I spent all afternoon fielding off the hounds. Every genealogist in the country was working over time trying to prove that their clients had a stake in my father's fortune. Then there were the lawyers. As soon as I managed to get a replacement phone, they started calling, one after the other, offering their condolences, services and outlining their fees, all while trying to make me believe that they were the only ones that could keep me swimming in money.
I knew my place. My father had no living family, my mother was dead and I was his only child. The executor was a trusted friend and he assured me that my mother and I were the sole beneficiaries, but that I would have to take over the company and swim with the sharks.
I was taken, surrounded by my father's personal security to the headquarters of Valenti mobile, in downtown Los Angeles. It was a monolithic structure built on the backs of Chinese laborers that made everything from the phones he sold to the walls that held the building together. They took me to t the sixth floor where a formal fanfare of random lackeys stood on either side of the hallway to greet me when I walked in. I dodged them as best as I could, flanked on both sides by my security guards.
I'm a staunch democratic socialist. I hate the corporate system. It's a funnel setup to gavage people like my father with enough money to turn their livers into gold.
That was why my father was on his way out. He was a glutton, and the lifestyle caught up with him. He was nodding out during his board meetings, taking pills when he should've been working, he hadn't taken care of business in 30 years. The board got their way without any interference from him and they weren't going to like me coming in and trying to take control, but I planned on making some changes and they were going to have to deal with it.
I dawned a pair of the biggest sunglasses I could find and filled my stomach with sports drinks to stave off the feeling of having my head stuck in a microwave. Then I stumbled into the office and braced myself against the table to keep from falling over.
“Mr. Valenti,” Regis Harper, the de facto dictator shot up out of his chair. “Are you hung-over?”
I gave him a cocky grin and fell into my chair at the head of the table, affecting fluid, drunken movements to add to the effect. Then I looked around the room. “Y-you're stuck with me.” I spat out with a flawless drunken tone.
Harper grabbed the phone. “Yeah, security could you have Ray Valenti removed from the building? No...” his voice went lower. “He's drunk.” There was a pause. “Oh, yeah? Well, enjoy eating ramen for the rest of yo—
He pulled back the receiver, shocked. Then he hung up the phone. They must've hung up on him.
“I pay them,” I mumbled. Then I gave him the finger with a sickly, drunken grin and let my head hit the table. I added in fake snoring sounds to cement the effect.
“This is just unbelievable. His father hasn't been to a board meeting in five years. We can't allow this. I'd like to make a proposal to remove Raymond Valenti from the board immediately.”
“I think you need to give him time,” Janice, the head of marketing, spoke up. The company needs fresh voices. Our last two releases completely flopped and you were running both campaigns, Harper. I'm not letting anyone over 50 design a device that's marketed to millennials. You can't relate to them and they hate every single piece of software we put on our phones. We are not marketing to a geriatric clientele.”
“We don't need drunks designing phones either. For all we know he could be a needle user.”
“I'd know.” The security gorilla boomed from the back of the room. “And you're a complete idiot.”
I snored then coughed as loud as I could to keep from laughing.
“Get out,” Harper pointed at the door.
“He's the only thing that's going to keep the company going. You're fossils.” He turned around and left the room.
“Now what do we do? Obviously, he's incompetent.”
“He just lost his father.” Henry Helmsworth, the head of manufacturing cut in. “And I seem to remember you acting quite a bit worse when Helen died. You came in here high as a kite for an entire month and we didn't throw you onto the streets. We gave you time, and we looked aside from your indiscretions. Now we are going to do the same for him, Regis and you're gonna deal with it because we all have equal shares for a reason. This company is a democracy. You need a unanimous vote to get rid of the boy, and you don't have it so sit down and stop having a hissy fit because we've got business to attend to.
Chair wheels screeched against the marble floor. Then the lights went dark. I peeked my head up enough to see what was on the projector screen.
“This is the Eucharist,” Henry began, “It's the first luxury smart phone.” A high powered 80s rock ballad started blasting on the speakers while the slides flashed from one jewel encrusted phone to the other “We offer ruby, emerald, solid gold, platinum and carbon fiber. Each model features the latest in processing and memory. Unlike virtually every other phone on the market, it is fully customizable. You can change out the battery, processor and even add more ram. It also comes with a mini HDMI port that allows you to hook the device up to your TV or computer.” The music reached a crescendo and stopped.
I took the chance to let out a loud snore to make sure they thought I was sleeping.
“You hear that? Are we gonna let that little brat profit off of all of our hard work.”
“Just give us some time,” Helmsworth said. “He might just be useful.”
“I give it to two weeks.”
Harper asked every incompetent question imaginable, and scrutinized the project until he was thoroughly convinced that a toddler could've made a better model out of tinker toys. The head of marketing, of course, was impressed. Luxury smart phones were virtually nonexistent, but they were in high demand. It was a completely new market. They wouldn't have to compete with anybody.
After everybody left, and the meeting adjourned, I heard the sound of somebody picking up the jug of water off the table, then footsteps walking closer, so I peeked out as best as I could without being seen. It was Harper about to tip the jug over my head.
Just as soon as he got close, I jolted up, fists flying. “Whose there? Who’s there?” I spun around manically and stuck my foot out and kicked him to the ground.
“Aw! What th—
“Oh my god, are you OK?” I crouched down to his level, barely concealing my smile.
“You did that on purpose!”
“No, I didn't I swear,” I stood up to help him up, but he brushed my hand away.
He looked back at the glass then back at me. He was going to try and pour that water on me. “Are you sure you don't need a towel or something?”
“I'm fine. Get out. Just go and don't come back here again.”
“O-oh,” I laughed. “You're going to be seeing a lot more of me.
I walked out the door into the hall and found myself bombarded by groups of men and women covered in exaggerated TV makeup.