This was where my dreams began and where they all ended.
Goodbye, Savannah Brown.
From now on, I’ll just have to go back to being myself, to being a nobody – plain old Sabrina James.
I look away from the mansion, peering into the darkness and the uncertainty ahead of me. Now what do I do?
I don’t know. I haven’t thought this far. Still, there’s only one way to go – away. As far away from here as possible.
I take off my mask and start running through the darkness, uttering a silent plea as the wind blows through my hair.
Please… someone… help me…
Someone…
Wanted: Perfect Nanny
Three months later…
Randall
“Well, someone has to do something. I’ve given you the funds for your research. Now give me results.”
I tap the screen of my phone to end the call then set the device down on the carpeted floor beside my mat so I can continue with my dumb bell crunches. Rather, I start them over, having been interrupted by that call in the middle of my routine.
One… Two…
I should have stuck to being a weightlifter, a gym buff, a personal fitness trainer. I should have contented myself with my bench press and my weights. But no. I decided to go into business, to start my own company, to build my own gyms across the country and train my own trainers, to develop my own fitness equipment, supplements and clothing line.
I decided to build a fitness empire.
Thirteen… Fourteen…
Six years ago, just two years after it was established, my company made it to the Forbes Fortune 500 list. The next year, my son David and I moved out of our two-bedroom apartment in San Antonio to our 5,000-square-foot property here in Bel Air, which is just one of the few properties I’ve purchased. Since then, I’ve bought other things, too, and made a couple of investments. Thanks to the company, I can confidently say he and I are set for our lifetimes.
Twenty-four… Twenty-five…
Unfortunately, being at the head of a company also comes with a lot of tasks and responsibilities. There are countless meetings to sit through and endless papers to sign. There are social functions to attend and interviews to give. Most importantly, there are strategies to devise and implement to ensure continuous profit, crises to avert and negotiations to make, which usually end in hard decisions, like the one I just made.
Most days, I can’t keep track of everything I have to do, which is why I’m glad I have Tess, my secretary.
“So, I take it that matter’s been taken care of?” she asks from the side of the room.
“Yep. You can cross it off the list.”
Thirty-seven… Thirty-eight…
“Good.”
I hear the tip of her pen moving across the paper. In this modern day and age, she still uses notepads and index cards. Still, she’s been nothing short of efficient, so I have no complaints.
Forty-one… Forty-two…
“So, what do I have left?” I ask her.
“The lunch meeting with Mr. Martin, and then your monthly video conference with the shareholders at four. Also, Advertising should be sending over the newest ad for the clothing line within the day so you should take a look at it.”
Forty-nine… Fifty.
I set down my dumb bells at the end of my routine then take a moment to catch my breath before getting off my mat and reaching for my towel.
“Wow. It seems like I’ve got another busy Saturday.”
“Also, the representative from that childcare agency I told you about is dropping by this morning,” Tess adds.
“This morning?” I wipe the sweat trickling down my forehead and the sides of my face.
Shit. I forgot about that.
“Yes, this morning,” Tess confirms, handing me my bottle of water as I approach her. “She said she’ll drop by between nine and ten.”
I glance at the clock as I take a sip of water. It’s already 8:42, which means I don’t have much time before she comes.
“I can reschedule if you like,” Tess offers. “Your schedule for tomorrow seems lighter.”
“No.” I give her back the bottle. “I need that new nanny ASAP. I just have to head to the shower right now. Anything else?”
“Do you want me to turn the shower on for you?”
“Very funny, Tess.” I walk out of my gym.
Sometimes it feels like she’s my nanny instead of my secretary. It must be because she has two kids of her own.
“There is one more thing, sir,” Tess says. “The Rockets Party. That’s tomorrow evening.”
I frown. Another party? Didn’t I just go to one the other night?
“Will you be going? If I recall, you and the new team owner took your MBAs together.”
“I know.” Even so, I’m not sure if it’s a good enough reason for me to go.
“Well?”
I head up the stairs. “I’ll think about it.”
***
I think about it in the shower, staring at the dark blue tiles on the floor as I let the cool water glide over each muscle of my body, washing away the soap and any trace of the morning’s rigorous workout with it.
Like I said, attending parties are part of a CEO’s responsibilities. These aren’t just any parties, though. They’re not all fun and games. Usually, these parties offer a chance to size up the competition and gather information about them even while strengthening ties with allies and finding prospective new ones. In business, one can never have too many allies.
They’re also a way to get exposure, to get yourself on the newspaper, magazine, website or TV even. It’s not for fame. The rich and powerful have no need for fame. It’s just for image. People want to put a face to the company, to know that the leaders of the companies they buy from are humans just like them that they can aspire to. Of course, you have to project a positive image so your company will have one as well.
I’ve already established my image, though – a weightlifting, single dad working hard to provide for his only son – and right now, I’m well ahead of the competition, so I don’t really need to go. As for the new team owner—yes, I know him, but we aren’t friends. We had a class or two together, that’s all. I haven’t been in touch with him since, and I definitely don’t owe him anything.
There’s another reason why I don’t want to go – the women. Nothing attracts women more than a well-muscled, billionaire widower with a son. Given the fact that the whole Rockets team is going to be there, I’m sure there will be plenty of women, too.
It’s not that I don’t like women. I’ve slept with a few since Dinah died, and I do plan on marrying again. I just don’t like women who look at me like I’m a gold nugget or a mouth-watering pile of muscle that they want a chunk of. I want a woman who can see me for who I really am and accept all of me, a woman I can laugh with, be silly with, have fun with and, of course, a woman who can love David as her own child.
I sigh. Maybe I’m asking for too much. Maybe there is no such woman.