Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 (8 page)

“Of course.”

“And you’ll have an influence?”

She glanced fleetingly at
Immaculata.
 
“I’ll try my best.”

“And I understand the challenge,”
Blackwell said.
 
“But do try.
 
And when you do find her the right
dress, put it on Wenn’s account—but don’t you dare make her look like a
fool.
 
Find something stunning, and
have it properly fitted to her.
 
She
deserves that.”
 

Epifania
just shook her head at Blackwell.
 
“Why you being so nice to me?
 
I just call you wicked witch and a
beetch
.”

“Because I know that I can be
both.
 
But I have a good idea that
your impression of me came from someone else.”
 
She looked hard at Immaculata, whose
face had fallen into a seething pit of hatred.
 
“Somebody has to be kind to you,
Epifania
.
 
Somebody needs to tell you the truth.
 
I just did.
 
Do not, under any circumstances, take
any advice from your
frenemy
, Immaculata.”

“What does ‘
frenemy
’
mean?”

“Someone who wants you to believe
that you’re her friend, but who wants nothing but the worst for you.”

“That no Immaculata.
 
She a queen in my world.”

“Unfortunately, you’ll learn better
before you know it.
 
Look, just let
Chloe take over, and you will arrive at tonight’s party looking lovely.
 
You are going, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes.
 
They always ask
Epifania
to come.
 
They know she write the
big checks.”

“I thought so.”
 

Blackwell snapped her fingers at
Chloe, which gave her a start, and then she took me by the arm as the three of
us walked past them.
 

“Goodbye, ladies,” Blackwell
said.
 
“And good luck.
 
At least one of us will see both of you
tonight.
 
And I, for one, can’t wait
to hear how things turn out for all involved.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hours later, when we left Barneys
with the fitted, deep red Oscar de la
Renta
dress
Barbara and Chloe had chosen for me, which was at once impeccable and poignant,
especially since the iconic designer had only just recently died, I checked my
SlimPhone
—and saw the worst possible news.
 
Wenn’s stock was down another
twenty-seven points, and it was only just past one in the afternoon.
 
I showed the screen to Blackwell, whose
expression darkened before she turned away from it and looked out the window
that was to her right.

“The interviews he gave this
morning must be online by now,” I said.
 
“So why is the stock down?”

“It’s only one-twenty.
 
It takes time to write a story.
 
And even if one or two stories are live
right now, that doesn’t mean people have found them and read them yet.
 
Obviously, it’s going to take more time
than we’d hoped.”

I tapped out Alex’s number, but it
wasn’t he who answered.
 
Instead, it
was our executive assistant, Ann.

“I need to speak with him,” I said.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,
Jennifer.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s meeting with the
board again.”

“The board?
 
He never meets twice with the board in
two days.
 
What’s this about?
 
He has other interviews to give this
afternoon.”

“Those have been pushed back by at
least an hour.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I wish I knew more.
 
All I know is that the board members
looked unhappy when they arrived here.
 
It was Stephen Rowe who demanded the meeting.”

“Demanded?
 
But he and the rest of the board must
know that those interviews are critical to lifting our stock.
 
Why would they delay them now when we
need them most?”

“I don’t even want to think about
it,” she said.
 
“I don’t even want
to know.”

“Please tell Alex to call me the
moment he’s free.”

“I will.”

“We’re going to Cartier now.
 
Later tonight, Bernie and Barbara will
style me for the evening.
 
But I
hope to hear from him before then.
 
I’ll be home by four at the latest, and I’ll see him there when he
returns.”

“I’ll let him know,” she said.
 
“If he has even a moment, I’m sure he’ll
call.”

But he didn’t.
 

By the end of the day, Alex hadn’t
returned my call yet.
 
My mind was
in overdrive, reaching out for ways to help my husband.
 
For several moments, I thought through
what I had in mind, and decided that, even if nothing came from it, it would be
best to find out rather than do nothing at all.

And so I called Tank, who answered
on the first ring.

“Jennifer?” he said.
 
“Is everything all right?”

“I’m wondering if you’d be willing
to do me a favor?” I asked.

“Anything.”

“You might not want to say
‘anything’ so quickly.”

“All right….
 
So, what can I help you with?”

“Do you know Stephen Rowe?”

“Of course I do.
 
He’s on the board.
 
And, by the way, he’s a sonofabitch.”

I ran my hands through my
hair.
 
“Do you know anything about
him?”

“What are you really asking,
Jennifer?”

“Alex is in trouble.
 
It’s become clear that Rowe wants to do
him harm, and I can’t accept that.
 
He’s actively trying to take Alex down as CEO.
 
I think he wants to try to oust him from
Wenn.”

“Because of the falling stock?”

“Among other things.”

“What do you need?”

I told him what I had in mind.
 
It was a moment before he spoke.

“If you need this information
before you leave for the party tonight, that won’t give much time to get
it.
 
And if I can’t get it, it’ll be
either because I can’t get in touch with my guy, or because he refuses to
talk.”

“Do you mind if I ask whom you’re
referring to?”

“I’m friends with Rowe’s chief of
security.
 
A lot of us guys in the
security trade hang out every now and then.
 
Beers, pool—that sort of thing.
 
Rowe’s man is one of my better
friends.
 
I can give him a call and
root around, but I can’t promise you anything.”

“I’d be grateful if you would try
something, Tank.”

“All of us work by a code.
 
We never share confidential
information.
 
It’s a long shot,
Jennifer, but I’ll try.”

“You never know what he might
say.
 
Thank you for at least
trying.
 
And please reassure him
that if he shares anything he has on Rowe, it will never come back to him.
 
Do what you can.
 
At this point, I’m afraid the situation
is fairly desperate, Tank.
 
Alex is
under siege by that man.
 
Rowe wants
to crush him, and I think he’s about to do just that.”

*
 
*
 
*

When Alex finally returned home to
our apartment, Wenn’s stock was down a full seventy-three points for the
day.
 

The moment I heard the door click
shut, I shut off CNN and hurried out of the living room and into Alex’s
arms.
 
For a long moment, we just
stood still in the entryway, holding each other in a tense kind of
silence.
 

Alex reached up a hand to stroke
the back of my hair, and when he did, I felt a little of that tension fall
away.
 
He was home now.
 
He was where he needed to be.
 
I held him tighter against me, and he
let his briefcase fall to the floor so that he could embrace me freely with
both arms.

“I’m so sorry,” I said in his ear.

“For what?”

“For the day you’ve had.
 
None of it could have been easy.”

He pulled away from me and made an
effort to smile, but that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
 
“You now what was great about today?” he
said to me.

“What?”

“Whenever things got tough, I just
thought of you, and everything got easier.”

“Oh, Alex,” I said.

“I love you, Jennifer.”

“I love you more.
 
You’ve been in my thoughts all day.”

We kissed deeply for a moment, and
I nuzzled my head into his chest.
 
I
had a million questions I wanted to ask him, but now wasn’t the time.
 
Now, I needed to take care of my
husband.
 
When he wanted to talk, it
would be at his own pace, and I’d be there to listen to him.
 
That’s what my man needed now.
 
Still, to show him that I cared, I at
least had to open with an offering.

“Do you want to talk about any of
it?” I asked.

“I’d like to discuss a few things
with you, but how about if we have a drink first?”

“Martini?”

“Please.”

“Take off your jacket.
 
Sit in the living room.
 
Give me a few minutes, and I’ll make you
the best martini this girl can make.”

“That’s going to be a pretty sweet
martini,” he said.

“Given the day you’ve had, let’s
just say that I plan on going light on the vermouth.”

*
 
*
 
*

A few minutes later, I returned
with our drinks, handed him one, and sat next to him on one of the white
sofas.
 
Beyond the windows to our
left, Manhattan was still bright with sunlight.
 
Though with day’s end at hand, shadows
were beginning to stretch across the city and encroach into our apartment.

“You can say nothing or anything,”
I said.
 
“I’m only here to support
you.
 
If you’d like, we can just sit
in silence, or chat about my time at Barneys with Blackwell—which was
kind of epic—or watch a bit of television before we get ready for
tonight.
 
Whatever you want.”
 
I lifted my glass to his.
 
“But first, here’s to us.”

He touched glasses with me, and
each of us drank.

“Let’s talk about your day,” he
said.
 
“Did you and Blackwell have
any success?”

“We did.
 
And it was as adventurous as it always
is with her, though not in ways that I’ll bore you with now.
 
Let’s just say that she was
right—black was the wrong message to send tonight.
 
I now have a lovely new red dress that will
send the correct message.
 
Oh, and I
might have bought a few new baubles.”

“You deserve it all.”

“Are you sure you want to go out
tonight, Alex?
 
I’m worried sick
about you.
 
You look tired.”

“I just need to drink this martini,
close my eyes for a good hour, and take a hot shower.
 
Then, I’ll be ready to go.
 
Promise.”

“Earlier, you said that you wanted
to discuss a few things with me.”

“I do.
 
The board demanded a second meeting
after the stock started to slide,” he said.

“Ann told me.
 
What did they want?”

“Answers.
 
Solutions.
 
We’re now down over two billion in
market share.
 
Today, Stephen Rowe
was the most aggressive he’s ever been.
 
Of course he was—he was the one who demanded the meeting.
 
He challenged me on every decision I’d
made leading up to this day.”

“What does he want from you, Alex?”

“My job.”

“How did the other board members
react to that meeting?”

“Those who have been with Wenn for
years—the men my father brought on board—said nothing.
 
They just listened to Rowe and his
rant.
 
The other two board members I
brought on myself—Mike Fine and Diana Crane—also were mostly silent,
though they did have some questions for me, none of which were as hardcore as
Rowe’s.
 
What they want is a quick
fix, but I can’t offer them one.
 
I
may have voting rights, but if the pressure builds for me to step down—and
if the board demands it—I might have no choice.
 
Rowe would go public with that
information.
 
He’d use it pressure
me, and our investors would likely agree with him.
 
With this phone, I may have made a grave
mistake, Jennifer.”

“We’ve sold over two million
units.
 
Wenn is nothing if not
diversified.
 
I’m sure you talked to
the press about all of that today.
 
So, what’s the issue here?”

“The numbers,” he said.
 
“It always comes down to the
numbers.
 
We’ve lost a hell of a lot
of money.
 
Nobody can seem to get past
that—especially Rowe.
 
He’s
out for blood.”

“Numbers rebound.
 
Even if he’s against you, the rest of
the board knows that.
 
Already, some
are starting to call Wenn a ‘buy’ at this point.
 
By the end of the week, this could be
behind you.”

He looked at me.
 
“What if it isn’t?”

“Historically, it can take
time.
 
But even the hardest hit
corporations have risen to new heights just when it looked as if they’d reached
new lows.
 
Look at Apple, for God’s
sake.
 
Do you remember when they
were trading at just seven dollars a share?
 
That wasn’t so long ago.
 
And then came the iPod.
 
And then the iPhone.
 
And finally the
iPad
.
 
Now, they’re trading at about
one-hundred-fifty dollars per share.
 
And they’re hardly alone—many other corporations have gone through
the same growing pains.
 
Why isn’t
this just being treated for what it is—a temporary situation?”