The Rented Mule (6 page)

After valeting her nondescript white Honda Accord with bogus tags, she went to her room to unpack and organize her things. Jenny had brought a wide array of clothing. She had everything from business suits to jogging outfits. She made a mental note of the rooftop swimming pool, hoping that she would have a chance to bronze in the sun.

Jenny lay across the king-size bed and pulled an equine magazine from her oversized purse. She loved horses and hoped to spend some time looking at the horse farms on the east side of Montgomery.

After graduating from high school, Jenny had been a cheerleader for the Atlanta Falcons for one season. She tolerated being scantily clad and underpaid, hoping that better opportunities would come her way. It was through the football team that she met Clarence Armstrong and her career was redirected. They were attending an after-game party for the elite when he witnessed Jenny lifting a businessman’s wallet while the businessman was busy patting her backside. Jenny didn’t think anybody noticed, but Clarence had and was very impressed. With the ease in which she worked, he could tell she had a penchant for crime.

Although Jenny had received plenty of offers for both, she would never be a kept woman, nor would she marry for money. Marriage was sacred to her, based on love founded on shared values, mutual respect, and unreserved trust. It didn’t matter that she had yet to find the right guy. She planned to be established before she got married anyway. The young woman had watched others become slaves to credit card debt, car notes, and mortgages, struggling against the bank yet never getting ahead or even catching up. Her ultimate goal was to own, free and clear, a forty-acre horse farm. Ideally, she wanted to do this before turning thirty—just a few years away.

Jenny’s life track was determined early when her mother unexpectedly left her and her father. Jenny did her best to take care of him, but he started drinking heavily and gambling. He had worked all his life training racehorses only to have his small farm and everything he owned seized by the IRS. He had quit paying income taxes to satisfy his bookie.
Depression gripped him tighter and tighter until one gloomy Sunday morning Jenny found him hanging by the neck in the barn.

Her past gnawed at her, and her father’s death haunted her—driving her need for total independence. The past pain calloused her to the effects of her criminal activities. She really didn’t know what she was capable of doing, and she was gradually testing those boundaries. Now, she was in a hotel room planning a kidnapping for her share of a big payday.
Great money for a few weeks of work
, she thought as she put away the magazine and pulled out her surveillance notes.

Once Jenny carefully studied the details, she decided to grab something to eat and then take a drive past the Target’s house before dark. A quick Yahoo Maps search produced a diagram of the Wynlakes Golf and Country Club, a first-class private club located within a ritzy residential community. She was careful not to search for the Target’s specific address, nor give hers for driving directions. She knew not to trust the Internet with anything that she didn’t want broadcast on prime-time network television. She had seen firsthand what Jesse Ray could do through it and with it.

After a few wrong turns within the neighborhood, she finally found the house. The two-story Tudor appeared well maintained, with fresh landscaping. She couldn’t tell if anyone was home since there wasn’t a car parked in the driveway and the big garage door was closed. Several neighbors waved to her as she drove by them. It was obvious that the house was not a viable location for the grab—too many nosey neighbors.

Jenny needed to confirm the information that the Client provided regarding the Target’s daily habits, and she hoped to learn something that would advance their purposes. The Client had stated that the Target regularly walked at a park,
not too far from her home, and most often alone. That location sounded much more promising than her home.

Driving through the neighborhood, Jenny familiarized herself with every detail. She wrote down exact mileage, noted stop signs, speed bumps, red lights, locations of loose dogs, kids riding bikes or shooting hoops, and any other potential to cause delays or issues. Satisfied that she had observed and recorded everything that she could until making visual contact with the Target later in the evening, Jenny left the subdivision, waving casually to a different guard than the one she had sweet-talked earlier in order to gain access into the gated community.

W
hen Mrs. Riley announced that the MidState Bank executives had arrived, Gates and Cooper had completely different reactions. Gates appeared relieved and jumped up, rushing out of Cooper’s office to greet the visitors. Cooper, who was desperately trying to get Gates to explain several new line items on the P&L, could not have been more frustrated. Gates would not clarify several recent major expenses and was very dismissive of Cooper’s attempt to understand the basis for their inclusion.

“I’ll be in the conference room warming these guys up,” Gates excitedly replied as he rushed out.

“I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Cooper stood and looked around, thinking about Gates, and then headed toward the conference room. As he walked past Mrs. Riley’s desk, he said, “Please take messages for me, if anybody calls.”

“Okeydoke,” Mrs. Riley happily replied. When Cooper was out of sight, she pulled another doughnut from her desk’s top drawer.

Just outside the conference room, Cooper paused and glanced around the offices, listening to the sounds of everyone working. Two artists were having a lively discussion about suppressed creativity while an outside sales representative was busy peddling a new time management program. Nobody was aware of what was about to happen on the other side of that door. Cooper was really struggling with selling the business that he had worked so hard to build. It’s all he really knew. He swallowed hard and pulled open the solid oak door.

“Hello, gentlemen. Sorry I’m late.”

Cooper began shaking the hands of the two well-dressed MidState Bank executives.

The first was Don Daniels. Twenty-five years ago, he had inherited the bank. He was a solid citizen—a widower and a deacon in the First Baptist Church. Cooper didn’t personally know him that well but had no reason to not like him. Mr. Daniels had been a local fixture in the community for years, while sitting at the helm of the small, successful bank. He was known to be extremely shrewd and charged the maximum rates for everything from loans to bounced checks. He was reputed to still have every dollar that he had ever made in his life, and he was never satisfied… with anything.

The second man, Mark Wright, had been with the bank only a few years. He had cut his teeth in commercial lending for a big brand-name institution and joined MidState Bank after he was offered a chance to be vice president of operations under Don Daniels’s tutelage. Mark didn’t like it to be known that he was Mr. Daniels’s nephew. He preferred for people to think that he had gotten the position based upon his skill set. Mark Wright was all about the dollar, which was a trait his uncle admired, appreciated, and cultivated. Cooper
didn’t know enough about Mark to have a firm opinion of his character.

“No problem… how are you doin’? How’s the family?” Don Daniels asked with genuine interest.

“Everybody’s fine. Thanks for askin’,” Cooper quickly replied, and then offered, “Krispy Kreme? They’re still warm.”

“No. No, thank you. My blood sugar would shoot through the roof. When you get to be my age, you have to watch it… and it’s
no
fun.”

“That’s just great. Somethin’ else I’ve got to look forward to. I’ve got a colonoscopy later this year, and I’m
really
excited about next year’s prostate exam.” Cooper shook his head and laughed.

“Aging is no picnic, son.”

Since Gates and Mark were in a discussion, Cooper took the opportunity to organize his thoughts. As his mind raced, he placed four Mexican Coca-Colas next to the doughnuts and napkins. He loved introducing friends to his special soft drinks.

“Hello, Mark. How are you doin’?” Cooper asked, noticing that Mark had finally looked at him.

“I’m good,” he said, straightening his tie.

“I was just tellin’ Mark about us takin’ the big boys from Lawler Chemical to the Auburn game this weekend, and he says he might join us.” Gates spoke with great enthusiasm as if the business’s sale hinged on Mark attending the football game.

“We’d
love
to have you,” Cooper said, picking up on Gates’s inflection and trying to sound convincing. He actually had little to no desire for Mark to be there.

“I don’t wanna impose,” Mark said, picking up a Coke with a napkin.

Gates quickly jumped in, “No, no, no. It’s not a problem. They’re our biggest account, and you need to meet ’em. I can get another ticket easily.”

“I don’t even know if I’m gonna get to go,” Cooper added, somewhat distracted. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do to get ready for huntin’ season.”

“Cooper’s either fishin’ or huntin’ something or gettin’ ready for huntin’ season,” Gates interjected with a laugh, and then after a moment added, “He’d never survive in the coat-and-tie world of bankin’!”

“Do you wear jeans every day, at work?” Mark asked Cooper.

“Yeah, pretty much… but that’s just me,” Cooper said smiling, knowing that MidState Bank’s corporate culture was the opposite. Cooper did what he could to cultivate a relaxed business atmosphere at the Tower Agency.

“Yeah, ol’ Coop wears camo half the year,” Gates said, with a slightly veiled snicker.

Mr. Daniels jumped in, saying, “Well, fellows, if this deal goes through, y’all can wear whatever you want, whenever you want.” He then turned to Mark and said, “Sorry, Mark, I’ll still expect you to be in a tie every day.” He winked at Mark as he sat down at the conference table.

Everyone followed Mr. Daniel’s lead that the meeting was starting, and they took their places. Mr. Daniels had a thick folder of papers. Mark Wright had an identical stack. Both Gates and Cooper had blank notepads and were uneasy, but for entirely different reasons.

Mr. Daniels led with, “Fellows, we really like what you have done with the Tower Agency. It’s very well respected. We believe that it would be a nice fit for MidState Bank as our due diligence indicates. We just have a few items that we
need to discuss before we think of fine-tuning an operating agreement—”

“Don,” Gates interrupted. “Look, we’ve opened our books to y’all and have shown you everything. We don’t have
any
secrets. We’re an open book—me, Coop, the business—so to speak. Just tell us what you need. We’ll get you anything else you wanna see.” Gates leaned back in his chair.

“Noncompetes… we have to make certain—,” Don Daniels continued as though Gates hadn’t cut in. He put his glasses on and opened the thick folder, obviously having more to say.

“Not a problem—,” Gates interrupted, again. It was apparent to all in the room that he would have agreed to anything.

“Whoa! I can’t agree to a noncompete without knowing the specific financial terms of this deal. We haven’t even set a selling price yet… have we?” Cooper quickly stated, glaring at Gates.
That sonofabitch better not have set the price without consulting me. I’ll kill him
.

“Okay, fellows, I understand… we’ll get back to that later,” Mr. Daniels replied quickly. He was a skilled negotiator and wouldn’t play his most important card until he absolutely must.

Mark jumped in with, “And we need Cooper to stay on to help us transition. We’d want at least a year,” but he was looking at Mr. Daniels, who was slightly nodding his agreement as though this hadn’t been considered previously.

“What about me?” Gates asked fretfully, looking back and forth between the two bank executives.

Mr. Daniels folded his bifocals and laid them on the table. “Frankly, Gates, we don’t need your services. Our research tells us that it’s Cooper’s day-to-day operating talent that’s needed to facilitate the transition.”

Gates sat motionless for several long moments before eventually stammering, “Ah… well, I see. It’s just that’s… ah… that surprises me.”

He was clearly stunned. He was counting on a year’s salary to help him get back on his feet. His percentage of the sale would get his bookie off his back for a while, but he needed additional income to live on as his trust fund was nearly exhausted.

“Mr. Daniels, let’s slow this down a little,” Cooper said, letting out an exasperated breath. He found himself feeling sorry for Gates; moreover, he didn’t want Don Daniels dictating every aspect of the negotiations. “I think Gates and I need a little time to understand exactly what we want to do, and then for all of us to discuss your requirements. This proposal is very intriguing, but it’s also very final, and the advertising and public relations business is just about all we know how to do. Obviously, we need some time to plan our next move. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do. But you need to realize that Gates has been insistent on moving this transaction along… so, naturally, I thought you
both
were predisposed to the sale. Besides, four times earnings is very fair,” Mr. Daniels explained, looking at both Gates and Cooper; then he closed his folder. Gates and Cooper did the math in their heads.

“We just need some time, sir. I’ll call you later in the week,” Cooper stated, making constant eye contact with Mr. Daniels, and then added, “I promise.”

Gates, unable to speak, sat staring with bloodshot eyes at the tabletop.

Mark, head down, busied himself gathering his documents. His sly grin only detectable in his eyes.

While Mr. Daniels calmly picked up his belongings, he said, “I’d like to get this done in no more than two weeks’
time. We can talk whenever you need, day or night.”

“Yes, sir,” Cooper replied, never diverting his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for your understanding and patience.”

Don Daniels smiled and said, “Rumor has it that you’re tryin’ to buy a piece of land.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right. It’s a little more than I should do, but it’s too good of a deal to pass up without at least trying.”