Unbound: The Pentagon Group, Book 2 (20 page)

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to return. Keep me posted with anything Marty finds out. Take care of her for me.” Zip nodded. I knew he would be supportive during this time. I hated pitting him against the rest of the boys, but Zipper and I were always there for each other, and the others know it. Kent’s a good guy and I believed him when he said he would take care of Perla at the corporate office. I was jealous he got to spend time with her. I hoped he wouldn’t break guy code and make a pass at her.

I went home to pack some things. Sleep would elude me because I was sifting through everything revealed in the last couple of days. I texted Stella and told her I was taking off for a while, and to let our parents know. They were due to return next weekend for the summer and were going to stay in my home in the North Shore. Stella would open the place up for them.

I confirmed the morning flight with my pilot. The flight plans were already scheduled and wheels up at seven in the morning. When I hung up with him, I realized I never told Perla I also owned a plane. I didn’t reveal a lot of things in my efforts to suppress the truth about my affiliation with Pentagon. I’d even created a story about the plane should we have planned a vacation which required its use. I would’ve told her I borrowed it from a friend. The epiphany of being a liar and a user flooded my mind, and in the moment I understood Perla’s anger and mistrust of me.

A call to Catalina, my live-in maid in Spain alerted her to my arrival in the late afternoon. A text to Glynnis let her know she had two weeks off after she punched in on Monday to ensure the apartment was cleaned and closed up while I was gone. Everything was in order.

A cold beer in hand and the remote in the other, I sat in front of the television thinking of Perla. ‘Fuck’. I needed to get her out of my mind. My body betrayed me. Dozens of images of us together ran through my mind. I could visualize events which had transpired in my apartment: her cooking, cleaning, reading on the couch, and us making out in all areas of the apartment. Our last time together was so deeply sensual and tender I knew she was mine. What happened between then and the prenup meeting was a mystery.

I shook my head, scrambling the thoughts of her. I drained my beer. If I weren’t traveling in the morning, another beer would be in order, but I’d already had enough tonight. My interest in watching television waned and I shut off the screen, getting up from the couch to make my way to my bedroom.

Another image of Perla and I in my bedroom flashed before me. A smile crept up the side of my lip thinking of the time when I entered my room and found Perla bare breasted and in little black panties. She was sifting through my t-shirt drawer. She loved wearing my white cotton t-shirts, claiming they were the softest things she ever wore. Before I declared my presence, I found her sniffing my shirt. She’d often sniffed articles of clothing because it was an act which connected her to her deceased mother. It was a sweet memory I loved learning about her. I imagined her washing our unborn children’s clothing and sniffing the cloth to foster a memory previously made.

I sighed and rubbed the pain in my chest, remembering how she startled when she turned to find me watching her. Her arms pulled to cover her breasts, and the fabric covered up her round belly. I often rested my head on her stomach imagining her pregnant with our child. I desperately wanted children with her. I knew my biological clock was ticking; not in a medical sense, but in a chronological sense. It was time for me to start my family. I had chosen a woman who would provide me the family I desperately wanted.

She looked like a pin up model, beautiful and innocent. I groaned loudly, and cursed the heavens for my loss and pain. We didn’t make love after I found her looking beautiful in the nude. I held her in my arms and we rocked from side to side in tune to the beat of our hearts. When I started to roam down her back to her ass, she pushed me away, claiming to want to finish my dinner.

Perla and I settled into a routine, which was better than my first marriage. She never wanted me to spend on take out or restaurants. She was content staying at home and cooking or baking. My ex-wife, Sonia, had never cooked or cleaned for me. The best decision I’d ever made was to hire Glynnis to cook and clean for us full time.

Glynnis hadn’t changed the sheets since Perla left. I wouldn’t let her. Perla’s smell was still on the pillow. For the first time in a week, I pulled Perla’s pillows off the bed and threw it across the room. The smell of her on the sheets was faint, and I hated the reminders of the woman who broke me. I tossed and turn, unable to find comfort in my own bed.

‘It’s not about the money. She never wanted my money.’ I chanted to myself. She only wanted me. She was the ‘wife’ I’d always wanted. I chided myself for marrying someone I wasn’t in love with. I should’ve waited for Perla to enter my life. Once I met her, I should’ve never taken anything from her, but her love and affection. Perla deserved to know the truth about me. I’m a rich man with one too many houses, cars, and an airplane. And none of it meant anything without her.

I felt all jittery, like I had one too many energy drinks, but I hadn’t a drop to drink. I was in shock from the interaction with the Pentagon men. Mostly, and there was no lady like way to say it, I was ‘fucked up’ from the encounter. Going to a club was not my idea of coming down from the high I went through only half an hour ago. Carson had me placed on the VIP list with security, bypassing the long line of men in various stages of dress, undress, and dressed in a different gender. I got the looks and sneers when I crossed the velvet rope, and I cast my eyes down to avoid any direct contact.

The club was packed with sweaty men grinding against each other in pairs and in groups. Looking around, I saw very few women. The ones I did see were in small packs. Heavy bass pumped in the air. Despite the chaotic atmosphere, I felt serene as I made my way to find Carson and Turner. I was told they would be in a VIP section in the balcony. Scoping the entire club for a way to get to the balconies, I decided to go to the bar and ask a bar keep.

When a really handsome barkeep stepped up to help me, I asked him how to get to the balconies. He pointed to a set of doors to my right. I thanked him, ignoring how he leered at my cleavage. And I instantly knew he was on the left wing of the gay spectrum, if at all on the spectrum.

I found the stairs to the balcony and made my way up to see my friends. I needed their comfort and support. I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of telling any of my friends and family about the sex video or why I planned on keeping the shares. In the passageway to the balcony, I saw men in various stages of intimacy. It wasn’t easy to avoid the lip smacking and the feverish body wrestling between men.

Thankfully, there were signs with the last names of the parties inhabiting the sections. I found Sayer on the sign, Carson’s last name, and I opened the door. I found Carson, Turner, and a few other men inside the room. Carson introduced me to Vincent and his partner Kyle, and there was Magnus. I said my ‘hellos’ and air kisses to each of them. They poured me a shot. Despite the loud music, Carson came over to me and pulled me to a corner.

“What happened?” He asked with concern.

“I told them I’m keeping the shares and I expect an executive position controlling Pentagram.”

“And they were okay with that?” He asked incredulously. Without revealing too much, I shook my head ‘no’.

“Of course not. Matt was livid I was even there to meet with his friends. I have to admit I put the bitch on Front Street. We got into an argument before I came here, so I’m a little shook up.” Tears threatened to break through. Carson pulled me close and hugged me in his strong arms. I took a deep breath inhaling his manly scent. It definitely wasn’t Matt’s addictive smell, and I missed him so much more.

“Have a drink, sweetie. It’s time to put it aside and dance.”

I followed him to the table where he poured me a shot, knocking it back and feeling the burn. The burn replaced the ache in my chest, heating and tingling my body as it coursed through my system. I felt lighter and able to avoid thinking of Matt.

I danced with every man in the booth. Magnus, an interior designer, asked if I wanted to go dance on the floor below. After I nodded, he walked me out the booth, bypassing all the hot bodies grinding against each other, and we went to the dance floor. As we made our way into the herd of studs dancing on the wooden flooring, I was pulled and pawed by every man who took notice of me. Magnus was very overprotective and kept me close. He was a great dancer, but he had a wandering eye and checked out each hot guy who gave him a look. If the guy was close enough, Magnus pulled him into a threesome. I was sandwiched in between two hot men; gay men, but hardened men. My temperature rose up to volcanic heights. I pulled myself out of the middle. I told Magnus I was going back upstairs to the other guys. He nodded, and told me he was staying on to dance with the hot guy behind me.

If I hadn’t already agreed to stay at Carson and Turner’s, I would’ve left and caught a cab back to my place. I summoned up a second wind, knowing Carson and Turner would be even more energized than ever. Thankfully, clubs closed at two in the morning. Last call would be within an hour. Hopefully, we wouldn’t have to close down the club. Carson and I were to travel in the morning to rehearse with the high school students in Lawrence. A performance was scheduled in five weeks, and there was a lot to work on.

Carson sat on an arm chair while Turner sat on the couch with Vincent and Kyle. He opened his arms, signaling for me to sit on his lap. Like a little lost girl, I sat on Carson’s lap, buried my head in the crook of his neck, and sobbed quietly until all the pain and frustration of throwing my love away seeped from my eyes.

On Monday, I gave my two-weeks-notice to Duration Fitness. I felt a lot of guilt for abandoning a job which gave me a chance to start my life over. However, I knew in my heart my talents and goals were being wasted in my role as Director of Sales. The job didn’t challenge me, and I didn’t believe there would be any upward mobility within the company. I thanked them for the year of employment and hoped I left it open enough for me to come back in case the Pentagon position didn’t work out.

I intended to make it work, but the Pentagon men were shrewd businessmen, and I was sure they intended to oust me from the Board. All I wanted was to gather enough executive experience to move forward to another company, leaving Pentagon and Matt behind me for good.

I broke the news to Chelsea on Sunday evening, after Carson dropped me off from our practice session. She was sad for me to leave, but understood it was a much better opportunity. Mostly, she was surprised I had decided to go into business with the men who conspired to destroy my marriage and used me to steal a business which could’ve been mine. When I told her about my encounter with the group at the restaurant, I omitted the threats to release my own sex tape and a full coverage expose, if they didn’t cooperate and include me into the fold. She thought I was ballsy for the way I handled the situation. I fought with myself about telling her just how tough I really was. I was iron on the outside, but deep inside my core, I was a puddle of goo. I was afraid I would fail in my plans. Most important to my success was the other shareholder’s full cooperation.

‘Cooperate’, they did. I was sent boxes full of reports, minutes, and documents in regards to Pentagram’s construction. I spent the week reviewing and taking notes based on the documents I had in my possession. I reviewed Pentagon’s organizational plan to see where I could fit in an upper level executive role. There were so many duplicate roles in upper level management, and when I saw the salary structure, I gasped. I couldn’t fathom earning six figures up to a million dollars base salary for executives.

I scheduled a meeting with Zipper and Kent to further discuss where I would fit in the structure and created a rough organizational structure, job description, and salary requirements for my new role. I was very conservative in my assessment of my worth, but I felt it was commensurate with my experience and needs for cost-of-living expenses in Boston.

I delved deep into the reports for the Pentagram project; the hotel, conference, and residential building were presently under construction. As it stood, two-thirds of the acreage was cleared of the structures and was due to excavate and lay foundation within the next month before winter sets in. Based on my experience in the construction industry, I approved of the timeline in which the construction was headed. The projected dates for completing various stages of construction were reasonable barring a few setbacks, natural disasters and acts of God. Pentagram was poised to be completed by May of the following year. Pentagon ensured to lock down as many construction companies and subcontractors as they could to guarantee their plans were met on time. The thought of seeing this project from beginning to end excited me. I thought working for Pentagon for a year was palatable because the sooner I could move on from the warlocks, I would find my happiness.

The design and business plans were adequate. The design plan for Pentagram made it a sophisticated, upscale ‘witches’ coven. The fabrics were rich and dark colors in crushed velvet and satin with touches of brass and wood in the accent pieces and furniture. The furniture designs for the hotel were more modern with traditional curves and lines. They were striking, but the designs verged on the gothic and played too severely off of the dark history of witches in Massachusetts. I wrote a plan to reduce the harshness of the entire design, which I would deliver to the team during the design meeting I requested for the end of the week.

Despite my heartache over Matt, I felt alive with the work and the plans I was making for Pentagram. Although I felt good about the plans, I expected there would be resistance to my ideas because I was an interloper in their group. They never had any intention for a woman to come in and start throwing her weight around in a company they’ve been building since they were teenagers. I didn’t ask to become part of their group. Matt thrust me into the situation, and Brady blackmailed me into acting this way. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was going to make the most of the offering and use it to my advantage.

Informing my father was difficult. I’d spent the last two years telling him very little about my problems. He knew I had major problems with my divorce from Ben; despite not being privy to the details of the breakup and settlement. He witnessed me pushing myself to get back on my feet without anyone’s help. I told him I had a new job opportunity. I didn’t discuss how I came about the new job. However, I told my father I was no longer dating Matt. He was sad for us, and expressed his concern about my being alone. Trying to alleviate his fears, I told him Matt was the first relationship after Ben and I needed to date around before settling down with a man. I was sure he thought I just wanted to fuck every man who came my way which couldn’t be further from the truth.

I didn’t want to deliver the news to my sisters. I begged my father not to tell them. My father was respectful of my wishes, but in his old age, there was a bit of uncertainty as to his ability to remember to withhold information. My sisters branded us ‘Hermanas Malditas’, the cursed sisters. We’ve been unlucky in love, and I didn’t want to join their little pity party. I was miserable, but I stood on a very lonely principle—I was not unlucky in love. My love was delayed by circumstances beyond my total control. The beauty of my sisters living in the south shore outside of Boston meant that without a car, I didn’t visit them often, so my secret would be safe for a long while; I hoped.

*****

At the end of the week, I arrived early to meet with Kent Brenner and Kevin Zipperer to discuss my role with Pentagon. I was ill at ease with being in a room with two of the five men who conspired against me for the last few years. Many times I wanted to turn around, leave and forget about them and everything dealing with Pentagon. When I arrived at the high rise building, I couldn’t believe Matt was part of a corporation that owned the entire structure.

I hadn’t heard from Matt in a week since rejecting his offer and accepting the shares. I thought about him often. I missed him, not just the profoundly physical aspect of our coupling, but the comfortable times when we sat on the couch, reading or talking. Just when those times were getting more frequent and meaningful, it was all ripped away. The wound left behind was slowly healing, but every stray thought of him would open the scab.

The receptionist led me to the conference room, knocked on the door, and ushered me in. The men rose from the big leather chairs around the long oval table.

“Perla, it’s nice to see you.” Zipper said. His eyes showed a genuine appreciation of my presence, but I still didn’t trust him. I smiled softly, and extended my hand in a shake.

“Thank you, Kevin.” I said, releasing my grip. I turned to Kent and extended my hand in greeting.

“Kent, thank you for meeting with me.”

“Well, we look forward to hearing your ideas about how you plan to contribute to Pentagon and the Pentagram project.” Zipper responded.

“I wrote up a report about how I see my role and experiences contributing to the new project.” I pulled out two report covered memorandum. “I’ll leave you with these which provide further details. To summarize, I believe my experience with budgeting and construction would assist tremendously with the construction. I’ve read all of the reports given to me, and all looks like the project and the timeline for completion is sound.” I began my examination.

“I see myself in oversight of the construction and design. The project is due to be complete in May of next year. I want to remain involved, overseeing the construction and design of real properties, which means I would deal with the contractors, architects, designers, and vendors, and every other party actively working on Pentagram.” I paused to gauge the attention of the two men. Satisfied they were interested in what I was saying, I continued.

“Presently, you have two executives, Michael Barton and Chase Peterson, in charge of various segments of the construction and design. I know each of you have upper level executive status in addition to your board membership. For example, Kevin, you’re Associate Vice President of Legal Affairs.” I looked at Zipper. “And Kent, you’re Associate Vice President for Appraisal and Acquisitions. Seeing as I’m a shareholder, I would like to be named Associate Vice President of Capital Projects, overseeing those two executives and the constructions and designs which fall under them.” I paused to see if they flinched with the title I gave myself. These men were shrewd and didn’t allow any emotion to flash on their faces.

“I didn’t get all the salary structures within the company, so I can’t draw on how much the Associate VPs are earning, but I suspect it’s in the range of a at least a million dollars base with incentives. The value is an average estimate based on research I undertook of similar corporations in the Boston, New York, Vegas, and Miami area. I know I was very conservative with the number.” I peered up to capture their response. I saw Kent fidget slightly in his chair. They let me continue with my analysis.

“The VPs are each earning a base of half a million with incentives approaching three-quarters of a million dollars. Last year, they reached over the million dollar salary mark after construction on the Vegas hotel and casino, Pentacles. You’ve really gotten into the number five thing, haven’t you?” I quipped. Zipper smiled softly, and Kent nodded. I proceeded to list my salary demands.

“As I’ve already noted, I realize I would not be considered to have enough experience or educational qualifications to demand a million dollars base. I’ll be reasonable. I do fully expect to have a base salary of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I outlined a list of incentives found in the contracts of the VPs which I want included in my incentives package.”

“How long do you expect to work with Pentagon?” Kent asked.

“I want a two year contract to be renewable with appropriate increases. However, I want the ability to break the contract without penalty. Meaning, if I walk away, I don’t want to be left with a penalty or buyout clause, which is present in your VPs contracts.” I wanted to ensure I had a solid job for two years, even though I had a personal goal of remaining at Pentagon only for the duration of construction and opening of Pentagram.

“Perla, those clauses are important to protect us from losing valuable administrators. We also need to put clauses to deter any acts against the company. Penalties are essentially deterrents against corporate espionage and takeovers.” I smirked when he mentioned ‘takeovers’, which is what they did to me by taking Liberty.

“I’m quite sure no one on the board thinks I’m a valuable administrator. I’m not contesting having a penalty clause if I do something against the best interest of Pentagon. I’m discussing my ability to walk away without incident. I can certainly sign a non-disclosure clause, I’ve done it before when I was saddled with a six-figure debt I believe Pentagon had a hand in creating. When I’m ready to leave Pentagon, I want to walk away without expectation to pay or lose money because I feel all I’ve lost and all I’ve suffered because of Pentagon is penalty enough.

“I think we can work through everything with your attorney as we craft your contract.” Zipper agreed. I nodded.

“My report provides my job description and expectations for the role of Associate VP. I’ll let you peruse it on your own when crafting the contract. One of my concerns about Pentagram is the design has already been completed and approved. I’m coming in late to the project, but I would like a change on Pentagram’s design.” I said.

“That’s impossible.” Kent blurted. “Too much has been put in place, we can’t do it.”

“Before you blow a gasket, I think you should hear me out.”

“She’s right, Kent. We need two thirds of the Board to approve any changes anyway. I think we should listen to her while we’re still in the early stages of the construction.”

“Thank you, Kevin.” I looked him in the eye in appreciation. “I have a suggestion for the marketing and interior design of Pentagram’s hotel and conference setting. As it stands now, the facility is set as an offshoot of the Witches of Salem. Everything is rich and dark; gothic. It may work well in Vegas, where Pentacles is located because Vegas is ‘Sin City’.” Kent leaned back to critique, while Kevin leaned in to absorb.

“However, in Boston the concept should be a take on both dark magic and light magic. The structure is split into an East and West tower. Why not have one tower be the light magic, which is more ethereal, bright and good. And the dark magic be the rich, somber tones which have already been decided. Having these choices helps tourists make decisions based on their personality. Families would love the lighter side for their children. The restaurants on that side would cater to families and children. The Light tower’s pool can be expanded in design to make an indoor and outdoor water park. However, it would require a change to the structure and layout of that quadrant. We’d need a new design company to rework that segment with the current designers. Having a small water park could really increase revenue from the winter travelers. We’d slam them with a great marketing plan to get people from the upper and lower New England areas to stay at Pentagram for the family friendly experience.” I was prompted to continue when Kent leaned in and mumbled an ‘mmhhmm.’