"Don't worry, baby girl," he told me over the phone before he hung up. "I'm pretty sure after I'm back no one will fuck with us ever again."
I tried to keep a brave voice.
"I also can't accept your resignation," Mason had said. I knew this was coming. "I need you close to me for whatever goes down. Trust me."
Well, hun, I'm really trying to trust him here and have faith in him because when he said that four days ago I never thought for a moment that I'd be outside the Board Room four days later watching as each of the Board Members began to sit down and wait on Mason.
I mean, four days ago I had marched to my floor drenched to the bone and written a resignation letter.
Let's not even get into the look of puzzlement on my direct manager's face when Mason replied back to the email I had copied him on saying, "No fucking way."
I mean, you're talking about a middle manager here in his 50s with a bit of a paunch. He sees the brash bad boy CEO commenting and replying back to an email to the 21-year-old intern.
"I don't want to get in the middle of anything," he had told me. "I have five years before I make enough money to retire and I don't wanna know anything."
Well, that left me pretty much free for the next four days, trying my best to organize as much of what I could find for when Mason came back.
Only now, I'm waiting in the conference room, and he's not back.
Technically the meeting is supposed to start at 12 pm. But it's already 12:03 pm.
The Kane Price boardroom is literally something else.
A dark mahogany conference table dominates the room. The room itself has priceless art hanging from two walls. The other wall is all glass, with panoramic views of New York City. And the farther wall is mounted with two-way video screens to allow for people to remotely dial in via videophone. A second flat panel television is on mute right next to the video screen with a constant update on Market Pulse. The reasoning behind the television is that if there is anything where minute-to-minute updates are needed, the Board will have an easy way of keeping abreast of the news.
I'm hovering outside the conference room, but in truth I have no reason to be here.
I mean, think about it. I'm a 21-year-old intern in the Private Equity Group. What possible reason could I have to be in a group of people who have a minimum individual net worth that starts in the eight figures?
None. Except that I'm worried.
The man I love is going to be attacked by these people today. Roy Purpus has called for a meeting that seeks to have this group of people vote against Mason as CEO. I can understand how that would be good for Mom, but I can't understand why Roy would fall for everything that's going on in the news. There's no way he can be viewing Red Lion as a viable investment alternative to everything else Kane Price has right now, can he?
I walk in nonchalantly, as if I have every reason for being there, and sit down on one of the sofa-benches built into the wall. The spaces are usually occupied by Vice Presidents and Directors who provide support documents to members of the Board as well as administrative assistants who fetch papers, water, food, and any manner of sundries. I think I can blend in here. No one upstairs on the 18th floor is going to miss me. In truth, work has sort of ground to a halt today as the eyes of the Firm, and the entirety of Wall Street wait to see what will happen.
There are a bunch of things that I can tell you about how important today is.
No Firm in the history of Wall Street has ever kicked out their CEO.
No Firm in the history of Wall Street has ever been ripped apart like ours is being now based on a power struggle between a husband and wife.
No CEO has ever been in this much of the public spotlight as what the media calls the "Bad Boy of Wall Street." They used to call him the "King of Wall Street" but I think Mom pretty much came and ruined that.
But then again, she seems to ruin everything.
I sit and try to blend in as Roy Purpus strides into the room.
He's a corpulent man, at least 400 pounds and he's known to begin sweating at the slightest of efforts. He's got a thick Texas twang and at least five chins and I can see that he's the exact opposite of Mason in every way.
Sorry if I'm a bit biased, hun. I mean, he's the one that called the No Confidence Board Meeting. I just don't understand why. From everything I've researched he's always been rather indifferent to the investment direction of the Firm. In fact, as long as he'd had his payday he hasn't really cared where the money has come from or the ethical implications. But he's never been one to be an activist.
"What are you doing here, girl?" a voice bites out at me from my side, immediately snapping me out of my reverie and jarring me back to reality.
Standing in a rather tight black pencil skirt and black blouse stands the woman that I had been raised to think was my mother. Lorna Lowell.
At first I don't know what to say, so I remain silent.
"Well, girl," she sneers at me. "You're lucky you even have a job to come back to. Don't push it by sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."