Chapter 18 #2
I leave my condo and call an Uber. Within minutes, I’m in some guy’s ridiculously clean Toyota Prius.
We pull out into the street and take I-5 to I-90 East. Skynet Investment Group is actually based in Bellevue, across Lake Washington, which makes total sense considering it has a sterile, more formal feel than downtown Seattle.
I sit back and check my email, which I haven’t looked at since before Thanksgiving. It’s mostly stuff about the pub, but my heart races when I see one from John.
Good morning, Marcus,
I heard back from Courtney, my PI, and the new timeline is a go.
Her team unearthed some tenuous connections to Ryan and several offshore banking accounts, which isn’t surprising.
However, something unusual came up while they were digging: There’s some files on two board members who passed away under mysterious circumstances.
It was a car wreck. A hit and run. No one ever found the person who did it.
They were part of Skynet when it started, way before I joined.
Their names are redacted, but her team is going to keep looking to see if we can find anything to connect Ryan to their deaths.
If so, we’d be in the perfect position to get what we need from him.
Could the original files be somewhere at Skynet headquarters? Might be worth sniffing around.
I’ll be in touch when I hear more.
Talk soon, John
Board members who died? I don’t remember my father ever mentioning anything like that, so it must’ve been before I was born or when I was very young.
I know the board has had high turnover in the last twenty years.
John himself was forced out after his affair with my stepmother came to light, though I suspect the situation was a little more complicated than hurt feelings over an extramarital affair.
We roll up to the loading zone, and I step out of the car and trek into the modern-looking high-rise, a heavy feeling settling in my chest. I feel like I’m walking into a glass-and-steel trap. I navigate through metal detectors and get a name badge from the front desk.
The building is so tall that it has four elevator banks to accommodate the volume of employees. I feel like people are staring as I wait awkwardly with a group of staffers. I suspect they recognize my last name emblazoned in red Sharpie on the visitor sticker on my breast pocket.
One of the elevator doors pings open, and I enter. I punch the button for the top floor, which makes sense since all supervillains do business on the top floor of their fancy glass buildings.
I’m the last person to exit. I nod at the receptionist as I pass, feeling like the collar of my suit is starting to strangle me.
And don’t even get me started on the pit sweat already soaking through my shirt.
Despite my upbringing and going to business school, I’ve always had crippling anxiety upon entering an uber-corporate setting.
The disingenuous environment gives me the creeps.
I head to the large conference room, enter, and sit on one side of the table. I’m not waiting long before my father enters, looking a little more collected than he did earlier this morning.
He nods at me and takes a seat at my side. “Ryan and Regina will be in here shortly.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Regina? Bringing in someone named after a mean girl is a little on the nose, isn’t it?” My father gives me a confused look. “Never mind.”
My father looks genuinely sad for a moment. “I’m sorry we have to play this game, Marcus. Ryan may not realize it, but we need you here. We need someone we can trust.”
Someone we can trust. Young Marcus would have died to hear those words.
The door swings open, and Ryan and a woman, I assume Regina, enter.
Ryan Michaels could be a replica of my father in his stature and dress, but he has tidy, sandy-blond hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and cold olive-green eyes.
My dad has been friends with Ryan for most of his life.
When I was a kid, I remember him coming to our house.
He was a handsome, animated businessman who laughed a lot.
But that faded over time, especially after his wife passed.
I heard he had a son, younger than me, but I never got to meet the kid.
His father doesn’t seem to be grooming him for this fucking business, though, so he’s got to be better off than me, right?
The woman immediately strikes me as an odd choice.
Unlike Ryan and my father, Regina smiles, putting me immediately at ease.
Her long black hair is pulled into a high bun, and she’s wearing a fitted pantsuit that looks very expensive—which is probably why she’s here, despite her disarming demeanor. She has money.
“You must be Marcus,” Regina says with a wink. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your father.”
“I’m sure you have,” I mutter.
“Let’s get started,” Ryan interrupts, looking at his watch. “I have a meeting in an hour.”
My dad sighs. “Ryan, you need to let this go.”
Ryan’s sharp jaw visibly tightens, and he glances at me before returning his gaze to my dad. “It’s not up for discussion, Martin,” he snaps. “You deal with your kid, and I’ll deal with mine.”
My dad gives him a hard look but seems to drop the subject.
Ryan and Regina take their seats at each end of the table, and I tap my fingers on the shiny surface, mentally preparing for Ryan’s usual onslaught of questions. And he does not disappoint.
“Marcus, it’s good to see you again.” Ryan crosses his legs at the ankle and shifts his weight forward in his chair. “Tell me about the bar.”
He always gives me the third degree whenever I meet with them, but now that I know he’s actively looking for reasons to keep me off the board, I’m starting to better understand why he looks down on the pub.
The only reason he agreed to fund the pub years ago was as a favor to my father.
I don’t think he’s even met my brother; Sebastian never rubbed elbows with Dad’s business partners the way I used to.
“It’s a pub, sir,” I correct through gritted teeth.
He looks at me blankly. “I didn’t know there was a difference.”
“‘Pub’ is short for a public house, actually. The variety and quality of food are the main differences.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but I suspect my resting dick face might be making an appearance.
Ryan stares at me, and then his face cracks into what I think is a smile. “Well, you should know since you’re the expert, as you should be. Tell me about your timeline, Marcus. We’ve had something come up, and we want to onboard you as soon as possible.”
Liar. “Something?”
He waves his hand. “I’m sure your father mentioned this potential merger with Pine Investments.”
“He did.” I clear my throat. “So, you want the pub open and running by April?” Ryan gives a tight nod, and I look sideways at my dad since we already discussed this. “I can make some calls. We were on track for a summer opening, but I think I can push it earlier.”
I’m suddenly glad I’m sitting down because lying to Ryan on my father’s behalf while also lying to my father is exhausting. If I get my way, these assholes will be out of the picture by April first, and I’ll be looking for real estate somewhere quiet and very far away.
Ryan’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “It’s the end of November. What exactly is taking so much time?”
I shrug. “Permits, mostly.”
Ryan gives my father a sharp look. “Didn’t we fast-track their permits? Do I need to make some calls?”
“You did,” I cut in quickly, “when we were renovating. These are details like our liquor license, food-handler permits, and our entertainment license, and a few other ends to tie up.” I sit up straighter, crossing my legs to keep from fidgeting.
“We’re in the interior-design planning process now, and then we’ll actually start on execution once I approve everything.
And then there’s the menu planning, which Sebastian will start soon. ”
“Interior design?” Ryan looks frustrated.
I swallow a laugh because I think this conversation is difficult for him. He’s not accustomed to talking business about something he knows nothing about.
Regina has been typing on her phone the entire time, pausing every now and then to take large gulps of coffee. I can’t tell if she’s ignoring us or taking notes.
“Yes, the interior ambiance is arguably the most important part of a restaurant, aside from the location and the menu.”
My father looks at Ryan. “I told you Marcus was in control of the situation. You need to relax.”
Ryan takes a deep breath. “Since you didn’t bring any documentation, Marcus, can you email me your timeline?” His voice drips with disapproval.
“Of course. I’ll send it this afternoon.”
There’s a knock at the conference room door, and all eyes turn to my father’s receptionist. “Sir, Ben and Sabrina Pine are here.”
“Perfect timing. Send them in.”
We sit in silence, and after a moment, Ben Pine enters the room, holding the door for the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
She’s about my age, tall with tan skin and curly black hair that barely brushes her shoulders.
Her figure is curvy but muscular, and she’s wearing blood-red lipstick and a black pantsuit with high heels that make her legs look about a mile long.
She takes the seat across from me, and Ben joins her.
Looking at Ben, I see where Sabrina gets a lot of her features, though his wavy black hair is shot through with gray and his lips have a pinched look about them.
Sabrina gives my father a tolerant smile. When she leans forward to shake his hand, I notice a beaded bracelet on her wrist that seems oddly out of place, like one of those Taylor Swift friendship bracelets Tristan’s gran makes all the time.
“Ben, Sabrina,” my father starts, “I’m glad you could join us today.”