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During the day, I sit on the board of several Fortune 500 companies. I'm also the CEO of my venture capital investment firm—my first—that I started from the ground up. But for all my success, I’ve kept a low profile. I’m not one for interviews, buying sport’s franchises, flashy nights out, fast cars or anything that draws attention.
I draw enough attention with my size. Six feet six inches and built like one of those Nordic strongman competitors, with a face that would never grace the cover of GQ. I’m off-putting in my own special way, I suppose and I like it that way.
Work is my drug. That’s been my wife, mistress and purpose, and until the last few years I’d come to accept it would be like that forever.
Then, as success after success came for me, my passion for the work decreased.
So, I’m venturing into a more serious philanthropic arena. I’m starting an organization that manages microloans and mentorships to small business owners. And, to be honest, mostly to women.
It’s brand new, but I’ve got my new office set up in one of the buildings I own, which also houses a PR and marketing company that is under a wing of my venture capital organization, and I feel like once again I’m finding my stride.
We shall see.
“You're looking glum this evening, J.” A voice cuts into my thoughts, setting my teeth on edge with the over-familiar tone and the presumptuous nickname. “You know what you need?”
I raise a brow at Roland Powers, the biggest decision maker of the Houston group. He’s a power-tripping twenty-five-year-old who has never had to lift a finger to make a living in his life. A shipping heir’s son who’s always had whatever he needed fall into his lap. I don’t begrudge him the privilege into which he was born, but I am glad I’m not like him.
“Goddamn it.” My frustration is mounting. I slam my glass down on the bar and Roland gives me an amused smile.
“Something wrong?” He mocks sipping his drink eyeing me.
I look at each of the Houston decision makers and shake my head. “I’m going to call it a night, gentlemen.” I’ve given them more than four minutes by now, and it’s clear no one but me wants to talk business.
“We’re just getting started!” Roland looks at me like I’m the parent ruining the party.
One of the escorts giggles as he slides a hand down the neck of her dress.
I avert my eyes. I'm tempted to punch him in the face.
“You all have a good night,” I finish, my eyes already scanning the crowd.
Francois must notice the angry twitch in my jaw, because he’s quick to step between us. “Jackson has a crazy early-morning meeting with some investors from Japan.”
I don’t give a fuck anymore. The lie will do. “Hope you gentleman can come to terms. Keep me in the loop.”
With that, I spin on my heel and look through the throng, searching….
“Where are you, little one?” I whisper through gritted teeth, my eyes working their way around the room.
Nothing.
I search for the busty blonde that dragged her away, but again, nothing.
I head toward the bar pushing my way through people without apologizing. She seemed friendly with the bartender so I want to hit him up for anything he may know.
At the bar, I grab his attention with a hundred-dollar bill between my fingers.
“What can I get you?” He comes over leaning in.
“That brunette earlier. Club soda, no ice, with lemon? Lavender dress…”
He nods. “Yeah?”
“You know her?”
He gives me a casual shrug. “Not really. Just her drink. She comes in with the same group a couple times a week.”
“You don’t know her name? Anything about her?”
“Not really. I saw her skate out the front door a few minutes ago though. She’s not usually a late-nighter. Not sure where the rest of her crew went.” He raises his head over the crowd. “Their table’s empty.”
“Thanks.” I shove the money across the bar and turn toward the front door.
I’ll find a way to see her again. I have a private investigator who I employ. He'll know where to dig. There are cameras here in the bar. I’ll give him an unlimited budget to pay off whoever is necessary to get film of her. Then do a reverse image search for her in whatever facial recognition software we have or can buy. I’ll spend the rest of my life searching for those green eyes.
I step into the warm night. The New York scent of car exhaust and the sour sewer is familiar, driving away the last of her sweet scent. My driver, Clancy, stands at the curb, holding the door open when he spots me.
I nod at him, my quiet way of saying thank you as I listen to the cracking of my teeth as I bite down in frustration.
