23. Damien
Damien
“ W e could ask the board to convene for a vote,” Stephen Elliott, my father’s attorney and the head of Sinclair’s legal team, said, keeping his voice low. “There is always the loophole.”
I’d given the loophole consideration and decided to wait out my time.
Five months to go.
Looking around the drab kitchen, I noted the monotone palette lacked any appeal. The gray cabinets and dark countertop blended with the light gray walls. The fluorescent lighting did little to improve the atmosphere. The coffee pot on the counter seemed to have a never-ending supply of horrible coffee. I suspected the nurses kept it flowing though I never saw one of them making it. There weren’t any windows, but if there were, they would show us the night sky, tall lights, and palm trees.
I lifted the paper cup to my lips and made a face as the cool coffee passed over my tongue. “Five more months,” I said. “I’ve done more for this damn company in four and a half years than my father did in twenty-five.”
“Darius is the one who is sowing concerns in this last inning. The propanolamine has been a breakthrough, but Sinclair needs to increase sales if it is going to sustain us. This medication should be the first go-to for every facility and physician or psychiatrist in the world.”
“Things have changed. The free gifts, vacations, and shit Dad did in his day to encourage doctors to write scripts is no longer legal.”
“If we call for a vote, there’s a better than fifty-percent chance, the board will approve you now and the probation will be over.”
“That means there’s a less than fifty-percent chance they’ll vote to remove me.” I slammed the cup on the table. “This is bullshit. I have a plan in action. In five months, we’ll see the increase in prescriptions, resulting in increased revenue.”
That plan included Ella making a convincing impression on the CEOs of the five companies who hadn’t yet met her. Van and I were convinced. Julia had gotten everyone on board with the idea, but this meeting would set the tone for what was to come.
Stephen lowered his voice to a whisper. “If Derek doesn’t make it, the board will be forced to move on his last wishes. It would be better to get the vote out of the way and secure it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Gloria Wilmott will be a sure yes if you would change your mind on that stipulation—loophole.”
Fucking blackmail—that’s what that is.
“No,” I said with a shake of my head.
This new situation was because my seemingly healthy father suffered a heart attack early Wednesday morning. He woke with shortness of breath and pain in his shoulder. Because he was an obstinate ass, he chose to not tell my mom. Instead, he took their dog for a walk. About a half mile from their home, he collapsed.
The diagnosis was blockage of the left anterior descending artery. They called that blockage the widow-maker for a reason. Thankfully, my mother wasn’t a widow. Dad survived thanks to a neighbor who saw him fall and heard his dog barking hysterically. Dad underwent a five-hour surgery and was now in critical but stable condition.
“Dad isn’t going to die,” I said matter-of-factly. “He’s too stubborn to die.”
“Marsha said they warned her about the possibility of cognitive damage due to the lack of blood flow.”
“Mom’s stressed. Do you blame her?”
“Hey,” a voice called from the doorway.
We turned to see my sister, a tall, slender female version of myself. Like me, she’d flown down to Florida as soon as she got the news.
Her smile was forced, and lack of sleep showed in her blue eyes. “Is this a private meeting, or can I sit in?”
Scooting to a side chair, I pulled out the seat where I had been sitting. “Have a seat. Stephen is trying to convince me to go ahead with a board vote on my status.”
“No.” Her eyes met mine. “In five months you’re set. Why call for a vote?” she asked as she sat.
Over the years, Dani’s blond hair had darkened to a light brown. While she didn’t participate in the day-to-day business side of Sinclair, Dani was the vice president in charge of research and development. With her background in chemistry and biology, she was more knowledgeable than most.
“Because if Dad kicks the bucket, his will says Sinclair is up for sale.”
My sister’s eyes widened. “No. Why would we sell? We’re doing better than we have.”
“Derek’s will is old,” Stephen explained. “It was made right before Damien was named CEO. Derek didn’t want to see the company get into the wrong hands.”
Dani looked at me. “Darius.”
I nodded.
Stephen, went on, “Derek also wanted to maintain the reputation he’d built.”
“Don’t you mean inherited?” I asked.
“But,” Dani said, talking to me, “if your probation is over and you’re the official CEO, can’t you stop the sale?”
“Yes, he could,” Stephen answered.
“If you call for a vote and you’re approved, it’s the same?”
Stephen nodded.
Dani squared her shoulders. “Then have the vote.”
I shook my head. “Darius has been sowing some bullshit with a few of the board members. The older ones know he’s full of shit, but there are a few newer members who missed the Darius shit show. And there’s Gloria. Darius said he’s been talking to her.”
Dani scrunched her forehead. “Seriously, Damien. Isn’t that over?”
“It is,” I confirmed.
“Gloria wouldn’t vote against you after all you’ve done,” she went on. “I can’t believe any members would vote to replace you.”
“If the vote occurred today,” I said, “it might be shaky. Sinclair needs an increase in scripts. Some of the facilities are leery of prescribing the propanolamine, choosing instead to treat the symptoms, not work on the root cause, subduing the memories.”
“Moon Medical,” she said.
I nodded. “They have a new anxiety formula they’re pushing.”
She shook her head. “I worried about the coalition; having Moon Medical involved seems concerning.”
“Technically, we aren’t competitors. We don’t manufacture the same medication. We can treat the same patients.” I looked to Stephen. “Dad isn’t going to die. Once he’s better, we convince him to change the will.”
He should have done it before now.
“What if the doctors are right and there’s cognitive damage?” Dani asked.
“If he’s not legally competent, his will can’t be changed,” Stephen responded.
“Fuck,” I growled. “The man isn’t dead. He’s simply recovering from his surgery. The meds they have him on would make anyone squirrelly. Stop making this into more than it is.”
Dani laid her hand on my lower arm. “Have you gotten any sleep?”
“Since I got the call…about five hours total.” Inhaling, I sat taller. “I have a meeting I need to attend this weekend, but I’m not leaving until I can speak to Dad.”
“Have you heard from Darius?” she asked.
“He called me on Monday with some bullshit about Dad being upset about the quarterly bonuses. He’s probably telling everyone the heart attack is my fault.”
Dani shook her head. “Dad wasn’t upset. He called me a few weeks ago to let me know it would be decreased. He’s proud of what you’re doing, Damien. No matter what happens to him, know that.”
“Basically, our dear brother called to piss me off.”
“I thought he’d be here,” she said.
I nodded. “I’m surprised he isn’t. Have you asked Mom if he’s called?”
Stephen spoke, “Marsha asked me to call Darius. I did. He seemed off, but I didn’t give that much thought.”
“Did he say he was coming down?” Dani asked.
“No. He just listened to what I had to say and thanked me. Then he hung up.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” I muttered.
With the ringer on my phone off, I was officially off the radar. Johnathon had strict orders to handle anything that came his way. I was only to be contacted if there was an emergency. The vibration in my pocket alerted me to a possible emergency. Pulling the phone from my pocket, I read the screen. I had one missed call from Gabriella Crystal.
“I need to listen to this message,” I said to Dani and Stephen as I stood. “If you hear anything, come and get me.”
Dani nodded.
Out in the hallway, the waiting room was virtually empty. There was one small cluster of chairs where an older man and younger woman were watching television. I scanned the area for my mother. Although she’d spent the night in the surgical waiting room, now she was in Dad’s room—the one visitor he was currently allowed.
Stepping to a more secluded area, I hit play on the message. Ella’s voice came to my ear. “This is bullshit, Damien. You can’t spring a trip on me the night before. I’m not your doll to dress.”
The first smile to curl my lips in days lifted my cheeks.
I sent a text message to Allen, my pilot.
Take the plane back to Indianapolis. Ms. Crystal will fly tomorrow morning to Ashland, Wisconsin. I will charter a plane for my return.
Or fly commercial. That worked out quite well last time.
The quarterly coalition meeting would go on even if that meant it happened without me.
I didn’t want to miss the trip, but getting Ella in front of them was more important.
Come on, Dad. Wake up and talk to us—show us you’re still with it. I have a meeting I don’t want to miss. Mostly, I want to be there because with all that’s happened, I haven’t had the chance to brief Ella on the CEOs she was about to meet.
“Damien.”
I turned and met my sister’s stare. “Is he…?”
“He’s awake. Mom said we can go in for a few minutes.”
Thank fuck.
As soon as relief flooded my circulation, a new emotion emerged. Walking off the elevator was the last person I thought I’d see—Amber Wilmott.
Her green eyes met mine. “How is your father?”
My hands balled to fists at my sides. “What are you doing here?”
Amber looked at my sister. “Hi, Dani. I got the call and wanted to be here for you—all of you.”
My sister’s eyes were wide, watching the two of us. “Who called you?” Dani asked.
“Mom.”
Her mother was Gloria Wilmott.
Dani nodded. “Of course, the board was notified.”
“Damien,” Amber said, “I know things are awkward, but I thought you might be glad to see me.” She looked around. “Is Darius here?”
“I’m not my brother’s keeper.”
“It was nice of you to come,” Dani said in a pacifying tone. “But Dad can’t have visitors who aren’t?—”
Who aren’t family.
Amber isn’t family.
“Go back to Chicago.” I took a step toward my sister. “We’re not alone. Dad has his family here.”