Inferno Anthology (130 page)

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Carter pounds away on her laptop as I give her instructions.

“Remind me of tonight’s event. It’s slipped my mind.”

She appears shocked. I never ask her to refresh my memory. My mind is usually the one others rely on.

“There is a benefit tonight for the New York Public Library. A celebrity event, black tie. I’m sure it’s on your schedule. I believe the event begins at seven.”

“Okay, please inform Eddie that I’ll be leaving at six thirty sharp. That will be all, Mrs. Carter.” I spin my chair to face the windows behind me, effectively dismissing her. I hear her leave as quietly as she came.

A call comes in from my executive director, Tom Duffy. He’s one of the three friends who came to New York City with me years ago. I've ignored five calls from him this morning, knowing he needs some time to calm down before we talk. This time I answer.

“Yes.” My greeting's firm.

“What the hell happened this morning? Did you push the wrong fucking button?” he shouts into the phone. I consider ending the call but continue on.

“So I miscalculated a trade. Just proves I’m only human.” I try to deflect the fact that I royally fucked up.

“All right, Adam. You realize that I've known you since our first days at MIT, and you've never blown anything like yesterday’s trades.” I hear him sighing into the phone. Finally, he starts to calm. “So tell me, please. What the fuck is going on?”

“Not sure, really. But I woke up this morning and there was nothing. You understand what I mean?”

“I was your roommate here in New York for three fucking years. How could I forget your damn dreams? So you didn't have one?”

“Nope. Well, I did have a dream but it was anything but a nightmare.” I laugh.

“Okay, I'm heading upstairs to see you. Don't go anywhere.” The call ends before I can comment, and I buzz my assistant.

“Mrs. Carter. Mr. Duffy’s on his way here.” I give her fair warning. I have a feeling his entrance will be nothing less than a whirlwind, or given his size, a mini-hurricane.

Leaning back in my chair, I tap my fingers on the desk's edge awaiting Tom's arrival, wondering how much I should really reveal. He remains the closest thing to a friend I have. Though he disapproves of my sexual lifestyle and prefers to keep our relationship revolved around the business, we share a longstanding history. But deep down I know he'll always have my back, much to his wife Lois' derision.

Our old college chant, “bros over hos,” plays in my head as Tom barrels through the office doors.

“Wow. What took so long? Did you take the elevator?” He takes off his jacket and tosses it over the chair in front of my desk. This action signals one thing to me: He's planning to stay a while.

“Like hell. Elevators are for pussies,” he says over his shoulder as he makes his way to the office suite's kitchen. He opens the Subzero and removes two water bottles, tossing one my way.

“I see you haven't lost your throwing arm.” I catch the bottle and open it, drinking the cold liquid. Tom was quarterback for MIT’s football team. Most people don’t even realize they have a team, thinking we’re all brains, no brawn.

“You know, I still hold the record for most passing yards at MIT.” Tom fakes a throw and reacts as if a crowd cheers.

“Sometimes I forget there's a brain inside your oversized head.” I roll my eyes as he takes a seat across from me.

“Speaking of brains, yours was obviously asleep when you worked those trades.” He stops and pulls a long drink from his bottle. “But I'm curious. No nightmares, right?”

“No nightmares.”

“What gives?”

“I attended a fundraiser last night. Same old boring shit, but I met this woman, Kathryn Delcour. She's the daughter of Ava Swanson. You know, she heads The Swanson Foundation. It's named after her late husband, Richard Swanson.” I smile wickedly when I see the curious look on his face.

“So you took her for the infamous Adam Kingsley ride in your limo, I presume.” Tom waggles his damn brows. It's hard to believe his I.Q is one sixty.

“No, Lizzie Woodward occupied the limo last night. This woman is older, just a couple years, but, damn, she's something else. And aggressive. Told me she teaches men how to fuck women into oblivion. Something about fucking being an ‘art form’.”  I use my fingers to make quotes as I repeat Kathryn’s words.

“Wonder why I've never heard of her. Other than the fact that I'm the most married thirty-two-year old in Manhattan and off the dating scene for years.” Tom sighs.

“I'm wondering why, too. I've noticed her at a few fundraisers lately, but it's like she appeared out of thin air. So Peters is gathering some background on her for me. Should know more by lunch.”

“Gotta say Adam, she must have made quite the impression. No head or fucking and you still want to know about her?” He laughs. “So you think meeting her had something to do with your nightmares not happening?”

“I don't know. But I do remember the one dream I had last night, and she was in it.” I stare out the window and reflect. “I held her pressed against the glass wall in my bedroom with her legs wrapped around me. The only thing she was wearing was a pair of black stockings…” My voice trails off.

“Shit. Don't stop, man.” Tom throws his hands up signaling me to continue.

I take a moment to catch my breath, because reliving my dream’s illicit feelings is something I try to avoid at work. When I cross the threshold of my building, my sex life doesn’t enter with me. I leave it in my SUV, literally.

“You want all the details?” I’m surprised Tom wants me to share the dream with him. I usually don’t tell him specifics about my sexual exploits. Maybe a dream makes it different.

“Hey, I said don’t stop.” He looks at me with desperate eyes, like a druggie begging for a fix.

“Okay,” I decide to continue on the explicit version. “I fucked her hard. She moaned and clawed my back as I held on to her ass and pounded her pussy. It was hot, primal.”

Silence ensues. Rare for Tom. Common for me.

“Wow. This woman's gotten to you, Adam. I’ve known you for fourteen years, and I've never heard you talk like this. So you're going to see her again, right?”

“Kathryn saw me leave with someone else last night and she seemed to know the girl, too. Besides, who knows when or if I'll see her again.” I think about the if. It's unsettling and I know I'll make our paths cross. They have to. And it's not just my dick that wants to see her, or be in her for that matter, there's something more.

“Hell, who can resist you or your money? Although I'm not sure what the appeal is. Since you're a total fuck-and-dump kinda guy.” Tom scoffs.

“True. My life may appear fucked up to you, but it's worked. Look around you. See where we're sitting.” Tom begins to laugh.

“Good point. We're sitting here atop your building discussing your first night of good sleep since you graduated college, and how you fucked up a trade that cost this company millions of dollars. Hell, the media has been speculating about your move all morning. Sounds as if your life is peachy to me,” Tom replies sarcastically while shaking his head at me.

“About that loss…” My computer screen flashes as a programmed trade executes. Technically, I've bet on the market's reaction to our company’s losses. A legal type of insider trading where I am my own victim. A contrarian's move that has just made me a lofty dividend.

“What's up?” Tom moves behind me, peering over my shoulder at the screen.

“We're whole now. The loss was just covered and then some,” I announce smugly with a proud grin plastered across my face.

“Goddamn it, Adam. You're a lucky son of a bitch.” Tom slaps his hand on my shoulder.

“Luck has nothing to do with it. I just knew. My earlier bet might have been off, but my loss from yesterday created speculation in the chip market. I just exploited the capitulation from the fallout. Simple. What goes up must come down, and vice a versa, at least when I'm involved.”

“Still, you’re one lucky son of bitch.” Tom laughs as he punches my bicep. “Oh, by the way. I’m a little early for our ten o’clock meeting. Your email said it was something about Simon. I’ve been hearing strange rumors this morning. But no one is confirming them. He’s not in his office either. I know he’s had some tough times lately, but I thought he was back to work. God knows this company needs him.”

“I’d rather wait until Patrick arrives. Repeating myself and answering the same likely questions doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Okay, but now I’m freaking out. Before I was just worried.” Tom needs details, I understand. He’s not one to wait until Christmas to find out what he’s getting under the tree. I predict he’ll hound me until I spill.

“Here, let’s get Patrick up here.” I buzz Mrs. Carter. “Ask Patrick to come on up early for our ten o’clock meeting. Tell him it’s urgent.”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Carter replies dutifully as always.

Tom stands from his seat and walks slowly to the window. He appears to be gazing out at nothing. His face void of expression. Deep in thought, something important is most definitely on his mind. I’m quietly waiting, not wanting to disturb or rush him. Finally he speaks, “Lois is pregnant, by the way.”

“Congratulations, right?” Feeling guarded, I pause for a response.

“Yeah, right.” Tom's answer is flat, but full of meaning.

Tom and Lois have gone through hell trying to conceive during the last few years. When she suffered a miscarriage last year, I’ve never seen Tom so down. The loss put a strain on their marriage, too. I hope this pregnancy is successful, because I’ve never seen a couple want a child like they do.

“I wish you and Lois the best, Tom. How’s she feeling?” I attempt to deflect Tom’s anxious mood.

“She’s feeling good now. The morning sickness was a bitch, but she’s finally over it. We’ve been waiting to share the news until she was past the three-month mark. She’s fifteen weeks now.”

I stand up and walk to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. We’ve been friends too long for me to sit there and not reach out to him. His concern is mine in some strange way. He’s the closest thing on this earth I have to a brother.

“This week. Guy’s night out. There’s a new mid-town bar. We should check it out.” 

He turns to me and smiles. “Thanks, Adam, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The last time you took me out for drinks, you ended up abandoning me at the bar. You left with two women, if I’m not mistaken. Rubbed my married ass into the ground with that move. Damn, they were hot as shit, too. Remember?”

“Distantly.” I pause while my mind travels back to that night. The hotel room. The shiny surface of handcuffs. Ties attached to bedposts and long slender legs. “They were recent college graduates. Sorority sisters. Kinky fucking must’ve been their majors. They were practically pros. Who carries bondage shit around in their purse, anyway?”

“Man, the life you lead, Adam. Sometimes I envy you, other times I think you’re a crazy motherfucker. One day, you’ll fall for someone and it will be hard. Who knows, maybe this woman from last night? What was her name again?”

“Kathryn Delcour.” Her name rolls off my tongue. Just the thought of her makes me smile and erases any trace of the kinky night from my mind.

“Wow, look at that smile. This woman I have got to meet.”

“Don’t hold your breath. I have a lot to learn about her. We just barely met.”

“But you can’t forget her, can you? She’s gotten under your skin. Do you want to just fuck her or get to know her, too?” Tom scores big on his loaded questions and stares me down until I decide on an answer.

“Both.” I answer honestly. Tom would see through my lies. He grins knowingly at me, shaking his head. “Where the hell is Patrick?”

“Nice subject change.” Tom sneers.

“You liked that one?” I question back with a laugh and he joins me. I decide to buzz Mrs. Carter.

“Any word from Patrick?” I ask my assistant.

“Yes, Mr. Kingsley. He’s just now exiting the elevator. I’ll send him on in.”

When Patrick pushes the doors to my office open, Tom and I are once again sitting in our seats.

“Hello, guys.” Patrick enters the room and proceeds to my desk with a troubled scowl on his face. He can’t be over five foot eight but has a commanding presence. He’s tough as nails, and I will likely be leaning on him greatly now that Simon is gone. “I heard some crazy shit this morning about Simon. I hope you can help me out here, Adam.

“Take a seat, Patrick. This may take a while.”

“Don’t tell me it’s true?” An angry fury washes over Patrick’s face as he recognizes my silent confirmation. “Why the hell did you fire him? And without a word to Tom and me.”

Resting my elbows on the desk, I place my hands on my forehead, slightly bowing my head. This conversation can’t be avoided, so I raise my head and start at the beginning.

“Yesterday, our security head, Carl Young, intercepted an incoming email from Talcott Innovations. Carl set up a secret security system that scours data in our networks for key words. It even identifies emails from separate Internet sites like Gmail when someone logs on via our system. All our competitor’s names are tagged with an alert. This system was so undercover that even Simon didn’t know about it. And you know he is privy to everything.” Patrick is shaking his head in disbelief while Tom has a confused look on his face.

“The email Carl found clearly confirms Simon was delivering something of great value to Talcott. He was going to leave Kings and take a high level position over there. He would pass on our Fireproof software to them, and in return they would thank him with a fat paycheck. Millions of banking customers could have been exposed if this software actually changed hands. Our entire company might’ve collapsed over the exposure.”

“Why the fuck would Simon do this to us?” Tom has moved to the edge of his seat now.

Stunned disbelief registers on both Tom’s and Patrick’s faces. They are having as hard a time as I did believing that Simon would betray us and the company.

“He’s been acting weird since his fiancée dumped him. I tried to get him to talk about it. But you know Simon, he keeps everything to himself. None of us has even met her. At times I wondered if she existed,” Patrick says, attempting to make sense of Simon’s behavior.