Ambition: A Dark Billionaire Romance Anthology (6 page)

I laughed, and realized I was enjoying my lunch again. "I bet. Not too many McCafferys in the NOI. How'd that one go?"

"Pretty good, once I relaxed. They even had me as a guest for their luncheon afterwards, although I didn't get any donations cash-wise," Patrick said laughing. "Put it this way, I'd rather have the NOI come by my office than the visitor I had after our little press event."

"Oh, who was that?"

"Francine Berkowitz. Let's just say she's a lot more dangerous than some of the Confederation people I used to run with."

I nodded. "I've heard. Marcus told me he had a few run-ins with her, but he honestly didn't give a damn. Then again, he only has to worry about money, not vote counts or public polling."

"Exactly."

The rest of our lunch went on with a relaxed, casual feeling, and by the end, we were both giving each other little glances. As we finished the last fortune cookie, I noticed that it was already nearly two o'clock, and that Vanessa had knocked on the door frame twice, dropping off things on my desk. "Wow, the time," I said, setting my drink aside. "I'm sorry if I kept you from any appointments."

"No, I cleared my calendar mostly," Patrick replied as he also scooted backwards to stand up. "Uh, I know this isn't exactly business professional, but I was wondering, would you maybe like to get together some time?"

"You mean like a real date?" I asked, trying not to laugh. "I'd love to. But, one rule."

"What's that?" Patrick asked.

"We never, ever go to a restaurant called Mar de Napoli. Bad memories," I said, shivering.

Patrick gave me a concerned glance, but shrugged it off and smiled. "No problem. We'll do Thai or something. Tell you what, let me see what I can pull together, and I'll give you a call tonight. Say around eight or nine?"

"Make it nine. I've got a workout scheduled with my housekeeper after work today, and they like to push me hard. I'll need it after this feast."

T
hat evening
, when Tabby came in from work, she was practically floating. It’d been a long time since I'd seen that look in her eyes, and the warning lights in my head immediately started flashing. I didn't get to see much of what Tabby had looked like when Scott Pressman had seduced and then screwed with her head, not until he already had her all messed up inside. But I'd seen that look before.

"Uh-oh," I said, setting aside the laundry I was folding. We still had at least a half hour before we did our workout, as Mark was in the other room, catching the last of the day's trading, leaving just the two of us girls. "You've got a look on your face that worries me."

"What look is that?" Tabby asked, smiling that silly little smile she gets every time she starts to like a new person.

"That look that your heart is running way faster than your head, and that a certain City Councilman is the one leading it on the way," I said, folding the last of the t-shirts and going to work on the part of the laundry I hated most, socks. Mainly I hate matching them, because I swear they all run away from me, hiding amongst their similar yet not identical brethren. I had already threatened Mark repeatedly that next time we went shopping, I was going to throw out every sock in the house, and buy nothing but two identical twelve packs for everyone in the house, black for Mark, white for me and Tabby. She and I wear the same size socks, and we'd shared clothes in the past. I never did get around to backing up that threat though. "I guess your lunch went a lot better than you'd expected."

"It did," Tabby said, unbuttoning her suit jacket and setting her briefcase on the kitchen table, plopping down to pull off her high heels. "In fact, he asked me out on a real date right at the end."

"That's not the normal way to conclude a business meeting," I remarked, finding my first matched set, a pair of Snoopy socks that Tabby's had for years. They were nearly worn through, but Tabby refused to throw them out, since they were a gift from me back when we were undergrads together. "In fact, I've never had a business meeting conclude that way."

"True, but you met the man of your dreams in a nightclub," Tabby said, massaging her feet. "Not all of us are so lucky, remember."

"I don't want to drag up something painful Tabby, but the last guy you were with, well, he tore you up pretty bad," I said softly, tossing the first pair of socks underhand into Tabby's basket for putting away later. "Are you sure you're ready to get back in the game?"

Tabby put her feet down and came over next to me, taking my hand. "Do you mean am I ready for the risk of exposing my heart again?"

I nodded. "I'm not trying to be cruel, but you've been protected for the past few months."

I was surprised when Tabby pulled me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me and nearly squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"I've learned more about myself and my heart in the past six months than I have in my entire life,” she said softly in my ear. "The best thing was that you've been there for me the whole time. You and Mark really.”

She kissed my temple near my right ear once, then let me go, keeping hold of my hands. “I’ll never forget it. But yes, I think I’m ready. Seeing you and Mark together every day reminds me of what I’m missing.”

“All right,” I said, realizing Tabby’s longing need for love. “You know I love you, Tabs. I just want what’s best for you.”

"I know," she replied, letting go of my hands and turning to the laundry basket, helping out. "You showed me what real love looks like, having me stay with you and Mark. I've gotten to watch as you two have made something better than anything my parents have. At the same time, both of you have loved me as me, which is also a hell of a lot better than what my family did for me. Also, I'm going to take it slow this time. I know I'm not exactly the best judge of character when it comes to people sometimes, especially men.”

"Oh, I don't know about that," I replied, finding the match to the sock Tabby was hunting for and handing it to her. "You did pretty well in choosing me and Mark, after all."

Tabby chuckled and put her head on my shoulder. "I did do that pretty well, didn't I? Okay, I'll say I've chosen two times pretty well. But I can't take full credit for Mark. You chose him, remember? I just got lucky enough to tag along on that one."

"Still, you know that even if this doesn't work out, you'll always have us. This house is big enough for all of us, after all."

Tabby folded another pair, finding one of Mark's pairs and then tossing it unerringly over her shoulder into his basket. How she did it I never could understand, she's terrible at basketball, but hand her a pair of socks or a wad of paper to toss into a trashcan, and she could hit it blind around a corner with three bounces off the wall more often than not. "Even after your daughter comes? You really want a bipolar sex-starved young woman as one of her role models?"

I dropped my sock and took her chin in my hand, turning her to me. “Well lets get it right. You're not bipolar, Tabby. A bit shaken up by a master asshole, yeah, I'll give you that. But you're far too strong for that to drive you over the edge."

Tabby looked deep into my eyes, then smiled, her fears reassured.

T
hat night
, after Tabby had retreated to her room to have her phone call with Patrick, Mark and I were in the gym, cleaning up the mats after our workout. After putting Tabby though her paces, the two of us had gone to work with the long staffs, a new traditional weapon for me. Then again, Mark's technique wasn't classical, adapted more for the ad-hoc weapons he might have had to use. As I mopped the mats with a mix of bleach and water, I told him about the conversation Tabby and I had earlier.

"That's good," he said at the end. "I was actually thinking about that a few days ago, after Tabby helped me that night after the whole thing with Mistress Blood's."

"What do you mean?”

"I was thinking that maybe the rest of Mount Zion could use some renovation. Maybe in the future that old mental ward can be torn down for a new house to be put up, or maybe this place can be expanded. Two complete living quarters housed within their own wings or something. That is, if Tabby is willing to stay our neighbors or even in the same house as us. I've kind of come to find her as irreplaceable as you do. What do you think?"

"It's something to consider," I replied. Thinking of something Tabby had said in our conversation, I laughed. "Sure you’re be willing to put up with a bunch of crazy women?”

Mark laughed and nodded. "Of course. But I did have a question, something you said. If you'd like I could ask Tabby though."

"What's that?"

"You said that we treated her better than her family did. What did she mean?"

"Tabby went through a phase of bisexuality in her early years. Her parents didn't exactly take well to it. She never gave me all the details, but from what I gathered when we were undergrads, her father worried more about how his daughter's reputation would hurt his business more than how his attitude hurt his daughter. It wasn't like they disowned her or anything, but he was clearly disapproving of the whole thing. I think he was kind of happy to have her coming up north for college, since she'd be far enough away that she couldn't cause a scandal back home, and that was why he paid for her schooling without any questions at all. Tabby's mother was in her own passive aggressive way worse about it, from the little I ever interacted with her. A lot of snippy comments and just kind of a saccharine worry. Anyway, by the time we were seniors, it seemed like she was only interested in men, but the damage was already done and things were said that could never be forgotten. Have you ever noticed her on the phone with them?"

Mark set his materials aside and thought for a moment. "Nope, never have. I always thought she just used Skype or something and wanted her privacy. I mean, you try explaining to your parents that you're living with your best friend and her husband, who happen to be us. That'd freak out even the most permissive of parents."

"That's true, but in all honesty, I think you and I are about the closest thing she has to family. Not that I'm opposed to that or anything."

Mark picked up his oiling rag and little squeeze bottle of heavy duty synthetic motor oil and went back to lubricating the equipment. "Neither am I. In fact, I might just pay a visit to her potential new boyfriend if he's a dick. He'll find out Tabby's brother-in-law is a real bastard."

"Just think what our daughter is going to be like." I was touched by the term Mark had used to refer to Tabby, but kept my praise to myself. "Her boyfriends are going to be scared stiff of you."

Moving on to the leg press machine, Mark hummed. "Nah, won't be needed. If she's anything like her mother and father, her boyfriends will be smart enough not to try and screw with her. Or else."

T
he next day
, I was in my office when Vanessa knocked on my door. "Miss Williams?"

"I swear Vanessa, if you don't start calling me Tabby I'm not buying lunch for you any longer," I countered, setting my pen aside and looking up. "Seriously though, what can I do for you?"

"You have a visitor," Vanessa said, "not on the schedule."

I looked over my work, and noted that for the most part it was just implementing things that Mark and Sophie had worked out the day before. It was a big part of my job, making their decisions look like my ideas. Mark gave me a lot of leeway too though, which I appreciated. It made me feel like part of the team and not just window dressing. "That's okay Vanessa. Who is it?"

"Ms. Berkowitz," Vanessa said evenly, her eyes flickering back over her shoulder. I understood. "From the Union."

It was a rather unique thing about our city, in that while there were many unions, they all tended to align under one association, which after struggling through about a half dozen awkward acronyms just came to be known as the Union, emphasis on the capital letter. The Union was a monolith, and had been very powerful in city politics for many years. Worse, they’d become very corrupt.

Francine Berkowitz was one of the deadliest political enemies in the city. After Marcus Smiley had more or less made a fool of her right before the shit hit the fan with Owen Lynch, she'd laid pretty low on our part, but I could tell she was waiting for a chance to move. Running my hands through my hair, I nodded to Vanessa. "Show her in, please. And if you could, see if we have any coffee or something similar to offer our guest?"

"Of course..... Tabby," Vanessa said, a worried smile on her face. Hey, it was a start.

Francine Berkowitz came into the office like she was queen of the city, in a Ralph Lauren Black Label shirtdress that cost more than most union workers made in a month. "Tabby Williams, it's a pleasure to meet you," she exclaimed in faux good humor, as if we were sorority sisters who just happened to meet at the steeplechase or something. She even spread her arms out like we were going to do air kisses. I had to resist the urge to pretend to puke, it was so nauseating. "I must apologize in not coming by earlier."

"Ms. Berkowitz, have a seat," I replied, offering my hand. She slowed her approach and took the offered hand, her smile disappearing and her eyes tightening at the gesture. I didn't really care if I wasn't this woman's friend, but I didn't need to make her totally pissed off at me either. "What can I do for you today?"

"I just wanted to come by and congratulate you on your new project," Berkowitz said, taking the seat on the other side of my desk. I wasn't looking to be informal with this woman, and while my desk may not have been as intimidating as something in the Oval Office, it had the advantage that my seat was just a bit taller than hers. She had to look up to me, while I could actually lean on my desk and look slightly down at her. It wasn't originally done on purpose, Mark had chosen the chairs due to their design rather than height. I just took advantage of the situation when I needed it.

"Why thank you, Ms. Berkowitz. MJT is just hoping to make a difference in the community," I replied. "If anything, the renovations and opening of the centers themselves is going to inject a lot of much needed money into the community."

"Yes, I agree. In fact, it was those renovations that are the crux of the matter," Berkowitz said. "You must agree that this city has a fine history of construction workers and experts, all under the convenience of the Union banner."

“I’ll admit that Union workers have done some impressive work," I replied. "The Financial Tower, the Hamilton Building, and many others I'm sure were done by Union workers."

"Exactly," Berkowitz said with a hint of enthusiasm. "Nowadays, that sort of quality is important. The Union built this city, Tabby. It should have a role in rebuilding it as well."

Vanessa brought in two cups of coffee in our best ceramic mugs, which were admittedly not too much. The MJT offices were built off of functionality, not flashy appearances. Sophie had, in the one time she'd come by after everyone was gone, called it 'dot-com startup chic.' Whatever the case, I happily took the thick handled mug with 'World's Best Dad' written on the side, leaving the plain red mug for Berkowitz. Thanking Vanessa, I offered my guest the bowl of sugar cubes. "We have cream as well. The real stuff, not non-dairy."

"No thanks, I take it black," she replied, while I loaded mine up with cream and sugar. She arched her eyebrow, and harrumphed. "Well, I guess having a gym downstairs has its advantages."

"It does," I said, not mentioning that most of the time I worked out at home with Mark and Sophie. "But as to your point, I do agree that Union workers did a lot of good for the city. And, I hope they can be in a position to help with our project as well. It all comes down to their bids, really."

"What do you mean?" Berkowitz replied.

"We're doing an open bid process for the renovations," I replied. "Open to all contractors, both Union and non-Union. The only rules we're using to judge is quality of work, cost, and of course, we will be giving a certain edge to contractors who have their shops in the communities we are building the centers. What better way to show the disadvantaged people of those neighborhoods that we are willing to give them an opportunity than from the very beginning?"

"I see," Berkowitz replied. "I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job, Miss Williams, but in the city there has been a tradition of letting the Union get first and last attempts on any bid process."

Hmm, I was no longer Tabby, but Miss Williams. Duly noted. "I know, Ms. Berkowitz. However, in planning our outreach program, we are looking for more than just experience. We want to evaluate raw talent, and that means that sometimes we're going to have to look for contractors and workers who may not have the same level of.... sophistication when it comes to understanding how bids are done for large projects around the city. So instead, each bid will come in sealed, and I will make the decision based off of what I feel is best for the project."

It was the closest I'd come to flat out calling the Union bidding process corrupt. Not that anyone didn't know the Union bids were total lies anyway. Any cost accounting of a Union bid, especially one that was tied to a charity or to a public works project, automatically was inflated by at least thirty percent if not more. It got so bad at one point that the Federal government had to step in when a Union contracted project for modernizing the city's sewer system was ten years and about two hundred million dollars over budget, and that was in nineteen eighties dollars.

Berkowitz's face went from closed to wintry, and she finished her coffee quickly. "Best of luck in your project then. I will forward on your information to our Union members, of course."

Her threat was subtle, but there. It wouldn't just be the construction members who would get the word, but also the police, fire, and other city workers. Basically, I needed to make sure I was driving under the speed limit, and hope no fires broke out at Mount Zion. Not that I ever wanted them, considering the highly illegal arsenal we kept in the bell tower.

"I expect nothing less, Francine," I said, shifting to using her first name. Instead of the condescending familiarity she'd used on me however, I was using it as simply a way to put her down. It said
I'm not playing your games or kissing your ass. In fact, I think I'm better than you
. And in a lot of ways, I did.

We continued our little chat for a few more minutes, but it was mostly banalities. When she realized that her jibes and threats weren't going to rattle me, she made her exit, closing my door behind her. Vanessa was there a minute later to gather up the coffee cups. Noting my cup, she gave me a look. "I thought you hated cream and sugar?"

"I do, but Berkowitz took hers black," I replied. "Just one of those things, you know."

"I understand," Vanessa replied. "I saw her face when she left. She's not happy."

"Considering she tried the same threats on Patrick McCaffery just a few days ago, I can understand. I've already talked with Gene over at the Spartans, and they're tired of her crap too. They actually are expressly anti-Union, which surprises me. I figured they'd play it neutral in order to keep the fans happy."

"The fans are happy when the team wins games," Vanessa replied. "And the Spartans already have enough union issues to deal with when it comes to the Player's Association."

"Good point."

W
hen Patrick picked
me up for our date that Sunday, I was at first surprised when he drove up in a car that looked eerily similar to Sophie's old beater Civic she'd had me sell for her when she was on the run with Mark. "Hi," he said, getting out. He was wearing jeans and a Spartans long sleeve t-shirt, his black hair pulled back and his green eyes shining in anticipation. "I know it's not exactly what you're used to. Sorry about that."

"No, it's okay," I said, running my hands over the roof. "It's just that I had a friend in college that had a car that looked very similar, except the color."

"Really? Yeah, I picked this up from a used car lot when I had to get a real car about six months ago," Patrick replied. "I had a friend paint it for me to cover the worst of the rust spots, it used to be a faded out blue."

"With a rust spot on the right front fender?" I asked, my eyes widening, "Kind of looked like a fish?"

Patrick gaped at me for a moment before nodded, then both of us laughing. "Wow, who'd have thought it? The fates are kind to me it seems."

"Fate? Perhaps," I replied, "but no offense, I've ridden in this beast before. Unless your friend also did a full mechanical workup on it, how about you drive my car tonight?"

"You serious?" Patrick asked incredulously. "You really want to park your car over at the Stadium?"

"Why not?" I asked. "I'm sure we'll get a good spot. You said Gene got us box seats, right?"

"Yeah, although they're technically in your name," Patrick replied. "Something about donations to politicians or something. I didn't realize the rules were that strict, but I'm cool with it. Guess I'm going to have start paying my bar tab too."

"Most likely," I said with a chuckle. "If I can ask, why are you still driving that old beater anyway?"

"Well, in good weather I drove a moped for years, and I kind of enjoy it, the open air and all. Since then though, I just haven't had the time to go car shopping. I don't even drive this thing to work that often, I'd probably just get harassed by the other city workers."

"Well, let me go grab my keys, we'll take the SUV," I replied, turning and heading back inside. "If you don't mind, my house staff can watch your car."

Ducking inside, I saw Mark standing close to the door, looking out the small side window. "Well?"

"I'll keep an eye on the car," Mark said with a smile. "You have your phone and everything, right?"

"Don't have the gun, but you haven't taught me how to shoot it yet anyway,” I wisecracked. "But yes I'm going to be careful. If anything, it's just a football game."

"I know, but still," Mark said. "Tell you what, let me get his keys from him."

I rolled my eyes and nodded. "Okay, I'll take an extra thirty seconds getting the keys for the SUV. I'll even pull it out so that he doesn't get a look at that electric motorcycle of yours."

I left Mark and headed into the kitchen, which connected to the garage area. Sophie was sipping some cocoa and smiled. "He's just being overprotective, you know how he can be."

"I know. It's actually kinda cool," I remarked, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Just tell him I'll be home by nine, unless the game goes to overtime. Until then, you can become reacquainted with your old car."

"Don't worry, we won't break in the back seat, that car is way too small for that," Sophie replied. "Tabby?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"I will. Love you guys," I said, grabbing the keys from the hook board by the door and going into the garage. Pulling around, I saw Mark and Patrick in conversation, Mark holding the keys to the car in his hand. It was interesting, as I realized for the first time that Patrick was a little bit taller and bigger than Mark.

"Hey guys. Patrick, this is Mathew Bylur, one of my staff. Mathew, this is Patrick McCaffery."

"We were just getting introduced," Mark said, turning. From the corner of his mouth, the side that was hidden from Patrick with the way he was turned, he gave me a sort of half smile, which I took as a good sign. "I promised the Councilman I'd take care of his car while you two were gone. Would you like me to give it a wash?"

"No thanks, really," Patrick replied. "I'm still embarrassed enough to be driving my date's car to the game."

I shut off the engine and got out. "If you want, I'll drive. We can be very women's empowerment around here if you want."

The stadium was only half full when we got there, but then again it was only a preseason game. The Spartans were coming off a so-so season, and our city's always been rather fickle in terms of fan support. When the Spartans do well, games were packed and just about everyone was wearing Spartan shirts. Meanwhile, when the Spartans were in the division basement, you couldn't find a Spartan shirt just about anywhere, and massive amounts of tickets had to be comped out and papered over to avoid broadcaster blackout rules.

Since the Spartans had picked up some pretty hot free agent talent in the offseason, and were sporting a third year running back that had done some pretty good stuff when he took over as the starter last season, fans were giving the Spartans a chance this year, and we actually had to wait a few minutes in line before we got through the gate. Once inside however, we were greeted by a VIP usher who led us up to our box. We got there about ten minutes before they did the pre-game activities and settled in.

"So what do you think?" Patrick asked, looking down on the three quarters full stadium. "I'll be honest, I've never been able to sit up in one of these."