Art and his wife to get them on board with the plan.
Paul sits facing Lorelei. “What did the crew tell you?” she asks.
