Page 14 of Exposed

9

In the early hours of the morning workday, Madison escaped to catch a quick break. She stole just enough time to sit alone in an isolated corner of the local artisan coffee house, escaping into a dark roast cappuccino, reading, and completely losing herself. Well, at least until she finished her coffee.

“May I join you?” came a voice that was recognizable, but unwelcomed. Madison looked up from her intimate café table to see Frank Seaver looking down on her. Seaver was a Senior Vice President of Excelsior/Centurion, or E/C, the single largest competitor of D.G.I.

Seaver constantly bandied his title about town, using his status in the reckless and manipulative way commonplace to bullies, the acts of a desperate man eager to secure his position as president one day. One day very soon if he had his way.

Without knowing him well, or, really, at all, Madison knew him. Or at least, his kind. Years in the service industry had given her a sixth-sense about people. She had only seen him at D.G.I. once or twice, but something about his slovenly appearance and entitled demeanor always made her skin crawl.

“I’m actually waiting for someone ...” Madison said directly, hoping her assertive tone would cover the fabrication. Seaver ignored her, promptly taking a seat next to her and, irritatingly, scooting his chair uncomfortably close to hers.

“Oh, you’re waiting for me.” He snapped his fingers for the waitress. The annoyed server shuffled over to take his order. “Large black coffee in a to-go cup,” he said without looking at her, instead gazing up and down Madison’s body. “As I was saying, you’re waiting for me.” The young woman returned with the coffee, and Seaver promptly retrieved an obnoxiously large and rather old flask from his interior blazer pocket. He poured the liquid into his coffee, triggering Madison’s face to redden and heat as her blood boiled. This is the jackhole who almost cost me the job at D.G.I. Well, hopefully, he’d irritated the barista in a way that ensured booze wasn’t the only add-on.

“And why do you think I’m waiting for you?” As much as Madison wanted to toss her coffee at his smug face, she knew Frank Seaver’s reputation. He was obsessed with only one thing: business. If he was targeting her, she knew it had something to do with D.G.I., and she needed to hear what he had to say. A few more minutes would be worth her while, and she steadfastly fought her repulsion, impatient to know where this is going.

“Let’s just say I’m about to make you a very wealthy woman,” he said as he slipped his palm on her knee. Rather than jabbing a fork into his chubby, hairy appendage, she gently clasped it and lifted it to the table, while keeping hold of it in a pretext of attention.

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Madison’s smile filled Seaver with the confidence that he’d dangled the right carrot in front of the right girl.

“Well, I understand you just might have the upper hand at D.G.I., am I correct?

Frank Seaver was many things, but wrong was rarely one of them. He’s up to something. She probed him for more.

“Well, I’m just an analyst, so I’m really not sure where you’re going with this, but I’d love to know more.” She smiled and sat back, giving him every assurance she had no idea what he was referring to, but acting open to whatever he might be suggesting.

“My dear, do you know what a proxy vote is?”

Madison’s mind spun. The son of a bitch is angling for a hostile takeover. But why approach me?

“Vaguely,” Madison covered her emotions, transferring her look of concern to contemplation. “It has something to do with a person giving their voting power to someone else, I think.” She played her best dumb blonde for the moment. What’s he up to?

His crocodile smile emerged. “Very good. And for the kind of proxy voting I need to make happen, I’d like to make you an offer for your vote.”

Madison proceeded cautiously. Her D.G.I. retirement shares would be effectively useless for what a hostile takeover would require, and he couldn’t possibly be going to every employee one-by-one. Can he just get to the point already? Madison knew a way to speed this along.

“I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I’m not nearly the stakeholder you think I am.” Madison didn’t have to fake a bemused expression. She was genuinely dumbfounded at both his supposition as well as falling so far short of his reputation. Madison figured their discussion was soon to be over, and motioned for the barista, but Seaver swatted her away.

He pulled out a piece of paper from his worn attaché. The paper was crumpled in spots, and there were huge tears railwayed across the page, taped together like pieces of an aged treasure map. He slid it to Madison. She froze.

It was the contract Alex had given her—to give up all he owned if he ever lied to her. But I threw it away. After her first night at Alex’s penthouse, she discarded it without a second thought, convinced it was gone forever. A subtle breeze promised to carry it away, and she grabbed it. “Um, where did you get this?”

“Aw, sweet, little girl, trash, once set out, is public property in our great nation” He sneered mightily. “And from your reaction, I’m guessing you didn’t realize you are the new majority shareholder of D.G.I.” Madison took her cue, pretending to diligently examine the letter as if for the first time.

“For argument’s sake, let’s imagine this is a legitimate contract. As I read this, in order for this, well, insane transaction to occur, Alex Drake would need to somehow lie to me, which just hasn’t happened.”

“Oh, but I assure you, it has.” The only thing keeping her from vomiting at his disgusting tone was that good organic free-trade java shouldn’t be wasted. Seaver, again, pulled something from his case, but this time it was a photo, printed on the familiar eight-and-a-half by eleven paper sold everywhere for use on home printers. The printout had imperfections in the color, but the image was unmistakable.

Front and center stood an exotic and strikingly beautiful woman in white, with a lavish bouquet of pale roses, and a tulle veil pulled back behind her head. On both sides of her were the men who had become staples in Madison’s life: Paco and Alex. Both men were center stage in what was an undeniable wedding photo, crushing Madison to her core. What made it worse was that it was such a lovely photo, filled with joy and happiness, and looking picture perfect for what was obviously the big day. By the looks of Alex and Paco, this had to be recent. Within a few years at the most. Maybe months. Madison forced a drink of her coffee, choking it back with her tears, before responding.

Without looking at him, she calmly and quietly replied, “He never said he wasn’t married.” She couldn’t believe the words spilling from her mouth. Yet, as heartbroken as she was, she knew Seaver’s only plan for her was as a pawn. Well, this pawn would still protect D.G.I. from a scumbag like Frank Seaver.

“Loyal to the end? A noble quality, though somewhat misplaced. Oh, I promise you, we’re going to take all that pain and anger of yours and transform it into cold, hard cash. He’ll pay. He’ll hurt. I swear.” He practically hissed the last words, then pulled out another photo, placing it on top of the first one. Unlike the wedding memento, this was a real photo, yellowing and slightly torn at one corner. Madison just wasn’t sure how much more she could take but pressed on. After handing it to her, he slowly propped his elbows up on the table, reveling in the sport of wounding a creature before fully breaking its spirit.

As he expected, this one cut her much deeper, almost causing a yelp from the pain. But she kept silent, studying the photo carefully through the blur of tears slowly welling up. Perhaps it was a fake, somehow doctored.

Impatient for her response, Seaver pointed his finger and initiated a well-practiced monologue.

“That there’s your brave brother Jack, valiant soldier. A dedicated son. A remarkable and doting brother. And next to him, well you probably recognize Alex Drake. Alex Drake didn’t just hire you. He hired you to play you the same way he played Jack.” Madison scrutinized the photo more closely, partially to pull back the tears that were ready to break free. Her brother Jack was in uniform, his freshly minted lieutenant bars indicating this had to be only months before his death. And the man next to him was a much younger, but unmistakably, Alex Drake, with an arm around Jack’s shoulder. There was the arm of another person around Jack from the other side, but that person was cropped out. She shot back a coarse look at Seaver, who ignored it, casually taking another sip of his coffee. Seeing the last bit of defiance in her glare, he leaned into Madison’s face, his breath ripe with the overpowering mix of alcohol, coffee, and halitosis. She pulled back, disgusted in so many ways, but couldn’t lean back far enough to avoid hearing the next words from his snarled lips.

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