chapter FOUR
Jenny
When I was younger, I thought the keys to happiness had a Mercedes logo on them or belonged to a penthouse. My family agreed and there came about a time in my life when I got my keys. I still remember thinking I got everything I had wished for. I understood love as a simple emotion that your mind created as it looked for reasons why you shouldn't be alone. It was the same basic idea as a one-night stand. Our mind has many avenues and reasons why we do things, and over time we believe our own excuses and lies. My dream life came complete with a nanny to watch the kids and a maid to clean the house. On the outside looking in it was the perfect life. I had a great life with a loving husband that adored me and every morning I woke up and went over to my balcony, drank my tea, and witnessed the most amazing sunrises, but there was still a loneness that crept into my soul when nobody was watching. It wasn’t a sadness or a longing, but simply a little twitch in my heart. It's the price I paid to have everything I wanted from life. It was more stable than chasing some grand impossible dream and it paid a lot better than a waitressing job. Some people sell their souls, and I simply sold my youth and body. Either way, I made my bed and I had to lay in it, but at least it came in king size.
Today most would call me a sugar baby, but back in the nineties they’d call me a trophy wife. I was the arm candy that my husband would bring to business dinners and parties so he could grab attention and feel young. It was my job to look and act a certain way to help further his career. It might sound like a simple task, but it's something I worked hard at and in return I got amazing rewards. The title might change, but the meaning is still the same. “Trophy wife” had always been a politer term for “house whore,” only instead of having to negotiate prices constantly with numerous men, I only had one man to deal with. It was still a good life filled with many comforts, so many I couldn’t even take advantage of them most days. Compared to other trophy wives though, I had it pretty good. Wilson didn’t share his toys like other husbands did, and in his eyes I was his most prized toy.
Of course, I have duties, fears, and pressures that I had to contend with, even if I don't work a standard forty-hour week. Time had become an enemy that I was in constant battle with. Fine lines and wrinkles were slowly taking over. Wilson hadn’t seen it yet, but I could feel the skin on my neck starting to sag, and my once perky breasts he adored weren’t so perky anymore. Each passing minute stole away things I had built my life on, and unfortunately for me fighting against time was a losing battle. Time was like death. Inevitable. When beauty and sex were your bread and butter, you’d want to spread the butter thick on the toast, in hope that your husband didn’t decide to change brands. It was the only real downside to my profession. I was constantly at odds hoping that my beauty would outlive my husband, otherwise I’d find myself replaced by a younger model.
We were in our way to another dinner party to further Wilson’s career. Wilson guided me through the doublewide glass doors that led into the small, three story office building like I was a queen. We had an arrangement, and even though we were legally married like a real couple he never treated me like anything less than his soul mate. I didn't have to love him like a husband for him to treat me like a wife. I had snagged myself a good man, even if there was no physical attraction on my side. I didn't need passion to stay, just a firm pre-nup and the financial benefits he offered.
I had come through these doors numerous times and it always amazed me just how spectacular the place looked. It wasn't one of those artificial looking lobbies with fake stone on the wall and ugly looking plastic tropical plants like you see in most businesses. It had diamond-shaped brown and beige granite tiles that lead all the way to the front desk. The words “Barthélémy Metrology Solutions" written in gold, antique-looking letters on the wall behind it in a stylish font that you’d expect to see in the bigger company. Along the wall there was a tropical fish pond and wide-leafed palm trees of some sort. The smell of the place even reminded me of a tropical island, even though I had never seen one in real life. When Nathanial designed and built this office complex, he had the idea of making the right wing his home. Why else would he have spent so much time and money on the details to make it feel like a true home if he didn't already have the idea to live here? He took a small welding shop and turned it into a multi-million-dollar empire in less than a decade.
All of these flourishes didn’t matter much anymore now that Nathanial was gone, and the many lives were in turmoil because of it. Too many of us had faith that he would always be there to guide us, Wilson included. We passed by the guard desk, but Hanson the security guard didn't greet us with his usual smile and brief small talk. An awkward silence filled the room as he waved us through like we were strangers rather than people he had gotten to know over the past decade. Recent events had changed life for a lot of us and it wasn't for the better.
"Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Bailey, I am so happy that you could make it to this little event." I looked up and saw William King holding out his hand with a weasel-like grin on his face. Before Nathaniel’s death he was a nobody, but now he acted like he was the company’s founder and I am certain that was his goal. "It's nice for us all to meet outside the office." Smiling he looked around, "Well, I guess we’re still in the office- just not on business."
Wilson forced out a laugh, but I could tell he wasn’t happy.
"I agree, it's a nice change of pace to meet outside of business," he replied coolly as he extended his hand as well. By all rights, with Nathanial's passing Wilson should have been the acting president of the company. They were best friends and Wilson was the first vice president appointed but, as with all things, politics eventually got in the way. William snatched the presidency and, despite the whispers of how he would lead the company straight to ruin, nobody challenged him for the position. It was believed that he would not only lead the company, but that he would steal the whole company for himself. It didn’t help that he was the one to help Nathanial's cousin, Irene in her time of mourning. A young, broken-hearted woman can easily be blinded by grief.
"I actually just returned from the cottage," William bragged. Laughing, he added, 'If you can call a five-bedroom house by a lake a cottage." Wilson forced out another laugh, but it was of irony, not amusement. If William noticed it, he didn't act on it. "I didn't want to leave the relaxation of the beachfront, but I wanted to announce some changes I have planned. You know, to cut the fat and make the company profitable again."
I thought Wilson was going to explode as the words left William's lips, but like most of the upper management in the company, he didn't want to rock the boat and lose everything he had invested in the company. Bravery is not something a man in his fifties can afford, especially when there are plenty of younger, more ambitious people just waiting for him to fall. It had been ten months since Nathaniel's passing and time was running out. Even though his two older brothers had died years before, no bodies were ever found and legally they were still considered co-owners of the company. Nathaniel never believed they were dead. He was so certain that he wrote in his will that the company ownership couldn't be changed for a full year after his passing.
"What's that in your hand, William?" Wilson asked, but I pretty certain he already knew. Blue prints were rather obvious and William had already started changing the company bit by bit removing those things Nathanial pain staking changed and altered until it was uniquely his own style.
"Let's head upstairs for drinks and I’ll tell you about my plans for the second and third floor of the royal wing." He giggled, thinking his play on words was charming. I guess it was easier pretending that he really was a king rather than admitting he was just another two-bit vulture. I might be easy by some standards and compared to William I was a cheaper purchase, but I didn't need to steal anything. I used tactful seduction. The price to keep William was a whole million-dollar company.
"Have you noticed that the apartment seems to have hidden rooms all over
?” The apartment was designed like one of those old mansions you see on TV. You know the ones that have little rooms hidden in the walls. So far the only one I knew about was filled with well-aged wine bottles, but we all suspected there were many more. I find doors that I can’t open and the Victorian look of it all drives me crazy. Irene too. We were thinking of making it more industrial looking. To get rid of the dated, haunted mansion feel of the place and modernize it." I had been in Nathanial's place a hundred times maybe more and never found any hidden rooms except that wine room. Of course I have never seen his home as a treasure trove either. William would destroy everything Nathaniel loved, including the sweet little cousin chasing his fortune. Irene was the closest thing to a sister that Nathaniel had. After the death of both his brothers she moved in to help him feel connected. To stop him from feeling abandoned and alone.
"I thought Irene loved the Victorian look,” I responded. “If my memory serves me correctly, she helped design it based on pictures that she found from that era." Wilson's expression turned icy as he glared at me. I had forgotten the first rule of our agreement; don't rock the boat when it comes to business. I knew that I would face consequences for my little jab, but someone had to say something.
"Oh, Irene never really liked how spooky everything was. She only did it to match the parts of the old house Nathanial insisted on including. He was just too sentimental if you ask me, intent on living in his dream world." He grinned sleazily as he joked, "The fool actually believed Renaud and Harrow were still alive."
There was a dinging sound as we reached our floor and the oak-inlaid elevator doors opened smoothly. William rushed us in, the poor security guard trying to capture his attention. William gave him a look like the guard wasn’t worth his time. As the doors closed all I could hear was, "But Mr. King, you said to tell you when-" William didn’t even acknowledge the man’s existence as he walked briskly past.
Producing a small tablet from the inside of his blazer, he continued.
"After I own the company and marry Irene, I’ve decided that I want to move the whole IT department over here where the gym is currently and relocate the gym to the second floor."
"I see, but the location of the gym was selected so that the gym could have a pool and be easily accessed by employees from any of the three towers. It was actually quite the debate when we were planning to build this place," Wilson commented.
William cut in, "That's why I’m moving the gym. Well, ‘downsizing’ would more accurate."
"We’re cutting the employees’ gym to less than half of its current size?" Wilson had a way of making a statement, but making it appear like a question. It was his way of telling you that your idea was stupid, but allowing you to save face and in most cases it worked.
"No, it's going to be a private gym for myself, Irene, and a few select members of upper management. Nathanial treated it like a family gym, allowing everybody to just pop by bringing their kids, in-laws, and I’ve even seen some bring their neighbors. It's an expense that I am not willing to maintain."
"Nathaniel always said that it was an employer’s responsibility to try and inspire his employees to be healthier and live longer, more productive lives," Wilson countered.
"Wilson, do you know that promoting the health and more productive life-style crap actually costs the company more than it makes us? It's not just the cost of maintaining the gym, but the insurance premium we pay and the retirement plan. The more we do to keep employees here long term, the more it hurts the company's bottom line." His hands were flying around as the doors opened, leading into the lavish-looking apartment. It seemed to me that he was the reason the company was suffering if anything, with his new Italian suits and an expensive gold watches. Maintaining his excessive lifestyle was what was costing the company money, and I was certain that when left alone to run it he would drive it into bankruptcy.
“Listen, I own this company." Realizing he made the wrong choice in words, William quickly corrected himself. "I am the temporary president, and as we all know Irene will choose me to continue running the company after we are married. After all, who else cares more about her interests then me?"
A devilish giggle emanated from around the corner.
“Oh, I can think of quite a few people who would fit into that group." Murlin appeared, looking as alluring as she was unique with her bright red hair flipped over to one side, revealing the closely shaved sides. Even as a child she always had a way about her that made every girl envious. Almost purring as she sauntered towards us, she continued. "It seems to me that you forgotten the name of the stationary. What does it saw again Barthélémy Metrology Solutions? Did you suddenly get adopted?"
William crossed his arms and sighed loudly.
"I thought you had moved out."
"Me? Move out? Why certainly not! This as much my home as anybody else's." Murlin playfully argued.
"We’ve discussed this already, Murlin. I realize that you have lived with the Barthélémy family for so long that you are considered family, but you’re still not actually related. Irene and I want to start a family of our own. Don't you want to see Irene move on from her past and have a fresh start?" Murlin didn't have a chance to respond before he forcefully added, "Like I said earlier, when the year is up this company and everything else that belonged to Nathanial Barthélémy will become ours and frankly, you aren't part of my future plans." Murlin smiled liked she knew something he didn’t, but remained silent. "Now if you don't mind, you aren't exactly dressed for this kind of event," he chided condescendingly, with a look of disgust on his face.
A loud booming voice I hadn't heard in years, but recognized immediately broke through air and shattered the feel of the night.
"What kind of event is it that is too classy for an honorary Barthélémy to attend?"
William’s upper lip curled as he caught sight of the figure holding a cold beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Obviously not the kind of guest William had in mind, he was wearing a dark, wrinkled dress shirt and faded blue jeans.
“It's a black tie dinner party for executives only."
That charming smile I had missed for quite a while filled his face as he sipped his beer, a mischievous twinkle filling his eyes.
"If that is the case, I must insist that you at least wear high heels, Murlin." Raising an eyebrow, he added, "I have always thought that your ass looks amazing in heels."
With a playful smile, Murlin grazed her fingers along his neck.
"That's because my ass looks marvelous in them."
William snorted, "I don't remember inviting either of you."
"You didn't invite me, but that won’t stop me from attending this glamorous event."
"And who exactly do you think you are crashing my party." William was growing angry. Sipping his beer, the man took his time in answering. William was getting fiercely annoyed as he watched, just waiting for a response. Tapping his foot with his arms crossed he said quietly, "I think it's time you both left my house."
"Your house?"
"Yes, for all purposes and intentions it’s my house now." William was about to feel the same pain and shock we felt the day Nathanial died, only it wasn't love for life that was going to hurt him, it was greed that was going to break his heart.
"Is that so?" The man replied, comfortable in whatever he knew that William did not.
There was a ding, followed by the elevator door opening as another person got off on their floor. There was a scream as Williams fiancée Irene recognized the man for who he was.
"Renaud! Is that really you?" She cried out in shock as she ran towards him. I was too busy to see them embrace as I watched the arrogance and hope die in William’s face. He had been so close to getting everything he wanted, and now it was gone.