Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 (18 page)

Authors: Christina Ross

BOOK: Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1

6.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

The crowd grew silent.

“Last night, we lost one of the
great champions of this city in a freak accident many of us are still trying to
understand while we grieve.

I’m not
sure that many of us will ever comprehend the tragedy that happened last
night—or how it happened.

But
I do know this—
Audric
Dufort wasn’t just a
great businessman whose efforts literally changed this city’s landscape, but,
at his core, he also was a great man.

To some of you, that must seem either like a cliché or
hyperbole—it’s neither.

Through his charitable contributions alone—most of which were
never made public because
Audric
wasn’t interested in
that kind of publicity—he helped hundreds of thousands of people, not
only here in Manhattan and throughout its boroughs, but also around the world,
particularly in his native country of France.

Over the ensuing days and weeks, I’m
certain that many will come forward with their own stories about
Audric’s
quiet philanthropy, and how they loved him and
appreciated him because of how he helped them.

I’m happy to step aside and let them
have that moment because they and
Audric
deserve
it.

But here’s my story.”

When he paused, the rapid sound of
cameras going off around us sounded to me like a mass clicking of light
switches being turned on and off in a rush of expectation.

“
Audric
was a great friend of my father’s.

Because of that, I knew him from the day I was born.

In a way, he was like an uncle to me,
especially because my father and
Audric
enjoyed many
prosperous deals together, and they remained close until my father and mother
died at my father’s hand.

It was
about a month after I’d taken control of Wenn that I really came to know
Audric
and his son Henri, because it was then that
Audric
sensed that I needed him most.

I remember the day that he called and
asked me to lunch.

I was
overwhelmed at the time—some of you will remember that my first wife,
Diana, died in a car accident not long after I took over Wenn.

What
Audric
revealed
to me over that lunch was a kindness that I’ll never forget.

He made it clear to me that he would
always be available to me.

That I
could lean on him, shoot ideas by him, and ask him questions—which I
did.

Repeatedly.

He made me believe that with some
effort, a lot of hard work, and a bit of guidance from him when I asked for it,
that I could successfully take over my father’s company despite the odds that
were stacked against me.

That’s the
kind of person
Audric
Dufort was.

He was wonderful, he was kind, he was my
teacher, and most of all, he was my friend.

What I want people to remember today and
going forward, is that this city—and the world—just got a whole lot
smaller with
Audric
Dufort’s
passing.

I’ve read the papers this
morning, and with the exception of one particular front-page story, the
outpouring of respect has been humbling.

So, thank you for that.

I
appreciate that, and I’m sure that his son, Henri, appreciates your generosity
and kindness.

Audric
Dufort came to this country with nothing.

But even with every odd against him, he built an empire, and once he’d
made it, he helped the citizens of this country who had helped him succeed.

I hope that those who loved him as much
as I did will come forward with all of your own stories.

And in an effort to be fair and
balanced, I hope that the press will run with them.

But I have to address one thing before I
leave here today, and that’s this morning’s grotesque, insensitive, aberrant
story that ran in the
Post.

It
crosses a line even I never
thought that particular paper was capable of crossing.”

With a quick turn of his head, Alex
faced the same short, middle-aged photographer I remembered from last night’s
party.

I recognized him on sight as
the man who had taken our photographs throughout the night.

When Alex locked eyes with him and with
his peers turning to face him, the man took a step back and lowered his camera to
his side.

Alex shoved a finger in his
direction.

“What you and your paper
did with this morning’s edition of your bullshit rag is nothing if not a sorry
bastardization of a great man.

You
should be ashamed of yourself.

You
were there last night.

You not only
saw what happened, but you recorded it with your own camera without once
bothering to help any of us that were shouting for help.

You know for a fact that
Audric’s
wheelchair malfunctioned—you saw it with
your own eyes.

And yet you dare to
show yourself here this morning despite your total lack of respect for a man
who tragically lost his life.

So,
let me tell you something, you sonofabitch.

I can take whatever you want to dish out
to me and my company, but how dare you and your shit paper exploit a man whose
presence in this city was nothing if not positive and good?

What I’m about to say to you I want on
the record.

Is everyone
listening?

Good.

Please find a creative way to print or
broadcast these words, because they won’t be pleasant.

Go fuck yourself, you sorry little
bastard.

Right now, you’re
surrounded by some of the best in the business, and yet you dare to stand
alongside them as if you’ve walked the path they walked to become a real
reporter.

The rest of your
colleagues know better.

They’ve
seen what you’ve printed now and in the past.

They’ve heard me.

And my guess is that they will print or
broadcast an edited version of what I’ve just said to you, which is well
earned.

Meanwhile, in petty
retaliation, your paper will likely run another cover story on me that says
something like ‘WENN HAS CRACKED!

INVESTORS IN DOUBT!’

We’ll
see if I’m right about that—even though I already know that I am.

But so be it.

In the spirit of that knowledge, I’ll
say it again, motherfucker.

Fuck
you and your paper.

I hope you rot
in hell for what you did to my friend.”

With that, Alex took my hand and
faced the rest of the reporters.

“To the rest of you, I can’t tell you how appreciative I am that you
have honored
Audric
in the way that you have.

I’m humbled by it and grateful for it,
as I’m sure his son is.

Please
continue to remember
Audric
with kindness, meaning,
and sensitivity.

As the scope of
his philanthropy becomes public, you will soon see that he deserves it.

Some of you might be curious enough to
dig into his life on your own, and to see exactly the kind of impact he had
here in Manhattan and around the world.

If you do that, I think that you’ll be stunned.

That’s all for today.

Thank you very much for listening.”

“Mr. Wenn,” somebody called.

But Alex was finished, so, with a
slight tug on my hand, we started to move toward the car that was waiting for
us at the curbside.

Cutter led the
way and Tank took up the rear.

Usually, the press crushed us when Alex spoke publicly.

Perhaps out of respect for what Alex had
just said, they seemed to be hanging back, which wasn’t at all like them.

Usually, they rushed forward.

But this time, they didn’t.

As we moved forward, I became aware
of two things—some were taking photographs of us as we got into the
limousine, but others were turning to photograph the reporter from the
Post
.

He looked even smaller to me than he had
last night, and his face had gone pale in the presence of the truth.

Cutter stayed behind for crowd
control.

Tank moved forward and
held open our door, and eventually all of us got inside without incident.

The moment Tank shut his door,
everything went silent and the car sped into traffic.

I moved closer to Alex and put my hand
on his thigh.

I gave him time to
let his anger subside as we moved down Fifth toward the Wenn Enterprises
Building.

“I’ve never seen you like that
before,” I said.

Alex didn’t turn to me when he spoke.

Instead, he just kept looking straight
ahead when he answered.

“That’s
because you’ve never seen me deal with the death and betrayal of a loved one.

But now you have.

Now you know what I’m like when I’m
crossed on that level.”

He looked
at me, and there was something in his piercing blue eyes that suggested that
he’d just seen a terrible darkness before sharply pulling away from it.

“It’s probably for the best that you
haven’t seen me that aggressive.

I’m sorry if I went too far.”

“I thought that you were
magnificent.”

“It was
Audric
who was magnificent.”

I didn’t respond.

Ahead of us, the Wenn Enterprises
Building loomed into sight.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

When we arrived at Wenn, we entered
the building and crossed the lobby to the bank of elevators at the opposite
end.

Alex pressed the call button,
we waited a moment for the doors to open, and when they did, we stepped inside.

“I received a text from Ann before
we left,” he said.

“Something about
Singapore.

I need to see her.”

I shot him a look, but I didn’t say
what I was thinking, if only because of what he’d just gone through.

Our
SlimPhone
was manufactured in Singapore.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“I know you plan on seeing
Blackwell.

If I need you, I’ll call
you on your cell as soon as I do.

I
don’t know what this is about.

It
might be nothing.

Go and see
Barbara—she’s a cauldron of information, and will already have an idea of
how people are responding to the
Post
story.

Would you mind having flowers sent to
Henri?

White roses—many of
them.

I’ll write a personal note to
him, and you can do the same if you want.”

“Of course I will.”

He shook his head and took a
breath.

“I’m sorry if I’m tense,
Jennifer.”

“You have every reason to be,” I
said.

“Just know that I’m here for
you.

Last night was too much for
anyone to absorb.

Alex, if you need
the day to yourself, just say it.

I
understand.

You need to absorb
this.

I can disappear until later
tonight if you need to spend the day with work and with your own thoughts.

Someone once said to me that our work
saves us.

You might just need to
work.”

“Why would I refuse you when I need
you most?”

“Then I’m here for
you—whenever you need me.”

With one fluid motion, he turned to
me, held my face in his hands, and kissed me with such meaning, I could feel
all of his frustration, loss, disappointment, and anger course through my body,
only it was filtered through me with love.

Our kiss lingered, and what passed between us were all the feelings one
would only share with a lover.

The
kiss was that raw.

The palms of his
hands were that hot.

I gave myself
over to him and tried to absorb of much of his pain and his anger as I could,
if only to take it all away from him so he wouldn’t hurt any longer—even though
I knew that was impossible.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever
happened to me,” he said in my ear.

“I’d be lost without you today.

And so many other days.

You’re my anchor.

If you
weren’t at my side today, I probably would have punched that reporter in the
face.

And where would that have
gotten me?”

“In jail,” I said, trying me best
to lift the moment if only to bring the best of him back to me.

“Where would I have found the spare
change to bail you out?

Do they
take a credit card at the police department?”

He managed to smile at that, and
then he moved in for another kiss.

I closed my eyes when our lips met—more tenderly this
time—and I could feel that he wasn’t quite here with me even though he
was trying to be.

He was that
overwhelmed.

That shaken and that
sad.

I didn’t know what to do other
than to be there for him, but increasingly, it felt as if he just needed some
time alone, which I understood.

The elevator started to slow as it
reached the forty-seventh floor.

When the door slid open, Alex only gave me a promise that he’d see me
soon before he stepped out.

And then he was gone—and when
he went, my heart followed.

*

*

*

When I arrived at Blackwell’s
office, she was poised over her desk, her black bob hanging over one side of
her face, and she had each of the city’s newspapers spread out in front of
her.

The one that she had clutched
in her hand was the
Post
.

It was no surprise to me that her hand
was trembling with rage.

“I’ve heard of yellow journalism,”
she said when she looked up at me as I entered the room.

“But this has nothing but the stink of
urine all over it.

How dare they do
this to Alex and to you—not to mention to
Audric’s
memory, and also to Henri.

Poor
Henri.

I’m so angry after reading
this that I want to throttle someone.

I want to tar and feather the bastard who took these photos—and
then I want to set him on fire.”

“Please do.”

“I’ve known
Audric
and Henri longer than I’ve known Alex.

They were and are the very best this city has to offer, and that paper
dares to do
this
to them?

After what they have done for people?

Not on my watch.

I’ve already got Robert in PR working on
demanding a retraction.

Our legal
team is assisting him.

Indirectly,
they have accused Alex of not saving that man’s life, which is libelous.

I’m out for blood.

But more than anything, I’m devastated.”

“I think we all are.”

She held up the cover of the
Post
—and
I was once again faced with my own startled expression, now fodder for the
entire city to mull over and judge, and through the
Post
’s popular
website, the world at large would do the same since this would indeed become
national news.

“They’re going to
pay for this,” Blackwell said.

“You’ll see.”

“I hope that they do.”

“You look exhausted,” she said when
her gaze swept over me.

“I am.”

She motioned toward the chair in
front of me.

“Sit there,” she
said.

“I should have noticed it the
moment you entered my office.

I’m
so sorry for what happened to all of you last night.

Would you like coffee?

Margaret would be happy to get you a
fresh cup.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ve
already thrown up once this morning.

A solid dose of caffeine on an empty stomach would probably only make me
sick again.”

“Are you all right now?”

“Still a bit queasy.”

“It will pass soon.

The anger won’t, but the nausea
will.

You’ll see.”

The truth was that I felt
miserable, but I was trying my best to not let it show.

Nobody needed to be concerned about my
stomach issues now, so I just pushed through them because they were meaningless
in the face of what had happened.

“I assume the press were waiting
for Alex and you when you left your apartment this morning?” Blackwell said.

“They were.”

“Of course they were.

Like bees to a hive.

What happened?”

I took the seat opposite her,
waited for her to sit down, and then told her what Alex had said to the crowd
when we left our apartment.

Blackwell waved her hand.

“Another reason I love that boy.”

“Agreed.”

“That tribute to
Audric
came from your husband’s heart.

So did the fury he unleashed on the
sonofabitch who took the photos.

Are you concerned about what he said to him?”

“Not at all.

That coward deserved it.

Alex tried to save
Audric
.

So did I, but neither of us could make
it in time.

People witnessed
it.

The city will take his side.”

“Alex knew exactly what he was
doing this morning.

From the sounds
of it, he properly celebrated his friend, and then he called out the
enemy.

While I wish it was
Audric
the press was focusing on in today’s blogs,
tonight’s broadcasts, and tomorrow’s papers, I’m afraid, that after what Alex
said to the press this morning,
Audric
will get only
a passing mention.

Not that that’s
a bad thing.

For the most part,
that scrawny reporter from the
Post
will be vilified, as will the paper
itself.

In a sense, that will
actually honor
Audric
.”

“I wish you could have seen Alex,
Barbara.

He spoke so
eloquently.

What he had to say
about
Audric
was beautiful and touching.

When he was finished talking about
Audric’s
impact on his own life, he said that he hoped that
others would come forward with their own stories, and spread them to anyone who
would listen.

I think that they
will.

As we come closer to the day
that
Audric
is buried, the stories about his
philanthropy will only increase.

After
what Alex said, I believe in that, especially because so much of what
Audric
did for this city was done anonymously.”

I paused.

“I never knew
Audric
until last night.

I had no idea how
close he and Alex were.”

“They were extremely close.

Audric
was a
lovely man.

Back in the day, when
he could still walk, I had the pleasure of dancing with him a few times.

He was nothing if not elegant on the
dance floor.

And a gentleman at
heart.

I’m devastated by his
passing—and especially by the way that he died, which was beyond
horrible.

Since this morning, when
I first heard of it, I’ve been angry, and I’ve been depressed—but most of
all, I’ve been thinking of how kind he was, and how much I’ll miss him.

I only wish you’d known him as well as
we did.

Alex spoke well of him for
a reason.

Audric
meant more to Alex than many realize—but now they’ll know.

The man was that special.

That giving.

And I do believe that people will come
out with their own stories, likely before his burial, which would be wonderful,
if only for Henri’s sake.

I have to
believe that he will have a beautiful, meaningful send off.

Because that’s what he deserves.

And then there’s that fool
Epifania
Zapopa
, who got in his
lap when she should have known better.

She’s the one who killed him.”

“No, she isn’t.

I was there.

Epifania
didn’t want to get in that chair with him—she resisted several times, but
Audric
was insistent.

He kept pressing for her to do so.

I think there came a point when she
couldn’t say no to him anymore without looking rude.

Yes, she got in the chair with him, but
his death is not her fault.

It was
nothing more than a chain of events that led to the chair malfunctioning before
the inevitable happened.

Epifania
is not to blame for this, but she’ll unfairly take
a great deal of the heat for it.

I
plan on calling her later today, and sending her flowers.

Audric
pressured her into sitting in his lap—I witnessed it.

She resisted until she couldn’t decline
any longer.

You need to reassess
how you feel about her.

She’s not a
bad person, and none of this is on her.”