I ended up returning to the hotel, but stopped in the Harley-Davidson store on the same block. I looked at leather jackets, remembering how damn fine Lennox looked in leather pants and that microscopic leather miniskirt . . .
“Sir? May I help you tonight?”
I turned toward the saleswoman, who didn’t look as if she belonged on Michigan Avenue, with her tats, piercings and chains, her abundantly curvy body squeezed into leather pants and a matching vest. She reminded me of Lennox. I smiled. “Yes. I’d appreciate your help.”
I’d never been an impulse shopper. Until now.
*
Thursday, after a more in-depth tour of the factory, the owner finally opened up his books to me, but not until late in the afternoon. I’d planned to order room service and go over everything so I had a better idea of whether this acquisition would be beneficial to LI, or whether we needed to keep looking.
But again, the owners had made surprise plans for us—we’d all be attending a televised Thursday night football game at Soldier Field. They assumed—wrongly—that since a Lund played for the Vikings we’d be just as happy watching the Bears play. Ash and I exchanged a look. We both hated the Bears, almost as much as we hated the Green Bay Packers. But what could we do? I took several pictures during the game and of the skybox, tempted to send them to Lennox. Ash caught me and scowled. Apparently I was supposed to be listening to the majority owner, Bud, drone on and on about the Bears’ “near perfect” season the year they won the Super Bowl.
Another late night meant no work got done. So the next morning, when I went to organize the papers I’d brought from my office—financial documents—the entire stack was missing. So was the thumb drive that contained that information.
What the ever loving fuck?
I searched my briefcase, my suitcase but to no avail.
Then I remembered. I’d just . . . left the office Tuesday night. I hadn’t packed my briefcase; I’d just grabbed my laptop case and played grab-ass with Lennox as we’d walked out. I’d left everything in my office. And without that information, I couldn’t make heads or tails of the supply lists and manufacturing costs without a breakdown of revenue.
I never did shit like this. Never. Going into a meeting, any meeting, I was always the person who overprepared. Being underprepared was almost as bad and lazy as not being prepared at all.
For the first time in the two years since I’d become CFO, I had completely fucked up. And everyone would know it.
Shame burned me from the inside out.
Ash knocked on my door.
Rather than admit I’d dropped the ball, I decided that since the factory owners had basically stalled us the last two days, it was time to return the favor.
*
At least Ash had his paperwork together.
When it came time for me to present my questions midafternoon, I crashed and burned.
Spectacularly.
After an hour passed and it was obvious I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, Ash stepped in.
“While we’d hoped to wrap this up today, as you can see there are a few unforeseen issues that have come up in our findings that Brady and I need to discuss in depth before we can voice our concerns to you. So is it more convenient for all of you to meet back here first thing in the morning? Or shall I schedule a conference room at our hotel?”
I knew my cheeks, my neck and even the tops of my ears were blazing the same red as my tie.
The group conferred and Bud said, “We’ll meet here. Nine a.m.”
It was obvious none of them were too happy about it.
They had nothing on my cousin. He exploded as soon as we were in the limo with the privacy screen engaged.
“Brady. What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?”
“I didn’t have the information I needed.”
“No. Shit.” He glared at me. “We’ve been working on this for six weeks. You’ve had every bit of fucking information you needed since day one. If you hadn’t had it, then we wouldn’t have moved forward. So tell me. What the fuck?”
Time for the reckoning. “I left it all in my office.”
Ash stared at me blankly. “Explain to me how that happened.”
“I had hard copies with all my notes on my desk. I’d scanned most of it and had cataloged it on a thumb drive—which I also left there.”
“Again, how’d you forget everything?”
Well, see, I had Lennox bent over my desk, and in the moment I was slamming into her, spreadsheets, thumb drives and P&Ls were the last thing on my mind.
His mouth tightened at my silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She distracted you that much? You blew off preparing for a major presentation because you were too busy getting blown by her?”