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“Jim,” I said, nodding in the direction of two men in business suits as they approached. One was tall and unusually thin with dark hair, reminding me of the cartoon version of Ichabod Crane, and the other was short and stout with blond hair and a ruddy complexion.
“This is Matthew Price and Frank Thomas,” Jim introduced Ichabod first, then his red-faced friend. “Matthew is the VP of Communications, and Frank is the VP of Production.”
“Gentlemen,” I nodded toward the men before I turned to Jim, needing to speak to him outside the company of these two snakes. “I need a quick word, Jim.”
“We were just telling Mr. Jenkins how fortunate we are that Mitchell and Company are willing to partner with us,” Frank said with more arrogance than his situation called for.
I eyed his smile, reading him like a fucking book. Any other day, I would’ve played with these bastards for a while, then got my hands dirty. Unfortunately for them, today was not any other day.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Monroe?” Matthew questioned, running a hand through his shiny brown hair.
This time I smiled. He was nervous, and I was like a fucking predator who enjoyed the fear of my prey.
“Mitchell and Associates,” I said, my eyes shifting back and forth between the two men.
“I’m sorry?” Matthew responded.
“I’m confused,” Frank stated, looking at Matthew in confusion.
“I’m correcting you on the name of the business that is considering acquiring—”
“Acquiring?” Matthew Price questioned.
“That’s what I said,” I responded calculatingly. “Acquiring, it’s a word that has quite a different meaning from partnering.”
“Um, I think—”
“Please, don’t think,” I answered Matthew Price while Jim took a call on his phone. “All you need to do is understand that Jim Mitchell will not be taken advantage of as long as I’m at his side. I assume Mr. Jenkins opted to go to lunch with his secretary instead of being here?” I stopped and paused, watching their eyes reveal their secrets. Fucking too easy. “Either way, it’s none of my concern. What is my concern is why you believe we are partnering with your business, and more importantly, why the hell are you treating Mr. Mitchell and myself as though we are clowns brought to your birthday party?”
“I’m seriously confused,” Frank Thomas answered.
“It took me nearly ten minutes in our previous meeting with Mr. Jenkins to learn that this media company, which his grandfather started decades ago, is in desperate trouble,” I said. “The more I listened to Mr. Jenkins spill his guts out for Jim while going through updated numbers, which were much different than the ones emailed to me by your company, shit started to add up.”
“And?” Matthew Price said as if I were telling him a bedtime story. “What did you come up with?”
“How much do you think that chandelier that hangs above my head costs?” I asked, pointing up.
“No idea,” Frank answered, obviously irritated with me because his face was getting redder by the second.
“What does that hunk of metal and glass have to do with this?” Price chimed in.
“It reminds me of a chandelier that sold for $1.3 million through London’s Sotheby’s. It is said the chandelier that sold for that monumental price was part of a collection that Emperor Napoleon had requested. I won’t bore you with history, but I will raise awareness that the lavish chandelier above us is worth more than this company’s earnings forecast for the next three months. Paying out companies, actors, actresses, and journalists—you can see where I’m going with this, I’m sure. So, I’ll make my final point. This company is in desperate need of Jim’s backing and endorsements. It’s written on every financial statement I’ve come across and apparent in every priceless piece of art around you.” I sighed and slid my hands into my pockets, “Oh, and embezzling is another fantastic reason this company is likely going under.”
“Spencer?” Jim questioned, approaching after ending his phone call. “May I ask what this is all about?”
“I’m just stating some facts and observations to these gentlemen,” I said, staring lethally at two pissed-off men. “This is only a wise business decision if you purchase the media company in its entirety and replace all executives in their chairs, including the two men standing in front of me.”
“You’re a son of a bitch. You know that?” Frank stated, looking like steam was about to blow out of his ears.
“Oh,” my eyebrows rose to match the smile on my face, “trust me, I know.”
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us. I just received word that I have a scheduling conflict, and since Mr. Jenkins hasn’t seen fit to be here, I will turn my attention to where it is valued,” Jim said, most likely realizing I was out of my mind with anger. “We’ll be in touch.”
Jim and I didn’t say a word to each other as we exited the building and sat in the back of the Rolls Royce, waiting to take us back to the Mitchell and Associates skyscraper.
“Usually, if you sniff shit out this early, you handle it with the owner, but having a go at the two under-dogs of the deal? I’m not sure what the fuck is wrong with you,” Jim said.
I checked my phone after feeling the damn thing vibrating on silent and blowing me up this entire visit to Jenkins Media. My heart and my eyes had a love-hate relationship with my phone and checking notifications now. I wanted it so badly to be Natalia, but then I didn’t. I was so fucked, and I didn’t know how to deal with this shit except to take my frustrations out on everyone around me.
