Twisted Love and Money (25 page)

Michael’s
secretary answered the phone “Yes sir.”

“You can go
home now. Thank you for staying on.”

“No problem,
see you tomorrow.”

Alone in his
office Michael felt a sense of peace. At least it was all to be
settled. He would take the money and run. The work rate of the last
ten years was catching up with him. He needed a break.

Who knows, with
some thirty or forty million in his pocket he would find a way to
bounce back. First he needed a break away from Irish taxation, so
he would be able to keep the all the proceeds from the sale of the
company.

Dermot was
right. Nothing hasty until his personal accountant got the tax
situation straight. Crawford would understand the need. He would
get Peter to set up the meeting as soon as possible. On his home
ground in Dublin.

Dermot was
right. Get Crawford to come over to Dublin…

“F’ Dermot,” he
said aloud.

Why was Dermot
right when everything his people were doing was wrong?

Michael began
to pack up to go home.

Dorothy had
left immediately. She had not been able to bear staying. She could
not bear the thought of facing John after Michael had seen him. She
felt guilty as she left. But it was not her decision and tomorrow
was another day. The dream was over and she wanted away.

As she drove
the whole affair buzzed about in her troubled mind.

When she had
followed her father out of the board meeting it had been with the
intention of bringing him back. She had wanted to stiffen his nerve
and get him to work with Dermot and James to save the company. They
had been through so much together in the past.

Then Dorothy
had sensed the intimacy between Peter and her father. It was a
boy’s together thing. She had never been able to break it.

Dorothy had
thought that when she joined the firm she had at last got on the
same terms with her father, a relationship that seemed to be as
easy as that between him and Peter... But when she had come into
his office to the two of them she had sensed it again.
Instinctively she sensed that they had worked it out together,
without her. Whatever her father was doing it was for himself and
Peter. She was not in the club. Anger welled. Let them go to hell
she thought. And she had bowed her head and left them to it.

She was
expecting that Jeremy would be there when she arrived back to her
Apartment.

Jeremy? she
thought. Is he using her?

He had taken
her to his mother again. Dorothy felt she had opened a secret
unspoken allegiance with his mother. Both sensed that together they
could get him. Then afterwards, Dorothy thought, then afterwards
his common mother could go jump.

“Dorothy
welcome home!”

There was
something foppish in his walk and the way he kissed her. She
grabbed him by the balls and pushed him over he couch.

“Dorothy!!!” he
shrieked, his voice rising on the last syllable.

Dorothy tore
his clothes off, scratching, slapping him. When she mounted him he
was soft but a couple of hard smacks on the behind achieved the
desired effect. Passively he let her vent her rage and passion on
him until she brought herself to a shuddering climax. Then she
pushed him roughly away onto the floor.

Dorothy
stretched, she felt more relaxed, all her tension gone. As she lay
supine on the couch Jeremy began to massage her shoulders. She lay
face down and let the feeling of comfort roll over her.

“I’m starving,”
she murmured languidly.

“I’ll get you
some dinner. What would you like?”
“Something fast.”

“An
Omelette?”
“Fine.”

Jeremy gave her
broad bottom a friendly slap and stood up. Dorothy rolled over and
watched him pad his way naked towards the kitchen. One of the
scratches on his thigh had bled but otherwise he was just red lines
and a couple of bruises. She sighed, contented. It was nice to have
a tame house person.

“Put a dressing
gown on,” she instructed, “and run the shower.”

“Fine,” he said
and changed direction for the bedroom.

She could feel
his happiness as with a giggle he went to the shower.

“Swing your
shoulders when you walk, not your bum,” she instructed.

Jeremy
straightened up and marched, “left, right, left,” into the
bedroom.

Dorothy grinned
after him and then stretched and purred like a kitten.

After her
shower, Jeremy persuaded Dorothy to let him dress her for
dinner.

He had ordered
new clothes from London. Jeremy had seen beauty in Dorothy that
others had overlooked. Others had seen her physical size, her funny
pointy teeth. Jeremy had seen the clean clear texture of her skin,
the auburn of her hair and the deep brown of her eyes. Skilled in
his trade of selling women’s dresses, he had ordered the best by
special delivery, from his Kensington shop.

Slowly,
lovingly, like a personal valet he fussed around her, preparing her
clothes, clipping her clips, buttoning her buttons, straightening
her stockings. When she was finally ready she was overjoyed.

“Enchanting,
beautiful,” he waxed.

“What about
you, what will you wear? You are not sitting down to dinner naked
Jeremy.”

“I ordered a
dress suit and the trimmings.”

“Wear it. Does
that thing never go down?” she added hitting his penis a tap.

“Not around you
sweet,” he said. “It’s yours you know. No other woman has known
it.”

“Who has known
it we won’t discuss,” Dorothy said sharply.

“Just shower
and get dressed,” she added in a softer tone.

Dorothy decided
he was a different man in a dress suit. He looked very well, even
mildly distinguished. She was very pleased and she helped him with
his bow tie.

Both wearing
aprons, Jeremy prepared the omelettes while Dorothy did a salad,
some chips in the microwave and some peas from a can.

“We are dressed
a bit on the grand side for an omelette,” she remarked.

“Nonsense,”
Jeremy reassured. “The omelette is a noble dish, and I have
excellent Chablis in the fridge. We are dressed just right for the
wine.”

Jeremy had set
the table and he lit the candles. Dorothy dimmed the lights and put
on a CD for background music.

Relaxed over
the meal Dorothy became expansive and Jeremy attentively drew her
out. By the end of the meal she had told Jeremy the full story of
O’Byrne’s and the events of the day.

“I have some
cassata for dessert and some Greek yogurt to go over it,” Jeremy
suggested.

“Fine by me
sweetest,” Dorothy said easily, wondering should she have him again
for dessert but deciding she was a little tired and enough of a
good thing was enough, for the moment.

When Jeremy sat
down again Dorothy had an idea.

“Jeremy are you
really a multimillionaire?”

“Multi multi,
many times over,” he replied through the cassata, a satisfied smile
on his lips.

“Could you
afford forty or fifty million?”

“Possibly
sweetest.”

“Would
you?”

“No.”

“No?”

Jeremy had a
pleasant but pained expression. “Let me explain Dorothy” he
replied. “I found it remarkably easy to make a fortune. I suppose
it was the drive of a guilty man, the meanness of a poor man, and
the avarice of a religious man, but I was single-minded and I got
there. And I told you I am lucky. My latest horse ‘Trapper,’ will
win in Leopardstown on his next outing. Just you wait and see.”

“So you are a
miser?”

“No Dorothy, I
am careful. My fear is that it is easier to lose money than it is
to make it. I have grown so fond of being rich, powerful and
comfortable.”

“Jeremy if you
don’t stop sounding so smug I shall take the horsewhip to you.”

“In vain
Dorothy, in vain.”

“Or worse,” she
threatened.

“Do your worst
if it pleasures you Dorothy. Your pleasure eases my guilt.”

There was a
silence.

“It would not
be right for our relationship Dorothy if I poured fifty million
into O’Byrne’s,” he added.

“Why not?”

“Never lend to
relations or friends, it is a golden rule. You and I came together
without money. Truth told, you don’t really know if I have any, we
never do anything expensive together.”

“It’s possible
to tell Jeremy, just to know. Something about the way you carry
yourself and I don’t mean the way you walk.”

“I’ll hear no
more Dorothy. I know the property business and I know the frock
business. With O’Byrne’s you are talking Agribusiness. For heavens
sake, I was brought up in the Liberties in central Dublin. I never
met a cow in the flesh and never a farmer, at least not until we
got into racehorses. My impression of Agri-business is that they
are all dealers and shady. I know I would lose my shirt. No, I’ll
stick to the Devil I know. The frock business and Guinness shares
and property.”

“You could save
my family a great deal of distress.”

“Nonsense. You
told me that your Dad will get millions for his distress. He has
let the business run into trouble. He should count himself lucky to
get out with something.”

“Should I
convince him to fight AF?” Dorothy asked.” Give me your honest
advice Jeremy.”
“My reading of it, as a simple man of business?”

“Please
Jeremy.”

“Well the key
question is mutual trust between the Executive team, that is,
whether you can rely on your man, what did you say his name was,
Dermot O’...?

“O’Rourke”

“Is he sound
Dorothy?”

“Sound as a
bell.”

“Over long
years?”

“Long, long
years.”

“Then it is a
set up. AF wants O’Byrne’s and so they have softened you up. Then
in comes a remarkable offer, Your dad is only getting half he could
get for a growth company, maybe only quarter. But in the
circumstances of the crisis the company now faces the offer seems
good. The softening up has worked he is prepared to sell. No way he
would have sold in the circumstances of a normal offer, I
presume?”

Dorothy ate her
ice cream while she considered Jeremy’s advice. Jeremy dispensed
the last of the wine.

“We should
fight AF then, is that your advice Jeremy?”

“Donno,” Jeremy
said, simultaneously spooning some yogurt into his mouth. “If you
get writs together and make moves to go to court they may back off.
You will see soon enough if they have built up a tissue of lies. If
they have they won’t want to go to court. If on the other hand they
have a genuine case they will force you into receivership and your
Dad will get peanuts.”

“Oh what do I
do?” Dorothy cried exasperated.

Jeremy looked
at her in amusement. “Business is a profession Dorothy,” he
explained. “Doing business is a talent. If it were I, I’d fight
them every inch. But don’t expect to win, just do it.”

“I should talk
to dad. I think he is in league with Peter. Peter wants to sell and
dad is relying on him.”

“So you would
save the firm for Peter?”

“Yes, fuck
it.”

“Let it go
Dorothy.”

“Let it
go?”

“Look Dorothy
whatever happens it appears your dad sees Peter as the golden boy.
Do you want to spend the rest of your life fighting that? They will
screw you up. The business may emerge the better for it, but for
what, so Peter can inherit?”

“F’ Peter, I
deserve to get the business, he is a passenger I have put in the
time and supported Dad while Peter was gallivanting.”

“Stick with me
Dorothy. Be my kept woman, my whore, my bride, and my
mistress.”

“Jeremy if I go
with you I can’t stay at home and be a kept woman. I would want
equal status employment as I currently have.”

“Dorothy sweet,
I have a home in London, a home in Cannes, an apartment in New
York. I may soon acquire an apartment in Ireland. My personal
investments and tax planning are complex. My wife, if she wants to
be my partner, would have to be very good at business.”

“Do you think I
could make it?” she asked archly, a dangerous gleam in her eye.

“Yes Dorothy,”
he grinned.

“I might get
too dependent on you Jeremy.”

“So take a
chance. You won’t regret it.”

“All
right.”

They touched
glasses and drank the rest of the Chablis.

“F’ O’Byrne’s,”
Dorothy declared “F’ them all,” and she felt a tremendous weight
off her shoulders.

Jeremy laughed.
And Dorothy realized that when Jeremy was in a gay mood he was
charming. Her heart warmed and she felt a mushy sentiment, was it
love she wondered? She wanted him to hold her.

“Jeremy. I will
have to introduce you to my parents.”

“My word,
formal are we?”

“Yes”

“O.K. You set
up the meet sweetheart,” Jeremy agreed in an American gangster
accent.

“My dad’s
place, for the weekend?” she responded.

“David,” Jeremy
said, his smile disappearing. “He is coming to Dublin again. We
have a party at the Shelbourne to celebrate the launch of our new
shop. Our horse Trapper is running on the Friday at Leopardstown,
and the party is that evening. And if Trapper wins we’ll really
push the boat out!”

“Bring
him.”

Dorothy spoke
sternly. Jeremy was not wiggling out of this.

“What?”

“Bring him.
Bring him my parents place for the weekend. I’ll introduce him too.
It’s time I met him.”
“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Dorothy
smiled, “there are many rooms in my father’s house. You at one end
and David at the other,” she laughed.