Twisted Love and Money Read online

“Do you think I could make it?” she asked archly, a dangerous gleam in her eye.

  “Yes Dorothy,” he grinned.

  “I might get too dependent on you Jeremy.”

  “So take a chance. You won’t regret it.”

  “All right.”

  They touched glasses and drank the rest of the Chablis.

  “F’ O’Byrne’s,” Dorothy declared “F’ them all,” and she felt a tremendous weight off her shoulders.

  Jeremy laughed. And Dorothy realized that when Jeremy was in a gay mood he was charming. Her heart warmed and she felt a mushy sentiment, was it love she wondered? She wanted him to hold her.

  “Jeremy. I will have to introduce you to my parents.”

  “My word, formal are we?”

  “Yes”

  “O.K. You set up the meet sweetheart,” Jeremy agreed in an American gangster accent.

  “My dad’s place, for the weekend?” she responded.

  “David,” Jeremy said, his smile disappearing. “He is coming to Dublin again. We have a party at the Shelbourne to celebrate the launch of our new shop. Our horse Trapper is running on the Friday at Leopardstown, and the party is that evening. And if Trapper wins we’ll really push the boat out!”

  “Bring him.”

  Dorothy spoke sternly. Jeremy was not wiggling out of this.

  “What?”

  “Bring him. Bring him my parents place for the weekend. I’ll introduce him too. It’s time I met him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Dorothy smiled, “there are many rooms in my father’s house. You at one end and David at the other,” she laughed.

  “Bring your family to our party. I will be more comfortable on my own ground. With a crowd David won’t be able to make a fuss,” Jeremy offered.

  ‘Coward.”

  “Yes Dorothy, I am a coward in certain things.”

  “I’ll get my folk to come to your party if you get David to come to our weekend do?”

  “Deal.”

  Jeremy agreed with a smile and they kissed.

  “Dorothy, I will have to find a way to tell him about us. I need him Dorothy. He is my creative Director. I can’t throw him out.”

  “I know Jeremy. We have been over all that. You have to ask him for a divorce. A friendly divorce, a necessary separation in your relationship, you stay as his friend but not as his lover. You have to get your nerve up.”

  Jeremy looked highly anxious. Dorothy sensed his good humour was dissipating.

  “Come to bed Jeremy,” she said.

  “I’ve just dressed you. We could go out. To show you off?”

  “Undress me Jeremy.”

  “Yes mistress.”

  “And bring me the horsewhip. I think we will give you, say five. Just to show you who belongs to who.”

  “Yes Mistress.”

  “Undress yourself first. Do it now.”

  Jeremy stood up and stripped, carefully folding his clothes over the chair.

  “Now clean up Jeremy, all the dishes washed. I am going to relax with the last of my wine and a magazine. Come to me in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes Madame.”

  “You will talk to David, Jeremy and get him to come?”

  “Yes all right. I think I can persuade him. You ask your Parents, and Peter to our party. Then we could go down to your place on the Saturday for the rest of the weekend.”

  “Details later Jeremy. Come and give me a kiss before you start to tidy up.”

  Chapter twenty-nine

  Jeremy awoke with a start just before dawn. Beside him Dorothy was fast asleep. She had gone easy with the horsewhip but his bottom still stung. She had made a game of it and he had got all excited again. It was a powerful excitement, a mixture of fear and sex, which turned him inside out. The fear, the pain, the whole illicitly of it, the sense of belonging to her. He felt great.

  Funny thing, with David he always felt guilty afterwards.

  He tried to analyze his feelings. He still had a sense of numbness. It was not right what he let her do with him. Yet it gave him a charge. He decided it felt less wrong than it did with David.

  They were so different, David and Dorothy. David was flamboyant where Dorothy was dour. Dorothy was warm and owning, possessive. David could be cutting and demanded that Jeremy be his equal.

  But with Dorothy… In a funny way she made him feel powerful and masculine. Despite her physical domination she only dominated with his consent.

  David’s eyes. His broad shoulders, he was beautiful.

  So was Dorothy, but she also had all the attributes of a woman. Soft places, strange odours, moods.

  Could bear children.

  Children, Jeremy dwelled on the thought. He had an empire and no heirs. He needed someone to bear him a child, not anyone, but someone who excited him sexually. He needed Dorothy. He needed Dorothy if he was to have an heir, if he was to be able to show off a grandchild to his mother.

  Drifting back to sleep Jeremy wondered if there was a way he could have both. But how was beyond his imagination.

  And Dorothy wanted to meet David.

  Fear clawed at Jeremy. How could he handle it? Tossing and turning, he fell into restless sleep.

  Chapter thirty

  The Orchard Pub in Rathfarnham had good car parking and John eased his car into a slot. Dorothy had been as good as her word and the new SAAB was delivered the day he had started working for O’Byrne’s. It warmed his heart every time he looked at it.

  Reluctantly he left the car to its own devices and turned towards the pub. John let himself in the door. On his immediate right a soccer match was in progress on a large screen. He could make out that one team was Germany. The other one was a mystery, not the Irish colours. But John had never been much into soccer.

  The barman caught his eye, with the usual quick service.

  “Pint of Guinness,” John said in response to the raised eyebrow.

  While he waited John had a look about. The pub was moderately full, but not crowded. Off to his left an extension had been added. At least he could not remember it from his last visit. But then John had never been much into pubs. Two of the alcoves in the extension were occupied. The third, set into the corner, was free. When he had his pint served up, John took it and settled himself into the alcove in the corner. He took a sip of his pint and sat back to wait, his eyes alert to movement around the pub.

  He was halfway down his pint before he saw Kenny. Kenny came into view, almost furtive, John thought, almost self-conscious. Kenny was wearing his usual fawn gabardine raincoat, a style beloved of flashers in comic strips. John had always despised Kenny’s dress sense. He looked to John like a faded civil servant, not a senior partner in a large Accountancy practice.

  Kenny was moving the wrong way, around to the right, away from John. There were a few groans when Kenny with a half smile on his face, cut across the football match on the large screen and more moans when he came back again, having failed to find John at the other side of the bar.

  John watched, half amused, waiting for Kenny to spot him. Kenny seemed to nod at someone at the bar, an acquaintance perhaps. Then he saw John and his face lit up in a smile of recognition.

  “John. It is so good of you to agree to see me,” Kenny was effusive.

  “Drink?” John offered and caught the eye of the girls serving the tables. The girl had followed Kenny across, waiting to see if the gentleman would like a drink.

  “It’s still a whiskey,” Kenny said.

  “Whiskey sour and a pint for me,” John ordered, remembering Kenny’s favourite tipple was a whiskey sour.

  Kenny took off the gabardine coat and settled himself while waiting for his drink. The weather, the EU and the state of the country, and other pleasantries were exchanged.

  “Cheers,” Kenny said as John paid for the drink, giving the girl a small tip.

  “Cheers,” John agreed, taking a sip of his pint.

  “Ah, that’s great,” Kenny
said wiping his lips.

  John regarded him coldly. “Well Mr. Kenny?”

  “Do call me Andrew,” Kenny said agreeably.

  “Well Andrew?”

  Kenny looked around, no one to overhear. He leaned forward confidentially.

  “John, I hear you bought into a heap of shit with your new employers?”

  “O’Byrne’s, as you will see, are as sound as a bell, the fastest growing company in Ireland,” John defended.

  Kenny looked at him almost affectionately, as if he was dealing with a child.

  “You never respected me,” he said unexpectedly.

  “Didn’t like your brand of cronyism Andrew. How is my old firm by the way?”

  “Middling only middling. We miss you John.”

  “You let me go.”

  “Had to. Managing Partner could see it. Give you another couple of years and you would have had his job. He’d be retired off and me too.”

  “At least you are honest about it,” John laughed harshly.

  “No harm now, between the two of us, you were too aggressive and you underestimated me John.”

  “Obviously I did,” John said grudgingly. He took a swig of his pint. He hoped that Kenny wanted more from this meeting than an opportunity to gloat.

  “Let me get in another round,” Kenny said as he polished his first in a swallow and signalled the bargirl. He nodded; she nodded, and went to get the same again.

  “Good service here,” John remarked to stay pleasant.

  “Aye, but now John, don’t play me for a fool. You know that the banks want a Receiver type, that is me, to go in and take a discreet look at O’Byrne’s.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because they know I am a shit and they can rely on me to earn my fee.”

  Kenny laughed, but there was a trace of pride in his voice.

  “Why are you talking to me? Why did you arrange to meet me here?” John asked.

  “The Bank has asked me to do a report. After they met Dorothy O’Byrne they were concerned and they contacted us.”

  “Should you talk to Dorothy first?” John asked.

  “Inside track John, inside track, you have the inside track. Business is business, we are both professionals, we have worked together in the past and we were colleagues. There is no need for us to be enemies.”

  “Why should I spill it all to you?”

  “That’s the way it works John. You help me I help you.”

  “How?”

  “Depends. If the going gets rough you might need me John.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How bad is it?”

  John smiled. “I worked half the night yesterday and most of today getting a good brief together. You know me K… I mean Andrew, and you know I can put a good dossier together. There is no need for secret meetings in pubs. You’ll get it straight when you come in to O’Byrne’s.”

  “It will be a while yet John. I’m reassured that you are there ready for me. Some firms I go into don’t know which end is up.”

  “You’ll find O’Byrne’s is a company with good financial controls.”

  “The Finance Director is a young woman with limited experience.”

  “Don’t be deceived. She is very good. And I’m her back up. In fact I am Finance Director. I report to Dorothy O’Byrne. She is the Development Director, wider brief with acquisitions and all that. I am seen as the voice of experience, but frankly, there is not a lot I can teach her. I also brought in my old senior manager. Do you remember him...?

  “Yes, yes a good systems man.”

  “He is doing a good job. We have them on monthly accounts with a six-day closing.”

  “Very impressive, pity the banks need to send someone in.”

  “You will be impressed.”

  “John. How naive are you?”

  “What do you mean?” John replied aggressive. He did not like Kenny’s condescending attitude.

  “Do you know what is going on in O’Byrne’s?”

  “It is simple. They have a problem with one major customer. If the banks support it will be a hiccup. There will be a setback but the company has great long-term growth potential.”

  Kenny played with his glass. He took a slug. “I think I’ll have a bottled stout and an Irish for my next one,” he said.

  John caught the bar girls eye. “Glass of Guinness, bottle and an Irish”

  “I’ll be over the drink-drive limit,” he added to Kenny, with a smile, to explain why he had reduced his order from a pint to a half pint. Kenny was surprising John with his capacity for drink.

  “It’s not far home for either of us,” Kenny smiled.

  A minute’s silence followed, as they seemed to contemplate this remark.

  “Big money,” Kenny remarked.

  “What?”

  “The O’Byrne set up. As a private company I believe it made about twenty million last year.”

  “You will see when you come in,” John said.

  “Now,” Kenny continued as if John had not spoken. “A private company with a good growth record would be worth up to, say five times profits, say in the case of O’Byrne’s, what, say a hundred million?”

  “Theoretically,” John said, not disagreeing, but adding, “It could be ten times with the right buyer.”

  “But with problems, maybe still solid, worth say three times profits. With loss of sales that will come off the top of the profits, what would happen, profits fall to say ten million? Value at three times worth, say thirty million. Big spread of values, depending on outcomes.”

  John raised an eyebrow. “A growth company can command ten times profits,” he repeated.

  “My point exactly,” Kenny agreed, “Value on a spread from thirty million to say, two hundred million. Maybe even three hundred, who knows, it is like lotto numbers. Pension Funds and other Institutional investors move in swarms. Price is right and matched to the image; lord knows what they would pay for a share. Not to mention predatory takeovers. A lot of millions are sloshing around. This is what you have to realize John. It may be naive to think it is just a production problem. There may be other agendas.”

  “Value is based on profit performance over a time period,” John added, not really acknowledging Kenny’s point and continued, “One years hiccup might not be enough to knock the bottom out of the value.”

  “True,” Kenny agreed with a happy smile, the discussion was in his element. John wondered was the whiskey beginning to hit the spot. Kenny had thrown the whiskey back in one shot and now was sipping his way down his glass of bottled stout. Kenny signalled a barmaid and they had another round.

  “Now,” Kenny continued apparently in full flight. “Put the same company on the stock market and as you say John, ten times profit not out of court for valuation. Are we agreed?”

  “Right enough,”

  “Exactly,” Kenny said, satisfied.

  “What?” John asked, impatient.

  “John, John…” Kenny sighed, “I’ll bet you are an honest man.”

  “As honest as the day is long.”

  “And John, you believe all men are as honest as the day is long?” Kenny replied sarcastically.

  “Of course not,”

  “But you would have a presumption of honesty in your dealings with others.”

  “Possibly.”

  Kenny laughed harshly. “Possibly, Ha… more than likely. I told you that you suffer from naivety of approach.”

  “Go fuck yourself Kenny. You and your Knights of St. Columbanus.”

  “How did you know about the knights?” Kenny asked warily.

  “Come on, everyone in the old firm knows. The Knights are the catholic version of the Freemasons and you are in it up to your neck.”

  Kenny smiled. “Makes a point, there are no real secrets in Ireland. Too small you know. There are too few top people. Makes it too small for secrets.”

  “You do your best.”

  “Don’t we all?”
/>   There was another silence. John sensed they had almost quarrelled. Both sipped their drinks.

  “If?” Kenny began again, looking sharply at John.

  Before he added another word he looked around again to make sure no one was listening.

  “If,” he repeated. “If there was something afoot John?”

  “Something afoot?”

  “Yes, if this little bit of trouble is not just a straight forward cock up,” Kenny began.

  “Yes?” John said encouragingly, fighting not to show his interest and curiosity. He sensed Kenny was coming to the point of the meeting.

  “If there was eh... Hanky panky there could be big money at stake.”

  John looked at him, feeling stupid; wondering was he missing the point.

  “If the customer with the problem, John, was creating the problem for other reasons they could affect the valuation of O’Byrne’s by at least a hundred million.”

  “Monopoly numbers,” John said dismissively.

  “Monopoly money it may sound like, but the market is real John,” Kenny spat. “Real money John, somewhere real money changes hands. It might just be a pension fund shifting funds, but if you can get in on the act there is big money.”

  “I hope you go to confession Kenny.”

  “I do John. Call me Andrew, John. I do, but when I heard of this little bit of trouble my antenna went up.”

  “Tell your wife.”

  “Don’t be crude John. I want to know what you know. Is this a fishy piece of work? The bank tells me they were nursing O’Byrne’s towards a stock market quote. And Associated Finance, the holding company, they are the most acquisitive company on the UK exchange, very predatory. They would do internationally, about ten to twenty deals a year in acquisitions and disposals. They are real live wires.”

  “You think this is a set up?” John asked quizzically.