Every client is assigned a passcode and an additional authentication code that gets texted the day of the delivery. These small extra steps were putting Jake’s security business in high demand. His attention to detail was becoming renowned. It kept prying eyes—like Louis’s—from seeing sensitive information.
“I don’t know,” I say. It’s likely related to Howe and the Hedders, but it could be related to business.
“If you’d given me the key, I could have looked it over this weekend while you were upstate.” Was that a slight hint of reprimand in his voice? I’ll be glad when the paperwork is finally through HR so that I can fire Louis.
“I hope you didn’t work all weekend. Not getting enough rest can make you overlook important details,” I answer mildly. Gesturing for Louis to sit down across from my desk, I slice open the envelope and two USBs drop out. Curious. I plug the first one into my laptop. Then I check my phone and type in the passcode. The name on the top of the report is only slightly surprising, as are the details. Idly I wonder if I had shared some of my vendetta with Louis, if things would have gone differently and if he wouldn’t have felt the need to align himself in direct opposition. It’s all rhetorical now.
The information in the report is damning.
It merely shores up my position should any legal proceedings be initiated. I don’t need to wait for HR with this information. The summary is succinct and to the point. Jake has never been one for gilding the lily.
As I watch his fingers tap the arm of the chair, it strikes me that I simply have never trusted Louis with that kind of personal information, despite the two of us having worked together as an efficient moneymaking team for the last five years. My instincts haven’t failed me yet.
“Someone needs to keep the lights on,” Louis replies snippily.
“Someone needs to remember who signs the checks around here.” Despite the evenness of my tone, not even Louis could mistake the steel in my eyes—if he had the balls to look at me.
He tugs on the cuff of his shirt, apparently obsessed with getting the correct cuff-to-sleeve ratio. “You aren’t the only multinational holding company in town.”
It’s a weak threat, but a threat nonetheless. I require only one thing from the people in my inner circle: loyalty. “One pu**y is as good as the next?” I ask.
He exhales in relief. “Right. I mean unless she’s shitting out golden eggs, then there’s no point in jeopardizing a deal over her. I was worried there that she’d swallowed you up or something. Nice to see you’re coming to your senses.” He laughs a bit self-consciously and tugs at his cuff one more time before glancing up. His smile dies off at the hard look on my face.
Clasping my hands together on my desk, I lean toward Louis. In clear tones, so there is no mistaking my meaning or purpose, I tell him what I think. “You have fifteen minutes to get your personal effects together, turn in your company-issued equipment, and leave the building. There will be no severance pay.”
I watch for a few seconds as he opens and closes his mouth like a beached whale and then switch USB drives. After a minute of no movement, I comment, “You’ve got fourteen minutes now.”
The second USB is devoted to Malcolm and Mitch Hedder. As the summary of the elder Hedders’s past ten years rolls by, I hear the office door close quietly.
Malcolm Hedder was busy running his small time operation of high-end hookers and prescription drugs. Jake notes that Malcolm had acquired a new escort who was about the same height as Tiny and had similar features. Jake also points out that this was creepy. I agree. But it wasn’t just Malcolm’s possibly escalating obsession with Tiny that caused me a twinge of concern. Mitch Hedder’s last Palm Beach sugar momma had been found dead under suspicious circumstances, and several pieces of her extensive jewelry collection were missing. Now he was here sniffing around Tiny.
No, she wouldn’t like a bodyguard, but she damn well is going to have one. Jake recommends four different individuals—three men and one woman. No question who I’d pick, but the decision will be Tiny’s.
Picking up the phone, I alert Rose to the new development. “Louis is taking a new job. Please call building management and let them know.”
“Certainly, Mr. Kerr.” Rose’s voice is filled with smug pleasure. She informed me how much she didn’t like Louis when I gave her the news of his impending departure last week. Thirteen minutes later, I’m in the office lobby, still digesting the Hedder report. That bodyguard for Tiny needs to be hired immediately.
The receptionist is my assistant Rose’s daughter, Fawn, in keeping with the outdoorsy theme, I guess. She’s nineteen-going-on-thirty and enjoys testing her baby wiles on the older men in the company.
“I love your tie today,” she coos as I wait for Louis to appear. He’s always been punctual before, but now that I’m kicking him out, he’s dawdling. Probably attempting to download as many analyst reports as possible. Information is power, and Louis will attempt to leverage my superior research team for a better position somewhere else.
“Thanks, my fiancée picked it out.” Not really a white lie. She did suggest that the pale blue silk would look good against the black-checked suit coat.
“I didn’t know you proposed.”
“This weekend.” I love the word fiancée. There’s a sense of ownership and belonging in that word.
“Congratulations!” She smiles, and it’s genuine. At thirty-two, I might be interesting but I’m old. “She has good taste then,” she says and then turns back to reviewing emails—office ones, I hope. A muffled clatter of wheels down the carpeted hallway signals Louis’s approach. He’s dragging a wheeled cart behind him. The indignity of it is probably crushing.
“Everything go smoothly?” I ask.
A muscle in his jaw is working overtime as he struggles with how much he’d like to tell me to go to hell, possibly while sucking on a donkey’s dick on my way down. But he manages to hold back whatever profanity-laced diatribe he’d like to trot out and instead hisses, “You’re going to regret this decision.”
Fawn’s eyes widen in anticipation of a potential scene.
“I doubt it. My priorities have changed.” I walk toward the glass doors of the entrance and out of Fawn’s hearing. “You’ll enjoy yourself somewhere else.”
“All this over some illiterate snatch? Fuck, man, you can do better than that.”