Read Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 Online
Authors: Christina Ross
When I arrived at the forty-seventh
floor, which was dedicated solely to Alex’s and my offices, I went immediately
to our executive assistant, Ann, who had become a great friend of
mine—and with whom I’d been through plenty.
When she looked up as Tank and I
approached her, I thought that she appeared unusually strained, regardless of
how chicly she was put together.
Her blonde hair was swept up into a tight chignon and her dark blue suit
was nothing if not polished and elegant, but her eyes betrayed a wealth of
concern.
I took her hands in my own as I
approached.
“How are you?” I asked.
She lifted her chin as resolve
entered her expression.
“I’m
hopeful.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I should be asking you that.”
“You know what I mean.
You’ve already been through hell this
morning.
You know that I care about
you.”
“And you know that I feel the
same.
I’ve already called home and
told them that I might be late tonight.
I’m prepared to stay here to assist Alex and you with anything you might
need.”
“It won’t come to that, but I
appreciate it, Ann.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Is Alex in?”
“He’s meeting with the board.”
“How long have they been in
session?”
She released her hands from mine
and checked her watch.
“Forty
minutes.”
“So, we’re looking at a couple of
hours before they’re finished?”
“At least.
Likely more.”
“Would you call me on my cell when
he returns to his office?
If he has
plans to address the media, please ask him to speak with me before he does
so.
In the meantime, I’ll be with
Blackwell.”
“I’m so sorry, Jennifer.”
I gave her a quick hug.
“We’ll get through this.
No company Wenn’s size is immune to what
happened this morning.
This is temporary—I
promise.”
Tank and I started to walk away,
but Ann’s voice carried behind us.
“Call me if you need anything.”
I turned to her.
“I will, but expect to go home to your
son and to your husband at your usual time.
Have dinner with them.
Stretch out on the sofa with Mark, watch
a movie, have a glass of wine, ask him for a back rub, and do your best to
relax.
This isn’t going to beat us,
Ann.
It’s just a hitch.”
But even as I said that, I saw on
her face that she wondered whether it was.
*
*
*
As Tank and I approached the bank
of elevators, I felt the weight of the day already pressing down on me.
I’d only been here a few minutes, so I
could only imagine what Alex was going through.
I worried about him.
I wanted to hold him and talk to him, but
for the time being, that was off the table.
I looked at Tank.
“I’ll leave you so you can go watch
over the front entrance with Cutter and Max.
If someone from the media tries to slip
inside, feel free to knock them on their ass for me.”
He smiled at that.
“One fist or two?”
“Depends on the reporter.
If they’re from the
Times
or the
Journal
, go easy on them.
But
if they’re from the
Post
, let them have it.
Both of us already know that rag is
dragging Wenn through the mud online as we speak, and that they’ll only
continue to do so in print tomorrow morning.
I can only imagine what they’re saying
about Alex now, and it pisses me off.
I hate that paper for many reasons.
I think you know all of them.”
“You have every reason to hate it.”
“Let me talk with Blackwell, see
what she’s thinking, and I’ll call you when I’m either ready to leave here
alone, or with Alex.
If he does
plan on making a public statement—and I think he has to at this
point—I’ll let you know.
In
the meantime, you might as well plan for him making one.
Prepare Cutter and Max for that
possibility now.”
“If he gives a statement, I’m
assuming it will be inside?”
“God, yes.
Otherwise, it will be a circus.
We don’t need people on the street being
a part of any of this.”
“Do you need anything else from
me?”
I pressed the ‘up’ call button for the
elevator and considered that question as the doors slid open and I stepped
inside.
“If you want, just think
good thoughts for Alex,” I said.
“I’ve tried to keep up a brave face for a lot of people, Tank, but you
know me too well, and I respect you enough to be frank with you.
I have a feeling that Alex is going to
need a few prayers sent his way today.
That we’re all going to need them.
I think we can come through this, but before the sun shines on Wenn
again, I also think that it’s going to get dirty first.”
*
*
*
I arrived at Wenn’s fifty-first
floor and walked down the crowded, buzzing hallways to Blackwell’s office,
aware of the glances that were shot in my direction and of the silence that
followed in my wake.
When I found her in her corner
suite, she was standing at the wall of windows behind her desk—her hands
on her hips, her black bob shining in the sunlight, her head lowered and
watching the traffic on Fifth.
Barbara Blackwell had become one of my great friends and mentors.
She was in her early fifties, she was a
creature of couture, she was recently divorced with two daughters at
university, and she was among Wenn’s most powerful and influential players due
to her close relationship with its CEO, Alexander Wenn.
When I cleared my throat, she turned to
me, and I saw—if only for an instant before she collected
herself—that she was deeply troubled.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“I got sick this morning.
Alex had to leave without me.
But I’m here now—and in time for
our appointment.
Just as I always
am.”
She arched an eyebrow at me.
“What do you mean you got sick?”
“I threw up.
I had to change my clothes.
Sick is sick.
But I’m fine now.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Neither do you.”
She let out an exasperated sigh and
waved her hand in front of her face.
“This news is making everyone sick.
But before we say anything more, close the door behind you.
This place has officially become an
asylum.
If I went out there right
now and wiggled a piece of raw meat with the Wenn logo branded on it, they’d
fight over it because they’d think it might hold all the answers to their
questions.”
“I don’t blame them for wanting
answers.
Everyone is scared.”
“Everyone needs to just settle
down.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“Look, I understand their
concerns—I know they’re thinking about layoffs—but if I can help
it, they aren’t going to hear anything from me.
Instead, they’ll need to wait for an
official statement from Alex and the board about how they plan to go
forward.
So, please, shut the
door.”
I closed the door and took the
chair opposite her desk.
When I did,
she stepped away from the windows and claimed her own seat.
Here was one of the most vital,
arresting women I knew, and she looked at once furious and deflated.
My first instinct was to reassure
her.
“This isn’t as bad as it
seems.”
“Seriously, Maine?”
“It’s not as if we didn’t see this
coming.”
“We saw something coming,
Jennifer—but not this.
Never
this—at least I didn’t.
Not
this dire.
I knew there’d be a
reaction, but not a total collapse.”
“There hasn’t been a total
collapse.”
“Have you checked the stock
lately?
It’s still dropping.
I knew the market would be disappointed
when we released our earnings report this morning, but I never thought that it
would behave like this.
Last
quarter, we were clear with our investors.
We projected a loss of sixteen cents per share in the second
quarter.
Somehow, we misjudged that
figure and instead we lost twenty-seven cents per share.
Now everything has gone to hell.
Our market share is down over a billion
dollars.”
She snapped her fingers
in front of me.
“Just like
that—a billion dollars gone.
Worse, is the news that in the third quarter we’ll show a loss of $810
million—and all because Alex wanted to enter the already crowded cell
phone market.
The R&D it took
to create that phone has nearly killed us.
And it’s not even noon yet.
Tell me—what is the end of the day going to look like?”
I’d never seen her so
flustered.
“Wenn Technologies entered the cell
phone market with an excellent product,” I said.
“The
SlimPhone
is cutting edge—you know that.
Alex is in this for the long haul, not the sprint.
Sales will grow.”
“How do you best Apple?
How do you crush Samsung?”
“You offer a better product at a
lower price, which we have done.
You market it shrewdly, which we have done.
Before we even went forward with this
project, we did our research—people trust the Wenn brand, and there was
significant interest in a Wenn phone.
That phone has only been available in stores and online for a couple of
weeks.
So far, the reviews have
been excellent, and sales have been strong.
It’s just a matter of time before Wenn’s
investment turns into a profit.
Certainly, somebody has to see that.”
“The board doesn’t.”
I rolled my eyes at that
statement.
“Oh please.
All the board cares about are the
numbers that were presented to them today.
They have zero vision—Alex is the one who brings the vision.”
“Here’s my concern,” she said.
“From the start, there were a few very
vocal board members who warned Alex against developing this phone in the first
place.
But as CEO, he went forward
with it anyway.
Now, because of
that phone, we have investors who are watching their portfolios
plummet—and they’re bailing on us in droves because of it.
My guess is that those people would be
happy to have your husband’s head served up on an app right now.”
“This is just one day.
Everyone’s overreacting—including
you.”
“I’m not overreacting—I’m
being realistic.
I’ve seen this
before.
I’ve seen how ugly it can
get.
You mark my words on
this—people are going to want him to step down as CEO.
They’re also going to want to remove him
from his positions as president and chairman of the board.”
She turned to her computer and clicked
her mouse to refresh the screen.
“Perfect!” she said.
“Now
Wenn’s stock is down thirty-seven percent.
People will want to get rid him of him
because of that.”
“It’s not as if Wenn hasn’t lost
market value before.”
“Not like this it hasn’t.”
I wasn’t expecting it to become
this contentious between us, but I wasn’t about to back down.
Still, I held up my hands in an effort
to bring down the temperature a few notches.
“Can we just take a step back here?
Maybe look at the other facts?”