Five.
That's how many hours ago I got back from the Duane Reade and desperately pulled out the pregnancy test kit and went to the bathroom and peed onto it.
I mean, the results the first time made me do it again.
And from then till now, I'm starting to wrestle with a nagging question in my head.
How am I going to tell Mason that in the middle of fighting for his company, being stuck in a forced marriage to a woman who is evil enough to pretend for 21 years that she was my mother, and being skewered in the media, am I going to tell him that I've just found out I'm pregnant.
I mean, this should be a happy time for us.
I'm not so sure that I'll do anything more than add yet another burden to him.
If dating me doesn't do it, will this baby inside of me be the straw that finally breaks the camel's back?
Mason
"Mason, are you even comprehending what kind of shit storm you're looking at?" Roy Purpus asks me as I stare out the window. "We're talking about throwing everything you've worked for into the garbage can because of your ego."
This isn't the kind of fucking language that you normally hear in Board Meetings. But then again, this isn't the kind of thing you see in companies.
What's going on isn't actually even supposed to be fucking happening.
I was just minding my own fucking business, when I got an email from Roy if he could pop in with some members of the Board.
So minding my own business apparently means anything that can potentially go wrong with the company. So I said yes, cleared my schedule, and sat back as almost every member of my fucking Board walked in.
"We need to talk," Roy said pretty bluntly and immediately I knew what he was here for.
"Have a seat, gentlemen," I told them as I got up to walk to the set of couches on the far corner of my office.
"We didn't want to come to you like this Mason," another Board member, Peter Cheil, said to me. "But Roy here got us together and raised some good points about the Red Lion Aviation deal."
That's when I walked up and went to go stare out the fucking window.
You can't blame me, because if I had been right there I would have hit something.
That's basically where you came in. You're all caught up now.
But what I didn't tell you that I think is that I've been fucking set up.
"We can't pass on a trillion dollars, Mason," Roy says to me, raising his voice when he sees that I'm quiet. "We'll be the laughingstock of Wall Street."
Okay, let me just take a moment to talk to you real quick and explain something to you.
I bet a part of you is probably hoping you could ask me if this Red Lion deal is really so fucking lucrative and it's already been reported on in the newspaper and all that shit then why the fuck has no other firm on Wall Street gone in and snapped it up.
That's a very good question and a part of me wishes that the people in the fucking book would take a moment to pause half way through and answer any and all questions for readers. Because it would certainly make your experience a more enjoyable one.
Let you focus on getting wet and imagining my 12-inch cock between your legs instead of thinking about the complicated nature of investment banking.
Let me put it really simply to you. Lorna proposed a deal to me. And that deal was put together potentially with Red Lion and whatever other players are out there. In putting the basics together, we've already signed a fuck ton of paperwork. I'm talking fucking Non-Disclosure Agreements, Memoranda of Understanding, Clauses for binding arbitration.
So Red Lion knows that if they breach any of that shit, the penalties are tremendous. We know that if we breach any of the shit that we agreed to before we started talking to them, the penalties are tre
mendous.
So it's like both sides sat down to talk about a potential alliance. But before they sat down, they used a third-party negotiator to make sure that everyone was clear how many guns each side was going to carry, where they were going to sit, and what was going to be served for dinner. With the expectation that if one side brought more fucking guns or tried to sit somewhere else, the other side and the third party mediator would both blow them out of the fucking sky.