Chapter 5
Ian
Seeing Kate that morning had been a great start to the day, but I didn’t know that it was going to wind up being the highlight of my entire day.
As soon as I walked out of the elevator and onto the top floor, Janice stopped me. I could tell by her smile that once again something was wrong.
“Just tell me, dammit,” I groaned.
“You have a meeting with BioResearch this afternoon. I fit it into your schedule after your mid-afternoon meeting.”
I shook my head, wondering if I should have just let her continue smiling at me like an idiot.
The knowledge of the stupid BioResearch meeting weighed on me pretty much the entire day. I didn’t know if it was because I was sick of them and their lawyers or if I was just tired. All I knew was that I wanted to skip it.
It wasn’t enough that they had called yesterday, attempting to convince me to drop the lawsuit. Now I had to sit through a meeting and listen to them argue the point ad nauseam.
I pecked away at my keyboard, going through pages and pages of documents. I took a few conference calls. Then there were still more documents.
Sales projections for the next quarter.
Sales had been down. Our stock prices had been going down. All because of this fucking lawsuit. Customers and shareholders weren’t going to hedge their bets on who would win, even though I knew it.
I clicked through a few more pages of the document. I was like a programmed drone, doing the same repetitive things — killing time until that bullshit meeting.
The numbers just looked like blurs at this point. After this lawsuit was over, projections wouldn’t matter. Everything would have to be done again anyway. If we lost, well, we were fucked. If we won, we stood to gain a lot of money and likely a flood of new customers and sales.
The afternoon meeting time arrived, and I walked toward the all-glass conference room. There they were, only it wasn’t a room full of people like I’d expected.
Ben stood proudly, his hands behind his back, bouncing on his heels. His goofy smile was aimed right at me like he was either hoping to befriend me, or pull the wool over my eyes. I wasn’t sure, but neither was likely in today’s meeting.
Truthfully, Ben was probably a great guy in his own way. He seemed to be a nice enough dude, anyway. He was always calm, collected — he even seemed to have what a lot of us in this world didn’t have: a heart. Hell, if he hadn’t been in the career field that he was in, it might have even been a heart of gold. Because even with all the animosity between our companies, he seemed to hold out a little faith that we could all just end things, settle, and become friendly rivals once again.
I wasn’t sure, though, if that was a pro or a con with his character.
Some people might have thought he wasn’t really cut out for the business world. I mean, he wasn’t his father. That man was a total douchebag. Ben wasn’t. Not as far as I could tell, and I was pretty good at reading people.
I wasn’t a whole lot like my old man, either, but I did know one thing: the business world was a cut-throat world.
Ben didn’t seem like he believed that quite yet. He seemed to think that everything could be solved with words and conversation, no paperwork or lawyers necessary.
I wasn’t raised to believe that, though, and I sure as hell wasn’t trained like that.
In this world, there was a law. It was nature’s law, only a little skewed and a whole hell of a lot twisted. It was dog eat dog. There was no sweetness. No kindness. There were piss-your-pants-intimidating-lawyers, and contracts—lots and lots of contracts. Behind those contracts were big beastly CEOs with their trained lawyers ready to take you for everything that you had.
He hadn’t quite been jaded by the business world, though. Truth be told, I was envious of him for that. I wished I could have gone back to a time before the world’s negativity won out. Older people always seemed to be saying that young people were “too young to be cynical,” and what they meant by that was to give it time, because eventually, the world was going to bite you square on the ass.
In the corporate world, you had to be ready to bite it back.
And hard.
Ben definitely had a bite — I had seen it before. He was a hard-ass when he wanted to be. I mean, after all, his father’s blood did run through his veins. The problem for Ben was that he rarely ever felt the need to be a total asshole. And when someone who was genuinely nice, with only just a slight hard-ass streak, stood next to a stone-cold alpha with a sharp bite and no regard for asking questions before he struck, he was going to look like a newborn pup…a big weeny.
If it hadn’t been for the feud between our companies — and families — we probably could have actually been friends or at the very least close acquaintances. Hell, we maybe could have even played a game or two of racquetball.
At least he was here, and not his rock-solid ass of an old man. Because compared to him, Ben was a fucking dream to work with.
I felt the load fall squarely on my shoulders as I laughed to myself. Speaking of the asshat, there he stood, in all his glory, just behind his son.
Michael-Fuckin’-Murphy. The man who ran the whole shit show at Bio-Research Labs.
The large, stocky man shoved past his son’s shoulder and extended his hand out to me.
I really wanted to forgo the pleasantries and just get to work, but business was business and professionalism was professionalism. I had to smile and bear it, grin and grit those teeth and suck down whatever shitty remark I actually wanted to say.
“Always a pleasure, Ian,” Murphy said behind a fake smile.
I smirked. He definitely knew the game. He had obviously been a player for a long fucking time.
I’d like to think that I wasn’t intimidated often, but Michael Murphy could intimidate pretty much anyone. Not that I’d ever show it, and not that it ever stood in the way.
The man stood proudly, and his handshake was firm. He was the type of man who had shaken a lot of hands. He looked at me, his green eyes piercing into mine, and I figured that he was trying to intimidate me. I’d never give him the satisfaction.
He was getting older, and he was starting to look much older than he actually was. He couldn’t have been more than sixty years old, but his head was full of white-gray hair. Wrinkles and bags sagged beneath his eyes.
Doubtless, it was stress. I was starting to realize just how stressful the position of CEO really was. It could weigh anyone down. It sure as hell was weighing me down.
Although Murphy might have looked aged, he still looked sharp. His hair was slicked back with pomade, and he wore a striking navy suit. It was the kind of suit that I could just tell was expensive. It wasn’t any surprise to me that he had spent the big bucks on it. He was a lot like my old man in that regard.
“We came to discuss this lawsuit, Ian.” His voice sounded strong and rehearsed — almost like he had been watching too many legal shows.
“Without lawyers?” My tone was light, but inside I was screaming. I knew what they were doing, and I didn’t like it. I hated how much they were trying to push me into letting it all go.
“Just two CEOs and two VPs discussing the future of our companies,” Michael grinned at me, finally pulling his hand away from mine.
Fuck.
I grumbled slightly just under my breath. If the meeting was between CEOs and VPs, then my VP, Jerome Pfieffer, was going to be here soon. As soon as I glanced behind me, I saw him. His stride was long and determined, and his annoying ferret face grinned at us as he approached.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He patted both Ben and Michael on their shoulders, rather than shake their hands.
“Good afternoon, Ian — my man.” He slung his arm around my shoulder, putting his weight on me as he looked on at the two Murphy men. I wanted to knock his arm off my shoulder. The guy was nearly twice my age, and ever since I'd gotten the position as CEO, I'd seen him going through the office acting like he was young, and hip — or whatever it was that he was doing — but everyone thought he looked nothing short of an idiot. And I could tell, by the blank, unblinking expressions on the men’s faces, that they felt the same.
But it wasn't even that, that made me want to knock his arm off me. I couldn't care less if the guy was a geek. It was that he was suddenly acting like we'd always been best friends or something.
He was fake.
He was so fake I wanted to vomit, in fact. I hated how he always wanted to schmooze — with me, with the competition, with everyone. No matter how much he schmoozed or called people “his man,” the fact remained that he was full of shit.
Jerome was a real prick. It had always been clear that he wasn’t thrilled to have me in the building — let alone in the CEO’s office. It was even clearer that he wanted my job. And hell, if it hadn’t been my father’s legacy, honestly, I would have been happy to throw it straight at his smug face. If for nothing else but to sit back and watch him fail. I would have been taken care of either way.
“Have a seat, gentlemen.” He gestured toward the large conference table as he finally pulled his arm off my shoulder.
I rolled my eyes and sat down at one side of the table and watched as the two Murphy men sat on the other side.
Jerome sat next to me, and a strong smell of musk flooded into my nostrils. I must have been downwind from the air vent. I shifted in my seat, trying not to sneeze.
“So what can we do for you, gentlemen?” Jerome leaned forward so that his elbows rested on the table, and his gaze was set directly on them. I leaned back, not really caring to join the conversation. As far as I was concerned, I was going to let Jerome take over. When Ben had called earlier, I had already said all that I needed to say.
We had already covered this ground.
I let Jerome talk business and go through scenario after scenario with them and “what-if” we dropped the case. But as far as I was concerned, the what-ifs could be shoved straight up their asses.
Dad would likely have had the exact same sentiment, too. Hell, he’d said something similar once upon a time.
I remember being in the kitchen of the penthouse suite that used to be his. He was standing there by himself as I rounded the corner, and I watched as he shifted nervously from foot to foot, his eyes avoiding mine.
The vein in his forehead began to pulse as his teeth and jaw clenched. The pulsating became faster and faster, and incredibly irregular. I could tell he was pissed. I just didn’t know why.
“Dad?” I’d asked, but he didn’t answer me. He didn’t even look at me. He just moved forward, his hands balled into fists, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Whisky,” he whispered. That was all he said. But damn, it was all he had to say for me to know that he’d meant business.
“Those damn Murphys and their constant bullshit!” he growled, slinging the drink back. He didn’t even recoil. It was like the burn didn’t bother him at all. But then again, he’d probably been drinking at least one or two of those every day for as long as I could remember. I guessed he wouldn’t be fazed by it anymore.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“Sit down,” he grumbled, his fingers tapping the edge of his glass.
He’d been hunched over with a scowl plastered on his face. I remembered thinking he looked like he could play Scrooge in the Charles Dickens play.
“I’m going to get right to the point,” he said, before taking another swig. “Your main squeeze joined the fucking Dark Side.”
“Amelia?” I asked. “What?”
“She decided to take the case as one of their lawyers. I’m sure that shitbag Michael had it up his sleeve as soon as he found out that you were sleeping with a lawyer.” He pulled at one of his bar stools and took a quick seat.
“We’re more than sleeping together, though, I think.” I’d laughed—actually laughed—thinking that my relationship with her had been secure. “She wouldn’t do that.” I had thought there had to be some sort of ethics or conflict she’d acknowledge, but it didn’t happen.
“She did. And if she didn’t, then she’s highly considering it.” He’d grabbed a second glass from off the counter and poured me a quick shot of a whiskey so strong that I didn’t even like it back then. Hell, now I drank it like iced tea. Just like he used to.
I’d held the shot in my hand, not sure what to do with it.
He’d pounded another shot. “They can shove it all up their asses! We’re going to get them in the end. Those fucking bloodsucking leeches.”
Bloodsucking leeches, all of them. We’d get them in the end. Dad had said those words then, and they were still true today. I couldn’t let this meeting go on—bullshit pretense be damned.
“We’re not dropping the case,” I said.
Ben Murphy’s eyes bugged out of his head, and Jerome sighed. Michael Murphy shook his head slightly. Ignoring them all, I continued, “You stole the early blood imaging test for lung cancer, and my dad felt really strongly about not letting you get away with it. We own the patent and your device is based on his work.”
I stood and buttoned the top button of my suit, waiting for them to do the same.
“You came all this way for nothing,” I said. “My apologies.” Sometimes it killed me how fake I was at times, too, because I didn’t mean anything about apologies. I wasn’t sorry, not in the least.
“No, my apologies!” old Murphy said as he stood. His face was red, and the blotchy redness was down around his neck, too. “But that is definitely not true!”
I stood, keeping my arms and shoulders relaxed. I was watching the shit show about to unfold right in front of me, and I was trying everything in my power to make it look like I couldn’t care less. “What isn’t true?”
His face was getting even redder. Tomato red, actually. Ben stood and placed a hand on his forearm to calm him, but it wasn’t working. “That early imaging test was mine all along,” Murphy said, “and it’s wrong to try to steal it from me now!”
I grinned. I couldn’t help myself.
“Isn’t that what everyone says?” Did he think I was just going to take his word for it? Over my old man’s?
“Your smile and the fact that you’re doing this to me makes you almost as much of a dirty snake as your good-for-nothing dad was!” Old Murphy rounded the table and stood only a couple of inches away. He pointed his index finger at me, and he was only a half a second away from poking me in the chest. Jerome was watching from my side, an eager expression on his face. Sleazebag. He probably wanted punches to be thrown, because, in the aftermath of a war, he could emerge king.
Ben stepped forward. He grabbed his father by the back of the suit and yanked him away from me.
“Dad,” Ben warned, smoothing his dad’s suit where he had tugged on it. “We’re here to negotiate, not call names.” He leaned into his dad’s shoulder and hissed into his ear, “And definitely not blow up!”
“If I see a spade, I call it a spade. If I see a liar, I call him a liar.” The old man huffed and straightened his suit. “But that isn’t why I came here.”
“Again, gentlemen,” I started, my voice firm. “I really am sorry. But the case stays open.”
I looked to the right where Jerome still sat, his eyes wide, glancing over each of us — one by one, back and forth.
“Well, I really hoped we’d be done with all this,” Ben said. “Especially with the other lawsuit—”
My eyes snapped to look between the two men, and then back over to Jerome. “What other lawsuit?”
Clearly, old man Murphy’s business practices weren’t as saintly as he tried to make it seem.
“Oh, it’s a suit from a group of doctors who want to accuse us of providing faulty documentation on a new MRI machine,” Ben said.
Murphy glared at his son and started for the door.
“Both are threatening to send us into debt,” Ben continued, oblivious to his dad’s cues. Or maybe he didn’t care.
Wow. I was sure Michael Murphy didn’t want us to know about his financial struggles, let alone that he was in the middle of another lawsuit. Without warning or farewell, Michael Murphy stormed out of the conference room, not even waiting for Ben to follow.
And as soon as he was gone, Ben stood next to me, wide-eyed. “Uh, thank you, gentlemen. For your time.”
He nodded in our general direction and we each faced him. Jerome made an effort to extend his hand, but it didn’t matter because Ben was already gone. Right on Michael’s heels, like a little lost, and very sorry, puppy.