All That She Wants (Connor's Point of View Part 1) (2 page)

Ah, well.

Rich people problems.

But, despite the rough patch I’d been through
the last year, there were a few simple pleasures that still turned
my crank:

The thrill of the hunt.

Competition of any sort.

Going up against an adversary – and
destroying
them. The better they were, the greater the
pleasure.

Getting one up on my opponent.

Winning at all costs.

And, more than anything, doing what I wasn’t
supposed to do. What ‘polite society’ said I
shouldn’t
do.

In short, I love the Game – whether it’s
something as complex as a hostile takeover, or as simple as
pretending to be someone else in order to get what I want.

And now, the Game was afoot.

I walked into the lobby, my heartbeat
quickening the tiniest bit.

Time to play.

Exerton’s lobby was nice. Marble flooring,
good decorations… though not as nice as the Dubai.

The Dubai Hotel was my baby. $500 million
price tag, top architects, top designers, top-of-the-line
everything. It’s certainly not the priciest hotel in existence –
the Wynn in Las Vegas cost over $2.7 billion, and that opened
almost a decade ago – but the Wynn has a casino, which is like an
onsite money-printing press. Hotels in LA have to be a lot smaller.
For price per square foot, the Dubai is one of the pricier
buildings out there.

Not that the money means much; it’s the
quality. The Dubai is
the
premier luxury hotel on the West
Coast. Long after I’m dead and gone, I want people to see it as
something beautiful and classy, the same way people still look at
the Chrysler Building in New York and think,
They don’t make ‘em
like THAT anymore
.

Aha –
that
was the way to think about
my little errand tonight. In just a couple of hours, I could save
myself ten percent of the price tag of the Dubai.

Think of it as a discount, Templeton,
I told myself.

The lobby was pretty thinned out. Friday
night – probably everybody was on their way to happy hour to get
laid.

I could hear Sebastian’s voice in my head:
You should try that sometime.

Only problem was, it held no interest for me.
And hadn’t for quite a while. Not since Miranda had –

Let it go, Templeton. Get your mind on the
task at hand.

I walked over to the front desk. An
absolutely
huge
black guy in a suit was behind the counter.
Sweet-looking face, but he really missed his calling as a
bouncer.

Maybe he’ll toss you out on your ass before
the night is through, if you don’t handle this right.

…naaah. Not a chance.

Be a dick, or be his best friend?

He looked like a good guy. And I don’t like
being a dick unless I absolutely have to.

But when I have to, look out.

“Hey, man!” I said, walking up to him with my
hand out, a big smile on my face.

His eyes got wide, like he wasn’t used to
people greeting him so warmly. Or maybe he thought I knew him, but
he couldn’t quite place me and was embarrassed about it. Anyway, he
was thrown off balance – which is what I wanted.

He put out his hand and shook mine. Powerful
handshake – could have crushed me like a vise.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Stanley,” he said, still off-center.

“Hey, Stanley, my name’s Connor. Connor
Brooks, from LMGK.”

Brooks Brothers… yeah, that’ll work.

“Ohhh, a competitor,” Stanley said
good-naturedly.

I laughed. “Well…
friendly
competitor.
Anyway, I’m supposed to see this guy in Exerton’s Exec Comp
division – Klaus Zimmerman. You know who he is?”

Stanley was not a poker player. I could read
every single interaction he’d ever had with Zimmerman on his face –
and they hadn’t been pleasant.

“Yes,” he said curtly.

Now he was wondering if I was Zimmerman’s
friend.

Time to disabuse him of
that
notion.

I leaned in across the desk and lowered my
voice confidentially. “Um, look… if he’s a buddy of yours, I’m
sorry to speak out of turn – but he’s kind of an asshole.”

As soon as I said that, Stanley chuckled
involuntarily, and I knew I had him.

“And I’m an hour late for our meeting,” I
added.

“Uhhh,” Stanley groaned sympathetically.

“You think he’s still in the building?”

“Welllll…” Stanley looked around, as though
he were afraid Zimmerman might jump out of the shadows. Then he
leaned in towards me, returning my familiarity.  “…he’s kind
of known for jettin’ out early on Friday, you know what I’m
sayin’?”

I laughed. I liked this guy. “Yeah, that
sounds like the Klaus I know. Look, could you do me a favor and
call up to his office? If I call his cell, he’ll just ream me out
for five minutes, so his office phone is better. If he’s gone for
the day, I just want to get the hell out of here – as I’m sure
you
do, too. How much longer you here?”

“Till midnight.”

“Ugh. Sorry to hear it.”

“Ah, well. It’s a livin’.”

That was one thing I never could understand
about people on the lower rungs of the ladder. Granted, I would be
working all evening and then taking a redeye back to New York for a
business meeting in the morning – but I was amply rewarded for it.
More
than amply rewarded. This guy probably got kicked and
abused by everybody in the chain above him, and shared in none of
the spoils. He was a cog in the machine, and yet I could tell even
from our brief interaction that he had a lot going for him. He was
personable, he was at least pretty intelligent, he was affable – he
might have made a great elite-level customer service contact or a
low-key, no-pressure salesman. But he was selling himself short
working long, boring hours down here for a company that didn’t
appreciate him.

I wanted to tell him all that, but… unless
they knew my family’s name, nobody ever listened to me. They just
thought I was some rich asshole lecturing them. And I wanted to
keep a low profile, so I kept my opinion to myself.

“True, true,” I agreed. “Look, could you do
me a favor and check in on him? If you could save me, uh, having to
talk to him… I’d really appreciate it.”

He chuckled and nodded. “You got it.”

He picked up the phone and dialed an
extension… waited a second… and then said, “Hey, Lily.”

Lily.

A slightly old-fashioned name. I was
picturing an older woman, 50-plus.

If that was the case, no problem, I could
charm the pants off her.

“Mr. Zimmerman there?” Stanley asked.

There was an answer on the other end, and
Stanley winced. He mouthed silently,
He’s here.

I grimaced and clicked my fingers, like
Damn it!

Stanley grinned – then looked at the phone as
though he’d just heard some new information.

He covered the receiver. “But he’s leaving,”
he whispered.

Leaving… that’s good,
I thought.
He’s probably on his way out to dinner. He’s definitely not
going to want to talk to ME… which I can use to my
advantage.

“Tell him I need to speak with him,” I said,
giving Stanley my friendliest ‘commanding’ voice.

He looked a little surprised at my change in
tone, but he relayed the message dutifully. “There’s, uh… there’s
this gentleman here who wants to speak to him.”

The 50-year-old woman said something, and I
could tell from Stanley’s expression that he wasn’t getting any
traction.

“Tell her I’m from LMGK,” I instructed.

“Uhhh… he says he’s from LMGK,” Stanley said,
clearly uncomfortable at being caught in the middle.

There was a long pause. Then Stanley asked
me, “What’s your name again, sir?”

“Connor Brooks.”

“A Mr. Brooks,” Stanley said into the phone.
“Mr. Connor Brooks.”

There was another long pause. Then Stanley
said, “Sure thing, Lily,” and held out the receiver to me. “She
wants to talk to you.”

Great.

Probably an OFFICIOUS 50-year-old woman,
about to talk down to me…

Go on the offensive?

Yeah, why not.

I nodded at Stanley, grabbed the receiver,
and said, “This is Connor Brooks from LMGK. Please put Klaus
Zimmerman on.”

No answer.

Just dead air.

I thought she might have accidentally hung up
on me.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I asked.

And then I heard her voice.

“
Uh… I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks, but Mr.
Zimmerman left just a few minutes ago…”

Whoa.

Definitely not a 50-year-old.

Very young, very pretty-sounding voice.
Mellifluous, if that’s not too overwrought a way to describe it.
Very slight Southern accent, just around the edges.

Things just got a lot more interesting.

She continued,
“I can make an appointment
with him if you – ”

She sounded a little befuddled. I decided to
take advantage of it.

“Who’s this? What’s your name?” I
interrupted, even though I knew exactly what her name was.

There was a slight pause.

“
Lily. Lily Ross.”

“And you’re his secretary, Lily?”

“
Yes sir.”

That killed me. ‘Yes sir.’ It was the
Southern upbringing, had to be. She was probably really young.

How young, exactly?
I wondered.

“Ahhh, ‘yes sir,’ I like that,” I chuckled,
teasing her a little. Then I used the tone I reserve for women I’ve
dated when they’re being naughty and think they’re getting away
with it. “Lily, you have his cell number, don’t you?”

The ‘you naughty, naughty girl who needs to
be spanked’ tone of voice worked. She sounded even more flustered
now.

“
Uh… yes, but – ”

“I’m going to need that number, Lily.”

“
I’m really sorry, Mr. Brooks, but I can’t
give out Mr. Zimmerman’s cell number – ”

“We’re wasting time, Lily. You and I both
know Klaus is still in the building. I need his cell before he
drives off to whatever frou-frou wine bar he’s going to
tonight.”

She sounded as though she liked my dig at her
boss, but she still wouldn’t give an inch.
“I’m sorry, Mr.
Brooks, I can’t.”

Hmmm. Interesting. She had a little backbone
to her.

“Discretion. I like that. Then I need you to
come down here, Lily. And bring your cell phone.”

“…
excuse me?”

“Come on, Lily, daylight’s burning. Stanley
will be here to chaperone, and I promise I won’t bite. But I need
to talk to Klaus. Immediately.”

“
I’m… not sure I’m comfortable – ”

We were wasting time, and I
hate
wasting time.

I decided to let her have it with both
barrels.

“Lily.”

I paused, then said as seductively as I
could:

“…please?”

There was a long pause.

I heard her catch her breath.

“…
I – I’ll be down in two minutes,”
she finally stammered.

“Good,” I smiled, then hung up.

I chatted it up with Stanley as I waited.
Turns out he was a big Lakers fan and had recently gone to one of
their home games. I told him about going to see the Knicks (I
didn’t mention the box seats, just that I’d seen them recently at
Madison Square Garden) and he kidded me about their dismal track
record this season. We traded good-natured barbs back and forth
until Lily showed up.

I decided I would let her be the one to
initiate contact. She would have to come to me, which was good
psychology – she’d already given up a large amount of control just
by coming down here to the lobby. I figured I could talk her into
anything else I needed… although she’d shown a certain amount of
resistance that I found intriguing. Basically, nothing had worked
except full-on sex appeal.

That was even better, though.

I love a challenge.

I saw Stanley’s eyes flicker over to the
side, and I realized she was right behind me – so I turned around
and got a nice surprise.

She was cute – very ‘girl next door.’ I put
her at about twenty-two, twenty-three. Short, maybe 5’3” in bare
feet. Long, thick, luxurious brown hair – not the best cut, but she
probably couldn’t afford to waste the money on a secretary’s
salary. Clear, radiant skin, with just a hint of makeup.

Huge
brown eyes. I’m a sucker for big,
expressive eyes, and hers were absolutely captivating.

She was on the slightly curvy side, which I
like. I’ve dated too many runway-model waifs with no breasts or
asses whatsoever. Nothing against thin women, but the ultra-
stick-figures that filled the New York fashion world these days had
lost their appeal for me a long time ago.

She was dressed simply but well. A blouse and
skirt that flattered her figure… mmmm.

Damn. I really
had
spent too many
Friday nights locked up alone.

I might have come there that night to fool a
random stranger into helping me, but my smile was absolutely
genuine as I held out my hand. “You must be Lily.”

She was staring at me, and I figured I knew
why. I’m not vain – well,
I
certainly don’t think I’m vain –
but I’d be a fool or falsely modest not to know the effect I have
on most women. And I apparently had it on her, too.

She looked over at Stanley, probably for some
sort of indication as to the kind of guy I was. I didn’t see his
reaction, but she relaxed the tiniest bit and then reached out to
take hold of my hand.

Her skin was so soft… and cool to the
touch…

I wondered how it would be to touch the rest
of her.

“M-Mr. Brooks?” she stuttered.

She was nervous.