Read Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 Online

Authors: Christina Ross

Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 (5 page)

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Great minds.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without
you, Mrs. Wenn.”

My heart warmed when he called me
that because I knew that I’d never tire of hearing it.
 
Whatever happened, I’d always have his
back—and he would have mine.
 
He was the love of my life, and I was damned if we were going to go down
without a fight.
 

“Funny,” I said with a kiss on his
cheek.
 
“That’s just what I was
thinking, Mr. Wenn—only about you.”

 
 

*
 
*
 
*

 
 

When Alex was in the shower, my
cell rang from the entryway, where I’d dropped my clutch the night before.
 
I went to it, retrieved it, and saw that
it was Blackwell.

And how will your mood be today?
I wondered.

“Barbara—I’m surprised to
hear from you.”

“Like hell you are.
 
You’ve been waiting me out.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Oh, the lies—the lies.
 
They rain down on me like tears from a
crocodile.”

“I’m not lying.
 
We’ve been a little busy over here.”

“Getting busy?”

“That’s not what I said, and you
know it.”
 
But I had to stifle a
laugh and take a deep breath, knowing from that comment alone that we were
going to be fine.

Her tone softened.
 
“So you have been busy,” she said.
 
“Understood.
 
Look, let’s just cut to it and put this
nonsense behind us.
 
I’m sorry we
exchanged words yesterday.
 
That
wasn’t my intent.
 
I think our
emotions were running high, and I got carried away.
 
I’m just concerned, Jennifer.
 
That’s all.
 
And it’s only compounded by the fact
that Wenn’s stock hasn’t seen the jump I was hoping to see this morning,
especially after the excellent press conference Alex gave.”

“You mean the one that didn’t have
the board’s full support?”

“Yes, that one.
 
The bastards.
 
What do you and Alex have in mind for
today?”

“Alex has talked to Robert in PR,
who is now lining up a slew of one-on-one interviews for him this morning and
afternoon.
 
It will help.
 
And I agree.
 
I’m also sorry—we’re too close to
behave the way we did yesterday.
 
I
never should have walked out on you like that.
 
I apologize.”

“Well, at least you did it with
panache.”

“I was going for bravado.”

“Oh, you had that, too.
 
You swung that door like a champ, which
I naturally respected.
 
And I can’t
blame you for doing so.
 
Things
became tense for good reasons, none of which were personal.”

“All of that’s behind us now.
 
It’s gone.”

“Like an IQ point of a
Kardashian
, as if they can spare one.
 
You know, a thought occurred to me just
yesterday about those curvy little harlots.
 
How in the hell do they wax down there?
 
Or do they even bother?
 
One can trim the grass, you know, but
it’s a hell of a lot tougher to fell a forest.
 
Still, they must do something since
they’re found naked so often.
 
But
who has the verve to go through with it?
 
Is there even enough wax to cut through all of that hair?
 
Or have they had electrolysis?
 
Their mother would have seen to
that.
 
So, I vote for the latter,
though I can’t imagine the pain involved.
 
Zap, zap
zap
—times one million.”

“Are you finished?”

“I’m just warming up.”
 
She paused.
 
“Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything.”

“Maybe not this….”

“Just spill it.”

“I had a nightmare last night.
 
It was as awful as last fall’s
collection.
 
I saw a meteor shower
heading straight toward my head while I was at Wenn.”

“Shall I refer to you now as
Chicken Little?”

“I’d prefer Little Roughage.
 
Or
Lotta
Ice.
 
That would be more
appropriate.”

“OK, Little Roughage, here’s my
advice to you—stop dreaming.”

“You’ll probably say that one day
to your own child.
 
You’ll probably
steal away his dreams.
 
Dampen
them.
 
Occlude them.”

“Children are a ways off, so it’s
best if you don’t worry about that now.”

“You’ll crush them—I know
it.”

“Don’t make me laugh.
 
Now isn’t the time.
 
Alex is getting ready.
 
I need to be serious.”

And that’s when Blackwell became
the maternal figure I knew so well.
 
“There is always time for laughter, Jennifer.
 
Never forget that.
 
I’ve often said that our work saves us, and
it does.
 
But laughter also does, especially
during the most difficult and trying of circumstances.
 
So, on that note, we have a minor crisis
on our hands.”

“What crisis?”

“The dress you’re wearing
tonight.
 
It’s all wrong.”

For a moment, I just pulled my
phone away from my ear and looked at it in disbelief.
 
This was what she was calling
about?
 
A dress?
 
Really?
 
Sometimes, just when I thought I
understood Blackwell, she’d pull something like this out of her ass when a
dress, of all things, should be the very last thing we were concerned about.
 

“Since when does a dress constitute
a crisis?”

“Since Monica Lewinsky, for
one.
 
Oh, when will you ever learn
the importance of fashion?” she said.
 
“When will it ever sink into that head of yours?”

“All right,” I said.
 
“Fine.
 
Hit me with its importance.
 
What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the press who
will be in attendance at
Dufort’s
party tonight.
 
I had you wearing black.
 
Black!
 
Which now can be interpreted as ‘Death of
Wenn’.
 
But right now?
 
In our situation?
 
Black won’t do.
 
You need something that doesn’t say
‘mourning’.
 
You need something that
says ‘confident.’
 
‘Successful.’
 
‘Powerful.’
 
You need to shine tonight.
 
More than ever before, you need to look
your best—your most radiant.
 
You need to look the prettiest anyone has ever seen you, because—and
don’t doubt me on this, girl—they’ll all be judging you.
 
You can plan on that.
 
They’ll be watching you and Alex, and
looking for whatever cracks they can find.
 
I’m not worried about Alex.
 
He just needs to show up looking smashing in a tux.
 
But you?
 
You need to be a beacon of light.
 
You need to slay every woman there.
 
So, what are your plans for today?”

“Why?”

“Because we have to find you a new
dress.
 
A bright dress.
 
A bright, bold, red dress.
 
Something divoon to the tenth power.
 
You’ll also need new jewels.
 
So either bring along your credit card,
or I’ll bring my corporate card.
 
Doesn’t matter.
 
Wenn is
Wenn—they’ll pay the bills.
 
Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Good!
 
Don’t you dare eat.
 
Not at all today.
 
If you must, nibble on a
raisin—but just one.
 
And
don’t finish it.”

“Seriously?
 
You expect me not to eat for the entire
day?”

“I need you looking your best.
 
Flat, flat, flat.
 
Slim, slim, slim.
 
If your tummy feels bloated, then eat a
boatload of roughage and let nature take its course.
 
That should clean you out.”

“I got almost no sleep last night,
Barbara.
 
How are the circles
beneath my eyes going to help me look my best?”

“Bernie is a magician.
 
You know he has special powers.
 
He’ll do his voodoo on you.
 
He’ll say smoky words, cast melodic spells,
and then he’ll eradicate any trace of fatigue from that face of yours.”

“In other words, he’ll just use
some kind of fancy concealer.”

“Oh, how you diminish him!”

“Are you jacked up on caffeine
right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be—tonight is
more critical than you think.
 
When
can I pick you up?
 
Time is of the
essence.
 
I have an appointment for
us at Barney’s.
 
They’re willing to
open the store early just for us, but we need to move on it—before the
others come.”

“The others?”

“The people,” she said.
 
Her voice lowered a notch.
 
“The tourists.”

“You’re such a snob.”

“I’m a businesswoman who
understands that, even if we find the right dress, they’re still going to have
to tailor it to fit that ass of yours.
 
No small feat that.
 
With
your stature in this city now, don’t be surprised if you receive a note asking
if your ass can be hoisted up at the Thanksgiving Day Parade.
 
Hell, it could be a float at this
point.
 
When can you be ready?”

“Ninety minutes.”

“Make it sixty.”

“But Alex is in the shower now.”

“Oh, please.
 
Oh, Maine.
 
Then get in the shower
with
him—but please, for the love of all things Dior, just keep it to the
soap.
 
Now, get yourself ready.
 
Wear something pretty that’s simple to
slip out of.
 
God knows how many
dresses we’ll need to try on before we find the right one.
 
And don’t you dare disappoint me—the
press is going to be outside of your apartment the moment you leave.
 
They’ll have cameras.
 
They’ll snap photos of you.
 
I want you looking smart and chic, and
your face better match your look with full makeup and a contented smile.
 
Are we good?”

“We’re good.”

“So, I’ll pick you up in sixty
minutes?”

“Seventy.”

“Sixty.”

“Fine.
 
I’ll see you in an hour.
 
But Barbara?”

“What?”

“You better have one massive cup of
coffee in that car for me if you want me to get through the day.”

 
 
 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

By the time Alex and I were preparing
to leave, he already had heard from Robert, and the news was good.
 

Five interviews were slated for
morning, and three were scheduled for early afternoon.
 
The
Times
was first, followed by
the
Journal
and
Bloomberg
.
 
Through their websites alone, they could change the course of today’s
stock should it need it—especially if Alex kept on point and played this
right, which I knew he could.
 
What
Alex needed to deliver to each outlet was a focus on all the potential growth
and wealth that rested in Wenn’s near future.
 

When he emerged from our bedroom
and leaned into the doorway of our master bath, he was in a dark, charcoal gray
suit with a white shirt and a blue tie.
 
I thought that he looked perfect.
 
I turned away from the mirror I’d been standing at, and took in the
length of him.
 
He was wearing the
black Prada business shoes I’d purchased for him a few weeks ago, and his
gleaming dark hair was parted on the side and slicked away from his
forehead.
 

On his face was his usual,
disarming dust of stubble, and his blue-green eyes seemed especially bright,
perhaps because he was on his game and knew that he was about to go to
war.
 
Looking at him now, he still
had that ability to take my breath away, and so I let him take it from me.
 
He knew that photos were coming the
moment we stepped out of our apartment and then again when he arrived at Wenn,
and he was nothing if not camera-ready.
 
He looked like a damned model.
 

“I could devour you right now,” I
said.

He cocked an eyebrow at me.
 
“Is that so?”

“You know what happens to me when I
see you in a suit—especially a fitted suit.
 
And then there’s that stubble of
yours.
 
And your dimples.
 
It’s unfair.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to strive
for equality later this evening.”

I put my hand to my chest.
 
“Mr. Wenn!
 
I’m under your employ!
 
Really!”

He smiled at that.
 
It was good to see him smile.

“You look beautiful,” he said.
 
“I couldn’t quite hear you in the shower
when you were covered in suds and sputtering water out of your mouth like a
fountain, so sorry for asking again, but where are you and Blackwell going?”

“Apparently, we’re going to shop
for a new dress that won’t make me look like somebody has turned me into
Morticia
Addams.
 
Barbara thought that black would look too dour at this point, and so she
wants something bolder.
 
Something
red.
 
As far as she sees it, each of
us is supposed to make a statement tonight that suggests we’re so unfazed by
everything that’s happening that we’ve become Teflon.”

“To be fair, she does have a
point.”

“I know she does.
 
And so guess what?
 
She and I are going to shop.”
 

“Get whatever you need.”

“You might regret saying that
later.”

He came forward, took me in his
arms, and kissed me on the neck.
 
“Anything you need,” he said in my ear.
 
“You’ll always have anything you need
from me.”

“The thing is, all I want is you.”

“Oddly, all I want is the
same—just you.”
 
He shrugged
at me.
 
“Look at us.
 
An old married couple already.”

“We are not old.
 
Though I will say that our connection is
old.
 
That, in a universal sense,
our love is old.
 
I feel as if I’ve
known you my entire life.
 
How is
that?
 
How can that be?”

“Exactly,” he said.
 
“I’ve wondered that myself, but I don’t
have an answer.”

“So, it is what it is.”

“It is indeed, Mrs. Wenn.
 
And how lucky are we?”

I checked my makeup in the mirror a
final time, finished with a swipe of red lipstick, and then placed the palm of
my hand against his cheek.
 
“I love
you, Alex,” I said.
 
“More than
you’ll ever know.
 
Are you sure you
don’t need me today?
 
You said in
the shower that you didn’t, but God knows I have plenty of other dresses that I
can wear tonight.
 
I can always
cancel on Blackwell, and wear something else that’s already been fitted to me.”

“And have Blackwell see you
photographed in the same thing twice?
 
She’d slap me for that.
 
I’m
fine.
 
Before yesterday’s press
conference, you gave me the very direction I plan to take today.”

“Where is Wenn’s stock now?”

“We’re up a point.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

“Hear, hear.”

“Would you do something for me
tonight?”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to personally introduce
me to the three members of the board who didn’t stand up with you
yesterday.
 
Will you do that?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to meet them.”

“Any particular reason?”

“You know me too well.”

“So, what’s the reason?”

“In a crunch, I can turn on the
charm, Alex, even for that snake Stephen Rowe.
 
Tonight, my mission is to win over all
of them.
 
And I will.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.
 
“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m just going to speak their language.
 
And if you don’t mind, I’m also going to
have a dance or two with each of them, starting with Rowe.”

 
 

*
 
*
 
*

 
 

When we left the building, the
press was indeed waiting for us.
 
Alex and I gave each other a quick kiss on the lips while cameras flashed,
and then we moved in separate directions toward the two limousines that waited
for us at the curbside.
 

Tank was standing outside of Alex’s
car.
 
I gave him a wink, which he
returned with a discreet nod.
 
Cutter was standing outside of mine, ready to open my door.
 
As the crowd closed in with cameras
snapping and reporters shouting questions at Alex and me, I kept my focus on
Cutter’s reassuring gaze as he opened the door for me.
 

I answered none of their questions.
 
Instead, I slipped inside where Blackwell
already sat at my right with a look of concern on her face.
 
I looked ahead of us to make certain that
Alex had gotten safely into his own car.

“He’s fine,” Blackwell said.
 
She placed her hand on my knee.
 
“He’s inside—he’s safe.
 
And by the way, you both just handled
that beautifully.”

“I’m flying blind,” I said.
 
“Alex is the pro.”

“Don’t undercut yourself, my
dear.
 
You see very well.”

I looked at her.
 
She was wearing a light blue Chanel
suit, dark glasses, and understated daytime jewelry.
 
Her legs were crossed at the knee, and
in her hand was a large cup of coffee, which she handed to me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Well, you did demand it.”

“I just—”

“You probably would have harangued
me if I hadn’t brought the coffee—which, by the way, is black.
 
No cream.
 
No sugar.
 
No calories.”

“You’re too much.”

“If I were too little, I wouldn’t
be here.”

“You have a point there.”
 
I looked ahead of us as Alex’s car cut
into the traffic on Fifth.
 
“I worry
about him,” I said.

“Your husband is going to be fine.
 
I can tell you with certainty that no
one ever gets used to this kind of circus.
 
His father may have laid the full weight of Wenn on him when he killed
himself and Alex’s mother, but that young man has done nothing if not risen to
the occasion.
 
I’m proud of
him.”
 
She turned to me.
 
“And I’m also proud of you.”

I kept my eye on Alex’s car as
Cutter stepped inside to drive us to Barneys.
 
“I’m just trying to get through this,
Barbara.”

“And you will.
 
You are.
 
So is Alex.
 
I had my worries before, but I was overreacting.
 
Wenn will rise from this, Jennifer.
 
The trick is going to be in how fast it
can right the ship, and whether Alex can keep the majority of the board on his
side.
 
That’s what’s going to be
critical.
 
But I think that he
can—especially with you at his side tonight.”

I told her what I had in mind for
later.

“Oh my,” she said.
 
“Waltzing with the enemy—or
potential enemies, in this case.
 
Very smart.
 
They know Alex,
but not you.
 
And with your
charm—and your beauty and your figure—most of them won’t know what
to do with you.”

“It’s just a dance.”

“And on that I call bullshit.
 
We both know that it’s more than
that.
 
You want to seduce them.
 
You want to mold them like putty in your
hands.
 
You already know that if
they come to know and like you, that it will be harder for them to turn on
Alex.”

“All right,” I said.
 
“You’re right.
 
I’m going to do all of that.
 
I’m also going to talk with them on
their level.”

“Why waste your time talking?
 
Here’s the thing, my love—with the
right dress on, it won’t even matter what you say.
 
You could talk about chimps shitting
bananas at the zoo, and all they’d be thinking is how beautiful you look.”

“I do have a mind, Barbara.”

“Your mind is fine, Jennifer.
 
You’re one of the brightest young women
I know.
 
But I’m sorry—it’s
not as important as your ass or the twins.
 
You know that as well as I do.
 
At their cores, these men are troglodytes.
 
But I’m behind you on this.
 
You’re actually being quite strategic
and cunning.
 
Who cares what takes
place on that dance floor?
 
Business
is business, and at this level, business is ruthless.
 
When you go to war, there’s no shame in
using what you have in your arsenal to potentially get what you want.
 
I think what you have in mind is a
marvelous idea because you won’t take it too far.
 
You’ll give them just enough body and
personality to tip the balance in Wenn’s favor.”

“Now I feel as if I’m selling out.”

“What you’re doing is everything
you can to help your husband, whom you love.
 
It’s not as if you’re giving free lap
dances for God’s sake, although that isn’t a bad idea either.
 
Would you consider it?”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, settle down.
 
The board will like you.
 
A few will lust after you.
 
And if you can reach even a few of them,
that’ll be just more people on Alex’s side, which is what he needs, and what
you want.
 
I think your plan is
genius.”
 

She waved a hand in the air.
 
“Look, let’s leave all of this behind us
for the time being.
 
I understand
what you want, and I support it.
 
Right
now, our focus needs to be on finding you the right dress, the right jewels,
and the right undergarments to assist you in making your titillating little
plan a success.
 
And by the way,
while we’re at it?
 
Let’s try to
have some fun.
 
OK?
 
Remember fun?
 
I hope so, Jennifer, because even in the
most trying of times, we must make an effort to make our own fun.
 
Don’t ever underestimate that.
 
The world can turn against you in a day,
and it’s up to you whether you let it defeat you or whether you stand up to
it.
 
So, which is it?”

Other books

The Land by Mildred D. Taylor
Maxie (Triple X) by Dean, Kimberly
The Whisperer by Carrisi, Donato
The Gun Runner (Mafia Made) by Scott Hildreth
Lights Out by Peter Abrahams
Mystical Mayhem by Kiki Howell
A Is for Apple by Kate Johnson


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024