Kalypso Queen
Grayson Matthews is dead.
A board member dead will require a little bit of mourning period. But I'm not the one who will grieve, because Grayson Matthews is my father's friend. Any friend and ally of my father is my enemy, and I will not let a little loss hinder me. I will keep moving forward.
This time, it is a good loss. I have a chance to put someone who is much more acquainted with me on the Board. My father will try to put someone like Grayson on the Board, but I need an ally of my own. I need someone like the ones I already have the Board.
I wish I have my grandmother. She has influence, and she can kill my enemies with a simple word. I don't have that. I don't have that kind of power, and I'm not that strong.
He died in the middle of a surgery, and though the news has brought some members of the press, no one really cares. An eighty-three year old man who dies? No one really notices anything.
"Helen!" I shriek, my voice high. My sister is on my very nerves. Any errors my employees make will set me off the edge and into rehab. "Helen! I need those papers!"
Tanya is already there. She hands me a large stack of portfolios. Calmly, she asks, "Is there anything else, Miss Queen?"
I quickly skip to the end and then look into the list of past purchases. Nope, nope, nope. "Who the hell sold this case to Charlotte?"
"The name should be—"
"I got it," I interrupt, finding it. Her neat penmanship inspires my next order for Tanya. "Tawny, I need you to find Daniela Zeller. Now."
"Yes, Miss Queen."
"What is going on?" asks Helen, looking at Tanya running to find Daniela Zeller and then sitting down across from me. "You look worse than usual."
"I need Earl Grey."
Helen pales. "That bad?"
"I need it," I plea, already tasting that tea in my mouth. "I need it badly. It isn't a good day."
"Is it ever a good day?" Her haunting words fill my mind, long after she's gone.
***
"Do you have it?" I ask, not looking up from the heavy footsteps. "I need my tea!"
"I have it," says Mekal, holding it in a dainty white tea cup. "But why Earl Grey? Why this tea? What happened to your usual green tea?"
I snap. "Do I pay you to ask questions?"
"No." Quick, he counters, "But your father plans to."
"Yes, I know," I snarl, not needing to be reminded of that fact. I flip through the pages, ignoring the stings of my paper cuts. "What do you want? I'm busy."
"What is going on?" His soft voice makes me look up at him, and I pause to blink. His tie is surprisingly thicker than usual, and its black color fits him perfectly. It isn't made from a designer, but his suit looks good on him. It highlights his muscles. "Why are you snapping at all of the staff and scaring away all of the interns? What is going on?"
"I'm too busy."
"Then make time," he suggests. "One minute. Just one minute and then I won't bother you for the rest of the day."
"I'm not giving you a minute."
"Then I'll sit here," he says, moving to my couch. "Wow, this is really comfortable. How much did you pay for it? I think I want to buy it."
Ignoring him, I dial on my Blackberry. "Hello, this is Kalypso Queen. I don't care what you're doing or what you're planning to do. I need you here right now. In my office. Asap."
Then I hang up.
"You remind me of a military drill sergeant."
I dial my father, eager to get into a fight than talk with Mekal. "Hello? Hello, Father. I want to tell you today that Jacob Sun is running for Grayson Matthews' old spot."
"Grayson Matthews," he says angrily, "died last night and you are already replacing him? What kind of cold-hearted person are you?"
"Well, business goes on," I remind him, my voice cold and face blank. "It does not stop for one man. Either you tell the Board or I'll call them myself. I don't care which."
Then I hang up.
My phone rings immediately. Father again.
I pick it up, putting him on speakerphone.
"You are a cold-hearted bitch!"
Then he hangs up.
"Nailed it," I mutter.
"Why all of these issues with you and your father?" asks Mekal, reading through the magazines stacked on the coffee table. "I don't get it. You are family—"
"He is not my family. I disown him years ago!" I yell. Familiar fury at that person rushes through me.
"Can a child really disown their parent?" he muses. "Curious. I read the tabloids. Apparently, you are still hung over about your parents' divorce. And the fact that your father cheated on your mother."
"Are you trying to psychologically analyze me?"
"I have been psychologically analyzing you since I saw you screaming, ordering, yelling, firing, and pretty much a whole lot of things. I have to agree with your father. You are a bitch," he says, leaning back down on the couch and throwing a red apple made out of glass.
"Hey!" I walk over there and catch it in midair. "Stop playing with this. You'll break it."
He sits up and watches me put the apple—which is about the size of my fist—on my desk. I carefully position it between the picture of my sister and a paperweight of the Empire State Building.
"What do you want?" I ask, tired and weary. What I'll do for a vacation... away from this living hell and crazy work.
"That glass apple isn't worth that much."
"It is a gift. From Pamela Dancy," I explain. I walk to the window, staring out towards the blue-black lake again. "Georgia must had returned it last night. I didn't see it. I can't believe I missed it."
"Georgia?"
"She is my bodyguard. She doesn't usually protect me. When I don't need her, she does shifts with the rest of the security guards," I inform. "That is Georgia."
"I never seen her."
"Georgia isn't required to follow my every step."
"Oh."
"Are you going to go now?" I inquire. I move back to my desk and start typing on my computer. A new email to the Board. All members—sans Grayson Matthews. I need to explain about Jacob Sun, of course. They hate surprises.
"One more question."
"Fine," I comply, surprising us both. "What is it?"
He pauses. Then he asks, "Why do you never smile?"
"Excuse me?" I stop typing. "I smile."
"You never do." He shakes his head, pointing everything out. "I see the worse of you. Screaming, yelling, firing, hollering, ordering, barking. Your employees call you a witch and the devil herself, and they absolutely love to badmouth you behind your back. You never, ever, ever smile. And I looked through all of the pictures Google have on you. Nothing. Not a smile. Some frowns, some terrible grimaces that you're trying to pass off as smiles, but not a real smile."
I bare my teeth.
"That is not a smile." Then he laughs. "What is that? It is sort of a like a cross between a yelling polar bear and a snarling cat."
"I do not look like either," I protest. I go back to my computer, typing a hundred words per minutes. Never before has a skill been so useful. "Are you going to go now?"
"Just a tiny smile."
"No."
"A little one."
"You have work to do," I point out.
"Alright." He gives up and then promises, "I'll get that smile out of you. One day or another. And I'll get a camera to capture it and put it all over the gossip rags."
"Please try," I say, mostly amused. "Get out."
He opens the door and let himself out.
I stare at the computer for a bit, letting my fingers rest. Then I think for a bit and pull out my personal phone. I dial Ricky Diaz's number and leave him a quick message. "Hello, this is Kalypso Queen. I have a new job for you. Also, I need any updates on the cases I've given you. I'll meet you at our usual spot in one hour."