Chapter 18 Baseball Players & Bunnies #2
“There’s some concern now. Real concern that wasn’t there before.
Because of the way Conroy is twisting facts.
He’s making everyone think the clubs are bringing down the neighborhood.
He’s trying to line up protests and rallies.
There’s going to be a hearing at the next council meeting,” Leo said, his voice that of a man nearing the end of his rope, as he pushed a hand through his hair.
“If we haven’t managed to settle things down by then, it’s only a matter of time before our licenses and permits get pulled and we’re forced to sell.
I’ve tried to schedule a few appointments to discuss the situation, but no one’s returning my calls. ”
Leo seemed like he was doing his best, but he was a lawyer, not a politician. His forte was in legal disputes, and this was a problem that was going to come down to public perception, not paperwork.
“You need to get preemptive,” I said firmly, reflecting back on my days with the army. “You don’t let the enemy walk all over you. You have to understand the enemy. Understand the problem. Act on it.”
Henry nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been researching Conroy. I haven’t found any skeletons, but he’s sure left a trail of burned bridges in his wake. These guys often do. Tech bros think they can do anything they want.”
Marquita jumped in. “We’re going to cancel the next couple of events so he won’t have any ammunition for the next week, but we can’t afford to stay closed any longer than that.”
I frowned. “I don’t like that. For one thing, he didn’t rely on the facts the first time around.
I’m so tired of misinformation. Secondly, it tells him this line of attack is working, that he’s got you on the back foot.
You need to go to the media and the influencers gossip sites yourself.
Explain why regulation is important, remind the neighbors why they liked having you around until he started stirring the pot.
Talk up how bad short-term rentals are for residents. ”
“And maybe it’s time for Joy Delivered to offer a little support?
” Casey said, a twinkle in her eye. She’d said she’d work on some marketing ideas, and I wasn’t surprised she was ready.
“We don’t have to get involved implicitly.
But I have some ideas for what we can do.
We can take out ads on the neighborhood sites, do a campaign on social, targeted locally.
The theme would be something like—‘What you do behind closed doors…’ to remind people that pleasure and privacy go hand in hand, and we go hard on the luxury angle in the visuals. ”
“But that’ll take time to put together,” I pointed out.
“It will, which is why I think my brother’s right about going to the media,” she said to the others.
“Henry and Marquita, you should do all of this together. A happily married couple who wants consenting adults to be free to do what they want so long as they’re safe.
And no one runs safer clubs than you do.
Safe for everyone especially given the security you employ for the whole neighborhood. ”
Leo’s eyes lit up, and he snapped a finger. “I can pull crime stats.”
I leaned back in my chair as the waitress brought over iced teas and waters. “There’s your strategy. Safer for everyone.”
“What?” Casey looked blank. I gestured for Leo to show her the connection I’d already made.
He smiled broadly, as if all the problems had been solved. “We have security outside our clubs every weekend. Guarantee that’ll be reflected in the neighborhood statistics. Proof that we’re good neighbors—fewer crimes.”
“Good neighbors…you can work with that too,” Casey said, a smile spreading across her face too. “Marquita, I know we’ve talked about how you support local businesses.”
“We do! Our dry-cleaning is handled by a family shop beneath one of our clubs. And a small restaurant down the street does all of our catering.”
Henry nodded enthusiastically. “The speakeasy in the basement of our Eighty-Second Street club provides cocktails, and the owner’s nephew fronts our house band. We’ve always tried hard to keep the experience you have at our clubs one that you can only get in those places.”
“But I’ll bet that isn’t something those places have advertised. If local residents can see how invested you are in supporting their friends and neighbors, that could change a lot of hearts and minds,” Casey said.
I gestured to my sister. “Between you and Leo, I think you have a pretty sound plan to change the tide of public opinion the right way.”
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” Henry asked. It was my turn to smile.
“You know me well,” I told him. “The but is that we already know Conroy doesn’t care about doing things the right way. Our opponent fights dirty, and we can’t put all our eggs in one basket just hoping they all stay clean.”
I parked my elbows on the table and leaned in.
“You need to get a handle on what you’re up against—run some serious counterintelligence on him.
Everyone has skeletons in the closet. Every single person has something they don’t want the opposition to know.
Everything was findable. Everything was obtainable.
In this case, what you have in your favor is a list of people he’s burned in the past. Someone’s going to talk, and you’re going to be right there to listen. ”
Leo and Henry both nodded solemnly, and I couldn’t deny it felt good to have my old self back, even just for a few minutes.
I walked back to the office with my sister, unknotting my tie on the way.
“I hate having to tell people to dig up dirt,” I muttered, as I dropped my shades over my eyes to block out the afternoon sun.
“He may be a lawyer, and he’s great with legal issues—he’s the one who figured out the problem—but he’s obviously a good guy and this is getting dirty.
I don’t want to be the reason he starts to blur his morals. ”
“Aw, big brother’s getting soft in his old age,” Casey teased me.
“But I know what you mean. It’s rare to meet people in this business—well, any business—who’d rather solve problems with a conversation than with a war.
” She was quiet for a moment as we skirted a kebab stand line, but her lips quirked up, her big brain working.
“I bet I could find something on Conroy.”
I shot my baby sister an inquisitive look.
“I know I could. But since when are you a spy?”
“I grew up with you. I learned a thing or two,” she said with an impish grin.
“Look at you. Running a little espionage.” I won’t deny that I liked the idea of having taught her a few things, even inadvertently.
“I don’t want someone messing with our business. I love Joy Delivered. I’ll fight for it. Besides, I think you underestimate my ability to acquire information,” she said as we walked past a group of construction workers whose heads all turned to stare at my sister.
Instinct kicked in, and I turned to the crew, lowering my shades to show them my eyes, flared with anger as I knew they’d be. That was enough for them to focus on their jobs.
What would I fight for? I’d fight for this company, and I did that daily, obviously, but there’s a big difference between making placement deals and helping our biggest retailer stay in business.
It was a fight I was up for. And I’d fight for my sister, of course.
Like just now. But beyond that? What did I love madly enough to risk it all for?
If it hadn’t been my fiancée, was I the problem?
“See, that’s the problem,” Casey said. I blinked. “I could have asked any one of those construction workers for dirt on the other ones and gotten all kinds of stuff. You men just growl at each other.”
True.
“Speaking of growling, you were ornery at lunch. Are you really that pissed about this developer?” she asked, stopping in her tracks when we reached the red light at Madison.
She parked her hands on her hips and stared at me, her blue eyes refusing to let me get away with deflecting.
She’d always been like this. Firm, strong, passionate.
Take no prisoners. This was one of the reasons I was so close with my sister—she was fiery and full of emotion, and yet our parents were so… dispassionate.
They rarely held hands with each other, and hardly ever kissed, not even a peck on the cheek.
That lack of affection had extended far and wide.
I could remember riding my bike in the summers as a kid, then running inside, sweaty, but wanting to give my mom a hug.
She’d always refuse, saying it was too hot for hugging. That was her modus operandi.
There was often a distance with her, as if she didn’t want to get too close.
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I’d inherited it—a lack of the ability to love. That’s what I’d really like to figure out. If my condition is permanent. I bet Michelle would know. I was sure she would have all the answers as to what ailed me.
But it wasn’t as if I could ask her those questions. Not now.
Not for so many reasons.
“I just saw the therapist,” I said in answer to Casey’s ornery question.
“Ah. Then all that talking has got you pissed off.”
“Hardly any talking from me. More like the questions she asked.”
“So how is it going?”
I heaved a sigh as the light changed, and cars squealed to their stops at the red. Casey started to walk, but a cab careened by, not bothering to stop. Grabbing her quickly at the waist, I tugged her back.
“Careful,” I said, heart galloping.
She looked up at me with wide, fearful eyes. “They’re out of control here.”
“Everyone is. Just watch out, Case.”
“Anyway, so how is Dr. Milo?”
“Here’s the thing,” I said in a clipped voice. While my sister didn’t need to know I was sleeping with my almost-therapist, the one she chose, no less, I didn’t like lying to her. I could skirt the details. “It didn’t work out with her so I’m seeing someone else. A few floors down.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. “Is the new one good?”
I shrugged.
“Jack,” she said, like a plea.
“I’m trying, but I don’t know that anything is going to make a difference. It happened. I said what I said to Aubrey and she’s dead, and there’s nothing that I can ever say or do to unwind things.”
She grabbed my shirt collar and shot me a rueful look.
“Don’t say that. Besides, you need to work on this.
We have a business to run and a big charity event coming up soon,” she said, her words a reminder of the gala we were supporting to fund breast cancer research.
“I got a call from a reporter at the New York Press. She does lifestyle pieces, and she wants to do one on you, a year later.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to do a piece on me a year later.”
“I know. But it would be good for business. The press loves you. And this isn’t Page Six.
New York Press does thoughtful, well-researched pieces.
I think it would be good for business, and good for your venture studio.
You’re the Soldier-Turned-Sex-Toy-Mogul, and one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors, so stop all this self-loathing and start taking advantage of all this free marketing. ”
“I don’t loathe myself,” I said, then tapped my breastbone as we neared our office building. “Something in here doesn’t work properly. No therapist is ever going to fix it.”
Besides, everyone was better off if I didn’t try again. If I didn’t get close to anyone, I wouldn’t have the power to wound her. If I didn’t love a woman, I would never break her heart.
She rolled her eyes. “You are going to work on yourself. Because it’s time to move on.”
My phone buzzed with a text from Michelle.
Michelle: I’m going shopping right now.
Jack: For?
I tucked my phone away, because anticipating her answer was a much more pleasant thing to ruminate on.