Payne shrugged. He wasn’t happy about it, either. Even though he had played football and basketball at the US Naval Academy, he had been a Pitt fan since birth. ‘Like I told you, the event was planned before the game was scheduled. There was nothing I could do.’
‘But it’s your event,’ Jones complained. ‘You should’ve cancelled it.’
Payne laughed at the thought. Five hundred of the area’s wealthiest people were gathered inside for a black-tie gala. The goal was to raise money for local charities and the continued renovation of the Cathedral of Learning. ‘This isn’t the type of event that you can cancel.’
‘Well, the least you could’ve done is asked for better weather. I froze my ass off outside.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘I’m telling you, I had to walk a mile from my parking spot.’
‘Why in the world did you do that?’
‘Because the street outside was blocked off.’
‘Yeah, blocked off for valet parking.’
‘Seriously?’ Jones demanded.
‘Seriously,’ Payne said, laughing. ‘Come on, you should know better than that. Rich people don’t walk anywhere. Especially not in a foot of snow.’
Jones glanced at the two female students, who were nodding their heads in total agreement. As if only a moron would think otherwise.
‘Son of a bitch,’ he mumbled to Payne. ‘I’m so cold I can’t feel my nuggets.’
‘Well, don’t look at me. I’m not going to feel them for you.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I should hope not,’ Payne teased. ‘Heck, you’d have to donate a hell of a lot of money for me to even consider something like that.’
‘Knock it off, Jon. I simply meant…’ He paused in mid-sentence, realizing there was no reason to explain himself. ‘Which way to the bar?’
Payne pointed to the right. ‘It’s over there.’
‘Thank God. Me and my boys need a drink. Wake me when your speech is over.’
Jonathon Payne was the CEO of Payne Industries, a multinational corporation founded by his grandfather, a self-made millionaire who had gone from mill worker to mill owner in less than thirty years. Payne had shunned the family business as a youngster – opting instead for a decorated career as a Special Forces officer – but returned home when his grandfather passed away and left him the controlling interest in the company.
Although he willingly took over for his grandfather – the man who had raised him after Payne’s parents were killed in a car accident – he wasn’t thrilled about his career change. In private he often joked that business meetings were held in the ‘bored room’, yet he never publicly complained about his obligations. Not only to avoid sounding like an ingrate, but because he realized his current position had certain advantages: like the ability to help others. It was something he had always been passionate about. Even in his former life.
In the past, he had used blades and guns to get the job done.
Now he used his quick wit and killer smile.
As host of the charity event, Payne took the stage in the centre of the Commons Room, a four-storey Gothic hall in the belly of the tallest academic building in the western hemisphere.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said as he adjusted the microphone to accommodate his height, ‘my name is Jonathon Payne. Thank you for braving the cold and coming out tonight.’
Dressed in tuxedos and formal gowns, his guests turned towards the podium where Payne waited to kick-off his fundraiser. At six foot four and two hundred and forty pounds, he had the ability to control a room with his physical presence alone. Throw in his charisma and his boyish good looks, and the crowd didn’t stand a chance.
‘I realize most of you are here for the free cocktails, so I promise I’ll be brief.’
Payne smiled as he gazed at the sea of faces in front of him. Normally the great hall was filled with Pitt students doing homework or studying for exams. However, since this was the last day of classes for the fall semester, Pitt’s chancellor Mark Nordenberg had given Payne permission to hold his event where it would have the most success – right across the hall from the Nationality Rooms, one of the main beneficiaries of that evening’s fundraiser.
‘We are standing in the Commons Room, which is a true example of Gothic architecture. The stone ceiling is fifty-two feet high and all the arches are self-supporting. How they built them without steel beams is beyond me.’ Payne paused and looked skyward. No matter how many times he had been inside the Cathedral, he always left impressed. ‘Amazingly, this entire room was a gift from one man, Pittsburgh native Andrew Mellon.’