his head and kicked at a spider crab scuttling to its hole. “Go ahead.”
“First of all, Ellen is worth it. She normally only works for Fortune 500 companies. She’s the best there is. She’s only doing this as a favor to me.”
“Yeah, and for fifty grand cash under the table.”
“Marc, listen to me. We need it to be cash under the table.”
“We do?”
“Damn right we do. I can’t rely on friendship alone here. Think about it. We have very unique requirements for this particular executive. Fifty grand cash under the table. You know damn well she won’t report it to the IRS. Don’t you think that fact might come in handy down the road if people start snooping around asking questions?”
“Okay, already. I get it. Tell me about the guy. And this better be good.”
“He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“Tell me,” Marc prodded. Elizabeth finally had his full attention.
“He has a computer engineering degree from Boondocks State, and a finance degree from Wharton.”
“Whoa. A little over-qualified for our purposes, don’t you think?”
“Well, at least you’re thinking now. Still wrong, but at least you’re thinking. Marc, this guy has to look good on paper when the shit hits the fan. Otherwise it’s all too suspicious. What’s great about this guy is what’s not on paper.” Ellen smiled.
Marc smiled back despite the insult. He knew the good part was coming, and it’s what he loved about Elizabeth Hayes.
“This guy is a total loser. Better yet, he has nothing to lose. No parents, no wife, no kids, not even a lover. Nothing. It’s completely plausible that he would go for broke.”
“Go on,” Marc said admiringly.
“The guy used to be a stockbroker in San Diego. He blew up when tech crashed. Got sued six ways to Sunday. Now he’s barely making it selling real estate in Hootersville in the mountains of northern New Mexico.”
“Perfect.”
“Hold on. He’s only agreed to an interview. Now it’s up to you.”
“Not a problem, babe. It’s as good as done.”
“Don’t blow this off, Marc. It’s important. And speaking of blowing things off, have you been to the doctor?”
“You mean Dr. Happy Pills? I’m on a maintenance schedule. Every thirty days I go back and complain about my horrible back pain and he renews the prescription. Regular as clockwork.”
“You’re not taking the pills or . . . selling them to anybody are you? OxyContin is serious stuff.”
“Will you start giving me a little credit for god’s sake? I flush the damn pills down the toilet. Come on. Let’s get a grouper sandwich on the deck and go to my place. I’m horny as hell.”
They had crossed the isthmus of land that separated the causeway to St. Petersburg and Clearwater from the exclusive neighborhoods of South Tampa. The most exclusive neighborhood in South Tampa was Hyde Park, and the most exclusive addresses in Hyde Park were on Bayshore Boulevard. This was where Marc Mason had purchased a penthouse condominium overlooking the water.
He’d grunted himself to an orgasm, and to Elizabeth’s great relief had immediately fallen asleep. She quickly left his bed and was now standing on the balcony admiring the view. The sidewalk and balustrade curved around the bay, and along with the twinkling old-fashioned streetlights disappeared into the distance. Somebody had told her that this was the longest continuous sidewalk in the world.
The lights began to flare as Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. She wished the path was long enough to take her home. To her childhood - to her father - to happiness. She knew that wasn’t possible, but at least she had James now. He reminded her of her father in so many ways. He was a good man. A good man that had produced a bad seed. But he was good. Too good to do what had to be done.
CHAPTER 7
“I don’t care
“First of all, Ellen is worth it. She normally only works for Fortune 500 companies. She’s the best there is. She’s only doing this as a favor to me.”
“Yeah, and for fifty grand cash under the table.”
“Marc, listen to me. We need it to be cash under the table.”
“We do?”
“Damn right we do. I can’t rely on friendship alone here. Think about it. We have very unique requirements for this particular executive. Fifty grand cash under the table. You know damn well she won’t report it to the IRS. Don’t you think that fact might come in handy down the road if people start snooping around asking questions?”
“Okay, already. I get it. Tell me about the guy. And this better be good.”
“He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“Tell me,” Marc prodded. Elizabeth finally had his full attention.
“He has a computer engineering degree from Boondocks State, and a finance degree from Wharton.”
“Whoa. A little over-qualified for our purposes, don’t you think?”
“Well, at least you’re thinking now. Still wrong, but at least you’re thinking. Marc, this guy has to look good on paper when the shit hits the fan. Otherwise it’s all too suspicious. What’s great about this guy is what’s not on paper.” Ellen smiled.
Marc smiled back despite the insult. He knew the good part was coming, and it’s what he loved about Elizabeth Hayes.
“This guy is a total loser. Better yet, he has nothing to lose. No parents, no wife, no kids, not even a lover. Nothing. It’s completely plausible that he would go for broke.”
“Go on,” Marc said admiringly.
“The guy used to be a stockbroker in San Diego. He blew up when tech crashed. Got sued six ways to Sunday. Now he’s barely making it selling real estate in Hootersville in the mountains of northern New Mexico.”
“Perfect.”
“Hold on. He’s only agreed to an interview. Now it’s up to you.”
“Not a problem, babe. It’s as good as done.”
“Don’t blow this off, Marc. It’s important. And speaking of blowing things off, have you been to the doctor?”
“You mean Dr. Happy Pills? I’m on a maintenance schedule. Every thirty days I go back and complain about my horrible back pain and he renews the prescription. Regular as clockwork.”
“You’re not taking the pills or . . . selling them to anybody are you? OxyContin is serious stuff.”
“Will you start giving me a little credit for god’s sake? I flush the damn pills down the toilet. Come on. Let’s get a grouper sandwich on the deck and go to my place. I’m horny as hell.”
They had crossed the isthmus of land that separated the causeway to St. Petersburg and Clearwater from the exclusive neighborhoods of South Tampa. The most exclusive neighborhood in South Tampa was Hyde Park, and the most exclusive addresses in Hyde Park were on Bayshore Boulevard. This was where Marc Mason had purchased a penthouse condominium overlooking the water.
He’d grunted himself to an orgasm, and to Elizabeth’s great relief had immediately fallen asleep. She quickly left his bed and was now standing on the balcony admiring the view. The sidewalk and balustrade curved around the bay, and along with the twinkling old-fashioned streetlights disappeared into the distance. Somebody had told her that this was the longest continuous sidewalk in the world.
The lights began to flare as Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. She wished the path was long enough to take her home. To her childhood - to her father - to happiness. She knew that wasn’t possible, but at least she had James now. He reminded her of her father in so many ways. He was a good man. A good man that had produced a bad seed. But he was good. Too good to do what had to be done.
CHAPTER 7
“I don’t care
Similar Books
