Down the Line
Nick
“The fact you won’t tell me how bad it is, tells me how bad it is,” I say through the phone to Malcolm. It’s three o’clock in the morning, and he knows better than to call if something’s not seriously wrong.
I look out the window of my penthouse overlooking Manhattan and rub my eyes. The sky tonight is all a sick orange light. That means clouds.
“I’m sorry, sir, I just need you to get in here,” he says. “I don’t know if this line is secure.”
Okay, so it’s bad, bad.
“I’ll be right in,” I say and hang up the phone. Anyone who says rich guys don’t work for a living should try it for a while. Success is what they call the target on your back.
Not that I’m complaining.
I get dressed and decide to forego the driver. A night like tonight, I need to feel like I’m doing something.
Boarding the private elevator, I slip down to my private garage in the sub-basement of the building.
“Good morning, Mr. Scipio,” Hank, one of my lot’s security guards—and a former Marine—says. “Will it be the Chiron today?” he asks, heading toward the rack of keys.
“No,” I answer. “I’m in the mood for something less opulent. I’ll take the One-77.”
Of the seventy-seven Aston Martin One-77s made, I used to own three of them. I found they did better as donations to charity auctions than they did gathering dust in my car cellar.
“Excellent, sir,” Hank says, grabbing the keys and tossing them to me.
I put a lot of trust in Hank and the two others, Ed and Val (a former Army Special Forces and a former Navy SEAL, respectively.) They guard sixty-four sets of keys; each one goes to a vehicle worth a lot to a lot of people.
I don’t worry too much about it, though. They each make half a mil a year, plus benefits. More than that, we’re all on friendly terms. Also, I make sure to keep them in the latest models of the car of their choosing as well.
Not mine, though. Setting boundaries is good.
I walk out into the vast expanse of my private garage and nod to each of the guards as I see them. What can I say? I protect the things I care about.
Some people collect wine.
It’s been awhile since I’ve been down here, so I save myself the search and hit the lock button on the key fob. The car horn beeps as the doors re-lock, and I follow the sound to the fourth row on the left, finding my One-77 where it always is.
I need to unclutter my head or wake up or something. It has been awhile since I’ve been down here, but this one’s special.
Getting in, I’m cradled in the near-form-fitted seat. I start the car, listen to the rumble a moment, and start on my way.
The problem with having an underground parking structure like this is it’s a long, winding drive up to street level. I don’t mind, though.
As necessary as it may be to get to work as soon as possible, I’ve been fighting battles on almost every front. So I’ll go in, and I’m sure I’ll even break the limit on the way, but I’m savoring every unavoidable delay.
Ellie’s in and out of touch since she left. Any other time, figuring out what’s going on there would be my number one priority. Right now, though, I’m fighting for my job, my position, my company. I’m fighting for everything that made me who I wanted to be.
I finally reach the guard post at the top, before the thick metal of the first garage door. There are seven, each opener functioning on a different frequency. Also, there’s a locking mechanism at the bottom, so when the doors are down, they’re also anchored to the foundation below.
It may seem excessive, but I’ve got a 1957 Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa in there for crying out loud.
Helen gets the doors open, and I cruise into the only half-asleep streets of New York at three in the morning. Once I’m on the road, though, it doesn’t take nearly long enough to get to the office.
I pull the Aston into my work garage—which comes complete with a thick, lowering door more reinforced than the one over the vault at Fort Knox. I made sure of it.
From there, it’s only a minute on the elevator from the parking lot to the top floor. Malcolm is waiting for me.
“Let’s talk in your office,” he says.
I look around me. There’s no one in sight. Even the custodians have gone home for the night.
“Yeah,” I answer and unlock the door.
We get inside, and I close and lock the door behind us. Then I turn on the light.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“It’s Marly,” he says. “She’s giving them everything. Everything you’ve told me, she’s going to spill everything.”
“Let’s think about this rationally,” I say, though I’m not sure I’m capable of the feat, myself. “It’s not like I’ve broken any laws or even any ethical codes,” I tell Malcolm, even though I know it doesn’t matter in the slightest. “How bad is it going to be?”
“Bad,” he says. “Maybe it wouldn’t be an issue if things were going well here, but nobody knew why you wanted to move the company. I think when they find out—”
“I don’t think that would have gone over so well if I’d been upfront about it from the beginning,” I interrupt. “I already know the why. I’m asking how bad it’s going to be.”
“It doesn’t have to be, though,” Malcolm says. “There’s a way to avoid all of this and get the company back under your undisputed—”
“You know,” I interrupt, “when I was a kid, my dad wasn’t around all that much.”
Malcolm blinks.
“See, dad was a military man,” I continue. “He never quite made master sergeant, but he was with the Air Force until I was almost eighteen-years-old. He was a decent enough guy, I guess. There was just too much on his plate for him to spare much time.”
“Okay,” Malcolm says slowly, furrowing his brow. “Wait, there’s no Air Force base anywhere near Mulholland.”
“There isn’t anymore,” I tell him and go back to my story. “When dad had time to tell me something, I listened,” I go on. “One of the things he said a lot when I was growing up was ‘when someone’s telling you something that sounds too good to be true, give that person a solid kidney punch. They’re trying to sell you something.’”
It’s an interesting experience, watching Malcolm’s face. For a second, he smiles and nods his head. Now he understands why I was telling the story. The self-congratulation never lasts long, though.
Malcolm’s eyes are a bit wider than usual, and I can tell from the smacking sounds that his mouth has gone dry. I’m about to ask him if he needs some water when he pulls through whatever he’s feeling and says, “It’s not that bad.” He tells me, “You’re not going to like it, but just hear her out.”
“I was wondering when the puppet master was going to come from behind the curtain,” I mutter.
“Sir,” he says, “she’s down on the first floor. She can’t hear or see us, and if you don’t want to meet with her or even see her, you don’t have to, but—”
“No, that sounds good,” I interrupt. “No need for an alternate option. I’m sold.”
“… but,” Malcolm continues, looking quite small in the center of the office, “I think you should at least hear her out. She doesn’t have to be our enemy, but if you don’t at least talk to her, it’s happening tonight—this morning—whatever.”
“You’re doing a good job of working yourself out of your shiny new position,” I inform Malcolm. “If you’re just going to be her messenger, why not just replace you with her? She’s done the job already. If it weren’t for Marly starting the leak in the first place, I probably wouldn’t even remember your name. That seems like an experience I’d like to recreate,” I tell Malcolm.
“Just listen to her,” Malcolm says. “If you don’t like what she has to say, you can fire me afterward.”
“Why don’t I save some time and—”
“Just listen to her!” Malcolm shouts.
It’s silent as he stands there. His eyebrows are up a little, and he’s not quite able to keep his mouth all the way closed.
“Any points you would have gotten with me for doing that just now are more than outweighed by you going behind my back and talking to the one person I told you not to talk to,” I tell Malcolm. “Get her up here. She has five minutes from the time the elevator door opens.”
Malcolm’s smart enough not to say anything. He just walks past me and out the office door, closing it on his way.
I know what she’s going to say. It’s nothing new.
She’s going to tell me that if I don’t get the company out of Mulholland, she’s going to tell the board why I wanted to move it there. Appearances are everything. I don’t just mean in business.
The board’s already working on collecting evidence of mismanagement. They’re going to find it whether they know about Ellie or not. The only difference is they’re going to work a lot faster once they have the full story.
There’s a knock on the door, and I can already feel the side of my mouth twitching.
“If you’re waiting for a red carpet, you’re in the wrong building,” I call out, and the door opens.
Marly shows herself in, but she doesn’t have her usual smirk. If anything, she’s hanging her head a little. She’s trying to get my sympathy before she even opens her mouth.
The one problem with Marly is she never got it through her head I’m not an idiot.
“Close the door and start talking,” I tell her. “Make it quick, too. I look forward to going back home and to bed so I can pretend this whole thing was a nightmare.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she says, her voice quiet. “You don’t have to be dramatic.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I tell her. “Now, if there’s nothing else…”
“Why do you have to do that?” Marly asks though I can barely hear her she’s speaking so softly.
“What was that?” I ask, just to prod at her.
“I don’t know if you understand this or not, but I had a lot invested in this company,” she says. “I don’t just mean stock options. I mean I cared about this business like it was my own. I still do, whether you believe it or not.”
“Can we just get to the pitch so I can turn it down and go home?” I ask, gritting my teeth.
“I cared about you,” she says. “Not in that way, I mean, but as more than just your inside girl. We’ve been through a lot of things together, you and me,” she says. “I’ve never said this out loud, but I’ve always considered us to be close friends.”
“You’re appealing to the wrong emotion,” I tell her. “You’ve got a gun to my head. That’s what we’re talking about here. Only, you’re going to have to convince me to care whether or not you pull the trigger. Right now, it doesn’t look like there’s that much left you can do to me that’s not going to happen regardless.”
“You need to stop that,” she says. “Quit blaming other people for your mistakes. You know you’re the reason you’re in this mess. The board knew that without me having to tell them. You have to drop her, Nick. I don’t just mean the two of you should stay out of public places; I’m saying you need never to see that woman again. You need to stop the construction on the new headquarters. Forget you ever went to Mulholland and maybe begin nodding your head to a few things the board wants. You don’t have to lose this company, Nick. I know that you’ve carried the torch for this stranger forever, but you are blowing up a life I worked very hard to build. I’m not going to stand for it, Nick.”
“And there are the teeth,” I say, smiling.
“When I was working for you—from the moment I started working for you, I’ve been the one doing a lot of the heavy lifting,” she says. “You grew into a brilliant mind of your own, but every once in a while, you get some idea in your head, and it doesn’t matter what I say or how loudly I say it, you’re going to do what you want. That’s what scares me.”
“I’m glad we can agree on that,” I tell her and start for the door.
“The problem is that they’re rookie mistakes. You fell into a company, and you had to learn under battlefield conditions. I get that, but it also means you have some blind spots no one else on your level has,” she says, stepping in my way. “You don’t know how much time I’ve spent over the years cleaning up after you. I tolerated it for a long time because when things started taking a nosedive, I was right there to tell you how to pull it out again. Maybe you didn’t always agree, but you’d at least hear me out when things started going bad. Why is the one thing that would solve everything the one thing you won’t do? You know I know where the skeletons are.”
“Your time was up a while ago, and I’m tired of being threatened by you,” I seethe.
“There are things I will take to my grave before I even think about them when it’s not you and me talking,” she says. “I can’t let this be one of those things anymore. Not unless you turn it around.”
I told the board I might be willing to discuss the relocation. I never said I was ready to change my mind about it.
“Go to the board, then,” I tell her.
“You’re willing to lose everything for this woman who, let’s face it, you never really knew in the first place?” she asks. “Are you doing this because you’re in love with her, or because you’re in love with the fantasy?”
“I’m not an idiot,” I snap. “I’m not calling it love at all yet.”
“Then what are you doing?” she asks. “You want to move the company there because she’s there and you have it in your head she can’t leave. If you’re not doing it for love, you must be crazy, and the board is doing the right thing wanting you gone.”
“It’s always lovely chatting,” I tell Marly. “I’ve missed the way you just charge through what you want to say and don’t stop when you hit a wall. It’s admirable. But now, if you’d do me the privilege of leaving my office, we’re done here.”
“That’s it, then?” she asks. “I hope, for your sake, there’s a part of this story you haven’t already told me, because the way it looks right now, you’re intentionally trying to run the company into the ground.”
“That’s it,” I answer her original question. Everything else, I ignore. She’s mad. I get it. She’s confused, and I get that, too. The problem is one day she stopped trusting me. “There’s nothing about the move that would threaten the company except this vile perception you’ve been cultivating. Now, as much fun as it is watching security throw you out, I’d just as soon we all leave voluntarily.”
“What’s going to happen when she finds out?” Marly asks. “You know it won’t be long once the board has it. Audiences love all that gushy romantic crap.”
“What do you want?” I ask. “It can’t just be about her.”
“She was the problem before you started putting together the exploratory committee on Mulholland,” Marly says. “Whatever you want to keep telling yourself, she is the problem. If it weren’t for your preoccupation with your friend, the stranger, it wouldn’t matter what the board tried to throw at you. You’d be bulletproof.”
“Get out,” I tell her. “I’m not going to say it again.”
“I’ve never seen someone work so hard at destroying everything in their life,” she says, turning finally and going to the door. “Oh, I’ve seen plenty of people throw good sense aside to destroy others, but this level of self-immolation’s a new one on me. It’d be more entertaining if I didn’t believe in you once, look up to you.”
“You never looked up to me,” I tell her. “That’s one of the reasons I liked you. You know, before you turned into—”
“Is there any chance I can get you to change your mind?” she asks.
“No,” I answer. “How long do I have?”
“There’s no reason to put it off,” she says. “I know you’re not going to try to stop me. You’re not the type.”
“What I don’t understand is why you would do this to me,” I say. “Are you angling to take over as CEO? I’ve got to tell you, before you started showing your third and fourth faces, I was planning on handing it over to you when I retire in ten years.”
“Why would you retire in ten years?” she asks. “You never said anything about that to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her.
“No,” she says, “tell me. If you’re planning to give it all up, why not just drop out as CEO. You’ve got enough money for a lot of lifetimes. Why bother with all the scandal?”
“It never occurred to me you’d have trouble making sense of this,” I tell her. “You’re usually such a smart person.”
“There’s no shame if you can’t solve a puzzle no one else can solve,” Marly says. “I’ll give you an hour to change your mind, then I’m making calls.”
“Make your calls now,” I tell her. “I’m not changing my mind.”
Marly leaves the office, and though I’m beginning to loathe the sight of this building, I wait a few minutes. I’m not going to close myself in an elevator with her.
Marly doesn’t understand why the company needs to move to Mulholland. It’s not something I’m willing to elucidate for her, either. It’s just the way things are.
If anything, I was stupid to ask Ellie to come to New York with me. If it weren't about her boss, it would have been something else. I knew she wasn’t going to stay.
As I’m thinking about it, I don’t know that I should ever have come back to New York, myself. My presence hasn’t fixed anything. Yeah, the stock price leveled out for a few days, but when word spread the new office was still on, it started dropping again regardless.
Of course, if it keeps going on like this too much longer, I’m going to be in some serious trouble. Financially, I’m plenty secure now, but most of my money is tied up in Stingray stock. Come to think of it, I should probably check to make sure I’m still a billionaire. You fall out of that particular club and people tend to remember it.
I stood up for my relationship with Ellie in a pretty monumental way, though. I can feel good about that.
The phone calls are going to start any minute. It’s only a matter of how long it takes Marly to cross the lobby and get outside.
It’s not an irrecoverable situation. If anything, it may help public perception. It’s not going to do anything for investors’ failing confidence, and it may just be the end of my reign as CEO, but with enough positive public attention, I’ll at least have some leverage.
That is, assuming America’s still got a bit of the romantic in her.
The situation with Ellie is precarious. I haven’t even told her I was that goofy kid from the last three weeks of junior high. When she hears everything, I don’t know how she’s going to take it.
I should have just told her, but through all the planning, all the years of planning every angle, I never accounted for just how hard it would be. Who I was then and now was going to be a shock if it was the first thing I told her about, but a lot of time has passed since I had that chance.
Right now, I’m that guy on television with all the fancy crap. That guy has power. The other guy, the spindly jackass who’d blush every time a cute girl went past, that guy has nothing. That guy was nothing.
It’s early, and I know she’s sleeping, but the first rule of damage control is to break the story first. That way you do it on your terms.
I call Ellie.
“If this isn’t God, I’m hanging up,” she groans.
It’s a good thing my ego’s not that far out of check. “It’s not God, but I’d still like to talk to you,” I say, trying to keep my tone as light as possible.
“Oh hey, Nick,” she says through a yawn. “I’d be glad you called if it weren’t the dead crack of night.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I tell her. “Listen, there’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s not how I wanted to do it, but circumstances have left me no choice.”
“Actually,” she says, “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “About what?”
“I don’t know. I feel like we jumped into this whole thing so fast, and I guess I just got caught up in the thrill of who you are and seeing the world you live in,” she says.
No.
I start again, saying, “Ellie, I know things have been moving fast, but—”
“Please,” she says. “I’ve already started, and I’d like to say this before I wake up too much and can’t get through it.”
My heart is pounding. I plead, “Ellie, just listen—”
“I don’t think it’s going to work out,” she says. “If I misled you in any way, I’m sorry. I honestly wanted to give us a shot, but I don’t think your status or your lifestyle is a healthy foundation for a relationship.”
“Ellie—”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I have to go.”
She hangs up before I can even start the sentence, “We weren’t strangers when we met.” I could have slipped it in there. She cut off nearly everything I said, but she would have heard that.
Maybe I didn’t want to tell her. Regardless, she’s going to find out, and my calls are going straight to voicemail.
It was going to be bad enough if I’d had a chance to tell her everything. Now, when she finds out, I won’t be able to fill in the gaps. If there’s any chance of a relationship in the future, it’s if I can get ahold of her before the news breaks. But there’s nothing I can do.
Naomi’s phone is off, too.
Malcolm sticks his head into the office to inform me that CNBC already has an exclusive locked down with Marly. She’s not just outing me to the board so they can leak it.
I misjudged Marly, and it looks like that mistake is about to cost me everything not telling Ellie hasn’t already. There’s nothing left but that final half step off the cliff.
The story writes itself: rags-to-riches billionaire loses everything, the story at eleven.
Cut to commercial.