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The truth is, Muffy Bowles-Tillington is one of the worst humans I’ve ever met. She’s one of those ultra-phony people who only save their smile for people they deem worthy (i.e. the rich and powerful). She can’t be bothered to be civil to anyone she considers ‘low class.’ Trust me, I’ve been to multiple restaurants with her. She was so rude to the staff, I wanted to spit in her food. The irony of it all was that her husband, the late Turner Tillington the Third (who hailed from an old oil family), met Muffy when she was working at a bikini car wash back in 1968. That was her first and only job, other than ‘lookin’ pretty and being a trophy wife.’ But since she’s the only thing standing between me and my dream, I have to play nice and pretend she’s my people, which is extremely problematic for me because I loathe phoniness with every fiber of my being. Just not as much as I loathe my father. That loathing is why I’ve managed to successfully pull this whole thing off.
“Oh, Ty, my dear, sweet boy,” she drawls. “I heard about Dick, may God rest his soul. How are you holding up?”
“It’s tough, but I always knew there was a chance this could happen. There was a reason he couldn’t get life insurance.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Muffy says. “How was your trip home?”
“Fine.” Until I got off the plane. “Listen, I’m not sure if you heard that Richard has a rather… involved funeral planned, and I’m afraid I’ve got to leave for Peru in a couple of hours. Apparently, he’s sending us all on some sort of five-day adventure as his final hurrah.”
“He was a strange little man, bless his heart.”
“Er, yeah. There was certainly nothing conventional about Richard. Anyway, I wanted to touch base and reassure you that nothing has changed as far as my plans for the team go.”
“Oh, did Dick sign off before he…?”
“No, but it’s really not a problem. Just some paperwork on my end and we’ll be good to go,” I answer, hating myself for lying. “Obviously with the trip and shifting things around with the corporate structure, we’ll be delayed a bit, but hopefully not more than two weeks.”
“Hmmm.” She sucks her teeth, then says, “Well, that’s not at all convenient. The Ortegas are selling their superyacht and I really don’t think they’ll want to wait that long to sell it.”
Perfect. I know where this is going. “Oh, is that so?”
“Uh-huh. It’s the only one I’ve found with furnishings and lighting that make the most of my complexion,” Muffy says. “Honestly, I look a good twenty years younger on it. You should just see me.”
I rub the bridge of my nose and put on a flirty tone that makes me want to flog myself at dawn. “How is it even possible for someone to look any younger than you do? I thought you were Turner’s granddaughter when I first met you.”
She laughs, sounding positively giddy. “I remember. Now, about that yacht I’ve got my heart set on.”
“Why don’t I see what I can do?” I ask, writing ‘Superyacht’ at the top of my already insane to-do list.
“Are you sure, shug?” she says. “I know you’ve probably got a whole plate load of things to deal with right now.”
Yes, Muffy, I do. I’m absolutely buried at the moment. “It would be my pleasure to make this happen for you,” I tell her. “I’ll put in a call and see if I can’t convince them to wait until our deal goes through.”
“I don’t know, I really was hoping to go out on it next week with my girlfriends. We’re all celebrating our fiftieth birthdays again,” she says with a laugh.
Closing my eyes for a second, I hold in the heavy sigh that’s brewing. “Right, well, okay. Why don’t I buy the yacht and we’ll call it a down payment on the team?”
“Oh, I like that idea a whole lot,” Muffy drawls. “It’ll feel like I’m getting a great, big, shiny present from a handsome man.”
“Perfect.” Actually, not perfect at all. Huge pain in my ass. “I’ll get back to you as soon as the deal is done. And in the meantime, if you don’t mind keeping this whole thing just between the two of us, that would mean the world to me.”
“Oh, of course, Ty. Mum’s the word. I know how important it is to you to surprise your daddy.”
“Exactly. Thank you.” Surprising the old bastard is a key element of my plan. Hopefully it’ll be a big enough of a surprise to kill him.
“Is everyone here?” I ask Donna as soon as I step off the elevator.
“You have enough for a quorum. Everyone’s here except Mr. Dumphey, who is at some sort of silent retreat in India.”
“Poor India,” I mutter. “And they all understand that I need to be out of there by ten, so there won’t be any time for chitchat or long tangents?”
Donna hands me the agenda for the emergency board meeting as we walk swiftly to my office. “I have explained that the voting must happen in time for the shareholders meeting or they’re all going to stand to lose millions by lunch time.”
“That ought to do it,” I tell her with a grin.
“It would work on me,” she answers. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Three hours. It was glorious,” I tell her. I worked last night until nearly two a.m., along with several members of our legal department. Even though we had a contingency plan in place in case either Richard or myself left the building, there is still a surprising amount of scrambling that has to be done. Our Chief Science Officer, Dr. Anika Gupta (double PhD in Genetics and Medicine), will slide over into a dual role as CSO and interim COO (replacing Richard). Since she’s already taken on a lot of his work over the last few years, it’ll basically just be a massive pay bump for her.
