Page 81 of Boardroom Bride


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“How do you know any of this about her?” I ask.

“Because I have eyes, do I not? Women don’t have what it takes, none of them. They can fucking try, but they don’t have the strength for true success.”

“Interesting take on it.” It’s not. “So what’s true success?”

“True success is what we could be capable of.” I can tell Jackson’s trying to look at me meaningfully as he speaks, but I keep my eyes on the church ahead of us. “You and me, Tanner—we have the strength, and it’s within our grasp. You know Monopoly?”

“You mean the game, or the federal crime?”

“I meant the game…but not all monopolies violate antitrust laws, you know. Gaming the system—playing the game—the end result still comes down to winning, Tanner. And you and I? We’re winners. Proceed to Go and collect $200.”

“Why the fuck are you bringing up a board game?” I ask.

“Because it represents what everyone aspires to—when it came out during the Depression, and also today. Nothing’s fucking changed.”

“I don’t think you’re right about, any of that, but could you please specify what you’re driving at before we get to the fucking Battery?”

“Don’t you see? I’m talking about us, as men with the capabilities, finally fucking grasping what everyone aspires to.”

Jackson’s starting to get to the point, but I don’t want to lead him on, so I just keep walking and taking small sips of my large coffee.

As I suspect, he keeps talking, anyway.

“I’m talking about our two brands, our two companies, finally coming together as the most powerful force in the fucking universe.”

“That sounds—intriguing,” I say, leaving it at that as we approach the very end of Broadway.

“It should, because I’m not exaggerating. It’s a choice between your company being in serious fucking trouble or having you step the fuck up to grasp what should rightfully be ours...should rightfully be yours, to be accurate.”

We stop walking where the street ends, right at Anthony DiModica’s famous statue of the Charging Bull getting ready to tear into the Financial District—and Kristen Vibal’s famous statue of the Fearless Girl staring down the bull, well, fearlessly.

We both stare at them for a few seconds before I respond.

“Go on, then,” is all I say.

“People might not like monopolies in general, even though everyone fucking aspires to success. But this marriage, and the new bridal line, are the missing puzzle pieces to the public—to everyone, being on board with us, with you, being as powerful as that bull—as powerful as you fucking deserve to be.”

As I deserve to be, he says. He really must not think much of me if he thinks I’m blind to him and where he’s trying to position himself.

The takeaway from Monopoly was never supposed to be winning.

The takeaway was always supposed to be the fucking board flip that happens when you realize that the player with the most money will always end up on top.

“You know that bull’s been stationary for decades, right?” I point at the bronze sculptures.

“It’s a statue, Tanner. It’s a metaphor for what we could be, the final decision makers for the market, for fucking society, for the choices our customers think they’re making about fashion, about sexuality…I hope I’m being fucking specific enough for you. I’m talking about a merger between the market’s largest competitors—a monopoly—everything that’s within our reach if we charge like that bull.”

“It looks like that girl is doing a great job of keeping that bull from going anywhere.”

Jackson laughs at my response.

“That girl can stand there all fucking day, all fucking year, staying where she is—but you know as well as I do she’s just going to get trampled eventually.”

I slip my phone out of my pocket and look at the screen.

“Looks good,” I say, tapping it. “Thanks for this, Jackson.”

“I hope you’re somehow talking about what I’m saying, because this proposal needs a response.” Jackson bids.

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