Date: Fri, 15 Dec 2000 08:24:03 -0800 (PST)
From: Orrin Rush <orrinrush@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Lifeguard Chapter 33
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are
offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go
somewhere else.
Copyright c 2000 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.
Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed
electronically or in any other manner without the express,
written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters
to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not
intended. They are all products of the author's imagination.
--------------------------------------------------------------
THE LIFEGUARD
Chapter 33
Edgar's offer wasn't a surprise. The twenty five dollar jump
was. I'd expected a five or ten dollar increase, but not
fifty percent. Good old Edgar had aspirations of being a
player!
We would counter, of course, but the question was how much
and how soon. In my mind, if we went too high too fast, we
would give the impression that we'd counter any offer that
Edgar made and sellers would sit back and wait until one or
the other of us was thoroughly bloodied before committing.
It was time to call in the experts who had more experience
than we did.
I was excited. The battle was on, and Eric picked up on it.
In my opinion, he had developed kind of a ho-hum attitude
toward the whole thing. Maybe it was a mistake to do some of
the things I was without telling him, but I felt he'd think I
was nuts or paranoid, or just plain greedy.
A council of war was convened. Eric and Bill, Jay and Rob
from our PR Department and the H. James bunch from San
Francisco.
Seated around the conference table in my office, I looked
around and had to chuckle to myself. Poor Bill was the only
straight man there.
I also smiled at the irony of having the "James Gang" among
us.
Although as yet unconfirmed, it was rumored that Edgar had put
together a group of backers that included some well known
Corporate raiders.
It was an open discussion covering all aspects of our
position.
We had the advantage in that we needed fewer than two million
more shares to reach our objective, Edgar had to buy almost
seven million to stop us, and he had to do it first.
The James boys gave us a stockholder profile. Railroad
shares were traditionally held in retirement accounts because
they could be depended upon to pay dividends providing
reliable income. "A Widows and Orphans Stock" they were
usually called. CLP's shareholders, all 30,000 of them, fit
this profile. There were a few exceptions, however, and
these were the ones that interested me, ones holding more
than the 400 share average.
Edgar's rumored "partners" were dissected. Their normal modus
operandi was to get in, carve up the company, and sell off
the parts quickly at a modest profit. Quick buck artists who
didn't stick around, and if they couldn't pick up a bargain,
they'd back off. The big question here was what they
considered a "bargain". Even more important was how much
they knew about the "real" value of the company.
Stockholder psychology was discussed. Jay and Rob had a lot
of input here. Deadlines were important, but it was common
knowledge that they could be extended. As long as the
bidding was active, sellers would wait, hoping that it would
go even higher. Only when it appeared that the limit had
been reached, or the bidders dropped out, would they act. It
was a big poker game, really.
We kicked ideas around until we were all worn out, finally
agreeing to wait two weeks, then counter at 85, up ten
dollars. Edgar's reaction would then give us direction on
how to proceed.
I had asked the James gang to bring me the stockholder data,
on disk. They were hesitant to give it to me, explaining
that they were "professionals" and could handle everything.
What they didn't say was that they didn't want me, a rank
amateur, out there screwing up the works. Reluctantly, they
handed it over.
Throughout the meeting, I had contributed little, and Eric
even less. This was new territory, and I guess we both
wanted to hear what the "experts" had to say.
- - - - -
Annie had drawn a blank on her Title searches. Every parcel
checked had come up clean. That, however, wasn't her
interest at the moment. We had finally cracked the Railroad
computers and had a ton more data to process.
The first opportunity I had, I worked on the Stockholder file
the James gang had given to me. It was in database format,
and I was delighted to find a field that showed the number of
shares held by each owner. I ran a total. It came up
30,920,300. That didn't seem right, so I made a quick
check. It was exactly 500,000 shares less than were supposed
to be outstanding. Why?
I got hold of Annie and asked her to have the "whiz" give
that file priority. I wanted to see if they had the same
numbers. In a hurry.
Evidently it was an easy one for him to translate because she
was back to me in hours with the same number.
Since I had an "Official Copy", I could ask questions, and I
did.
When I confronted the James gang with my findings, they were
flabbergasted. They promised to look into it "as soon as
they could".
That wasn't good enough. "Listen, my friend," I told him,
"You're running this offer for me, and I think we'd both
better know what the hell's going on. Get me an answer and
get it to me by tomorrow."
"But we won't have time," he answered.
Calmly, I asked, "Can you put Mr. James on the phone?"
"I'm sorry he can't be disturbed."
"You'd better disturb him, or somebody else's going to be
handling this thing before morning."
"Just a minute, Sir."
James came on. "Is there a problem, Mr. Rush?"
I calmly explained what I'd found, and told him that I didn't
appreciate being treated in such cavalier fashion.
He merely murmured, which really pissed me off.
"Listen, James, I realize that this is only a two and a half
billion dollar deal, and if that isn't big enough to get some
attention, I can sure as hell take it elsewhere."
"Please don't threaten me, Mr. Rush."
"I'll do whatever it takes to get some action," I told him.
"Raising your voice won't help."
"What will?" I asked.
"Just be reasonable, we'll work on it as soon as we can get
to it."
"And when will that be?"
"We should have an answer in a few days," he said.
"Not good enough," I told him. "You're fired."
"But we have an agreement," he whined.
"You're incompetent, so sue me. Have everything ready to be
picked up by ten o'clock tomorrow morning."
"It'll be ready, and you'll be hearing from my attorneys."
I hung up, fuming.
I grabbed the phone again and called Steve.
"How fast can your people take over our Tender Offer?" I
asked.
"I thought you'd never ask!" he answered.
"Come on, Steve, be serious. I need help and I need it fast."
"What happened?"
"Those fags at H. James gave me the runaround, so I fired
their asses," I told him.
"We've got real men around here," he told me in his best
baritone. "Consider your butt covered. All that stuff is
handled out of our New York office, but I'll have some good
men here tomorrow to take over."
"Thanks, Steve," and I truly meant it.
When I told Eric what I'd done and why, he totally agreed.
With that glint in his eye, he purred "Ummmm, that power
thing again, wait'll tonight!"
- - - - -
With a change like this occurring in the middle of a major
battle for a public company, the press had to be notified,
and was. It was a definite black eye for H. James.
Steve's firm, Peabody-Durer, always shortened to "PD" or just
plain "Peabody", wasn't the largest brokerage house on Wall
Street, but was one of the most respected.
The three men who came from New York were vastly different
from the "James gang". Serious but communicative, explaining
everything that had been done, what they would be doing, and
what needed to be done next.
Thinking that this would be an excellent opportunity for Eric
to learn more about the intracacies of a Public acquisition,
I urged him to sit in on everything. Most of the time,
though, he begged off, using some problem at Lundborg Rush as
an excuse. I was disappointed but so involved myself that I
didn't give it much thought.
It was agreed that the counter offer we had planned was a
good idea and the timing was right. Not too eager, and still
soon enough to maintain everyone's attention.
The issue of the missing half million shares had been settled
in hours. It was Treasury stock that the Railroad had
purchased on the open market for unspecified purposes. Since
it was controlled by management, namely Edgar, we had to
consider it lost. At least it was accounted for.
Annie and I went back to our "project". As I expected, the
Railroad owned land under different names too. There weren't
too many parcels involved, and they were all either in San
Francisco or Orange Counties.
We decided not to have them appraised, but Annie did have
title searches run on a sampling. Here's where we struck pay
dirt.
Annie couldn't understand why I was so delighted to find
something that she considered negative. Thankfully, she just
shrugged her shoulders and went ahead with searches on all
the San Francisco and Orange County properties.
In total, there were six properties with loans on them. We
obtained full title reports which included the loan
agreements on them. When Annie looked them over, she still
didn't understand my elation.
I'd talked with John Bussey a couple of times, but he had
been rather non-commital on the phone, saying he'd tell me
anything "good" in person. He took secrecy seriously.
I made another "quiet" trip to Phoenix.
When I got to his office, I thought I was at the wrong
address. The place was empty. Looking around, I saw John
sitting in a pickup parked in front. He motioned me over
with a big grin.
"That a rental?" he asked, pointing at the car Jason and I
had driven up in. I nodded.
"Can we lose your driver and drive around and talk?"
"Jason stays," I told him. "He's my pilot and you can say
anything you want in front of him."
"If you say so," he agreed. We got in, John in front, me in
back alone.
"We felt it was a good idea to make a few changes," he
grinned over the seat. "Guess I'd better start at the
beginning.
"After you gave us that job, we started hearing rumors. All
of a sudden there was a lot of interest in a couple of pieces
of that Railroad land. A whole LOT of interest. More
surveys were being ordered and the old boys getting the jobs
were snickerin' and haulin' in the cash.
"Now understand, me and my boys do a lot of listenin' but
don't do much talkin', least not about what we're doing."
At this point the country bumpkin routine was dropped and the
polished college graduate took over.
"Mr. Rush, I did my research too. I know a lot more about
you than I did, and I understand what you're doing. When the
dust settles, I think I want to be on your side.
"Right now your competitors, I believe, are concentrating on
two pieces of ground that virtually everybody knows contain
valuable ore. We'd like to keep their attention focused
right there. You know about the other properties the
Railroad owns, and now, so do we. We want to keep it that
way, so we moved our office somewhere else. Where isn't
important, what we learn is, and the office is fully secure,
I assure you. We're acting like we don't have anything to
do, and cutting back, and my boys are spending more time at
the local hangouts with their ears open."
"What are you finding?" I asked.
"The USGS maps are only an indication of what may lie beneath
the surface, but the combination of minerals in some of these
deposits is more than encouraging. The only way we can prove
our educated guesses is to do core sampling and a lot of
other on-site testing. Now is not the time to even consider
doing that."
"All I'm interested in, at this point, is whether or not
there's a reasonable possibility of some value there," I told
him.
"It would be impossible to put a dollar value on what we've
found so far, but there are so many occurrences of favorable
conditions on that land that I can say that there's a hell of
a lot of money down there."
"That's what I wanted to hear," I told him. "It gives me the
ammunition I need. Keep at it. We'll stay in touch."
We dropped him back at his pickup.
- - - - -
When our counter offer of $85 was announced, there was a
slight flurry of activity. Quite a few shares were tendered,
but still nowhere near enough.
Within days, Edgar's group came back at $90 per share. This
surprised me. I had kind of expected them to try for a
knockout, $100 at least.
We waited a week, then offered $100 per share. There was no
quick response from Edgar this time.
A few days after the hundred-dollar offer was announced, I
got the call I had been expecting and dreading.
Mike Burdette was cheerful as hell. "I think you've got it,"
he said. "It would really surprise me if Edgar is a big
enough fool to go any higher."
We talked a bit more, then he did as expected. "How about
coming up here in the next few days and we do a little horse
trading," he suggested.
"I can be there in the morning," I told him. Might as well
get it over with.
That night, Eric was more attuned to my mood than he had been
in several weeks.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked.
"Not really," I told him. "I have some unpleasant business
to take care of tomorrow, and I just want to get it over
with."
He snuggled up and with the right poking and prodding got my
mind completely away from everything - but him!
- - - - -
I went prepared. Even had a briefcase which was unusual for
me.
Mike was effusive in his greeting, and I settled in front of
his huge desk.
"Where's your partner?" he asked.
"Oh, he's tied up with Lundborg Rush, our software company,"
I told him.
"I didn't know you were in the software business," he said.
"Something new?" He was dallying.
"We started it last year. We produce all of Micron's
software now, and have picked up a few other fair sized
accounts. It's growing."
He changed the subject. "I guess congratulations are in
order. Looks like you bought yourself a Railroad."
"It's not a done deal yet," I told him. "We're getting
close, but it isn't over yet."
"I'm pretty sure it is. If they go any higher, Edgar's 'fast
buck' partners couldn't make their money and run. Have you
decided what you're going to do with the railroad itself?"
Here it comes, I thought to myself. "We'll probably just
hang on to it for a while, then, after we've restructured
everything, sell it off."
"I can save you a lot of trouble," he offered. "I'll take it
off your hands as soon as you take over. I'll trade you my
CLP stock for it, and throw in my shares of the Development
Company. That'd be about seven hundred million you wouldn't
have to shell out, and I'd assume the debt they have, too."
"Adds up to over a billion," I said. "Tempting."
"Helluva deal for you," he said, trying not to be too eager.
"I don't think so, Mike. Not interested."
"Why not?"
"I know what the Railroad's worth," I said simply.
"You won't even consider it?" He was becoming desperate.
"No, I'm afraid not."
He thought a minute. "That may cause me to reconsider
selling out to you," he said.
"I don't think you'd do that," I said.
"That Option Agreement I gave you has an escape clause."
"I know, Mike, but I don't think you're going to use it," I
told him quietly, reaching into my briefcase.
I took out the six loan agreements and put them on his desk.
He glanced at them, then up at me, then leafed through all of
them.
The small pile of paper showed that six loans totaling eighty
million dollars had been granted to Mike Burdette using
Railroad owned property as collateral.
It was pure fraud and the implications were enormous.
"I'm going to give you an 'out', Mike," I told him softly.
He just stared at me.
"When I get control of the Company and you get paid for your
stock, you're going to pay off those loans, and that will be
the end of it. You'll end up with over a half billion
dollars - and, your reputation."
"How many people know about this?" he asked.
"Enough," I told him. "Don't get any ideas."
He folded. It wasn't a pretty sight.
"I have a new Option Agreement here that I want signed and
notarized," I continued.
"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?"
"You'll just have to take my word on it. I don't think you'd
want it in writing, and I think you'd have a hard time
enforcing anything that was written, anyway."
- - - - -
That night, Eric announced that he and Warren were leaving
for New York the following morning to work out details of the
new software rollout with Micron.
I wasn't particularly pleased with the timing. Here we were,
about to close our biggest purchase ever, and he was running
off.
Although he hadn't taken a very active part in the deal, he
was still very much involved. I was hurt more than anything
else.
They left, and I tried not to think about it, digging into
work to keep my mind occupied.
That took care of the daytime hours, nights were another
story. It had been several months since Eric had gone to New
York alone. Coming home to an empty house was bad enough,
but knowing he wouldn't be there at all was really difficult.
The kids weren't home either. They had their own lives, and I
couldn't expect them to babysit me.
I tried not to dwell on him, thinking about the fun we'd have
with all the the upcoming challenges - developing the lands
we would soon own and maybe getting into the mining business,
something entirely new.
This worked for a few nights, then I could no longer hold off
thinking about Eric. I had to admit that I was really pretty
pissed at him for abandoning me at a time like this. We were
in this thing together. Or were we?
In the very beginning, his enthusiasm had matched mine. CLP
was an opportunity of a lifetime, we had agreed. From that
point on, in retrospect, his interest had waned. He'd
avoided Henry's presentation, and since our "family meeting",
hadn't shown much interest at all.
He'd been there, in San Francisco, but more as a spectator
than a participant. Since then, he'd pretty much distanced
himself from the whole thing, devoting all of his time and
energy to Lundborg Rush.
How had this slipped by me? Was I so obsessed with this
project that I was ignoring him, or even worse, taking him
for granted?
On the surface, everything between us had seemed to be going
along fine. We made love on a regular basis, missing a night
here and there, but that wasn't anything new. Our busy lives
just seemed to flow along.
There HAD been some subtle changes, I realized. The
"oneness" that we'd developed, thinking and acting alike
unconsciously wasn't there anymore. We'd drifted in
different directions, and I didn't understand why.
We talked on the phone every day as we always had when one of
us was out of town, but I realized that it was now only one
call a day, and that I did most of the talking.
He'd been gone more than a week when the bomb dropped.
Warren called me. "Is Eric over there?" he asked.
"I thought you guys were still in New York," I answered,
puzzled.
"Maybe Eric is, but I got home a week ago," he told me.
"Guess he forgot to tell me," I said, trying to make light of
the situation. "I'll have him call you."
I called the penthouse. No answer.
Next, I called flight operations and told them to get a plane
ready, I was on my way.
I called the penthouse again and left a message on the
machine that I was on my way.
My mind was racing. Questions, questions, questions.
Soon after we reached cruising altitude and leveled off,
Jason came back from the cockpit. He took a seat opposite
me. "You OK, boss?" he asked.
"I honestly don't know," I told him.
"Is Eric OK?"
"That I don't know, either."
"If you feel like talking, you know where to find me," he
said. "I'll have a car waiting for you." He stood and then
bent over to put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze.
It was the longest goddam flight I'd ever been on. Painful,
too, I had time to think.
The first thing to cross my mind was that Eric had found
somebody else. An image of the guy with the "eyes" crossed
my mind. No, I reasoned, that wasn't it. Eric wasn't
capable of deception. Or was he? My insecurities mounted.
What else could it be? Was I doing the wrong thing by
running to New York? The thought of walking into the
penthouse and finding him with someone else made me
physically ill. I made a mad dash for the head and barely
made it before puking my guts out.
Exhausted, drained, with tears streaming, I got back to my
seat. The tears didn't stop.
How could this be happening? What had I done wrong? Was I
inadequate? In what way? The unanswered questions were
driving me crazy.
In my mind, it was all over. I'd lost him. How would I live
without him, the man who was my whole life? The tears were
now for me.
Then fear set in. What would I find when I got there?
Should I go? Could I face the rejection that I'd convinced
myself that I'd almost certainly be faced with?
I had to do it. I had to know.
Jason had been checking on me periodically, just saying
"hello", not asking questions, not prying, but the hug he
gave me every time let me know he cared. This time, he
announced that we were about a half hour away. "Do you want
me to go with you?" he asked softly.
"No, but thanks," I told him. "This is something that I have
to do by myself."
"We'll be at the Airport Hilton. Call me if you need
anything, and I do mean anything."
- - - - -
I used my key card on the elevator, and again at the door.
It was dark inside when I opened it. I called out his name,
quietly, cautiously, at first, then louder when I didn't get
a response.
Still no response, so I went in. Nobody in the living room,
the bedroom door was closed so I knocked first. No response,
and it too was empty.
I checked the den. There he was, sitting on the sofa staring
out the window, totally disheveled with a half empty bottle
of Scotch on the coffee table in front of him along with
several empties. He looked over at me, barely able to
focus. "I've lost you," he slurred. His eyes slowly closed
and he slowly slid over on his side.
I walked over to him. He had passed out. Now, I was totally
confused.
He looked like hell. His hair was matted down, his clothes
looked like they hadn't been changed in days, and he reeked
of booze.
His face was gaunt, his eyes puffy, and while I looked at
him, a tear rolled down his cheek. I lost it. Tears welled
up uncontrollably.
I knelt beside him, putting my arms around him as best I
could, and kissed his forehead.
I held him for a few minutes, tears streaming down my face.
There was nothing I could do or say until he came out of it.
I stood and looked at him. There was a blanket next to him
which I pulled over him, and I slipped a pillow under his
head. I looked around the room. More empty bottles had
rolled under the coffeetable. He had obviously been here for
several days.
What should I do? I had to do something.
I went into the bedroom and took off my coat and tie, then
back to the den. I wanted to lie down on the couch with him
and just hold him. Love him, let him know how much I loved
him. That might not be a good idea, I decided. I'd be there
for him when he woke up.
I took an armload of empty bottles to the kitchen. After
dumping them, I looked around. There was a partially eaten
pizza sitting on the counter. It'd been there for a while
because it was all moldy. There were also two cases of Scotch
sitting there. One unopened, the other almost empty.
I checked the refrigerator. Totally empty.
I got another load of bottles, including the half empty one
and took them out. He'd need food, I decided, so went down
to the lobby to see the Concierge.
When I asked the young lady manning the desk for directions
to the nearest market, she looked at me as if I'd lost my
mind.
"I can have anything you want delivered in a matter of
minutes, Mr. Rush," she told me. "I also have a list of
restaurants that will deliver almost as fast. Just call down
your order and I'll take care of everything."
She gave me a card, and I returned upstairs.
I certainly had no appetite, but Eric needed to eat something.
I's wait until he surfaced.
I sat in a chair across from him looking out the window,
waiting and thinking.
I heard him move and looked over. He was staring at me, his
eyes blazing.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he yelled, furious.
"I love you, Eric," I said softly. "I need you."
"No you don't," he spat out. "All you care about is the
almighty fucking dollar."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You can't believe
that," I said.
"You're fucking obsessed," he spat out, quietly sobbing.
I rose to go over to him. "Stay the fuck away," he
screamed. "What'd you do with my booze, asshole? I need a
drink."
"Please don't," I pleaded.
He tried to rise but fell back, too weak to get up. "I NEED
a drink, or don't you understand?" he groaned.
"I'll get you one," I said.
"You call that a drink?" he said when I handed him a half
full glass which he tossed down like it was nothing. He was
shaking like a leaf.
"I did get you the one thing you're interested in. The stock
you need is over there on the desk. Call it my good-bye
present," he said, his voice full of derision.
"How can you say that?" I asked. "You know I love you."
"You love money more, and I can't compete."
"That's bullshit and you know it."
"I'm not going to be your 'boy-toy' waiting around for a
little attention between the big deals you're pulling off. I
need a helluva lot more than just the crumbs." He was
sobbing again.
"Is that the way you see it? I thought you were in it with
me."
"You shut me out. I wasn't qualified to handle a Public
deal, and you just shut me out. I'm not good enough for you
any more."
I realized, at that point, that I wasn't the only one with
feelings of inadequacy. In a way, he was right. We had
brought in outsiders, but I had thought that he agreed with
that decision.
"I thought we were in agreement on that," I told him. "We
needed help and we got it. I thought you were OK with that."
"I wanted to help, but there wasn't any place for me. You've
got it, now," he said pointing toward the desk. "Go ahead
and spend the next ten years developing it. You'll be so
busy you won't even notice I'm gone."
"Eric," I said, looking him straight in the eye, "I can't live
without you. I'll drop the whole thing if that'll make you
happy."
"Don't talk like a fool. I know you better than that."
"What can I do, then?"
"Include me," he begged. "Don't shove me off somewhere like
Lundborg Rush. I want to be with you."
"Oh my God, did you think that's what I was doing?"
"That's what it seemed like, to me."
"Why didn't you say something?"
"I thought you wanted me out of the way," he sobbed.
"You're so wrong," I said as I sat beside him, taking him in
my arms. "How could we have misunderstood each other like
that?"
He seemed so frail in my arms. He'd lost a lot of weight. I
wanted to hold him, protect him, and make him happy for the
rest of our lives.
We talked and talked, trying to understand how we had so
terribly misread each other. He had been miserable and I had
been oblivious, totally insensitive to what was happening.
Silences were comfortable again, his head on my shoulder.
"Are you up for something to eat?" I asked him.
"I need to, but nothing sounds good."
I suggested a few things, and we finally agreed on soup for
him, and something else for me. "What I really need is a
shower and some sleep," he admitted. "A nice bed would be
kind of nice, too. As mad as I was at you, I couldn't sleep
in there without you."
After we'd eaten, I helped him to the shower. He was weak as
a kitten and I had to hold him steady while we both lathered
up.
We slept like babies, wrapped in each other's arms. Our
first real fight was over.
- - - - -
I'd totally forgotten about the stock he'd mentioned until he
brought it up over breakfast. "Better let them know you've
got solid control," he told me. "Put an end to this insane
poker game."
"Do you really have them?" I asked.
"1,200,000 shares. Offers all signed legal and proper," he
beamed.
"That puts US, and I do mean us, over the top with room to
spare. How in hell did you do it?"
"I'm afraid I snooped into your stockholder database," he
admitted. "I saw Sarah's name, and quite a few other New
Yorkers at the head of the list, the ones with fairly large
holdings. I got in touch with Sarah. She didn't know
anything about it, said her mail on those matters went to her
Attorney.
"Of course, she agreed to sell her shares, and when I
mentioned a few other names, she knew them and got them to go
along. I picked up the paperwork from her when I got here,
but I was still so damned mad at you, I wasn't ready to give
them to you then."
"Are you sure you still want me to go through with it?" I
asked him.
"Hell yes! Just promise me you won't spend all your time on
it, and that you'll let me help."
"Deal," I said. "Before we go any further, there are a few
other things that you need to know about."
"Such as?"
"There are a few things I've done that nobody knows about.
Remember my mentioning that the Railroad owned a lot of land?"
"Yeah, you mentioned it."
"I did a little preliminary checking, and it's possible that
that land is worth more than everything else. Ready to go
into the mining business?"
"Oh shit! Do I get a mule and a pickaxe?" he chuckled.
"Whatever you want. Might even throw in a cowboy hat," I
told him. "There's more, but we'll go over that later."
When we got back to the penthouse, he wouldn't let up until I
called Peabody. I also called Annie to give her the news.
She'd see that everyone was informed.
It was a beautiful day, sunshine but brisk. We took a walk
through Central Park. A solid week of drinking had taken its
toll on Eric, and we stopped to sit and talk whenever we
found an empty bench. We both had some secrets that needed to
be shared.
I told him about the clandestine operation Annie and I had
set up and what we'd learned. First about the land, then
about Burdette's games.
"What made you think that he was up to something?" he asked.
"It took a while to sink in," I explained. "Something about
his comment about buying the Railroad from us made me wonder,
then when I went back to his option agreement and saw the
escape clause, I knew he was up to something."
"But you didn't find out about the loans until later. What
would you've done if you hadn't had that?"
"Let him have the railroad, I guess."
"Damn, you ARE a poker player! If he had thrown in with
Edgar and those loans came out, I don't think Edgar would
have let him off like you did."
"No doubt about that," I said. "It was to our advantage to
let him off. Why ruin the guy? It would have tied things up
in court for years."
"He'll hate you anyway," Eric said.
"Yes, but he'll do it with a smile," I laughed.
Eric told me about their meetings with Micron. There would
be a lot of changes taking place, most as a result of
suggestions Eric had made.
"They're going to save a lot of money, and it'll be easier
for us. I wasn't too happy about being there, but I sure
have learned a lot about what makes Lundborg Rush work," he
told me.
"How's Warren working out?" I asked.
"He's doing great. He's a quick study and has the background.
I'm pretty sure he's going to take the company places we
never dreamed of."
On our next stop, I told Eric about my trips to Phoenix and
John Bussey. He got a laugh out of all the secrecy.
"What do you think we'll do with it?" he wanted to know.
"I haven't got a clue," I told him. "I know even less about
mining than I do about 'Developing'. First, though, we're
going to have to find out if we've got anything. That's
going to take some time."
"It might be interesting to get out there and see what's
going on," he said. "You know I'm a 'Nature Boy' at heart."
Before heading back to the penthouse, we discussed going home
to the West Coast. "I feel like such an ass," he told me.
"Don't, you're not the only one to blame. I get my share,
too."
We decided to spend one more day in New York. Eric wanted to
have dinner with Sarah so we could both properly thank her
for what she'd done for us.
Eric was more familiar with the concierge's service and
ordered our dinner. I watched him while he called. The
weight he'd lost really showed.
"Hope you ordered lots," I told him. "We need to put some
meat back on your bones."
"I don't think all the 'meat', as you so crudely put it, is
gone," he said, laughing and rubbing his crotch
suggestively. "At least I don't think so. Haven't had any
reason to check lately."
"That's something I definitely want to check out later," I
leered back.
He was intact, and harder than I'd ever felt him get. I had
barely slipped the head into my mouth when he came.
Violently and copiously. So much, in fact, that I couldn't
begin to swallow fast enough.
"See what you do to me," he said as he kissed me. "Do you
really think I could ever give that up?"
"I sincerely hope not, but that sure wasn't much fun for me.
I demand seconds!"
"You'll get 'em."
I wasn't quite as fast out of the gate, but it sure didn't
take long.
"Seconds" consisted of having his cock deeply inserted in my
butt for the rest of the night, or at least, a major portion
of it. We were joined for hours, and when we finally did
allow ourselves to orgasm, it was sweet, together and shared
by both of us.
- - - - -
We were major news in the morning paper. The Times' business
section had a large article with my 20 year old picture and a
graduation picture of Eric.
The way the article described how we'd outbid the "Raiders",
sounded like we were the guys in white hats riding to the
rescue. Then, it went on to speculate "why" we had bought
it. "Could it possibly be to get at CLP Development and
unlock all that undeveloped land?"
Short biographies of both of us followed, ending with "Wonder
what this pair will try next?"
This was the kind of publicity I could live with. Nothing
personal.
"Christ," Eric bitched. "If they were going to steal one of
my graduation pictures, they could at least have gotten a
good one."
"It's not the best one, but you still look gorgeous."
"You're just saying that so I'll let you get in my pants," he
teased.
We talked about how we were going to arrange things once we
got back to the West coast. I wanted him close to me, and he
wanted a separate office so he wouldn't have to put up with
the constant chaos that surrounded me. Somehow, we would
find him a space on the 30th floor.
Then, we planned our attack for the following week.
"I think we'd better add another section to those new offices
we're building," I suggested.
"I was just thinking the same thing! We're back in sync,
thank God."
We thought business discussion was over for the day. Sarah
had other ideas, however.
Eric had made arrangements to take her to Chef Maurice's
hotel where we were given the royal treatment.
When we were seated, Sarah sighed, "Here I am again with the
two most eligible, not to mention handsome and rich, men in
the country. All my friends are dying to meet you, and if
you'd stay around town long enough, we could fatten you up
with huge dinner parties and bore you to tears."
"You make it sound sooooo inviting," Eric chuckled.
"Give me a chance, my dear, and I'll prove it," she cooed,
then abruptly changed the subject. "I guess congratulations
are in order, hear you boys bought yourselves a Railroad.
Now, what in God's name are you going to do with it?"
Eric enthusiastically jumped in. I smiled from ear to ear.
This is what I'd hoped for.
"Originally, we weren't really interested in the Railroad
itself, we had our eye on a company they control, CLP
Development. We thought the real value was there because the
Development Company owns a huge amount of undeveloped land in
prime areas."
"Then what happened?" she asked.
"Dave had a hunch and did some digging. Seems the Railroad
owns a lot of land too. Not good for development, but it
very well may have minerals on it worth even more than the
Development Company's land."
"Sounds to me like you boys have a lot of work ahead of you,"
she said.
"We delegate!" Eric told her, laughing.
"Sarah," I told her seriously, "We wouldn't have been able to
do this without your help, and I want you to know how
grateful we both are. Thank you."
"You're both welcome," she said. "It's just some more money
that I'll have to get busy and give away."
"I don't know how much you travel," I said, "but you're never
going to fly in a commercial airliner again. We have a
couple of small jets now, and are getting another in a couple
of months. From now on, they're at your disposal whenever
you want to go anyplace."
This was an idea that had just popped into my head.
Obviously, I hadn't had a chance to mention it to Eric, but
he jumped right in.
"No terminals to deal with, and you can go whenever YOU want
to go. No schedules," he told her. "The ones we have now
seat six, and the new one will handle twelve, so take your
friends."
"I'll accept, but on one condition," she said. "That is, if
you two will come to my houseparty in France this year."
"We'll be there," I assured her. "By the way, our planes are
long-range and can go anywhere in the world."
At that moment, we were interrupted by a Chef serving our
first course.
"Don't we get to see a menu?" Sarah asked.
"Not when you're with us," Eric told her. "You won't be
disappointed."
When Chef Maurice took his bow, we introduced Sarah as our
"best friend in New York".
After she heaped lavish praise on him, almost to the point of
embarassment, he stood between Eric and me with a hand on
either of our shoulders. "Mrs. Thornton," he told her, "any
friend of these two is a friend of mine."
When we got to the airport, Jason looked both of us over
carefully, then walked over and gave me a hug. He turned and
gave Eric a playful jab in the shoulder.
On board, waiting to take off, Eric turned to me. "Those
guys really love you," he said. "I don't mind. I do too."
- - - - -
To be continued.
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