Never Forgotten: Second Chances (10 page)

Striker gave a hearty laugh. "He gives you any help except the only kind you need. I figured that would happen sooner or later. Thom's only vision is of a lavish cash flow that streams toward him like lava from a volcano."

"You seem awfully poetic today. Did you just finish reading a self-help book on the virtue of metaphors?"

"Books! You know Thom was never a good fit for investing in software. I think he only did it because he was hot for you. He's never seen the business as a vibrant creature that needs to be fed and coaxed and teased, and ultimately gambled on."

"But you have that vision?"

"You know I do, little girl. I lavish money and attention where it matters. I have that clear sight and cash, both."

"So you decided to call me up and gloat that we have a small crunch while being a patronizing ass about it?"

He laughed again. "No. I guess I sound obnoxious. But no, Megan, I called to invite you out for a drink and to discuss a business offer. The drinks aren't optional, but the discussion part is. You don't have to talk, just listen. And have drinks. Then you can take what I've said for whatever it's worth to you and leave, or you can stay and chat about it. The chat part is totally optional. If what I say stinks, you can walk away and it it's ideal, we can shake on it. Most deals are in between, so I figure you'll want to ask questions then go away and think on it, talk with Thom and Riley. I know Craig does what you say. You pick the place and time. Seeing as money is tight over there I'll get the check."

"So you seriously think you and I have anything to talk about?"

"Yes. I know we do. I'm positive you want to hear it too. Even if it's just curiosity." He laughed. "I know you don't like me, especially after we reverse engineered your best products and stole a nice chunk of the market with a research and development budget that won't reach five figures, but I'm a fan of yours. I think you owe it to yourself, your ex, and anyone else who gives a damn whether Diamond lives or dies to listen to anything being offered right now. You need to strike while the iron is hot. Sorry for the additional gratuitous metaphor, but you can't really afford to wait around for the right deal, can you? Every day you wait, the more the value of what you have either goes down or just becomes more nebulous."

"Nebulous? I don't see that. I can take the time to put together what I need."

"As long as it doesn't take more than three months." Her heart skipped a beat. How he knew the timetable was bothersome. It wasn't in any of the documents Riley had given out. "Yes, you have a bit of a drop dead date hanging over you, whereas I can wait forever. After all, if I was willing to be patient, I could just wait six months and get what I want for peanuts. Lucky for you I'm an impatient son of a bitch even though I know that will cost me. But the timetable for getting the product to market suits my plans perfectly assuming we move soon."

Megan knew there was no way around meeting him. "Okay, Bill. I'll listen to your spiel as I could use some light entertainment and drinks. Meet me at six tonight at the Gristly Bar, and I'll listen to your insults."

He laughed. The real name of the place was The Grizzly Bar, but everyone in the business called it by its nickname. "The Gristly? I can't imagine a better place to have a public meeting and exchange views on the difficulties and incredible costs of promoting new earth-shaking software."

After the call, Megan found herself speculating on what Striker had in mind. No matter how it sounded, it would have one purpose—to make him money. Striker was good at that and ruthless in the pursuit of making more. It was worth hearing him out, even just on the off chance that he might let some useful information slip. She guessed that something more than impatience had made him call so soon. Whatever it was, it was urgent—for him. Maybe he'd heard a buzz, some rumor that there were serious investors willing to come in and help them pull the fat from the fire. She hoped so. The company needed a white knight, and they seemed increasingly scarce at the moment. Except, perhaps in her dreams, where Sal always arrived.

Sal had been her white knight once. He had rescued her. He'd changed her life, shown her a world that amazed her and then disappeared. She still ached for him. Marrying Craig when she wasn't over the loss of someone as dynamic as Sal had been a huge mistake. Her anguish had clouded her judgment. She smiled at the irony. She'd made that mistake and then Craig had done the same thing.

Now she had her back up against a wall again. If she lost the company, what did she have left? Possibly a relationship with Riley, but what did it do to her professional standing? She'd have to find a way to make the company survive and prosper, or a way out for all of them that gave them the resources to move on to something new. But what?

Putting that question out of her mind, she focused on Striker wondering what he knew or thought he knew that made him make a move. She hoped it was simply that he was eager, worried about some other competitor that was planning a launch. The market was a hungry bitch. But that seemed too simple an answer.

She picked up the phone and called Riley to tell him what was going on. He wasn't surprised. "Are you going to meet with him?"

"I was going to. What do you think? Would it send the wrong signal to other investors?"

"No. It's reasonable to consider any option on the table. It costs nothing to listen, and it might be useful to know what he's thinking."

"Do you want to be there?"

He thought for a moment. "I think if I'm not there he'll be more open. Not more honest, mind you, just more willing to boast and brag. He likes to impress people with how clever he is, so let him impress you. Just don't agree to anything until we talk it over very carefully."

"The only agreement he'll get from me is that he can pay the check. Anything else he asks will be taken under advisement."

"Excellent."

"Should I come by after?"

"I'd like that." He let the conversation pause then said, "I won't be in much of a mood to talk business right then."

There was a charm in the way he made the words sound. "Then I'll definitely come by after. Just make sure you've got a bottle of that fine single malt handy."

"Always."

Megan liked men who were prepared.

* * * *

A neat Scotch sat in front of her, the cut glass resting on a bright red napkin. She looked at it as she digested what he'd said. The man across the table from her grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl the waitress had left, and as she watched him stuff them in his mouth she realized that Bill Striker was indeed a deceptive man. He wore cheap suits and had a haircut from a barber shop. In general, he looked like a regular guy, the kind of person who was the perfect suburban neighbor rather than a millionaire businessman. He spoke in a lighthearted way and riddled his conversation with profanities, giving the impression of an uneducated man who might easily be fooled. But he was a dangerous predator and potentially vicious. He focused on the bottom line with not much concern for anything else, least of all people. She reminded herself not to take anything he said at face value. Hiding his agenda was second nature to him.

So Megan had listened closely to what he said. It amazed her how much he actually knew about what went on inside Diamond Software. Sitting across from her munching peanuts and drinking Bourbon, he calmly pointed out the difficulties in the market they intended to enter—the traps, the gaps in their market research. It all told her that he had information from inside the company. He knew more operating details than Thom. Then, when he had completed his deconstruction of her plans he sat back and waited to see what she'd do with a passing shot. "Even if someone invests the money you want, it's going to be a rough haul without a better handle on selling to those folks."

It was a calculated maneuver and she wanted him to know she saw through it. "Okay, this is where I'm supposed to ask what you propose as a solution to all these difficulties."

Striker pretended to ignore her and signaled the waitress for another round. Only then did he address her. "Don't ask unless you want to know. I've said my piece, and as long as that sweet girl shakes her ass over here with more drinks I can be happy."

"I'm not a fan of games."

He snapped his fingers. "Why not? Hell, there's a shitload of money in games these days. Maybe we should get your Craig working on a video game."

"He's not my Craig, and you're deliberately misunderstanding."

"Yeah, well when it comes to business he's still your Craig. He doesn't know shit about business, and if he isn't doing what you say he's more of an idiot than most geeks."

"So besides making video games, what are you proposing? And please make it good because there isn't anything entertaining on television night."

He shook his head. "Where is that girl?" He turned and saw the waitress headed over with fresh drinks. He made a point of staring at the woman's long legs as she put the glasses on the table. As Bill Striker leered, the waitress gave Megan a bored look and left. Bill parked his elbows on the table and folded his hands in front of his face. "Okay, here it is. Your company has some book value and all of its future earnings depend on the new program. You know that as well as me or you wouldn't be working the streets trying to find an investor. And you want the money quick, or you wouldn't be willing to cut in Riley or any other person who is going to get a finder's fee."

She nodded, not wanting to interrupt and slow his journey to the actual offer.

"I've got money, I've got savvy people, and I've got marketing machinery in place that you can only dream of. I buy ads in volume and get a lower rate. So I have more money and don't need to spend as much to do the same thing."

"I'm happy for you. Where does that take us?"

"Okay, the subsidiary of Striker Enterprises you compete with is struggling with the same problem you have—the fucking market is dying a slow death. Like you, I want to get into one that's more vital. What you guys have is Craig's program. I understand that little Craig can't let go of his toys, or I'd offer to buy it, but I'm willing to buy the entire fucking company to get it. I don't have much use for most of your company, but we can make it a subsidiary. I'll trash my existing technical group and everything at Diamond Software except that—it will just do software development. Striker Industries will license the programs and take care of the manufacturing and marketing."

"And what about us?"

"You and Craig? Well, the thing is I am going to offer you a carrot. A great big juicy fucking carrot. I'll make Craig the vice president of software design at Diamond, but I want you to become CEO of Striker Industries."

"I don't think Craig would go for a buyout."

"His wife seems to think he would." Striker smiled coyly, watching her reaction, so she gave him her sweetest smile. "Rumors bitch things up don't they? I guess he could dig his heels in just to be an asshole but don't tell me what he won't do unless you've tried to get him to do it."

"His wife had the idea that he should sell out so they could move to Europe. Unfortunately, she put out the word before she bothered to find out what he thought of the idea. His whole reason for wanting to start a company was so that he could choose what he worked on."

Striker laughed. "Bullshit. He did it because you told him it would be a good idea, and he could live out his techie geek fantasies. Now you can tell him that reality has set in hard and it would be a good idea for him to take his head out of his ass long enough to notice."

"Why do you want me running Striker Industries?"

"Why do you think? A kick ass woman CEO could take us to the next level. You'd give the company a real makeover."

"And you'd give me a free hand?"

"Within reason. Besides, how's independence working out for you? Is it fun scraping around for cash to meet the daily expenses, then going home and wondering over drinks if the company will last another week?"

The words cut, and she cringed. "Not really. The idea is..."

"The idea is that your fucking brilliant ex-husband will write code that everyone will see is amazing, and it will make you all a shitload of money, and then the troubles will melt away and turn into sugar plums courtesy of the business fairy. Well, I hate to break it to you, but I met the business fairy and broke his fucking neck, so he ain't gonna do that for you. In the best of all real worlds here is what will happen: you'll introduce a new product that people will love. I'll be one of your first customers, and I'll send the software to the room full of twelve-year-old software geeks I have working for me in China. I pay them about half what I pay my gardener, and they'll have it reverse engineered in twenty-four hours. Within a week, we'll launch a better looking, cheaper version of the same fucking thing. Then you can sue us, and we'll countersue until the fucking thing is obsolete. If my guys manage to screw up somehow, which I think is unlikely, there are three other companies in The Philippines that will do it. Hell, they'll do it to me as well. Either way, within the first month, when you are trying to ride the new release high, your market share, and profit margins will be shot to hell. Then you'll get together with the board in an emergency meeting and announce that Craig has a great new idea for a program that will be the solution to your problems, and it all starts again." He sat back and shook his head. "I'm offering you a chance to run an operation that has some clout. You do a good job, and you'll have your pretty picture on Forbes in no time."

Megan sat staring at the man, hating the fact that he was probably right. At his worst, Bill Striker was a ruthless opportunist, but then all marketing and sales efforts were opportunistic. She wanted to hate him, but he was simply fucking good at something that was unpleasant.

"How would the deal work?"

He grinned. "Keep things simple. I'll buy your stock. All of it. For you and Thom, we can work out a deal to pay cash for some and convert the rest to those of Striker at some ratio. You each get a seat on the board. I know Thom will like that. Craig becomes the VP of Development of Diamond Software at a hefty salary with perks, working for one of my top bean counters. Since it will just do R&D, all we need is someone to control costs, which would be a waste of your talent. We announce you as CEO of the umbrella company—the whole deal. That's where all that vision and creative shit, not to mention your good looks, makes us serious money."