July 10, 2017
Monday
Jon
tossed aside the covers and slowly swung his feet to the floor to sit on the
side of his bed. Gingerly twisting from side to side only generated
a mild grunt of discomfort, so his back wasn’t too stiff this morning.
What
time is it, anyway?
The room
was still dim thanks to heavy drapes, but when checking out the beside clock
through a jaw-popping yawn, he found it to read eight-forty. He was
usually on his second cup of coffee by now, but it had
been…. Whatever time he’d called it a night, it had been
late. At least two.
Standing
and stretching produced the standard crackling noises in some of his joints,
but everything still worked again today. He never failed to count it
as a blessing and shuffled over to the en suite kitchenette so that his
caffeine could brew while he was taking a leak.
French
roast fumes were starting to swirl by the time he returned, but the water was
still gurgling out of the machine. It gave him a minute to slip on a
pair of shorts and detour to the nightstand for the phone that held two
waiting messages.
[8:07 AM]COOKIE: Thank you for last night and
please forgive me if I overshared. I still owe you dinner whenever
you’d like to collect. We also need to talk about work. Call me
sometime today.
A
bemused smile slashed into his morning stubble. The words
reeked of the uptight Dr. Montgomery, but Jon was going to have a hard time
seeing her that way anymore. She was a hot, complex mess under that
flawless beige exterior, and by the time they’d gotten to the bottom of that
wine bottle, he had an inkling as to why.
When
she asked for a hug, any idea of taking her back to bed had been put firmly
aside. She’d needed a friend last night, and Jon willingly assumed
the role. They sat under the summer moonlight and drank wine as he
listened to her weigh the pros and cons of retaining ownership in that
company.
The
list was pretty much comprised of torture. Either she stayed to
inflict it upon the current owners, or she stayed and had it inflicted upon
herself. When he pressed for more information, she first tried to pretend it
was a joke. Persistence and rosé had progressively loosened her lips
until she revealed enough to give her regrets this morning.
By
the time he left, Jon had the full story on what happened in Boston and
extensive insight to those fucking Peabody siblings. That
confirmation of what assholes they were, combined with his personal Peabody’s
experience, led to the next message on his phone.
This
one was an email reply from his financial manager. Jon sent a request
after getting home late last night, and it was fulfilled before business
hours. This was why he paid his people good money. Not
for the eloquent text that read only “Call to discuss”, but for round the clock
service and results.
The
attached document was almost fifty pages of facts, figures and nitty gritty on
Peabody’s.
It
was something like one he received three years ago, when he considered using
their services in his bid for a pro football team. This report,
however, held much more detail. He was going to need at least a full
cup of coffee before digesting it.
In
the meantime, he was behind on his social media.
jerseykid6232: Life
lessons from “The Godfather” #corleone
# # # # #
“I
have sent you sixteen text messages in the last eighteen hours.”
Teddi
smothered a groan. Leaning forward, she placed her empty coffee cup
in the same spot the wine bottle occupied the night before, just as she was in
the same chair. The weather was pleasant enough to be on the deck,
so it’s where she’d chosen to take her headache, caffeine and aspirin this
morning. It had required an entire cup of coffee before she drummed
up the courage to send the (hopefully) casual message to Jon, and her phone
rang immediately after.
She’d
jumped, thinking it was him, but it was only a snippy Tori on the other end.
“And
I didn’t respond because I was either busy, asleep or miffed at
you. Come to think of it, I’m still miffed at you.”
“Well,
get un-miffed,” Tori ordered, dropping her snippiness to gloat. “We
have Peabodys to torture with our controlling ownership. You and I
are going to rule the world.”
“Don’t
get too power hungry just yet. Your brother has the ability to even
the odds if he sides with them.”
“Ha! Craig
doesn’t even want the damn company. He’s going to sell.”
“Can
he do that? The will was peculiarly explicit.”
Grandmother
Peabody had proven to be some kind of estate planning savant between her own
will and Randolph’s. Or perhaps Whitfield was the mastermind who
created those titanium loopholes? In either event, they were
statement pieces.
“Even
if he can’t, I have enough blackmail material from our teenage years to keep
him in line. Now…” Teddi could almost imagine the evil
glee in her cousin’s eyes. “What are we going to do
first? Put a circus tent in the lobby? Petting zoo in the
kitchen? Food pantry in the board room? God,
girl. The possibilities are limitless, and they all end
with Endicott’s head exploding.”
The
vision of his Gucci loafers skidding through goat droppings was good for a
chuckle, but it was only a flight of barnyard fantasy.
“Don’t
get too invested in that petting zoo. I haven’t yet decided if I’m
keeping my share.”
“What?”
Indignation sang through the phone and hit a sour note. “Why the
hell wouldn’t you keep it? You’ve been living on a shoestring for
almost a decade, thanks to dumbass Truman. If it wasn’t for
Grandmother’s heavy handedness in leaving you Peabody House, you’d probably be
living with me.”
A
weariness that couldn’t be erased by coffee settled atop Teddi’s shoulders. The
words had never been voiced over the years, but she’d subconsciously known they
lingered in the back of Tori’s mind. She was the only one who knew
the truth about Truman.
Well,
and perhaps Grandmother, although she’d never spoken of such
things. She’d only created an(other) iron-clad will which granted
Teddi the house, while ensuring it was kept separate from any marital assets
shared with Truman. It further stipulated that she could only sell
the house in order to purchase another residence.
Essentially,
despite all her snobbish ideations, Grandmother had ensured Teddi would always
have a home. That’s why Teddi would forever respect and honor the
woman who raised her.
“In
spite of his poor choices, I loved Truman, so don’t speak ill of him. And I
would not be living with you. I possess an
education and skills that would keep a roof over my head.”
“You
also possess debilitating anxiety that keeps you from using that shit to a
quarter of your potential. Forgive me if I have doubts that you’d be
able to sustain the privileged life you’ve been conditioned to need.”
“You
don’t really believe that, do you? That I need all
these aesthetic trappings?”
Tori
blew out a frustrated huff. “Only a little, but I do believe you’d
be an imbecile to give up the income. Ever think financial
insecurity might be a contributor to that anxiety?”
She
had, and acknowledged that it was a factor but not the sole root of her
condition. Millions of people suffered financial insecurity without
the additional baggage she carried. Those details were more suited
to a doctoral dissertation than this phone call, though.
“I
fail to see how anything reliant upon on Endicott and Deidre could be construed
as security for me. They’d bankrupt the company before allowing me
to profit from it.”
“That’s
ludicrous.”
“Why?”
“Number
one, they aren’t going to slaughter their own cash cow to live on Hamburger
Helper. Secondly, they can’t bankrupt it if we’re in control.”
“And
that’s because we’re so business savvy?” All the etiquette lessons in the world
couldn’t have stifled Teddi’s ripe sarcasm. “Your degree is in
French history. Mine are in communications and
psychology. Not ideal qualifications for captaining a
multi-million-dollar company.”
“Jack
could help.”
“I
adore your husband, but I don’t think his success in the insurance industry is
going to be of much use at Peabody’s.”
“He
has three offices and multiple employees. It’s all about
management.”
“Financial
management. Not home, health, auto and life.”
There
was a long pause, followed by a tight, “I thought it would be fun to own a
business together, especially when it involves annoying Tweedledee and
Tweedledumbass. Guess I was wrong.”
“Tori,”
she sighed. It hadn’t been her intention to create hurt feelings,
only to slow the woman flying at warp speed. “I’m not saying no, but
it takes more than a few hours for me to fully digest what’s
happened. Give me a chance to recover from the trip before I make
life-changing decisions.”
Thank
God for Tori’s easy-going nature, because there was only another slight lapse
before she conceded, “Yeah, okay. I forgot how traumatic that whole
being in Boston thing must’ve been for you.”
“I
don’t know about traumatic, but it wasn’t fun.”
A
soft snort filled Teddi’s ear. “Mom told me you looked like a
well-dressed zombie, and Maggie said you were drinking like a fish.”
“I
was not drinking like a fish!” she denied peevishly. They’d have her
painted as an alcoholic on top of everything else before it was said and
done.
“Mm-hmm. I’m
sure Maggie made that up – along with the bite mark you were hiding.”
“Since
when are you and Maggie close enough to share every damn detail of my life?”
“Since
I was worried about you, birdbrain. You can’t be trusted to tell me
anything other than that you’re ‘fine’, so I needed the truth from somebody.”
When
Teddi started to launch a lame defense against the accusation that was
painfully true, the woman on the other end cut her off.
“Don’t
bother denying it,” Tori intoned with boredom. “Just be grateful I
didn’t give Maggie my theory about that biter.”
Teddi’s
eyes froze on a pot of assorted coleus plants. They were a gorgeous
display of color, shape and texture, but panic had temporarily blinded her to
that. How could Tori possibly know about Jon?
There
wasn’t any way for Tori to know. There simply wasn’t, but that
didn’t stop Teddi from picking up her necklace and thumbing the filigree.
“You
and your wild theories.” Her airiness was a true testament to anxiety
management skills honed over the years. “Remember when you were
convinced Deidre wasn’t human? That aliens had dumped her in our
lives because she wasn’t intelligent enough for them to keep?”
“I
was eight, and it’s as good an explanation as any. But this theory
has nothing to do with aliens and everything to do with a heavenly star on
earth.”
Damnation.
“What
is that supposed to mean?” she inquired innocently, hoping like the devil Tori
was barking up the wrong tree.
“Oh,
come on, Teddi. Endicott may think you’re mentally challenged, but I
know better.”
Teddi
wasn’t confessing anything without due cause. “I have no idea what
you’re talking about.”
“You
want me to believe you have no idea what I’m talking
about,” her cousin corrected. “Because last time I left your house,
Jon Bon Jovi was inside it. Alone. With
you. Then he’s suddenly your client, and you’re flirting with him
using that gypsy account you don’t think I know is you.”
Hellfire
and damnation.
The
gypsy account had been used for clients before. Not often, but Teddi
had one or two occasions where it proved to be useful. This was the
first time she’d used Tori as a work resource, however, and she’d stupidly
ignored the danger of combining the two.
So,
what did one do to cover up a dumb mistake?
Do
something dumber.
“I’ve
paid a man to have sex with me for the past five years.”
