Brody, page 6
“Okay, can’t compete with your mother. Tell Abbie I say hello.”
“Will do.”
“And please take a look at those tonight.” He points to the folders. “I’d like to interview any hopefuls and close out on a contract by the end of this week.”
“Why the rush?”
“No rush, but you’ll understand when you look at them. Their need is great, and the opportunity for us to step in is small but maybe great. There’s one you might find interesting. Maybe you could get Asher’s eyes on it.”
“Why?”
“It’s a vineyard. Oh, and don’t forget Friday night.”
“What’s Friday night?” Shit, did I forget something? I glance at my calendar.
“Our kickoff party?” He shakes his head. “For the VR startup? Quinn’s company.”
“Ah, yes.” That’s his wife’s startup, and it’s a big deal, worth billions.
“It’s black-tie.” He points at my neck and the open collar. My tie is somewhere on the floor. Me and ties have a complicated relationship.
They’re required in my line of work, and I hate them.
“Bring someone interesting.” Hawke ignores my audible groan. “You know, not your usual type. This is a different kind of crowd. Young. Whiz kids. Clueless about money. Blind to wealth. Super smart. Your usual arm candy will leave them slack-jawed and hard all evening long. Find someone they can relate to.”
“I’ll be there.” As to who I’ll take? I might have to go through the list and see who’s the least pissed off at me, or who might be interested in a second round. Despite my reputation, I do double-dip from time to time. I have no idea who I want to endure a black-tie event with. Hawke leaves me to work.
A glance at my watch reveals it’s just after four. No kicking off early tonight. Mother won’t arrive until closer to seven. The ballet begins at eight, which leaves me with a couple of hours to kill. I text her and tell her to park her car at my building. We’ll walk from here and enjoy a stroll through the city.
I survey my office, as I sometimes do. I’m thankful to my dad for raising me with a solid work ethic. He helped my mom raise troublesome triplets, and we certainly gave them a run for their money. Never once did he allow us to slack off or accept less than our best. It shows too.
Asher is the CEO of our family-run winery. On the side, he’s a volunteer firefighter and not just a run of the mill kind of firefighter. My eldest brother is part of an elite helitack woodland crew who rappels into woodland fires in the most rugged terrains to fight forest fires and save lives. He thinks nothing of risking his life to save others.
I’m the CFO of our family business, although Asher pretty much runs everything. I just keep the books looking pretty, make sure we pay our taxes on time, and make payroll each month. My job with Sterling Enterprises is my real job.
Cage is a world-class photographer. He travels the world taking photos in some of the most austere places on Earth; they’ll steal your breath. He’s been featured in countless magazines and his career continues to astound me. His photos are amazeballs. Fucking brilliant.
We’re all highly successful, driven men leaving our mark on the world. A deep sense of gratitude fills me for the values our parents instilled in us. The values which find me sitting in an expansive office overlooking the San Francisco skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows.
I could’ve hired an interior designer to design my office, but I did this myself, setting the right tone of prestige, success, and wealth for the clients who come to Sterling Enterprises asking for an equity investment to breathe new life into their failing dreams.
When Hawke first hired me, I thought the tiny office they crammed me into was the height of success. I had a desk, a fern I killed within three months, and half a window. A dividing wall cut the small window in half, but I thought I scored it big. I wasn’t shoved into the maze of cubicle desks in the center of the office. I was a kid right out of college with a business degree and a resume that looked better than it should, and I thought I had made it in the world.
Dad passed just after college. Asher, Cage, and I stepped up to take over La Rouge Vineyards. Asher, as the eldest, took over as CEO. I had the business degree and stepped in as CFO, and Cage had his degree in marketing. He used every trick in the book to make La Rouge a success.
I thought my dreams would end there, mired in taking over the family vineyard, but Asher had a unique flair for the business. It quickly became clear to both me and Cage that he didn’t need us. I might feel guilty about leaving Asher to run everything, but he loves being in charge and is damn good at making wine.
I hate to even think it but my father’s death directly led to Hawke hiring the green, untried hopeful that I was at the time onto his acquisitions’ team. Having CFO of La Rouge Vineyards, an established winery with an awesome track record on my resume, said something. Hawke took a chance on me.
It was all work and no play those first few years with Hawke. I had a lot to prove and couldn’t afford to fail. But I turned a profit for Hawke in my first quarter. It wasn’t much, barely a blip in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough to get his interest. I doubled down, worked harder, and the next quarter that blip turned into my first six-figure deal. Still not much in the grand scheme of things, but for my first six months on the job, Hawke took notice.
I flip open the first proposal and peruse the contents. Nothing strikes me at first glance. I dig a little deeper, looking to see how Sterling Enterprises can turn around a flagging photo business. After a quick ten-minute read, I decide against them, but jot down a few notes for the rejection letter.
They aren’t maximizing their online presence and are losing sales as a result. If we stepped in, we could turn the business around, but for the time investment, it’s not worth it to Sterling Enterprises. I add a few minor equity firms to my notes for the company to check out.
Hawke used to raise an eyebrow at the comments I left to those we rejected. He didn’t understand sending business elsewhere, but I can’t in good conscience leave them to flounder when I see opportunities for improvement.
We may not help turn their business around, but sometimes all people need is a little coaching to get things back on course. I do the same for the second and third folders Hawke left behind.
Mother texts me she’s about forty-five minutes out. Traffic headed into the city is nothing like that flowing out at rush hour. It’s one of the reasons I only make it home about one weekend a month. At this time of the day, it can take well over three hours to get to Fairfield and another hour to get to our vineyard in Napa. Fortunately, Mom’s drive is just a little over an hour. I’d worry about it, but I know she’s probably listening to one of her steamy audiobooks in the car.
With under an hour left, I open the last folder. My heart catches in my throat when I see Grace Atwood’s name at the top of the next equity investment proposal.
Nine
Brody
I slam the folder shut and take a few breaths. For some reason, my heart hammers in my chest, and my palms begin to sweat. I open the folder again and press my fingers over her name. I’ve made mistakes in my past, some bigger than others, but the mistake I made with Grace was an epic, colossal fuck-up.
I was cruel, heartless, and an all-around asshole. There are few things in life I’m not proud of. In general, I’m a good person: thoughtful, considerate, the man my parents hoped to raise.
With Grace, I became something else.
I need to change that, and I have one very good idea how. After jotting down a few notes, I send a message to my assistant to set up an appointment with Grace Atwood for the morning.
I don’t understand how her vineyard is so deep in the red, but with my business acumen and Asher’s expertise in running a successful winery, we can turn things around. Hawke will definitely give me side-eyes for accepting the proposal. It’s a massive risk, but I honestly don’t care.
This is personal.
Less than half an hour later, Mom texts she’s pulling up in the garage. I head down to meet her and greet her with a kiss.
“How’re you doing?”
“Fabulous. And you?” Her eyes twinkle and her smile beams.
“You going to tell me about your date, or are we going to dance around it all evening?”
My visit to Napa, specifically to see her, resulted in nothing more than lunch with Evie and Asher. Our mother turned into a major no-show. Asher and I were ready to mount a manhunt, only to be sidelined by Evie. She told us to stand down. To my amazement, that’s exactly what Asher and I did. I pried Evie for information, but she remained tight-lipped.
Mom’s keeping something from us. Not that it matters. For the next three hours, Abbie La Rouge is all mine.
“So…” I hold open the door to the parking garage and grin as she shuffles past me.
“So, what?” Her grin is flirtatious and unflappable. Mom never gives away the good stuff. We have to dig.
“So, where were you?”
“You need to be more specific.”
“I came to visit you and you weren’t there.”
“Oh, you mean this past weekend? Honey, you really need to be more specific.”
“Don’t play with me. Who is he?”
“Who is who?” She gives a little smirk.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“No. Now don’t meddle in my affairs.” Her bony finger pokes against my sternum. Abbie La Rouge is one fierce woman.
“Fine. But you can’t hide him forever.”
“I’m not hiding anyone. Do you tell me about all your conquests?”
“So you admit he’s a conquest.”
“He’s no such thing.”
“But, you just said…”
“I was talking about you. Now, sweetie, when are you going to settle down?” She reaches for my arm and settles her hand in the crook of my arm.
“I don’t want to settle down. I’m perfectly happy…”
“You’re not happy. I see it and feel it in here.” She presses her hand against her chest. “You’re spinning your wheels, wasting time on women you know don’t matter, because you’re afraid of commitment. Why is that?” The look she gives me is one of true pain. “Didn’t your dad and I teach you anything?”
“Mom…” I grit my teeth and close my eyes for a second. This is not the conversation I want to have with my mom.
“Don’t Mom me. When the right one comes along, you need to grab her by the horns and wrestle her to the ground.”
“That’s really not how it works.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Women want to know the man they’re with is worthy of their love. They need to feel sheltered, protected, loved…”
“You mean suffocated and oppressed? Sorry, but those are antiquated notions.”
“Those antiquated notions are precisely why you spin a new girl through your bed every night.”
“We are not discussing my love life.”
“You’re right, because there’s no ‘love’ to discuss. You fuck women to soothe this emptiness within you. When are you going to get your head out of your ass and figure shit out?” Mom only swears when she’s making a point.
“I’m totally not having this conversation with my mother.”
“You most certainly are. I read the press. Skim the articles. I keep up with all of you.”
“Then focus that shit on Asher or Cage. I’m doing just fine over here.”
“Don’t lie to your Mamma.”
“Mamma?” I chuckle. “Since when do we live in the south, Mother?”
“Pish-posh, you know what I mean.”
“I know you’re putting your nose in my business when I should be putting mine in yours.”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“Who’s the new beau? Who’s the man who stole you from me all weekend?”
“Like that’s a bad thing?” She yanks her hand from my arm and sulks beside me. “You should be happy I found someone who tickles my fancy.”
“As long as it’s just your fancy he’s tickling.”
“Stop.” Mom halts in her tracks, which causes a commotion considering the line of ballet goers trailing behind us. They split and flow past us as we stare at each other. Like always, I’m the one to give in first.
“Fine!”
“Good.” She makes a show of taking my arm and resting her hand in the crook of my elbow again. “Now, speaking of old friends…”
This is how my mother works around to a problem. I listen with half an ear while I navigate us the few blocks to the ballet. My senses are on high alert. San Francisco is not a gentle town. With all the homeless and beggars on the street, I do my best to shield her as I can.
Only after we make it to the theater do I take a breath. We won’t be walking back to the garage. Not at ten in the evening. We walk up the stairs, joining an ever-growing throng of eager theater hopefuls. I present our tickets, and we’re permitted inside.
With plenty of time to spare, I take her to the bar and order drinks. I keep a reserved box, one I share with Hawke. Most nights, he doesn’t fill his seats, leaving me and Mom in peace. Tonight is one such night.
The performance is magical. Brilliant actually. The dancers are on pointe, literally and figuratively. Their performance captivates me, but only because I imagine Grace dancing before me. With my thoughts wrapped up in Grace, I find myself wholly unprepared for Mom’s comment.
“So about Grace…”
It takes a second for my heart to start beating again.
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s just say a little bird told me something might be coming your way. I told her not to worry. That ‘my boy’ would make things right. Are you going to make your mother a liar?” I stare at her. Mom’s a lot of things, but emotional blackmail? It’s way beyond her, or so I thought.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No doubt, you do.” She sniffs and rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying sometimes the universe throws you a bone.”
“Mom.”
“Take the bone. Don’t miss. Catch the damn thing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“Be the man I know you can be. Do the right thing.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“You’re a smart man, honey. Figure it out. In the meantime, call us a car. It’s late, and I’m tired. I’m assuming your guest bedroom is free?”
“It’s always free.”
No one spends the night.
Ever.
Ten
Grace
“Are you sure about this?” Mark paces in the kitchen. He tugs in a deep breath and lets it out on a slow exhale.
“I know, but desperate times…” I can only shrug. Desperate times leave desperate people to do questionable things, like accept an appointment with the devil. My gut tangles in knots. “I’m worried too.” I lay my hand on his arm. “But there really is no alternative.”
“That’s not true. I have my savings.”
“Mom doesn’t want you to dip into your savings.” Mom’s terrified Mark will blow through his retirement. With her medical bills, her entire savings is gone. I inject confidence in my voice. “This is going to work.”
“I guess it’s best to investigate all our options.” He doesn’t look convinced and shoves his hands deep in his pockets.
“I agree.” I give him a hug. "We’re going to make this work.”
We’re small fry when it comes to Sterling Enterprise's usual clients, which is the only thing that makes this whole thing bearable. Hopefully, our case is assigned to some lowly functionary in Acquisitions. My goal is to get in and get out without any accidental encounters with the company’s CFO.
“It’s just…” Mark drags the toe of his shoe in an arc across the kitchen floor. “Our loans have always come from banks before, with terms I understand. I’m concerned about what we might have to agree to. The loss of control bothers me.”
“I’m worried about that too, but if they take us on, it’ll be because they think we’re viable.” I look through my purse to find my phone. “It’s not like we’re signing Atwood Estates away. That’s not how this works. They’re not looking to take over, and I’ll retain controlling interest.”
“Then, how does this benefit them?”
“We give them a portion of our profits…” To be determined by them. “In exchange, we allow them to make an assessment of our business plan and formulate suggestions that we’re contractually obligated to implement.”
This is the one part I’m in complete agreement with Uncle Mark. The thing is, we’re beggars.
“Can you check the traffic? I’m going to change.”
“Again?” He stops his back and forth pacing to look at me. “Didn’t you change just a bit ago?”
“This blouse is too frilly.” It’s too damn feminine.
I race up the stairs and head to my bedroom for yet another last-minute wardrobe change. I want to look professional, put together. Not too casual. Not too sexy. Not too much of anything really. Professional and boring is the look I’m going for, something that will leave me feeling comfortable and confident.
I hope my confidence is enough to ease Mark’s worries. Equity investing is one of the subjects I excelled at in business school. I’m comfortable with the process and know what to expect. Poor Mark is not, and I get his concern.
Panic lingers at the fringes of my mind because this really is our last shot. I’ve yet to hear back from the other equity investors, and time is slipping through my fingers. I hide my feelings of inadequacy and fear from my uncle. He doesn’t need that burden added to his already overwhelming concerns. I lock up my insecurities and shove them way back in my mind, where I’ll deal with them later.
There are other things I need to prepare for, like a confrontation with Brody—if it occurs.
