Our hair is perfectly coifed, our manicures and pedicures areprofessionally done, and now our makeup is being expertly applied. The makeup artist is using stage makeup so it won’t fade away under all the flashing bulbs tonight. It feels thick like rubber and I’m sure it’ll hold up during a nuclear bomb blast. Whatever it takes, right? Tania’s driving me home and insists I keep the air vents from blowing on my perfectly finessed coiffure. I roll my eyes and comply because she scares me a little when she’s like this.
I’ve arranged for a limousine to take us to the Hyatt Regency.Tania is my plus-one tonight and she looks fabulous. The driver calls my cell to let me know he’s just pulled up outside my house and Tania and I walk out my front door to go face the tenth circle of hell. With the clicking of the door shutting behind me, Tania and I are off to the ballroom in our more-than-Sunday-best clothes.
Exiting the limousine, the flashes of light are absolutely blinding and they’re going off from every direction. The photographers are yelling my name and questions I can’t really understand because the roar is so loud. I’m glad there are ropes up to keep them back, otherwise I’m sure I’d be swamped by them right now. My family’s lawyer, Bill Stanton, warned me it would be this way, soTania and I keep our best smiles plastered to our faces and ignore the questions.
It’s much more subdued inside the ballroom. There’s a small band playing classical music in the corner and the tones carry lightly throughout the room. Wait staff walks the room with trays of various types of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. There’s also a buffet table with small trays and finger foods but I don’t see anyone eating. Everyone looks too pretentious to dare pile a plate full of food at a gathering like this.
I dare Tania to do it and threaten to call her all sorts of names for the rest of her life if she chickens out. Like me, she doesn’t cave to peer pressure and threatens to call me worse names regardless of some stupid dare. This is why I brought her – she can make me laugh no matter how deep I am in my own pity party. We mingle for about thirty minutes before I run into Bill, who is really the only other person here that I know.
We chat for a few minutes before he escorts me around the room to introduce me to my father’s old associates, and of course, the chief executive officer of MaxMorgan Music. The CEO will be making a huge announcement tonight and I’m so glad this will soon be over. I’ve been very anxious over the decision I had to make, but it seemed easier to make after the last night I was at Luke’s parents’ house. Tonight hopefully closes that chapter. And here I am thinking about Luke again. My heart is still broken and even though I try to tell myself I won’t look back, that’s exactly what I keep finding myself doing.
A few reporters have been allowed inside the ballroom and they’re taking pictures as we make our way forward. My confident smile is plastered in place and I’m consciously avoiding fidgeting in front of the cameras. I draw in a sharp breath when the current CEO of MaxMorgan Music finishes his introduction speech and calls me to the podium.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. I know most of you personally knew or worked for my father and I appreciate the support you’re showing by just being here. After careful deliberations with key executive officers and legal counsel, we have come to an agreement for the future of MaxMorgan Music.”
The termyou-could-hear-a-pin-dropcomes to mind.
“MaxMorgan Music will remain fully intact but I will not assume CEO responsibilities. That position will remain in the capable hands of our current CEO. I am very proud of the company my father built and the many employees and executives have cultivated into a prestigious, lucrative corporation. In no way do I want to detract from that achievement. While a part of me desperately wants to hold onto my father’s legacy, I know that’s not a reasonable expectation.
MaxMorgan Music will remain a privately owned company and my interest will be sold back to the company for an undisclosed amount. I have accepted a contract position within the company to identify and sign new musical talent and I am looking forward to being a contributing member of the staff. Thank you for your support and dedication to the future of MaxMorgan Music.”
I step away from the podium and ignore the questions the reporters are yelling to me. The public relations director takes the podium and informs the media that she will be glad to answer any business-related questions but that I will not be taking any business or personal questions at this time. Her blunt, no-nonsense statement leaves no room for argument.
Bill Stanton and the lawyers for MaxMorgan Music escort me to a private room where I’m given a copy of the papers that finalized the deal I just announced. We shake hands and exchange pleasantries. My contract position basically means that I can work when I want to and I’m paid on a per-case basis. The money doesn’t really matter to me, especially since after selling the company to a handful of specific private investors, I’m now a billionaire.
The only thing is, I’ve never felt more alone in my adult life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ANDI
Tuesday morning, I arrive at Bill’s office to finalize the transfer of the property to Sam. I’m dreading this meeting and I’m looking forward to it at the same time. I dread seeing Sam and Linda again after our last time together. I had started seeing them as my own family and now having them, and Luke, ripped from my life has been harder than I could have ever imagined. The only reason I’m looking forward to it is to get it over with and get on with my life. I need complete closure on everything to do with them and Luke.
The only thing I can’t bring myself to do is cut Brandon out of my life. He’s been too good to me and I would never do that to him. He calls or texts every few days to check on me and asks if there’s anything he can do to help. His support means a lot to me when I have very few people I can truly count on. I sort of wish he was going to be there today. Even if he sat with his parents, at least I would still feel his support of me.
So imagine my surprise…..and horror…..as I step into Bill’s conference room and find Luke, Sam and Linda there waiting for me. This is justperfect. I sit on the opposite side of the table from them and avoid eye contact. We’re all obviously more than uncomfortable since no one speaks until Bill and another man walk in the room. Bill introduces him as the Woods’ lawyer and he shakes my hand. He has a weak grip and the vibes I get from him make me want to urgently wash my hands. With bleach.
Bill and Sleazy, as I’ve nicknamed him, give a stack of papers to Sam and me and Bill takes the lead in explaining what each paper is. When Bill first learned of this property transfer and the reasons behind it, he vehemently disagreed with my decision to just give it to Sam. I don’t want his money, I don’t want his company’s money, and I don’t want his bank’s money. I didn’t give Bill a choice – I just told him to make it happen as fast as possible after my birthday.
So here we are the morning after my birthday. There’s some strange rule – something about property or taxes, I don’t know because I’m not really listening – but apparently Sam has to paysomethingfor the property – some amount of money regardless of how little. It’s asinine but we’ll make it happen anyway. Everyone is waiting for me to answer Bill’s question about the amount I want to list.
“One dollar,” I respond to Bill, flatly. I purposely don’t look at anyone whose last name is Woods, even though I can feel all of their eyes on me. Bill’s lips form a tight, straight line and I know he wants to argue. I arch one brow at him, daring him to push me, and he nods curtly and fills in the blank with his handwritten note.
We make a few more adjustments to the papers and Bill calls his assistant in to update and reprint the paperwork for us to sign and seal the deal. While we’re waiting, Bill turns up the volume on the flat screen TV at the other end of the room to listen to the news. I look briefly at the TV when I hear my name mentioned and I see the footage from the gala last night. I quickly look away and from my peripheral vision, I can see Luke and Sam both staring at the TV. The reporter’s next statement catches my attention, though.
“Just last night, AndreaMorgan reportedly became a multi-billionaire after selling her father’s company to private investors. Today, we see Andrea from a totally different perspective in these photos obtained byThe Biz Insiders.”
I look back up at the screen and see the pictures of my 15-year-old self in the mental hospital. The pictures that Sam dug up on me. I’ve obviously been crying and I’m vigorously fighting with the orderlies. In this particularly lovely shot, I’m wearing a hospital gown so it had to be the day they transported me there and had performed all sorts of wonderful tests on me before they would let me wear my own clothes.
The reporter is regaling the lies that my foster family told to get me locked up in that hospital like it’s the gospel. Just remembering those days is bad enough, but the myriad of emotions running through me watching this unfold for the world to see is overwhelming. I’m literally watching as my reputation is completely mauled by people who have no clue what they’re talking about.
The reporter continues with her lies, “Andrea was thrust into notoriety by her association with the world-famous company, MaxMorgan Music, started by her father. Both of her parents were killed in a car wreck when Andrea was only 6. She was placed into foster care and soon was taken in by a loving, prestigious family. It was then that Andrea’s mental illness made itself known when she attacked and attempted to kill her foster father.
The generous family who took her in declined to speak on camera and court documents have been sealed because AndreaMorgan was a minor, thus preventing us from identifying the family. However, their continued concern for her is impressive and commendable.
The family’s spokesperson provided the following quote, “Andrea cannot be blamed for what happened. She experienced too much trauma in her youth and we should’ve seen the signs earlier and sought help for her. Our only regret is that Andrea ever had to leave our home.”
“Turn. It. Off,” I say forcefully to Bill. From the redness of his neck and face, his narrowed eyes and the clenched jaw, I’d say he’s about half as angry as I am right now.
