Tuesday, 12 November 2013


(Every post is not a declaration of intent so stop doing that thing where you freak at me.)

Friday's incredibly obvious attempt to lure me away from Lochlan turned into a bonafide crisis before mid-afternoon and before dinner we were on a goddamn plane to New York. Long story. To simplify he merged some stuff and people got spooked.

What Caleb thought was a concern turned into an almost-defection but by the time our late dinner was over I had his biggest investors eating out of the palm of my hand.

Well, not literally. But once that fire was out shit got weird.

On the morning of day two I wound up being painted with the same brush as a row of 'companions' to Caleb's investors, dismissed as nothing more than a sugar baby. While it's fine for me to paint myself with that brush, it isn't fine for anyone else to speak to the head of their company that way.

Besides, all of the so-called ladies were breast-implanted, bleached and sucked dry. None of them had a single opinion that didn't swing like a loose shutter off their 'daddy' and I took one look at Caleb and he rolled his eyes and said fine, take off. Then he had the grace to stand and announce that the director of the company (me) had another engagement but we all thank her for her time and for coming on short notice.

I'm pretty sure I would have tripped over their duck-face injected pouts and jaws on the fucking floor had I moved any faster walking out of that room but I knew what I wanted to spend the rest of the day doing, because I've done it a few times before.

(You're thinking Coney Island! Which is a great guess but no, sadly. It would have taken me almost an hour to get there from Midtown in traffic and I didn't have that kind of time.)

I called Ben and he called ahead to his old stomping grounds and so they were waiting for me when I got to the studio in a taxi. I was given headphones and a cord and I entered the dark soundproof room, stretched out on my back on the carpeted floor and turned the music up all the way. A voice cut in at the beginning asking me if I wanted a wake-up call.

Sure. Four forty-five? 

No worries. Enjoy your time, Bridget. 

Then the music swelled back up and I closed my eyes. Never will you hear music more pure than right where I was, no hearing aids or ear pressed against a speaker required. I know what ninety minutes of studio time costs and I knew I could cover it so it was better than staying where I was and worth it by far.

By far.

But I will say one thing. The breakneck pace and change in scenery and obligations actually did wonders after a very long week and kept me from focusing too hard on Jake or on Loch or on anything other than growth and capital and projections and all the other stupid things Caleb has taught me over the years that are important if you want to make money, important if you have an eye toward the future in the way that he always does. Maybe his expertise extends past financial concerns and into a painful attempt to continue to do what is best for me even when I fight him on that only to later find out he was right all along.

I went over this afternoon to fetch my laptop and he had a cheque waiting for me.

A job well done, Princess. We make a good team.

I took the cheque. It's more than I expected by half. Hey! Now I have enough to get implants! Yessssss!



(Part II tomorrow! Finally!)