LAURENT
“I don’t know what to tell you, Sir.”
“That you are going to fucking solve this, that’s what you want to tell me,” I shout, sensing the bank clerk shrinking on the other side of the line.
It’s been hours since I have been talking to assistants over employees over cashiers, but what makes my blood boil is that they never connect me with my personal banker, who is supposed to manage my entire portfolio.
“Seeing the pending investigations, I’m afraid that I am not allowed to unfreeze any of your assets,” she says in a shy tone which angers me even more.
“I don’t know why I’m talking to you anyway. Can one of you useless people finally connect me with the portfolio manager who is in charge of my accounts?”
I hear her scroll through a bunch of papers before typing furiously into her keyboard. “I’m sorry, sir. But Mr. Miller is not available at the moment.”
“This is bullshit,” I bark out, cutting the call.
Pushing out a deep sigh, I hold my hand on my eyes. The limousine shakes as we drive onto the uneven path leading to the gentlemen’s club.
I first think that it is because of the stones lying in the way but as my driver abruptly halts, I groan, hitting the back of my head against the leather seat. Opening the window, I hold my hand out of it, gesturing with my fingers for my driver to come to my door.
“Sir,” he says breathlessly as he appears at my window.
“What happened?” I ask and he bends down to talk to me.
“There is something wrong with the engine, but I’ll have it sorted out right away.”
Scoffing, I let the window roll back up.
I scroll through my phone, finding only the news coverage about my business and I close it back up right away.
This can’t be just bad luck anymore.
After the raids, the fires, and the acts of vandalism, I touched rock bottom as I wanted to pay for my lunch in a restaurant and the hostess had to cut my black credit card in front of my eyes.
And the eyes of my business partners I was dining with.
But after the scene I put up, I was asked kindly to leave the premises and no matter how rage-filled I was, the bank clerks refused to connect me to the upper level and just informed me that all my assets had been frozen.
It didn’t take long to find out that I had been set up. The audits that the unbiased lawyers and accountants had to perform on my books uncovered an unbelievable amount of fraudulent activities.
And while my useless legal team and team of accountants were struggling to find where those things came from, and to find a way to justify those positions to get me out of this mess, I could only ask myself how I could have been stupid enough to hire a such a high number of incompetent people.
Slowly, it dawned on me that I was experiencing a direct attack, and the one engineering this made it feel incredibly personal.
They even killed my dog who burned in the house together with all my possessions.
Brutes!
It takes forever for my driver to come to the conclusion that he can’t get the car running again and that there must be something wrong with the engine that he can’t fix on the spot but needs the attention of a mechanic.
Not being able to access my files to work while we wait for the exchange car as the servers of my company had been causing problems as well, I spend my time fighting the urge to read the articles in the online papers tearing me and my name apart.
As I can finally settle into the new car and we arrive at the clubhouse, there is another surprise waiting for us.
My driver announces my presence on the interphone and as the security staff comes back to the screen, there is no doubt that I’m being buried alive.
“Sir,” my driver says as he lowers the dividing wall. “Excuse me, sir.”
I already know that it must be bad as the dividing wall never goes down while I’m in the car, just because I’m not keen on having any conversation with my working staff.
“Is something the matter?” I ask annoyed, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, sir,” he responds, clearing his voice. “They are saying that your membership has been temporarily revoked.”
I sigh, closing my eyes as I rub my face but don’t react to that.
The silence must be troubling him as he fidgets, before adding, “Because of the pending lawsuits, sir.”
“As if I wouldn’t know,” I shout, making him jump in his seat. “Let’s turn around. Drive me back into the city.”
I observe how he does a tortuous turn and drives back the road we took to get here and my rage boils up in me.
As if the costly fines, the frozen assets, and the public slandering wasn’t bad enough, I now can’t even sit into my favorite club in peace to smoke a fucking cigar without anyone getting on my balls. My phone is blowing up with requests from the press for an interview or a statement, and by clients canceling their deals, so I would have needed a place where I would just have had no signal and could act as if I couldn’t care less.
“Mr. Goldman,” my assistant picks up the phone at the second ring, seemingly breathless.
“Are the feds in the offices again?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.
She hesitates for a second before she answers lowly. “Yes, sir. They showed up with a search warrant and have been here the entire afternoon. They keep making us pull out the files to look out. I think it’s because of the audit.”
“Good thing I’m not paying you to think,” I groan, checking my watch. “Call up the Soft-Heart Foundation and check if my invitation for the evening tonight is still effective. I don’t want to end up on some gossip page again.”
“Yes, Mr. Goldman,” she confirms while I’m already hanging up.
Dialing the next number, I call one of my lawyers to ask him about the search, and why I hadn’t heard about it before.
How is everybody so incompetent?
***
I’m nearly a bit nervous as I step to the hostess standing at the door with my company for the night.
After handing her the invitation, she loses the smile shortly before she regains it even brighter than before.
“Welcome, Mr. Goldman, Miss,” she does a small curtsy as she gestures for us to go inside. “I hope you have a wonderful evening.”
We enter the hall that is already filled with a pleasant buzzing made out of people’s voices and the clinking of glasses of champagne.
Turning around to scan the room to spot if there is any former client I can talk with to reestablish at least a few pieces of my business, my eyes fall on a huge figure.
As if he would have sensed my entry, he has his eyes set on me as he leans down to his escort, kissing her head before talking to her.
She turns around to look at me surprised and even has the audacity to wave at me.
“Do you know them?” my company for the evening asks, making me grit my teeth as suddenly it makes all sense again and the puzzle completes as those two missing pieces add to it.
“Yeah,” I answer irritated as I walk towards the confirmation that I’m being under attack.
And Rodberg is about to conquer his territory back.