Someone Like You (3 page)

“I’ll get there soon,” she told herself. “I’ll resign next month, temp for just a bit and get into an advertising agency. Come on Alex, you can do this…”

Little did she know that her plans were going to be derailed by one person she hadn’t met just yet.

Chapter Two: The Pleasure Is In the Business

A middle-aged woman entered a large, contemporary designed office with a wonderful view of the Manhattan skyline. It was tastefully decorated with contemporary paintings and minimalistic lighting and furniture. The floor was polished concrete; there were no draperies, only white blinds. Faint indie rock music was playing in the background.

She saw the man she was looking for, lying down on one of the grey couches. His eyes were closed, seemingly asleep.

“Sir?” she whispered, approaching him cautiously. She reached out to tap his shoulder when suddenly the man’s eyes flew open and his hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

“Sir!” the secretary shrieked.

The young man was laughing now as he sat upright on the couch. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, Alice.”

“Still not over your childish games at twenty-five,” Alice said, miffed. “If your mother were still here she’d pinch your behind.”

The young man stood up and brushed off some lint on his black slacks. He wore all black except for a silver tie which hung a bit loose on his collar. He stretched a bit and brushed his blonde hair up with one hand.

“Serves you right for disturbing my rare moments of peace,” he said.

“There is no peace when you have a lot to do and sign,” Alice held up a black leather folder.

“Couldn’t my brother have handled this?” he groaned. “I should be out, cavorting with women, driving hot-rod cars and racking up millions of dollars in credit card purchases-”

“And you’re not doing any of those because it’s not in your personality,” his secretary smiled.

“Ah, the misfortune,” he replied, grabbing the folder from her hand. He took out the files and placed them on his antique oak desk (passed on by his grandfather to him). His desk was neat; a laptop was in the centre of it and there was an inkwell near the upper right corner.

Alice excused herself but not before he called out for her again.

“Where’s the boss?”

“Playing golf and buying a company,” she said with a grin while exiting the door.

“He gets to play golf while I sit here till my ass is sore,” he muttered, shaking his head. The boss he referred to was his father, Charles Conrad.

He turned off the music and turned on a large LED television set. He scanned the channels and settled for Bloomberg. He listened to the reporter drone about the stock market as he read the files in front of him. It was a contract for another recently purchased property. He saw that his father had signed already and that it was only missing his signature.

“
Stocks in Asia closed mixed, with Philippine equities still volatile after the
 
dollar-peso fell below the key 100-mark…”

He sighed and leaned back against his swivel chair. His iPhone rang. He sighed again. He hated to answer the call but he did anyway.

“Hey there,” a smoky voice said from the other line.

“Hey,” he said distractedly, his attention drifting to the stock index on television.

“Are we seeing each other tomorrow?”

“I’ll see,” he replied quickly. “Kinda up to my neck with paper work and stuff.”

“You work too hard,” she breathed.

“A man’s gotta pay his bills,” he laughed mirthfully. Man, she was getting on his nerves. He tried to calm himself down.

“Honey, you’re the guy that gives the bills,” she corrected.

“Look, I really have to go. I’ll just call you or something, okay?”

“Sure, sure. I miss your company.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Have a nice day.”

And he ended the call and put his iPhone on his desk again. He shook his head, suddenly annoyed that his concentration had been cut off.

He had met Jennifer Edwards during a gala night last weekend, forced to attend by his father who had been busy somewhere else. He knew she was immediately attracted to him. He had been talking to a business acquaintance when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He was looking at a sultry blonde, wearing a black evening gown. A mole was on her upper lip. She introduced herself but knew his name already.

“Who in high society doesn’t know you,” she had said; biting her lower lip.

They spent the rest of the night talking. Actually he spent the rest of the night listening while she did the talking. He didn’t want to interrupt her. Her father owned a building that his father wanted to acquire. When the last of the champagne was served, he saw her to her limousine and she gave him lingering kiss centimetres from his lips.

He gave a smile and closed the limousine door. As soon as the limousine left, he gave an exasperated sigh. He had thought it wouldn’t end. A minute later his car was brought in by a valet. It was an old Jaguar XK150 Roadster that he loved more than anything else, loved it more than any of his girlfriends.

It was a good thing she didn’t ask to be dropped off…

“Women,” he muttered, reading page two of five.

He felt they were all the same, except his mother. He suddenly missed her.

On impulse he took out a framed photo of his mother in her youth. She was a beautiful and delicate socialite who had married his father at the tender age of twenty, barely out of finishing school. He knew the story; everyone who remembered his mother told him how his young and serious father fell for the “Sunshine of Manhattan”, as she was nicknamed during Manhattan’s annual debutante ball. She would have been forty-seven by now.

She had died when he was just eight and his older brother was ten. His father was never the same after she died from a brief battle with leukaemia. He had shipped them off to boarding schools, unable to cope with the pressures of both the Conrad Group and the needs of his children. They saw their father thrice a year, usually on special occasions. He was a generous father, though unsentimental.

He loved and hated his father at the same time. He was sure his brother felt the same. Actually his brother’s actuations bordered more on hatred than love. Society called his brother Michael ‘the black sheep of the Conrads’ and with good reason. By the age of eighteen, Michael had racked up a string of DUI’s and suspended licenses in and out of America. Of course, his father’s legal counsel always bailed him out of trouble. Connections were key and they learned this early on.

His desk phone rang.

“Your brother’s coming in,” Alice said.

“Fine,” he said.

Seconds later his brother barged in, looking livid.

“What’s up?” he began.

“You mean what’s down!” he snapped. “The merger  fell through with Execomm Mobile. Charles will be furious.”

“Relax. He won’t be back for a couple more days.”

“He’s been insistent that I get this deal,” he said pacing back and forth his younger brother’s office. “I’ve been working on this for a month and…”

“I said relax, will you?”

“Jesus, Lucas! You don’t get it do you? This is the most important deal this quarter and that damned meeting—”

“I’ll work on it,” Lucas retorted. “Your people skills need some polishing, Michael.”

His brother had always been hot-tempered and was not afraid to show it, even during board meetings. Charles preferred Michael out of the board meetings rather than in them. Charles Conrad despised his son’s bad humour but still wanted good results all the same. Charles preferred his younger son’s easygoing nature to Michael’s, though his sentiments for them had barely changed over the years.

“I’ll finish that tomorrow,” he added. “I need to read all these other reports.”

Michael was in charge of the group’s telecommunications and IT division. Lucas was in charge of real estate and retail. Their father had mentally laid out a path for their lives the moment they reached grade school.

“I’m counting on you, Luke. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the boss again,” he muttered pressing his fingers against closed eyes.

“No sweat,” Lucas said with a sigh. “But you really need to work on your people skills.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael said, brushing his younger brother’s comments off. “I have a flight to catch.”

“Chicago?”

“Yeah. See ya,” his brother said, nonchalantly waving a hand as he exited the room.

“See ya,” he said under his breath as he looked at the files in his hand once more. My older brother takes up more of my time than my father, he thought.

Suddenly he didn’t feel like going on a dinner date with Jennifer Edwards tomorrow. She made him feel a tad bit uncomfortable. She was too aggressive, not his type.

Lucas pressed a button on his intercom set.

“Alice, could you send a dozen roses to Ms. Jennifer Edwards?”

“Pink, white, yellow or red?” Alice asked.

“What’s for mourning?”

“The last time I checked, Ms. Edwards was and is still alive,” Alice said with a chortle.

“Oh, it slipped my mind,” Lucas said affably. “Yellow, then. And put an apology card. Somewhere along the lines of ‘I can’t come for a date because I’m busy’. You do the words. You’re more sensitive when it comes to this.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.”

He looked at the schedule laid out for him the following week. Meetings every day. Monday was at Temperley. The director at their clothing company suggested he personally meet up with Margo Temperley who was known to have an excellent eye for which model was perfect for what product or show. They had planned a press conference to release their newest line-up of affordable training gear, from yoga to running and gym. It was an idea he came up with while working out at the company gym.

They had an upscale brand of clothing, jewellery and bags at select department stores all over the country. He had decided to branch out to a different kind of apparel, which his father surprisingly agreed to. Charles nearly decided on everything.

He had worked in his father’s company since the age of eighteen while studying Business Management with a Minor in Microfinance. He had finished high school at the age of seventeen, accelerating himself a year higher to finish high school quickly since he hated his boarding school. Life was monotonous. Too monotonous.

The day wore on as he worked assiduously. His speakers were in moderate volume, listening to Neon Trees, Passion Pit, Modest Mouse and so on.

His iPhone rang, startling him from reading an email.

“Good afternoon,” he said cordially.

“So serious,” Jennifer said.

“Ms. Edwards.”

“I told you to call me Jen.”

“Jen. What a pleasant surprise.”

“The pleasant surprise came from you actually,” she said with girlish laughter.

“Surprise?” he repeated blankly.

“The roses! They’re beautiful.”

“Oh, I’m glad you liked them,” he said as he absentmindedly picked off a piece of loose thread on his slacks.