“Is brilliant. You’re brilliant. Tell me, how did you figure all this out? I have access to data and reports and all the other crap that comes with access, but you shouldn’t be able to see across systems like this.”
“It really wasn’t that hard. I knew how to find the numbers, and the ones I didn’t have access too, I went to the department heads. Some data is also available from old presentations, so a few of the figures are a quarter off.”
“God, that brain of yours, it’s huge.”
I feel myself blush, as if I could grow any redder. For the first time at Icor Tech, I feel truly appreciated.
Gabriel leans back in his chair, an easy grin on his handsome, perfect 10 face. “So, you’re hired.”
“Pardon? I’ve been working here for two years.”
“Yeah, but…you’ve been working as a program manager. I think you need a different position.”
The blood drained from my face. I no longer have to worry about looking like a lobster because now I look like a ghost.
“Sir, are you offering me a job?”
“It’s a small one, and I’m not offering—I’m demanding you take it.”
“I…this…”
“There’s a whole floor of office suites for directors and board members—one of those has your name on it because I want you working close to me as an assistant.”
Gabriel Icor, heir to the Icor Tech and his family fortune, the perfect 10, wants little old Remi Stone working closely with him, and I am honestly worried I might be having a heart attack. I mean, I am the youngest program manager his company has ever had by two years, and now I’ll be working closely with the head of the company as some type of systems analyst or something!
“Sir, are you sure you don’t want to think this over?”
“First—I told you to call me Gabe. Second, not one other person has given serious thought to switching platforms. All they do is talk about the cost, having to teach a new system, ignoring the data I shove in front of them. They’re so scared of change. Did you know one board member is literally waiting for the day we no longer have computers? He keeps a contingency plan. Seriously, if there is ever a time computers don’t work, Icor Tech is going down. After all, we’re called Icor TECH for crying out loud.”
“Wait, you mean to tell me that a high up member of Icor seriously believes we’ll one day wake up to none of the computers working?”
“No joke. I often imagine he watches porn only on VHS. His selection must be lacking.”
I blush again, disbelieving that Gabriel Icor has uttered the word porn in my presence.
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have said that.”
“No—no. It’s okay. It was funny.”
“But it was inappropriate.”
I bite my lip, heart leaping into my throat. Oh, to be lucky enough to have Gabriel Icor actually be inappropriate with me. I mean, even if he weren’t worth billions, he’d be a catch with his well-formed body, his dark shaggy hair, and his stunning blue eyes.
I give him a wink. “Well, if you’d like, I can sit down with him and bring him up to DVD era technology.”
Gabriel let out a hearty chuckle, hands covering his face. “Oh boy, what have we gotten ourselves into.”
I smile, reveling in the thought that Gabriel Icor and I now share a personal, inside joke—not that he will remember it after today, but it is surely something I will be repeating to my grave. All my grandkids will be gathered around while I’m on my deathbed telling them for the hundredth time how I offered to teach a board member of Icor Tech how to watch porn on DVD, to Gabriel Icor himself.
His voice lowers, he looks nervous.
“I need to ask you a favor,” he says, leaning close to me.
Oh, God, we’re practically touching. Gabriel Icor is so close I can feel him next to me.
“W...what d…do you want?” I stutter like a complete fool.
“Here’s the situation…”
CHAPTER 3
Gabriel’s no good, very rotten board….
It’s not every day that an enigma walks through the doors of your boardroom, but when one does, you take notice.
When Remi Stone barged in, my first thought was that she was lost, or even drunk. She was disheveled, with a stained black shirt and mismatched shoes. It would have been easy to dismiss her, and on another day, I probably would have, but she came into that boardroom at a time of perfect chaos, when I desperately needed a distraction.
As it turned out—she might be the solution to my problems.
Icor Tech didn’t become the juggernaut that it is overnight, and it took quite a team to get Icor this far—an aging team that isn’t changing with the times.
Whenever I see an opportunity, I have to fight my way through red tape, or rather, silver tape—the aged board members that just won’t let go of the past.
Now, in truth, they are one of my company’s most valuable assets. Icor Tech wouldn’t be what it is today without the remaining original board members, and they still provide valuable insight.
The problem is, when it comes to upgrading old tech, they keep insisting that the new programs lack support, they’re so new they must have bugs, or, my personal favorite, our workforce of almost exclusively engineers can’t possibly learn a new system!
And, if I’m being honest, it’s not just the older board members that are a problem. Tom Wellington, our CFO, is the biggest thorn in my side.
The board was originally comprised of the original five board members, called the Big 5, and my grandfather, Maxwell Icor, who was the sixth board member. Whenever a board member retires or passes, a new one is appointed. For some reason, my father had Tom appointed to the board when a position wasn’t available, bringing the board to seven members.
Tom’s just a little older than myself, but he’s determined to be an obstacle to every success I try to make. He schmoozes with the other board members, sucking up like a big leech, turning their votes against me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The problem goes deeper than just old tech, though. It’s change in general. They seem to have a problem letting go of ANYTHING.
I’ve been working for Icor Tech since I was sixteen, even through college, and it hasn’t changed.
I was twenty-one when I took my first real stand. I demand we switch from single-ply to two-ply toilet paper. And so the tissue wars began.
Everyone picked sides. I was told I was being gratuitous, that I would one day run the family business to the ground with my desire for luxury. Um, excuse me. Two-ply toilet paper isn’t a luxury. It’s like a bare minimum expectation for a billion-dollar corporation to have.
With my stance, I solidified the loyalty of the underlings. Then a group that went around calling themselves the Toilet Trio came in and TPed one of the board member’s offices. It was a mess—that I had to fix, mind you.
In case you’re wondering: no, high-level grey hairs cannot take a joke. The Toilet Trio was put on probation, but in the end, the cause prevailed. One of my only real successes at Icor Tech is literally getting two-ply toilet paper to the masses.
That’s why I need Remi on my side. She doesn’t just stop with an idea. Based on her spreadsheets, she takes care in conducting research, not jumping to any unproven conclusion. Her thorough research will hopefully convince the board better than I can.
This would all be easier if she wasn’t so damn distracting, though. Does she even realize the effect she had on me? How utterly charmed I was?
She only has to make it through tomorrow, and make no mistake—tomorrow is going to be a doozy for her.
I feel bad, really, I do. Remi and her twenty-three year old, bright-eyed self does not deserve the shit storm that’s about to be thrown at her. And she’s so unsuspecting.
It’s the only way.
Remi deserves an office with underlings and access to all the systems and data her little analytical heart desires, but first, I have to see if she sinks
or swims. So yes, I’m about to toss her out to sea, but the greater the risk, the greater the reward. Or at least that’s what grandpa Max used to say.
I just hope she doesn’t hate me afterward.
Obviously, I don’t want her to hate me because of her stellar work ethic and results—but I can’t deny that she’s also kind of hot. Beneath her disheveled exterior is a body most men would be eager to get their hands on. Who could blame me for thinking about what’s underneath that sexy, tight skirt of hers? I mean, she wasn’t wearing hose, did she forego panties as well?
Oh, my God, am I really thinking this? Am I sitting here, at my desk, wondering if the twenty-three-year-old clumsy genius is wearing panties or not?
She’s the kind of hot you see on The Big Bang Theory. Big glasses, dated clothes, quirky, and what’s the word? Oh yeah, adorkable. What a catch!
My phone buzzes, and I push to connect the line, wishing I had a few more moments to think about the brainy beauty.
Gabe: What is it, mom?
Mom: The flowers are arranged. Lilies and alstroemerias—roses are so dated.
Gabe: Mom, I don’t care about flowers.
Mom: Well, you should! This is a very important family you’re marrying into.
Gabe: Yeah, but I have bigger things to worry about than flowers, which will no doubt be dead within a week.
Mom: We can make a show of the flowers, have them sent to gravestones after the event.
Gabe: Don’t you think that’s a bit tacky?
Mom: You’re right. I’ll run it past PR first. Sayo’s mom said something about having an herb in the arrangement. Isn’t that wild?
Gabe: Well, is it cultural?
Mom: I don’t know. I figured it was a millennial thing.
Gabe: Well, if Sayo’s mother is the one—
Mom: I just want this special day to be perfect for you. I can’t believe in two short months…
My mother’s sobs carry over the phone, tugging at my heart.
Gabe: I know mom. I’m all grown up.
Mom: She’s so beautiful. I can’t wait for my grandbabies.
I clutch my chest. I mean, this is a lot of pressure to put on an only child—the sole carrier of my parent’s combined DNA.
Gabe: Well, I gotta go, mom. Love ya.
I press disconnect and shove all thoughts of weddings and flowers aside, trying to focus on my current problem—how I’m going to save Icor Tech from going under, which will be inevitable if I can’t get these dinosaurs out of the prehistoric age.
I walk over to an antique cabinet and pull out a cheap bottle of scotch. Funny how everyone assumes I drink only the high-end brands. Sure, I have those at parties and business dinners, but Cutty Sark does the job just as well.
I take a long sip, allowing my mind to settle on Remi again, her large doe eyes, her messy blonde hair. Utterly charming and completely unlike any woman I’ve dated.
In a few short days, if all goes as planned, she’ll get her promotion, and it won’t just be a new office she’ll get. She’ll move into Icor Tower as well. Close to myself.
What if she has a boyfriend?
The thought makes me anxious, jealous. She didn’t wear a wedding ring, but with her clear disorientation, she might have forgotten to slip it on in the morning. It really shouldn’t bother me, not with my own nuptials just around the corner, but it does.
You just met this woman! What is wrong with you?
It’s true, I’ve just met Remi Stone for the first time, and it’s not like me to think on a woman too hard. It’s just, I don’t remember ever having so much fun talking with a woman before. And she’s just so smart. I admire her.
My heart feels heavy, an unfamiliar ache. I suddenly realize I’m doomed, having to work with her—closely even, hearing about her dates, her eventual marriage, and one day, her children. She’ll no doubt ask me about mine, and what will I say? Will I lie and say everything is fine? Or will she know?
I take another sip, determined to keep my heart at bay and focus on the problem I can actually do something about. Saving my company.
CHAPTER 4
Cregor is a Grumpy pants…
God, why must we sit through another ‘innovation’ meeting? People trying to fix things that aren’t broken, so that they can get a bullet on their resume or a promotion.
I’m seated with five other board members at the table: Tom, Jim, Essie, Lindel, and Barry. Several directors are seated along the wall, waiting for the meeting to begin. The seventh member of the board, Gabriel, won’t bother showing up—he never does.
These meetings will be the death of stability. Very few of these changes are actually good, and even fewer pan out. I’ve been on Icor Tech’s board for forty years—from the very beginning. There’s a reason I’m still around when others are long gone.
Two unfilled seats. What the heck is taking them so long? It’s 7:58. Back in my day, it was fifteen minutes early or don’t bother showing up at all. These damn millennial XYZers think they can show up a half-hour late and get a trophy just for being there at all. Well, that ain’t how it works around Icor. Icor Tech didn’t rise to the top from lax worth ethics. Oh no! Sixty-hour workweeks and steadfast resolve are what separated us from the herd.
It’s 7:59, and one seat is still open. If I had it my way, doors would be locked at 8, but no. We wouldn’t want to hold anyone accountable for their actions now, would we?
The door opens, and a mouse of a woman steps into the room at 8:00 on the nose. Her head is down, glasses sliding off the bridge of her nose, wavy blonde hair framing a delicate face—far too young to be invited to these types of meetings.
Tom Wellington rises to shake her hand, ever eager to make the pretty woman feel at home.
“Remi, it’s good to have you up here,” he says.
Now, Jim is rising to shake her hand as well. The directors that line the back wall are waving, smiling at her—trying to make her feel welcome.
My eyes stay glued to my paperwork as names are called out, Barry and Lindel follow my lead. We are what’s left of The Big Five, the first five employees of Maxwell Icor.
Barry had been Maxwell’s best friend in high school, the first of us. Then came Christopher Bass, may God rest his soul. Dean Whitmore, now retired. Myself, then finally, Lindel Sampson.
When Maxwell hired Lindel all those years back, it was a shock to ‘The First Four,’ as we so-called ourselves back then. Not so much that she was a woman, as someone had to keep the coffee coming, but because she was black.
When we voiced our opinions, Maxwell simply dismissed them. And boy, did we not like our thoughts being taken so lightly and more than one of us thought of walking.
It was a different time then, and I’m not too proud to admit that I was wrong—about so many things. Lindel ended up being the glue that solidified the team—solidified the Big Five. She focused our efforts, the epitome of ‘work smarter, not harder.’ If Maxwell was the brains of the operation, Lindel was the heart, and boy could she cut a rug.
“And this here is Cregor,” Tom said, bringing the mouse to my side.
I keep my eyes on my papers, disallowing the woman the satisfaction of my welcome. These ‘innovation meetings’ as they call them, have largely been a waste of time, rarely resulting in any lasting changes. It was Gabriel Icor, bane of his grandfather’s name, that started them, thinking he knew better than us ‘old folks’.
“Don’t mind him,” Tom said. “You can take a seat. We’ll have the slides up in just a moment.”
The mouse doesn’t sit. Instead, she says, “Actually, Tom, I have some things on my laptop I’d like to share.”
“Oh? You didn’t have them available Friday?”
“Well, I did, but I couldn’t submit them. They require a bit of explaining, and they wouldn’t have made it past review.”
Damnit, as if I didn't need any more of my time being wasted. It’s bad enough this is likely to run over an hour.
“I have t
hese sheets here for everyone to review along with the presentation.”
Papers are flying around the room, and I have to grit my teeth to hold my tongue.
Tom opens the meeting, explaining that Remi is here to brief a database she had developed and how training will be rolled out.
What a relief. For a moment, I thought she was going to try to do some big overhaul of a pertinent system. Efficiency is good, though, and if she’s found a way to automate a few processes, good for her. Give her the damn raise she’s gunning for and let us get on with business.
Tom gives Remi the floor.
It’s a lackluster opening from the mouse. A brief discussion of her work. Training times. Man-hours. She’s rambling on, and I’m nearly bored to tears.
Then the hammer falls.
“If we were to switch from Telwire to Expressions, we would go from eight core systems down to three, and—”
“Bollocks!” I yell, jumping from my chair. “Is this a damn salesman or an employee?”
Her eyes grow wide, flashing with fear.
The board members are looking at me, as are the directors. I imagine they are rather grateful I have said what they felt they could not. It’s what comes with being one of the Big 5. You say what you want, when you want to say it.
“I’d like to hear a little more of what she has to say,” Tom says with his usual good-natured grin.
Damn, Tom Wellington. He’d be good for nothing if it weren’t for the barriers he creates for Gabriel.
I throw the papers in the center of the table. “Of course, you would. You just love wasting company resources.”
The Billionaire's Board Page 3
