Chapter One

Richard

“Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,” the bus radio blared out Frank Sinatra’s crooning of the holiday classic. I liked it, but I wasn’t enjoying the huddled masses standing so close our bodies were practically touching.

I couldn’t wait to pick up my car from the shop, but I just dropped it off. With traffic lousy in the heart of Boston in the middle of the first snow storm of the season, I knew it was stupid to get a brand-new Mercedes. Now it wasn’t going to be the same after some teenager didn’t consider that black ice filled the streets and careened into the back of my black beauty. My hard-earned dollars were spent for a frivolous item and it was God’s way of punishing me for being a damn glutton. Now I wasn’t a religious man, so I could say it was Karma keeping me regulated, but whatever it was, I was now late to my meeting, which would possibly cost me even more.

I hopped off the bus after pushing my way through a crowd, almost missing the door because it took me so long to get three feet ahead.

“You’ve got to be quicker than that,” the driver teased, laughing at my expense which only pissed me off even more. Before I could react, he closed the door behind me and sped off, spraying lovely slush all over my dress pants. Thank my fucking stars that the company was my baby or I would have lost the deal.

I was meeting with a new client who was eager to turn a profit after dealing with a friend of his son’s who was a broker. When I got up to my office, Mr. Carrigan was waiting. From his expression, I could see that he didn’t trust me from my appearance.

“Mr. Carrigan, I apologize for being late and I beg you to excuse my appearance. It’s been one disaster after another.”

“I was running late myself and only arrived ten minutes ago.”

“Then it’s not too terrible. Please step into my office.” I opened the door and let him enter my immaculate workspace ahead me, and then closed it behind us. “Please take a seat.” I stepped around to my chair and sat down in front of my desk.

“This is a very nice office you have here.”

“Yes, I try to keep it as professional and neat as possible. My apartment, on the other hand, is a mess.”

“Do you own a condo or rent an apartment?”

“Right now, I’m living in an apartment. I’m not looking into anything until I find a wife. And since I’m not looking for one of those, a house isn’t something I want.”

“I thought you’d like it as investment capital.” he stated, challenging my acumen as a broker.

I smirked cockily, “I do own the building my apartment is in.”

“Well then, you’re already looking better than my last investment broker.”

“Thanks, I suppose. If some kid didn’t crash into the back of my car, I’d look more like a broker too.”

“Wow, that’s a surprise. My son just got into a fender bender an hour ago,” he told me. It was a coincidence, but this type of weather brought that kind of thing on. 

“With the first snow of the year, I suspect they’ll be plenty more accidents to come. Hopefully, that was my only one.”

“Yes, that’s for sure. I’m glad my youngest daughter doesn’t drive because that would be all I needed. Three kids on the road in these conditions. So, enough about accidents. I wonder if we can get around to possible investment opportunities.”

“Sounds good. How much were you looking to invest and what is your expected type of return? Are you looking high risk, low risk?”

“Something low risk that could build for my daughters. I have two of them and their brother’s ideas managed to squander away a large chunk of their inheritance.”

“Well with low risk the rate of return is often lower, but there’s less stress about losing it all. The markets can be volatile at times. So, what is it that you’re looking to put in?”

“I want to start off with ten thousand each. I wasn’t planning to give it to them until they were twenty-five.”

“How old are they?”

“Claire is twenty-two and Rachael is nineteen.”

“Okay, so you want long-term investment options for Rachael and possible short-term investments for Claire. I can see what we can do, but your reasonable request doesn’t seem like a hardship at all. Your children are lucky to have a father like you.” Even though I was the type to remember details, I made notes on my notepad just in case. You could never be too sure when it came to an investor’s money. They were trusting you with their livelihood and, as in this case, their kids’ livelihoods.

“Did you work for your father, Mr. Kane?” he asked me. I had just been interviewed in the Boston Herald in their business section for surprising success. If I was any better, I’d have the Federal Trade Commission on my ass.

“No, I started this company on my own a year ago after working for another investment firm.”

“But you can’t be over thirty?”

“I’m not. I’m twenty-six. Truth be told, Mr. Carrigan, I’ve worked extremely hard to get to where I am, and I’d like to never go back to where I was before. My car was the first nice thing I bought myself.”

“I can understand that. I was once a Southie,” he admitted.

“You can hear it in my voice, can’t you?” I asked, conscious that I tried to hide it when I spoke.

“Yes, you hide it well though, so don’t worry.” He winked and cracked a smile which I gladly returned. Mr. Carrigan didn’t come off as hard as he’d sounded when he broached the subject of working with my firm.

“Thanks. Let me get the papers drafted up and we can meet this week to start with the investment spread I’ll have ready for you to look at.”

“Great,” he said, standing up with his hand extended. I shook it firmly enough to let him know that he was talking to a man, no matter how young I was. “How about you bring over the documents sometime this week for a dinner with my family?”

“That isn’t necessary, sir.”

“I insist.”

“Then that’ll be fine. What day works best for you?”

“Will Friday work? That gives my wife enough time to plan a dinner. She gets a bit peeved if I don’t give her more than twenty-four hours  notice.”

“That’s perfect. I look forward to it.” He wrote on the back of his business card and handed it over to me.

“Thanks, Mr. Kane.” I nodded and walked him over to the elevator. “See you Friday.”

“See you then, sir.” I waved him off and walked back toward my office.

My assistant gave me a strange look. “What’s with that look, Cindy?”

“You look like you were dancing in puddles,” she said, looking down at my pants in disgust.

“Yes, that’s what I was doing on my way to an important meeting,” I said sarcastically. “If Mickey’s Auto Collision calls, please transfer the call to me. Other than that, I need to be uninterrupted.” I was working eighty-plus hours because I hadn’t been able to hire anyone yet. It wasn’t easy getting someone with the proper qualifications to work with me. I wanted someone that I could trust to not bring down my name and my company. For now, it would have to do. Once it became too much, then I would hire someone. Several of my former coworkers were on their way out because of layoffs and cutbacks. All it took was a couple bad investments and possible government inquiries to cost the company everything. Working alone was my best bet for the time being.

“Oh no, not that beauty. I was looking for a ride.” That was unprofessional of her. It wasn’t the first time I heard her speak that way, but I let it go and went into my office. I hoped she didn’t get any ideas because I wasn’t into banging my assistant, or any woman for that matter. Women made you lose sight of what was important, and I didn’t need a distraction. Definitely needed to keep an eye on her.