The next morning, Melanie had her cellphone cradled between her ear and the soft flesh of her shoulder as she searched through her closet for something to wear that was both professional and powerful. She already had the perfect shoes picked out, lying at the end of her bed, ready for her to slip into at any second. She’d woken up earlier than usual, filled with a kinetic energy that she’d never known before that day. She had practically skipped into the shower and used all of her best, most expensive oils and hair products as she readied herself for the day ahead of her.
It was the first day of the rest of her life and she was going to be nothing but prepared for it.
“Hello?” a distracted voice answered. Melanie offered a chipper hello and asked to speak to one of the firm’s executives, so that they could set up a meeting in the boardroom in about… “I’m sorry? Who is this?” the voice—male—asked. “Who’s calling?”
“Oh, sorry,” Melanie laughed. “It’s Brunswick. I just bought the firm yesterday. Did I forget to mention that? My apologies. Anyway, would you mind telling the executives that I’d like us to have a meeting at—”
“They’re all leaving today, Miss Brunswick,” the man said. “Myself included.”
“Excuse me?” Melanie asked. “What do you mean they’re leaving? Is there a meeting scheduled that I don’t know about, or do I have the wrong number?” She compared the number that she had written down in her phone book with the one on her phone screen; they matched perfectly.
“There’s no meeting, Miss,” the man on the other line said. “All of our employee contracts have been bought out and we’re supposed to have the office packed up by noon. Did your business partner not tell you?”
“Partner?” Melanie asked, furrowing her brow. “I don’t…I don’t have a partner. I just bought everything yesterday. There was a presentation and a big meeting and I…I’m very confused as to what’s happening right now.”
“Hold on,” the man sighed, “I’ll give you a number to call and they’ll explain everything. I thought somebody had already informed you about what happened.”
“Can’t you just do that?” Melanie pointed out. “Why do I have to call a whole different person to get some information?”
“Because, as I’ve stated previously,” the man said, through what sounded like gritted teeth, “I have a deadline to make or else I’m out of a rather sizeable amount.” He sounded haughty and Melanie couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be like this if he was talking to a man. “Look, do you want the number or not? I have to go.”
“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice cool and collected. “I want the number.”
He gave it to her and she jotted it down in her notebook, before hanging up the phone with a curt ‘goodbye’.
When she called the number, Melanie was almost immediately put on hold and she groaned, walking around her apartment, adamant that she be ready for anything that might come her way. She popped a couple of pieces of whole grain bread into the toaster and started the coffee maker, setting up a mug so that it would fill up instantly, then filled and started the dishwasher; all while the elevator music continued to sound in her ear.
When she finally heard a female voice ask, “Hello?” she was halfway through taking out the butter and orange juice to have with her breakfast. She nearly dropped both in her surprise, clearing her throat as she stood straight up, smoothing out her bathrobe.
“Hello, this is Melanie Brunswick,” she said, cordially, professionally. “I’m calling about a contract I signed yesterday with several business colleagues over the purchase of—”
“Oh, I knew I was forgetting something,” the woman said with a thick Brooklyn accent. “Look, I’m sorry, Miss Brunswick, but as it turns out you don’t actually own any of the firms from that contract. You just bought the rights to the names of the firms.”
“But, I…I don’t understand. I read that contract. I should have full ownership over the firms. I…I spent every dime I had on them. More than just naming rights. Why the hell—”
“Don’t yell at me, Ma’am,” the Brooklyn lady said. “I’m just the messenger. If you’d like, I can fax over copies of your contract with some notes, explaining what happened. As it seems, there’s some sort of loophole that—”
“Loophole?” Melanie exclaimed. “I lost all my goddamn money over a loophole!”
“It would appear so. Looks like somebody knows their legal jargon a little better than you do, I’m sorry to say.”
“Who? Who took my contract? Who stole my firms?”
“I can’t tell you exactly who, Ma’am, because that is privileged information, but I can say that he has some pretty deep pockets and a lot more connections than you. That, I assure you, is certain.” Melanie immediately thought of her father, but that was impossible. “Now give me your fax and I’ll have the copies sent over right away. If you need anything else, you can either call this number or your lawyer.”
Dazed, Melanie recited the number for her fax machine and hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye, before slumping down in a chair at her kitchen table, blinking down at her fingers on the hardwood surface.
How could this have happened? How could she have failed so…so miserably? Her father would never have let this happen. Melanie huffed at the thought. Hell, he would have been the kind of person to swoop in and take advantage of that loophole, even if it did go against his own daughter. He would have used it as a lesson for her never to trust anybody.
It was part of the reason she had stopped speaking to him so long ago.
Just before his untimely heart attack.
His passing had been sudden, swooping in during her first year of undergrad and leaving her mother—his longest-lasting marriage—devastated. They hadn’t even been together at the time. Their divorce had been finalized years earlier, but Melanie had always known that her mother still harbored feelings for the man that seemed to have none at all.
She’d always liked to think he’d been proud of her for getting in Harvard Business School, but she’d never told him about it. She refused to take his calls even on her birthday and only took the checks he sent her for child support and to pay the bills that her mother could not afford, since his expensive prenup meant that she received nothing but a small apartment on the Lower East Side.
Still, his pride was something for Melanie to cling to all these years. The thought of her father actually congratulating her on her successes and giving her the stiff-lipped advice, that he was known for made her feel more connected to him, somehow.
But, she knew, without a doubt in her mind, that he would probably have refused to speak to her after something like this. The shame it would have placed upon him—upon his legacy—would have been too much for such a proud man to bear. To have a child be so much of a failure. His child! She could just see that glower of his as he stood over her, arms crossed over his chest, glasses on the tip of his nose, shaking his head.
You should have been smarter, Melanie. Your brother would have handled this far better. So would your sister.
Her half-siblings were both nearly a decade older than Melanie was and both were already successful by the time she reached puberty. They had both graduated early from high school and been accelerated through college by the time she received her first kiss from a boy. She’d heard about their successes in the world of finance until her parents’ divorce over her father’s most recent infidelity. It had been enough to drive that last wedge between them and Melanie had vowed never to speak to her father again.
She’d kept that promise.
Now, look where she was; millions of dollars in debt with several wealthy investors and nothing to show for it.
Perfect.