Chapter 15 #2
After responding to the automated text message verifying that I will indeed be at the appointment, I button things up with the construction foreman, sign off on some deliveries at the last minute, and head across town to my place.
I’m not showing up to a meeting with Dick and Balls in anything less than a three-piece suit.
I started the day rightfully feeling like a complete asshole for how I left things with Juliette, utterly convinced that I’ve got to apologize to her profusely, then put it all behind me.
Today I’ve left her four voicemail messages, I’ve texted her once, and she still hasn’t replied to my business offer from long before this happened.
My nerves are teetering on the edge for most of the day until five o’clock, when I show up freshly shaved and showered, wearing my favorite single breasted wool and mohair suit, at Rouser and Associates.
The receptionist confirms that I have an appointment, and because I didn’t give a last name when I booked, chances are, Harry doesn’t know who he’s meeting.
When he appears in the lobby a minute later, dressed in pressed chinos and a half-zip pullover like every thirty-something in the FiDi, his face falls when he spots me.
“Mr. Mercer, I had no idea,” he starts, his words failing him as he looks around the empty waiting space. “Sarah, why didn’t you mention that Ford Mercer is my five o’clock appointment?” he asks, irritation vibrating in each word.
“She didn’t know. I didn’t book under Mercer.” I shove my hands in my pockets, and smile at Sarah who looks relieved that I’ve diffused the situation. “See, had I told you it was me, you’d probably have pulled investments adjacent to my business, because that’s what you do, right?”
Harry looks perplexed, and the question was rhetorical, to be fair.
“Today’s appointment isn’t about my financial portfolio,” I explain honestly.
“I have a trusted financial advisor for my money. Today is about setting up a portfolio for Kat and Zennie, as their wedding gift. I believe you attended their wedding, though I noticed your phone seemed to be more interesting than my daughter’s nuptials. ”
I was going to set this account up eventually. It’s only pressing now that I know Harry is in the trade, because it has created an opportunity to see what he’s about. Especially since Juliette is apparently still dating this clown.
Anyone who buries his head in a cell phone while his gorgeous girlfriend is wearing a sexy as fuck bridesmaid dress is a clown. No argument.
Harry bobs his head, nudging his glasses up his nose.
He begins making small talk about beginners’ portfolios as he guides me to the elevators, then to his office.
He never stops talking, and I never start listening, because I can’t stop analyzing this absolute asshole who has Juliette Wilson and doesn’t appreciate it.
He sits down behind his little laptop, and I can’t help but contrast my own financial advisor, who has three computer screens, a laptop and a tablet continually up and running.
“How many years have you been in finance, Harry?” I ask, peering around the rather sterile office.
His college degree hangs on the wall, but I don't bother with the details.
“Five years this March,” he says, smiling, eagerly drumming his fingers along the edge of his desk. “So, Ford, what did we have in mind for today?”
I clear my throat, and cross one leg over the other, trying to find comfort in this pathetic chair he’s chosen for multi-million dollar clients.
“I prefer Mr. Mercer,” I tell him, enjoying the way his face takes a moment to calibrate to my words.
He nods vehemently, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Of course, Mr. Mercer.”
I clear my throat. “I’d like to create an investment portfolio for Kat and Zennie, as a gift to get them headed in the right direction.”
He clasps his hands together like he’s a doctor listening to my symptoms. Those hands get to freely touch Juliette, and they choose not to. Irritation curves my lip, and I slide my tongue over my teeth, steadying myself with an exhale. “That’s quite generous of you,” he says.
“I’m generous with the people close to me,” I tell him, hands gripping the chair with a bit too much force.
“Well, Mr. Mercer, beginners’ portfolios are mostly made up of diversified savings accounts, you know, making sure they have enough if someone changes careers, if they want to purchase a home, things like that.
True investments and diversification of said investments usually don’t happen until they’ve been financially bound together for a handful of years, and are above water. ”
I crack my knuckles against my thigh. “Kat is one of the top-grossing agents at Mercer Properties, and has been grossing half a million dollars in income annually for a handful of years, Harry. I’m pretty sure she’s prepared to pay for her place in the event that her uncle fires her, you know?”
I knew exactly what he was saying, and what he was saying was right.
Most newlyweds aren’t investing with any levels of risk or complexity, because they first have to build the floor beneath them.
But fuck this asshole who tells Juliette to wear slimming clothes and tries to stifle her fucking light.
“Of course,” he says, back peddling nervously as his fingers skitter over the keyboard. “Of course, yes, Kat and Zennie are definitely not your average newlyweds.”
“No?” I ask, knowing again exactly what he’s referring to, but loving how easy it is to make him squirm.
He pauses his rigorous and sudden typing. “No. Because Kat’s doing so well already financially.” His smile is so weird. “She’s quite accomplished.”
My brow furrows and I have to fight the smile twitching at my lips. “Indeed.”
Harry adjusts the way he is seated, and sips the glass of water at his desk before smiling another awkward, flat lipped smile and returns his focus to his screen. “Did you have ideas where you wanted to start, then? Since we’re not doing the usual.”
Getting comfortable as I can get in a chair meant for a shrunken down version of myself, we get to work on transferring some of my assets to the new portfolio, pausing once to field a private call from my investment manager, Diego.
In the hall, taking an earful from him. I should have probably told him this is, essentially, a petty ruse.
“Do you even know if this person went to college? Is accredited by anyone other than himself? Rouser and Associates? Who are they? Less than five years in the business and you trust him with Kat’s portfolio over me?
The man who has managed and dare I say grown your wealth for the last ten years? ” He’s rightfully heated.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, shoulder against the wall in the hallway, I drop my voice and make sure the office door is still closed. “Diego, you know I’m loyal to you. The entire portfolio will be sent to you, you know this.”
He sighs. “Well then what are you doing? I’m receiving alarming emails saying you want shares transferred and–”
“I know, and I should have made you privy to this meeting beforehand but…” I think of Juliette holding herself open, begging for me to claim her in more than one way. “I’ve been preoccupied.”
“Okay, so?” Diego harumphs.
“The broker is the boyfriend of…” I pause, and think about everything discussed at my brother’s house this morning.
The way everyone seems to casually know that Juliette has had a little crush on me, and how no one seems to think me and Juliette would be a bad idea.
Avery’s speech about Kat’s allegiance shifting to Zennie, all of it swarms my thoughts.
And more than that, the feeling I felt the other night when I was lost inside of her, the possessive grip she had on me, the way my chest felt like it was going to explode into a million pieces–I don’t know what I was thinking when I made this appointment, but doubts aside, I know exactly why I’m here.
“He’s dating the woman I’m interested in. Nothing I build with him today is being done out of true interest in his services,” I admit, keeping my voice low.
“Ah,” Diego breathes, relief in his every word. “So this is about a woman, and not money. Well why didn’t you say that, my friend?”
I shake my head. “I guess… I didn’t really realize that until this moment.” It’s true. I didn’t truly know why I was coming here until right now. But now I know, whatever hoops lie ahead, I have to talk to Juliette about what I’m feeling, and see how she’s feeling, too.
To do that, she has to answer her phone.
After reassuring Diego, I head back into the office and look over the papers that Harry has drawn up, seeing that he’s suggested a large stock transfer for three of my blue chip stocks, along with a few other small transfers.
He’s also added a life insurance policy, an extra savings account, and a few other standard items.
His work is fine. Nothing exceptional. I myself would have done a few things differently, having been wealthy for most of my life and familiar with all levels of investments and their returns. Still, he didn’t do terribly.
But “just fine” is not good enough for Juliette Wilson.
“So these are safe, in your mind?” I ask, waving my hand over the last few selections he made, suggestions that Diego would not make, things like false diversification, and anchoring future investments on a stock that performed really well ages ago.
It’s amateur hour in this building, and I’m terrified for Harry’s clients because again, the person managing your money should be greater than “fine.”
He bobs his head, smoothing his hand down his tie, an ugly paisley print that reminds me of the bedspread in one of the first motels I ever stayed in. Cheap. “Yeah, these are, in my professional opinion, safe.”
Finally, I crack my proverbial knuckles and restack my leg across the other, holding my ankle.
Harry’s eyes go to my Santoni Carlos loafers, the ones I picked up in Italy last summer.
“Well, you also let your girlfriend take a taxi home alone, drunk, at night. Not one but two nights in a row. I’m not sure we share the same definition of safe. ”
His lips part, and his brows bunch, but he remains silent, floundering to make sense of the left-hook I’ve just thrown him. “I–what?”
Leaning over the table, I initial the paperwork, but forgo signing the bottom line.
“My advisor will look these over and moderate any concerns, and I’ll sign them after his go-ahead,” I tell him, making sure to sign on the line acknowledging this appointment, and that I owe him a large percentage for his services, should I move forward.
“Sounds good,” he says, taking the papers back. He calls for the receptionist, who takes the papers to scan and email to Diego. He folds his hands over his stomach, pleased with himself.
“How long have you been seeing Juliette?” I ask, feeling heat form a ring around my collar, and slide down my chest and back. I know how long it’s been, but does he? With the way he treats Juliette, I won’t be surprised if he doesn’t.
He clears his throat, and sits a little straighter, and maybe Harry isn’t the complete buffoon I think he is because understanding washes over his features. “A year, just about.”
“Just about?” I press.
He shrugs uncomfortably. “Yeah, just about.”
I’d bet all my blue chip stocks that Harry has no idea what day they started dating, or when their anniversary is. But that’s good. I didn’t want him to know. Him being an idiot makes it much easier for me to be a heel.
I’ve never been a heel, but I’m pleased to take the role on when speaking to this idiot.
“A year together and you let her catch a cab alone? In the city? At night? When she looks like a fucking supermodel?” I make a judgemental click with my tongue along the roof of my mouth.
“I’m not sure we share the definition of safety.
I may have to take some time to think before I sign. ”
His face falls, and he doesn’t race to collect it. Instead, Harry surprises me, clearing his throat, getting to his feet. He extends a hand to me. “I assure you, Mr. Mercer, these are good moves and the portfolio will be safe at Rouser.”
“I’ll be in touch,” I tell him.
His smile falters, a quick twitch, but it tells me that he doesn’t like the assertions I’ve made against his character, because they’re true, and he knows it.
On my way out, he doesn’t walk me down the way he did when I got here. And I leave Harry’s building knowing I had it right the first time–a year or not, he doesn’t fucking deserve her. But didn’t I already know that? Did I need to do this? Fuck. Why did I do this?
Outside, staring up at the sun peeking through the clouds, I call my brother.
“How’d it go with the portfolio for Kat and Zen?” he asks, adding, “rather, how did it go giving Diego an aneurysm and how was it fucking with Dick and Balls?”
I smile as a group of men in suits brush past me. Geo knew what I was up to today. “Great.” I roll my lips together, waiting for my brother’s reaction. A beat passes, and a woman pushes a large stroller over my shoe, but I ignore it, with baited breath.
“Did you give him business? Out of guilt?” he asks, which isn’t even something I’d considered before. It does look like a guilty conscience move.
“I’m going to sign, he’ll get the commission, but I’m going to make him quake in his boots a little first. Then I’ll transfer the handling to Diego.”
“Why?” my brother asks, partially in laughter.
“He’s going to make a decent commission off of the portfolio, Geo. And I thought it was only right for me to give him something.”
“That did not answer my question,” Geo points out.
I click the unlock button on my key-fob in my pocket, and from down the street, my car honks. I head toward it, the cold bay air making my earlobes ache. “Because,” I reply in truth. “I’m going to take his girl.”
I tried to fight it but I can’t.
Because Juliette is mine.