Chapter Three

Mason

There are few things I hate more in life than corporate meetings. Stuffy men twice my age in suits just slightly too retro for my taste droning on and on about things that I already knew as they tried to convince me of the way that they thought that I should bring my own company. Yet, there I was. Sitting in a meeting listening to several members of the board argue about an issue that I had already resolved and was only waiting for them to quiet down to explain, staring out of the window at the day beyond.

The morning looked innocuous enough. Now that the sun was completely up it was revealing one of those days that looked as cold as it felt. Even though the sun was shining brightly, it seemed to be shimmering, as if bouncing off of the cold itself. I was dreading the party that night even more now than I was when I was talking to Aidan. As my personal assistant it was his job to handle all of the details of events like this, but he had a tendency to try to run things by me “just to make sure”. While I appreciated his thoroughness, the more that I heard about the party, the less I wanted to deal with it. Unfortunately, it was just one of the things that I learned was expected of me when I bought the Showstoppers. It wasn’t just about the game itself or even making decisions about players and the stadium. Instead, it was about wooing players, schmoosing investors, and being the face of the franchise hosting apparently important people in my private box and having parties to celebrate everything from new corporate partnerships to new players, as was the case with the party that was looming that evening. There were times when I felt like as the owner of the team I should be the one making the decisions about how things were going to go and what I was going to do, and yet I found myself getting tumbled along, doing what was expected of me for the good of the team and my investment.

“Don’t you agree, Mr. Dupree?”

I looked at the two men who were now staring at me from where they stood beside a presentation board and tried to find the place in my subconscious that I hoped would have been paying attention and chronicled what they said for future review. I glanced at the presentation board, scanning the notes and figures on it. None of it had anything to do with the solutions that I had come up with, which meant that I really didn’t need to comment on it at all.

“As I told you gentlemen at the beginning of this meeting, this situation has already been resolved. I have done my own research and come to the conclusions that I believe are the best for this project. You will have full reports on your desks by the end of the day.”

“But Mr. Dupree,” one of the men protested, obviously perturbed that I wasn’t impressed by whatever half of the presentation for which he was responsible.

I stood and held up a hand to stop him.

“I appreciate the efforts that both of you went to, but I assure you, you will find the plans that I have made the ideal solution and will be ready to cooperate with me in implementing them as soon as possible.”

I purposely kept my tone and the words that I chose a careful balance between encouraging them and making sure that they knew that they didn’t really have a choice when it came to going along with what I had decided. They would either cooperate with me and do as I expected of them, or they were welcome to try to find another position in one of the companies that wasn’t even close to as advanced and progressive as mine. It was completely up to them. Frankly, they were both dispensable and replaceable with little concern from me.

“Can we schedule a meeting to discuss the reports after we have had a chance to read them?” the other man asked.

I started around the long conference table toward the door to the room, buttoning my suit jacket as I went.

“You’ll have to discuss that with my secretary and personal assistant. They will see if there is a convenient time in the near future. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have several other meetings to prepare for and need to be on my way.”

I left the room before either of the men, or any of the others who had been sitting silently at the table listening could say anything. The truth was I did have several other meetings set up for me that afternoon, but I had already made the decision to have my secretary, Lindsay, reschedule them for me. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of them. It would be better to reschedule them for a time when my mind was clear and I had the fuss of the party over with so that I could give the issues being discussed at the meetings the full attention that they deserved.

I approached my office at the same time that what looked like a large funeral spray was coming down the hallway toward me. The skinny legs sticking out from beneath it were swerving slightly as if the delivery person carrying it was having a hard time seeing around the dense assortment of carnations and lilies of the valley.

What in the living hell was going on?

“Oh, gracious,” I heard Lindsay say from her desk across from my door. “Just put it inside with the other one.”

“The other one?” I asked as the flowers pushed past me and entered my office.

I followed them and found a teenaged boy trying very hard to put down the massive arrangement without knocking it over. He was positioning it carefully next to the desk where another, albeit smaller and less death-related, arrangement sat. When he noticed me he flashed me a toothy smile.

“There you go, Mr. Dupree,” he said.

I nodded.

“Thank you.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what it was that I was thanking him for, but I figured that if he had managed to wrangle those flowers into the building and up to my office, he deserved some recognition. I reached into my pocket for my bill fold and handed him a generous tip. He stared down at it, babbling a thank you as he headed out of the office. When he was gone, I walked over to my desk and looked at the two flower arrangements. They each had cards and I took them out, holding them next to each other so that I could compare them.

“Thanks for the other night. I hope to see you again soon,” I read on one of them. “Last night was amazing. Think about me today,” I muttered, reading the other one.

“Did someone die?” Lindsay asked, coming in the room.

“I don’t think so,” I said, holding the card that the smaller arrangement had come with back up to the flowers. “Thanks for the other night.” I held the other card toward the large spray. “Last night was amazing.” I looked over at my secretary, who was obviously trying hard not to smile. “Do those sound like they came from the same person?”

Lindsay shook her head.

“One says, ‘the other night’ and one says, ‘last night’. It seems to me like one is from somebody who is still hoping for round two even after you have stayed true to your routine and not called after a week, and the other is from someone far more recent and with far less understanding of floral arrangements.”

She laughed as I let out a sigh and tossed the cards into the trashcan beside my desk. I picked up the funeral spray and carried it over to her.

“Find a memorial for a nice war vet to put this on,” I told her.

“And the other one?”

“Bring it to your mother in the hospital. Tell her that I hope she’s feeling better.”

I grabbed my coat and started out of the office.

“Where are you going?” Lindsay called after me.

“I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off,” I told her. “Reschedule all of my appointments and meetings for me.”

“Will do.”

I shrugged into my coat and stepped out into an afternoon that somehow felt even colder than the morning. Despite the biting chill as it ran down my throat, the air was invigorating, and I decided to walk to my favorite restaurant nearby for an early lunch before going back to my apartment to check on the progress of the party. Maybe once I saw the preparations underway I would feel less resistant and be willing to actually enjoy myself that night.