Twisted Love and Money Read online

  “Don’t think so,” James said. “If he sells cheap he will want cash in his hand.”

  “True,” John agreed, deflated.

  “Let’s not drop it,” Dermot suggested. “James you would have to be in on this. We would need you up front. You are well known and respected in the market place. Continuity your end would be vital.”

  “I’m in,” James said simply. “I have put my life into this company. If Michael is quitting that is his business.”

  “John,” Dermot suggested, “Let you put it all down in the right words on paper. Then we will talk to O’Donoghue again. Let us see if we have the makings of a deal before we get excited.”

  “Sure, I’ll do the sums.”

  Chapter twenty-eight

  The O’Byrne’s had regrouped in their father’s office.

  “Well done Dad,” Peter said enthusiastically, “you really balled them out.”

  “You should not have left the meeting Dad,” Dorothy advised. “You left them together as a group.”

  “Then why didn’t you stay?” Peter snorted.

  “Because the family has to stick together,” Dorothy said firmly.

  “Agreed,” Michael said. “What can they do? They are a spent force. As soon as I sign with AF they are on the dole. Except James of course.”

  “You are a bit hard on John,” Dorothy defended, “he has come to grips with the business very well.”

  “Too little, too late,” Peter echoed his fathers comments. “It’s him or you Dorothy, do you think you should go and he should stay?”

  “We will all go in time,” Michael said to calm them, before a storm erupted between the two, and sank resignedly into his chair.

  “This show has to stay on the road.” Dorothy said firmly. “We are a substantial business, even without the AF account. We have people to manage, things to do. We must be careful or we will demoralize the whole company.”

  “Right,” Peter agreed, “we have to maintain a presentable package for AF.”

  “I am going to give John O’Malley on three months notice, Dorothy,” Michael said in final tones.

  “But…” Dorothy began to protest but Michael held up his hand.

  “We are off the expansion trail. He has no further role. He’s gone.”

  “I need him for another month,” Dorothy insisted.

  “O.K. One months work and two months in lieu and then he’s gone.”

  Peter grinned and Dorothy held her council, her head bowed.

  “Dermot O’Rourke,” Michael began and paused.

  “Yes?” Peter asked eagerly

  “Dermot, for fair to be fair,” Michael continued, “has long and faithful service. I cannot believe he knowingly caused a cock up. All of his team is suspect. I am going to leave him in place to root out the crooks in his structure. When he has done that I will fire him anyway. Loyalty has to be matched by competence.”

  “Good thinking Dad,” Peter said approvingly.

  “O.K. kids, it is late now. You two go home. I am going to talk to John and Dermot. Better to get it done.”

  Michael had asked his secretary to wait on until after the board meeting. In case he needed her. It was now well past her normal going home time. He called her and gave her instructions.

  When she stuck her head around the boardroom door she was surprised to find the remaining group drinking.

  “Mr. O’Malley, Mr. O’Byrne would like to see you. Then you Mr. O’Rourke, in fifteen minutes.”

  The three, James, John and Dermot looked at each other. The formality of the secretary did not auger well. John felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Shakily he got to his feet.

  When he returned ten minutes later he was ashen. “I think I’ll switch to scotch,” he remarked. To the unspoken question he said, “Three months notice. I’m getting to be an old hand at getting the chop,” he added bitterly.

  Jaw set, Dermot went into ‘the Presence,’ as they called Michael when he was angry. To his surprise Michael was conciliatory.

  “Harsh words spoken Dermot, but we have been together longer than most. When I sell it will be the parting of the ways.”

  “You don’t have to sell Michael.”

  “Dermot I have a key task for you. Root out the traitors down the line in your structure. Give me a cleaned up procurement and supply before I let AF in.”

  Dermot looked at Michael. Anger and disappointment struggled in his face. “Michael can I ask you to do something?”

  “What?”

  “Contact that Crawford and ask him to come to Dublin, tell him to bring that Quality Consultant Simmons. It is a negotiation Michael. You should not accept the first offer.”

  “Push him up to fifty-five or sixty million, what do you think?”

  “Go for it Michael. And give me two weeks please. No pen on paper of any sort for two weeks.”

  “Will you clean out your structure in procurement and supply?”

  “In two weeks I will have my investigations complete and if you are right I will give you a list of heads to roll and my head will be at the top of the list.”

  “A promise Dermot?”

  “I promise Michael.”

  “All right, go to it Dermot.”

  “Thanks.” Dermot stood up and offered his hand. It was an awkward formal gesture, an attempt to re-establish the relationship.

  Michael looked down at his papers and waved Dermot away. “On your bike Dermot. You have a lot to do.” He spoke dismissively and picked up the phone. With a sigh Dermot withdrew.

  Michael’s secretary answered the phone “Yes sir.”

  “You can go home now. Thank you for staying on.”

  “No problem, see you tomorrow.”

  Alone in his office Michael felt a sense of peace. At least it was all to be settled. He would take the money and run. The work rate of the last ten years was catching up with him. He needed a break.

  Who knows, with some thirty or forty million in his pocket he would find a way to bounce back. First he needed a break away from Irish taxation, so he would be able to keep the all the proceeds from the sale of the company.

  Dermot was right. Nothing hasty until his personal accountant got the tax situation straight. Crawford would understand the need. He would get Peter to set up the meeting as soon as possible. On his home ground in Dublin.

  Dermot was right. Get Crawford to come over to Dublin…

  “F’ Dermot,” he said aloud.

  Why was Dermot right when everything his people were doing was wrong?

  Michael began to pack up to go home.

  Dorothy had left immediately. She had not been able to bear staying. She could not bear the thought of facing John after Michael had seen him. She felt guilty as she left. But it was not her decision and tomorrow was another day. The dream was over and she wanted away.

  As she drove the whole affair buzzed about in her troubled mind.

  When she had followed her father out of the board meeting it had been with the intention of bringing him back. She had wanted to stiffen his nerve and get him to work with Dermot and James to save the company. They had been through so much together in the past.

  Then Dorothy had sensed the intimacy between Peter and her father. It was a boy’s together thing. She had never been able to break it.

  Dorothy had thought that when she joined the firm she had at last got on the same terms with her father, a relationship that seemed to be as easy as that between him and Peter... But when she had come into his office to the two of them she had sensed it again. Instinctively she sensed that they had worked it out together, without her. Whatever her father was doing it was for himself and Peter. She was not in the club. Anger welled. Let them go to hell she thought. And she had bowed her head and left them to it.

  She was expecting that Jeremy would be there when she arrived back to her Apartment.

  Jeremy? she thought. Is he using her?

  He had taken her to his mother again. Dorothy felt she had o
pened a secret unspoken allegiance with his mother. Both sensed that together they could get him. Then afterwards, Dorothy thought, then afterwards his common mother could go jump.

  “Dorothy welcome home!”

  There was something foppish in his walk and the way he kissed her. She grabbed him by the balls and pushed him over he couch.

  “Dorothy!!!” he shrieked, his voice rising on the last syllable.

  Dorothy tore his clothes off, scratching, slapping him. When she mounted him he was soft but a couple of hard smacks on the behind achieved the desired effect. Passively he let her vent her rage and passion on him until she brought herself to a shuddering climax. Then she pushed him roughly away onto the floor.

  Dorothy stretched, she felt more relaxed, all her tension gone. As she lay supine on the couch Jeremy began to massage her shoulders. She lay face down and let the feeling of comfort roll over her.

  “I’m starving,” she murmured languidly.

  “I’ll get you some dinner. What would you like?”

  “Something fast.”

  “An Omelette?”

  “Fine.”

  Jeremy gave her broad bottom a friendly slap and stood up. Dorothy rolled over and watched him pad his way naked towards the kitchen. One of the scratches on his thigh had bled but otherwise he was just red lines and a couple of bruises. She sighed, contented. It was nice to have a tame house person.

  “Put a dressing gown on,” she instructed, “and run the shower.”

  “Fine,” he said and changed direction for the bedroom.

  She could feel his happiness as with a giggle he went to the shower.

  “Swing your shoulders when you walk, not your bum,” she instructed.

  Jeremy straightened up and marched, “left, right, left,” into the bedroom.

  Dorothy grinned after him and then stretched and purred like a kitten.

  After her shower, Jeremy persuaded Dorothy to let him dress her for dinner.

  He had ordered new clothes from London. Jeremy had seen beauty in Dorothy that others had overlooked. Others had seen her physical size, her funny pointy teeth. Jeremy had seen the clean clear texture of her skin, the auburn of her hair and the deep brown of her eyes. Skilled in his trade of selling women’s dresses, he had ordered the best by special delivery, from his Kensington shop.

  Slowly, lovingly, like a personal valet he fussed around her, preparing her clothes, clipping her clips, buttoning her buttons, straightening her stockings. When she was finally ready she was overjoyed.

  “Enchanting, beautiful,” he waxed.

  “What about you, what will you wear? You are not sitting down to dinner naked Jeremy.”

  “I ordered a dress suit and the trimmings.”

  “Wear it. Does that thing never go down?” she added hitting his penis a tap.

  “Not around you sweet,” he said. “It’s yours you know. No other woman has known it.”

  “Who has known it we won’t discuss,” Dorothy said sharply.

  “Just shower and get dressed,” she added in a softer tone.

  Dorothy decided he was a different man in a dress suit. He looked very well, even mildly distinguished. She was very pleased and she helped him with his bow tie.

  Both wearing aprons, Jeremy prepared the omelettes while Dorothy did a salad, some chips in the microwave and some peas from a can.

  “We are dressed a bit on the grand side for an omelette,” she remarked.

  “Nonsense,” Jeremy reassured. “The omelette is a noble dish, and I have excellent Chablis in the fridge. We are dressed just right for the wine.”

  Jeremy had set the table and he lit the candles. Dorothy dimmed the lights and put on a CD for background music.

  Relaxed over the meal Dorothy became expansive and Jeremy attentively drew her out. By the end of the meal she had told Jeremy the full story of O’Byrne’s and the events of the day.

  “I have some cassata for dessert and some Greek yogurt to go over it,” Jeremy suggested.

  “Fine by me sweetest,” Dorothy said easily, wondering should she have him again for dessert but deciding she was a little tired and enough of a good thing was enough, for the moment.

  When Jeremy sat down again Dorothy had an idea.

  “Jeremy are you really a multimillionaire?”

  “Multi multi, many times over,” he replied through the cassata, a satisfied smile on his lips.

  “Could you afford forty or fifty million?”

  “Possibly sweetest.”

  “Would you?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  Jeremy had a pleasant but pained expression. “Let me explain Dorothy” he replied. “I found it remarkably easy to make a fortune. I suppose it was the drive of a guilty man, the meanness of a poor man, and the avarice of a religious man, but I was single-minded and I got there. And I told you I am lucky. My latest horse ‘Trapper,’ will win in Leopardstown on his next outing. Just you wait and see.”

  “So you are a miser?”

  “No Dorothy, I am careful. My fear is that it is easier to lose money than it is to make it. I have grown so fond of being rich, powerful and comfortable.”

  “Jeremy if you don’t stop sounding so smug I shall take the horsewhip to you.”

  “In vain Dorothy, in vain.”

  “Or worse,” she threatened.

  “Do your worst if it pleasures you Dorothy. Your pleasure eases my guilt.”

  There was a silence.

  “It would not be right for our relationship Dorothy if I poured fifty million into O’Byrne’s,” he added.

  “Why not?”

  “Never lend to relations or friends, it is a golden rule. You and I came together without money. Truth told, you don’t really know if I have any, we never do anything expensive together.”

  “It’s possible to tell Jeremy, just to know. Something about the way you carry yourself and I don’t mean the way you walk.”

  “I’ll hear no more Dorothy. I know the property business and I know the frock business. With O’Byrne’s you are talking Agribusiness. For heavens sake, I was brought up in the Liberties in central Dublin. I never met a cow in the flesh and never a farmer, at least not until we got into racehorses. My impression of Agri-business is that they are all dealers and shady. I know I would lose my shirt. No, I’ll stick to the Devil I know. The frock business and Guinness shares and property.”

  “You could save my family a great deal of distress.”

  “Nonsense. You told me that your Dad will get millions for his distress. He has let the business run into trouble. He should count himself lucky to get out with something.”

  “Should I convince him to fight AF?” Dorothy asked.” Give me your honest advice Jeremy.”

  “My reading of it, as a simple man of business?”

  “Please Jeremy.”

  “Well the key question is mutual trust between the Executive team, that is, whether you can rely on your man, what did you say his name was, Dermot O’...?

  “O’Rourke”

  “Is he sound Dorothy?”

  “Sound as a bell.”

  “Over long years?”

  “Long, long years.”

  “Then it is a set up. AF wants O’Byrne’s and so they have softened you up. Then in comes a remarkable offer, Your dad is only getting half he could get for a growth company, maybe only quarter. But in the circumstances of the crisis the company now faces the offer seems good. The softening up has worked he is prepared to sell. No way he would have sold in the circumstances of a normal offer, I presume?”

  Dorothy ate her ice cream while she considered Jeremy’s advice. Jeremy dispensed the last of the wine.

  “We should fight AF then, is that your advice Jeremy?”

  “Donno,” Jeremy said, simultaneously spooning some yogurt into his mouth. “If you get writs together and make moves to go to court they may back off. You will see soon enough if they have built up a tissue of lies. If they have they
won’t want to go to court. If on the other hand they have a genuine case they will force you into receivership and your Dad will get peanuts.”

  “Oh what do I do?” Dorothy cried exasperated.

  Jeremy looked at her in amusement. “Business is a profession Dorothy,” he explained. “Doing business is a talent. If it were I, I’d fight them every inch. But don’t expect to win, just do it.”

  “I should talk to dad. I think he is in league with Peter. Peter wants to sell and dad is relying on him.”

  “So you would save the firm for Peter?”

  “Yes, fuck it.”

  “Let it go Dorothy.”

  “Let it go?”

  “Look Dorothy whatever happens it appears your dad sees Peter as the golden boy. Do you want to spend the rest of your life fighting that? They will screw you up. The business may emerge the better for it, but for what, so Peter can inherit?”

  “F’ Peter, I deserve to get the business, he is a passenger I have put in the time and supported Dad while Peter was gallivanting.”

  “Stick with me Dorothy. Be my kept woman, my whore, my bride, and my mistress.”

  “Jeremy if I go with you I can’t stay at home and be a kept woman. I would want equal status employment as I currently have.”

  “Dorothy sweet, I have a home in London, a home in Cannes, an apartment in New York. I may soon acquire an apartment in Ireland. My personal investments and tax planning are complex. My wife, if she wants to be my partner, would have to be very good at business.”