Chapter 7
SEVEN
Jim
After the whirlwind kickoff to the fall season—traveling, galas, events, and every other seasonal obligation thrown into overdrive—I was honestly thankful I’d rejected the Special Events department’s follow-up email requesting approvals for the Christmas charity balls.
We already had charity events coming out of our asses these days, so keeping Christmas low-key this year for me and the entire company was exactly the balance we needed.
We’d been buried in so many events this year that it felt like I was spending more time celebrating than looking at margins, so sitting down with the hospital board to go over numbers gave me the peace of mind I needed.
After the meeting, where we’d approved another expansion in the pediatric wing, Dr. Brandt, head of pediatrics and a friend of mine, fell into step beside me.
“It’s interesting that you approved another expansion for peds,” he said.
After checking for any important texts I may have missed while I was in meetings, I said, “Is it really a surprise? You know I’ll always back that wing to make sure the kids feel at home while they’re here at Saint John’s.”
“Well, my friend,” he said, clapping me on my shoulder, “I am grateful, and regardless of the hell you may get for it, I see you as no Ebenezer Scrooge at all.”
The rest of the board members stepped past us after I stopped, confused by what Brandt had just said.
“What?” I chuckled but tried to understand what that comment meant.
“Are you meeting the guys for drinks tonight?” he questioned with some kind of knowing smirk.
“I’m reconsidering after that Scrooge comment, and of course, the expression on your face.”
He shook it off with his usual charming grin. “Ah, you know we all love giving you a hard time, big guy,” he finished with a wink, and then sauntered off like he knew I was about to walk into a lion’s den.
Now that I thought about it, the holidays were already in full swing, which meant I could only imagine the pranks and bullshit waiting for me this year from my brother and his doctor buddies.
I couldn’t even remember when it all started, but somewhere along the way, the holidays had turned into open season for childish pranks between the CEOs and the doctors.
And after what I’d pulled off last year, which ended with Jake and Collin shitting their brains out in a tropical forest framed as a lover’s retreat, we executives had started something that would probably never end now.
Fucking hell. I had no time for pranks and all-around nonsense right now. Christmas would probably be here and gone again before I even knew it. Everything was just moving too goddamn fast these days.
The hospital’s marble floors echoed under my steps as I crossed the lobby to where my driver waited at the curb.
Just as I was about to step into the Bentley, my phone buzzed.
The screen lit up with the name of the founder of Medisync Technologies, the small health tech firm we’d closed on last week.
I gave my driver a nod, slid into the backseat, and answered.
“Mitchell here,” I said, placing my leather briefcase on the seat beside me.
“Mr. Mitchell, sir, thanks for taking my call,” Morston said, and I could hear some anxiety in his tone.
“Not a problem. What can I help you with?” I asked. I didn’t have time for bullshit these days, but new acquisitions sometimes forced this.
Company founders always seemed to get anxious when they lost control of their company after I acquired it. However, it was common to reassure them that they were in good hands.
“We’re—well, the team wanted further clarity on where you see Medisync fitting in with Saint John’s. There’s still some uncertainty, and most likely because it’s around the holidays.”
“Understandable,” I said, seeing the hospital fade into a blur as we drove off. “You built something important, and my goal is the same now as it was when the acquisition was signed. We will scale Medisync to the point where it helps patients and keeps clinicians confident.”
“We appreciate that, sir, but—”
“I understand the apprehension of a company under new ownership,” I interrupted, knowing I’d be on this phone for an hour coddling the man if I wasn’t more direct with him.
“We have no intention of changing the mission. We’re only interested in helping it grow and expand.
Please keep the teams focused on product and outcomes, and I’ll make sure my teams do the heavy lifting. ”
“Of course,” he said as my driver eased onto the freeway. “That was all I needed to hear. I’ll pass along your assurances to the team. I hope you have a great evening.”
“Anytime,” I responded with relief that he was easily appeased.
As I ended the phone call, I was regretting having made plans for drinks with the guys tonight, not because of Brandt’s odd exchange, but because it would have been nice to just go home and be with my wife and the girls.
Unfortunately, on the nights when the guys made plans, the women had made plans too. So, if I went home, I’d be greeted by an empty house.
Exhaustion lived in my shoulders these days, familiar and steady, but not enough to bitch about openly.
The holiday season was always stacked with shit—year-end reports, donor requests, and a dozen acquisitions that needed a certain amount of reassurance and validation—and try as I might, I couldn’t outrun it all.
I was the last one to arrive at our usual table at Darcy’s, the restaurant we always went to on these meet-up nights.
It was quiet, exclusive, and provided us with the privacy we wanted.
Even so, privacy or not, my empty house was sounding more and more enticing than ordering a bourbon from a waitress and forcing conversation tonight.
I was just fucking tired. Everyone hits a wall now and then, right?
“Jesus, Jim,” Spencer said, sitting across from me. “Did the board give you hell today?”
I sipped the amber liquid and let the heat slowly travel down my throat in a soothing manner.
I licked my lips and shook my head. “I’ve just been going nonstop since fall hit,” I said. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”
I glanced at Collin, Jake, Jace, and John—the four doctors who never missed a chance to give me shit—and realized they hadn’t even looked up from their conversation to notice I’d joined them tonight.
That was not like them at all, but hell, I wasn’t in the mood to be poked at by senseless jokes anyway.
“Numbers look great at Brooks and Stone this quarter,” I said to Alex, my former VP and current CEO of the architecture firm my company owned.
“Why wouldn’t they?” he smirked.
“Seems like shit is looking great everywhere when it comes to the fucking empire Jimmy’s running,” Jake said in a smartass tone.
My gaze darted between the executives I was sitting with and over to where the doctors seemed to have separated themselves from us.
“Bad day at work, Jacob?” I questioned my brother, knowing that when he usually lost a patient, he turned into a dick, and we simply navigated around him carefully until he came back around.
Jake’s eyes roamed over to the men sitting across from him, then to the executives sitting around me. I would’ve sworn my brother was angry for a moment, but then that damn Jake-smile crept up in the corner of his mouth.
“Meh,” he sat back in his chair, then raised his glass of scotch to me, “cheers to everyone who is in any way, shape, or form tied to Mitchell and Associates…”
I frowned, not knowing what to think about this.
“Indeed,” Collin chimed in, “for their Christmases shall all be filled with cheer and the gifts that keep on fucking giving…”
“I’ll raise my glass to that,” John Aster said, one of the doctors I was starting to suspect might be plotting a holiday-season coup.
“Listen,” I said, “before any of this shit goes any further, there will be no retaliation from last year. We all settled that damn score.” I paused, took a sip of my bourbon, and eyed the men, “So, whatever dumb shit you guys are planning, I’m not in the mood.”
“When was the last time you got laid, man?” Sebastian Aster asked, bringing my attention to him while the group around me quietly laughed.
“What the hell are you talking about, Seb?” I questioned, thinking I might’ve been wrong to assume this was all part of the doctors versus CEOs newest holiday prank.
“When’s the Christmas party, big guy?” Spencer questioned, my eyes widening that my right-hand man was joining in on something I wasn’t aware of yet.
“I hadn’t planned on doing one,” I answered, motioning to the waitress for another drink. “If you can’t recall, we just attended two galas and a fundraiser that my daughter held. All within weeks of each other in November alone.”
“Ahh,” Jake said, jumping back into the conversation he’d started.
“So, naturally, you should cancel the Christmas events for everyone else, then!” He narrowed his eyes at me, “It seems your Scrooge-loving ass not only canceled bonuses this year, but you also canceled the charity Christmas ball—not just for the hospital, but also, based on Spencer’s question, for Mitchell and Associates as well? Global cancellation?”
I eyed my brother, watching him hang on that last word as if he were uncovering some dark secret plan I’d been forming since last Christmas.
“I have no idea what the hell is going on here,” I said, glancing at Spencer, “especially with your ass.” I looked around the table at the rest of them, who seemed to be treating me like the enemy.
“No, we won’t be hosting holiday charity events for Christmas this year.
We’ve raised and donated enough. The tax write-offs are all beautifully orchestrated, so there’s no need for any more this year. ”
“Holy shit,” Alex chuckled more in shock than humor. “Did you really intentionally cancel Christmas for everyone at Mitchell and Associates and under the umbrella?”
“He sure did,” Jace Stone popped off next.
“The hell I did,” I defended myself. “I spent over a million fucking dollars for gourmet charcuterie boards and champagne for everyone. It was efficient and a nice change from the same mundane bullshit I approve every year.”
Jake shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, big brother,” he said, smiling as if I’d dug my own grave and I wouldn’t have to worry about him doing it this year.
“You truly have outdone yourself, and I’m fairly certain all of the many Clark Griswolds in your company…
” he paused, took a sip as if he were somehow an advocate for the entire company, “you know, all us little guys? We now get the equivalent of a Christmas Vacation bonus.”
“The fucking Jelly of the Month club,” Collin chimed in. “Thanks a lot, Jimmy.” He smirked like a cocky bastard, “Nothing says Thank you for doing countless craniotomies, getting no sleep, and saving lives day after day like receiving a fucking cheese tray and bottle of champagne.”
“Not to mention my wife met all his demands for his and Hawk’s newest projects in record time, and she even brought that shit in under budget, all for his Scrooge-ass to provide us a shared cheese tray and bottle of champagne,” Alex added with half sarcasm and half pride in Bree’s architectural talents. “We didn’t even get two!”
My lips tightened, “Really, dickheads? You’re going to take the only Christmas movie I like watching and use it against me?”
“No,” Spence, my former right-hand partner in crime, spoke up against me, “you just took a page out of Gris’s boss’s playbook and did that shit to yourself.”
“I did nothing wrong,” I stood my ground. “I changed shit up this year, that’s all. I meant nothing asshole-ish by it.”
“Let me guess. The meat and cheese tray and champagne are all coming from places you own, Jimbo?” Jake asked, using the name I always hated being called.
“Only the best for my associates, doctors, and companies,” I defended myself.
“So, that’s it, then,” Collin said to everyone in the group. “Jimmy thinks he’s off the hook for cancelling Christmas this year.”
“I didn’t think it would be that big of a fucking deal,” I said as I started to feel more and more like a piece of shit.
“The charities are funded, we don’t need the Christmas parties, and you guys don’t even need the bonus.
You’re all fucking billionaires,” I eyed everyone, reminding them they were all being petty.
“Billionaires who just so happen to donate the monumental bonuses we bust our asses for every year to our own personal charities,” Jake said.
“It’s all a ripple effect, Jimbo. You know this.
So, you can personally tell our charities, after you tell your employees who were counting on their bonuses this year, why your cheap ass fucked all of them. ”
“People look forward to that shit, Jim,” John said. “You might want to reconsider. I mean…” he paused. “Have you heard from Avery yet about our Christmas bonuses that arrived this afternoon?”
“No,” I froze.
Come to think of it, I’d typically have heard from Avery three times by now—even the girls—but not a single missed call or text had come through while I was buried in margins, meetings, and numbers all day.
“Mm,” Jake hummed. “Well, you’ve heard from us, and now, you honestly need to think about this shit, dude. This is bad PR if it gets out.”
“But it’ll be even worse when your firecracker of a wife busts your balls for short-changing her women’s center,” Jace said.
“They’ve all been taken care of,” I said, feeling slightly panicked but still certain that I did nothing wrong. “Her center just had the festival, raised double in its funds, and I made all of that happen while busting balls on new acquisitions.”
“Damn, you really have turned into the man that serves the business,” Jake said. “Oh well, we’ll see what Avery thinks.”
“Indeed,” Alex said. “I’m sure the wives are not even discussing it tonight. You know how much they all hate the holidays.”
I was still fairly sure Avery wouldn’t be pissed off, although Alex’s last sarcastic comment had cast a shadow of doubt on things.
You know what? No. These guys were all known for starting shit in the dumbest ways.
Avery was crying happy tears for everything I did to make her vision come alive with that damn fall festival.
And Avery loves fucking charcuterie boards and champagne, so I know for sure she would love my idea for this year’s Christmas season.
It had been too long a day for me to get caught up in these guys trying to cast me as the thoughtless boss from my favorite Christmas movie.
Nice try, though. What I did for Christmas this year was a welcome change, even if it took a few clicks to come up with the idea. But hey, I was efficient like that.