The Billion Dollar Plan: Incongruity Series Book 1 Page 4

Office hours don’t start till seven thirty, but as the Executive Assistant to the President and CEO, Mr. Stefan Demetri, I have to be early and on time. Even if he murdered my parents.

  I think over what Gideon said and I shake my head. I’m truly sorry for him and what he’s been going through this past year and a half but I can’t help him.

  I have watched for years as that evil bastard destroys people’s lives all the while whenever I hear his voice, my mind flashes back to the day my life, my world changed.

  I can’t help anyone, I’m not a hero, but I can sure as hell avenge my parents. Their blood is on my ‘boss’s’ hands and I will be damned if I just let it go. Blackmail or not.

  Chapter 4

  Chloe

  I MET GIDEON BLACK on Monday morning. I had a plan that day.

  Today is Thursday morning. My plan is still on ‘hold’. And it’s making me almost pull my hair out.

  See, my dearest boss hasn’t been in the office for the past three days due to some emergency trip he took to go to Washington D.C. He demanded that I be in the office during those days and send him important documents and deals that he needs to sign off on.

  When I sent him the deal I have been working on for months, the deal that will bring him down, he told me this,

  “I don’t want that deal anymore Chloe. It will take a lot of my money and I doubt I will see returns in the projected period of time” His slimy voice says over the line.

  “Yes, but we have spent a lot of money on research alone. Are you sure you want to cancel?” I ask him, my heart pounding so fast, I have to take a seat in order for me to comprehend this news.

  “Yes, but I don’t care. I have far more important things than that.” he says carelessly. He treats me like a dog most of the time, as if my working for him this long has to do with me liking my job.

  His company has the highest turnover rate of employees. Folks quit all the time, left, right and bloody center.

  Yet I’m still here. Biding my time. Working on this plan.

  And he has the audacity to tell me this. Now even!

  “Can I ask why sir? Is there another deal you are working on that you haven’t mentioned to me?” I inquire. I hate being out of the loop of his life, it derails my master plan to take him down.

  “That is none of your business girl. But I will tell you this, I will be the most powerful man in the most powerful city in the world soon!” He arrogantly declares over the phone. I can hear the gloating in his voice even.

  I don’t know what he means by that but I do know that this trip to Washington was not a coincidence.

  He has been aiming for political status for years now, rubbing shoulders with dirty politicians and God knows whoever else he makes business plans with.

  I have also seen some questionable, scary looking people that come to the office on Wednesday, after hours. Large, intimidating men with a rough and dangerous exterior about them.

  On one such night, I saw five of them had guns and they would come in with some black duffle bags and carry them into Stefan’s office. It’s always the same goons, always coming in at the same time each week, like clockwork.

  I’m not sure exactly what would be going on, but I do know that whatever it is, it is probably illegal and shady as hell. The conviction that he killed my parents is made strong whenever I see this.

  Stefan Demetri even has his own security detail, like he is the president of this country. And his motto has always been about appearances.

  He loves to appear to the world like he is a generous man, donating blood money to charities and to shelters. He loves it when the media calls him the Brooklyn Santa Clause.

  He loves to be in the news, loves to see his face on it. He is so in love with his reputation, it’s sickening.

  My plan has always been simple.

  After studying him, I realized a man like Stefan Demetri has nothing pure to contribute to the world or to his image other than his money. Without money it’s safe to say that he will not have solid ground to stand on.

  I mean, I couldn’t call the authorities and tell them that Stefan Demetri is a fraudulent man and that he deals with illegal, underground shit, when I don’t have the proof.

  I have seen him dine and laugh with the Chief of Police for NYPD. Corruption is not a new game for Stefan.

  Stefan Demetri is a corrupt and vile sad excuse of a human being. Everything about him is repelling.

  A disgusting man who can’t be shaken by anything or anyone. I have heard rumors and whispers about how the last accountant who worked for him swindled money from him. When he was caught, something sinister happened to him.

  He was found floating in the Hudson. His body black and blue, with signs of strangulation and his fingers and toes and private part cut off.

  The whole thing was ruled off as a gang violence crime, when all of us here at the Demetri offices knew. It was no gang that did that to him, it was one man. A man that thinks himself to be god.

  Whenever I am around him, I have to force myself to calm down and to temper my anger to be on the low.

  But one thing I know, is that this man will go down. And he will go down in the place he loves to thrive in.

  Publicly.

  For the life he snuffed out and the destinies he shortened and destroyed, I swear on my life.

  He will have his day.

  And since he wants to be a politician so bad, it will be much easier than I thought.

  I just need a bit of help in that area.

  Chapter 5

  Chloe

  I’M MEETING MY BEST friend, Sam, for lunch today and right now all I want is some girl time. I have been shouted at, bamboozled and criticized the whole morning by my sour boss.

  Whatever it is that is going on in his life, it’s really getting to him, making his already big head larger.

  I wonder what it is. I desperately want to know but I know it’s just a matter of time before I piece it all together. I’ve always been very good at solving puzzles, this one is no different. Just a matter of time.

  I open the door to a little vegan restaurant that Sam loves. I spot her almost immediately, seated at the back of the store, in a corner booth.

  Judging by the way she is seated and the way she is curling a strand of her beautiful, curly, kinky hair and batting her eyelashes, she must have been here for a while. I know that pose though; she is flirting with the waiter who is standing by the table, salivating at Sam’s charm.

  You see, Sam is. . . where do I even begin with my beautiful, prodigy, obstetrical-gynecologist best friend. I swear, she looks like the African American version of Megan Fox, with the high cheekbones and soulful, hazel eyes to match.

  At the age of twenty-six, she is a well sought-after doctor here in NYC. She is quick, intelligent, funny and apparently, very... umm... sensual.

  Yes, sensual. It’s the politest word I can conjure up at the moment. Sue me!

  As I get closer to our table, I notice she is holding back a laugh. I realize she is only toying with the poor guy, who seems to be actually over-excited by the looks of things.

  I shake my head. The good doctor really has no shame. But I wouldn’t exchange her for anyone else in this world. She has been a great friend to me, the sister I never had. She, along with her parents, are my only family.

  She notices my approach and sends a wink my way. The poor guy is so transfixed by Sam’s charms that he doesn’t notice me at all. It almost makes me feel sorry for him because I know, this one isn’t going to go anywhere. She is just having her fun as usual.

  I have a theory. It will take a strong man to get Sam’s attention and keep it. A man who knows himself, able to see and navigate the walls that she keeps erected around her. Maybe he will be able to also break the walls down to get her full and undivided attention. As of now though, rare species of man hasn’t arrived as yet...

  “Chloe!” Sam shrieks excitedly, then proceeds to stand up, pushes the guy aside and comes to give me
a bear hug.

  I accept her hug gratefully, sighing at how much I have missed this girl. She is the only one, as well as her mother, that I allow to give me this kind of physical contact.

  One thing I dislike, from anyone, is to be touched. Sam though, she is just so spontaneous that she wore me down within a few days of knowing her. And did I mention that the girl really, really loves to hug? No? Well then, here you go.

  She takes a step back to hold me at arms-length, looking me up and down, taking me in like she hasn’t seen me in ages when I just saw her this past weekend when we went out to eat.

  “Girl, you look good. Makeup, flawless. Hair, laid. Eyebrows, on fleek. Yes, girl!” She observes excitedly. Sam is bubbly like that. A defensive mechanism really, but don’t we all have one?

  I notice from the corner of my eye men stop in their tracks and look at Sam as soon as they hear her voice. Sam has this kind of throaty voice, yet also sweet, soft and angelic. Like a cross between Scarlett Johansson and Marilyn Monroe.

  Then the fact that she looks like the African American version of Megan Fox, has men in various stages of commitment, from married to in a relationship, to fall at her feet. She is brains and beauty personified.

  And did I mention she is a part time model, and a young prodigy doctor? I’m so proud of her.

  “Thank you, Sammy. Look at you stringing along the male population of Manhattan.” I glance at the poor waiter still standing by our booth and look back at Sam and catch her laughing under her breath.

  “Oh, you know me. I just wanted a bit of company since you are” she checks her wrist watch, “five minutes late.”

  “Sorry, my ‘lovely’ boss decided to be a bigger asshole than he usually is.” Thinking about him just infuriates me and wipes the smile off my face.

  Sam picks up on it, she takes my hand and guides me to our booth and we settle down. Then she proceeds to order our usual meal when we come here. A vegan burger and organic fries for me with a strawberry and banana smoothie. Some pumpkin soup and a vegan bacon sandwich with a mango smoothie for Sam. The poor guy just stands there, repeating every word that comes from Sam’s mouth.

  “Anything else I can get you ladies?” he asks still transfixed with Sam. I see the play before it happens. She straightens her spine, slips on her serious doctor mask, and looks at the guy. Which only means one thing. She is about to drop this guy like a heavy bag of cement.

  “No, that is all. Could you please hurry that up though, we don’t have much time,” she demands graciously, her soft voice softening the blow.

  That seems to snap the guy back to attention as he reels back like Sam just slapped him clear across the face. He blinks a couple of times as if coming back to reality.

  “Yes, of course.” And with that, he high-tails it out of there.

  I turn to Sam, and she is literally peeling with laughter. “What was that all about?” I ask her.

  “You do know that he must be a freshman in college, right?” All my concerns and suggestions seem to make her crack up even more. I even notice the moisture in her eyes, evidence of her belly laughter.

  Sam, for lack of a better description, enjoys this. She enjoys putting men in misery. The ‘why’ behind it all, is a long story that I would rather not get into.

  “Nah, he is a junior. He just has a baby face is all.” She explains to my amusement, looking at the stuff door that the guy passed through. “And that, my dear Chloe,” she flips her hair over her shoulder, a very. . . sensual move all on its own—“was just a lesson in drawing them in, at which ever length you want them.”

  She giggles again, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the small restaurant.

  “You are incorrigible, you know that? You are going straight to hell.” I warn and join her in laughter.

  I can’t seem to be able to keep a serious face with her. I met Sam in college at Penn State University. The way we met was rather, unorthodox.

  IT WAS THE FIRST ORIENTATION day and she was sitting with a bunch of really beautiful, slim and flawless girls. They were just whispering and giggling the whole time and I remember I was getting really annoyed.

  They were making too much noise and it was distracting me from hearing what one of the alumni was saying. I had worked my ass off to be in this room.

  I had gone above and beyond what kids like me do. Kids who have been bounced from one home to another, the ‘system’ kids, they call us. As if we want to be in a so called ‘system’.

  They categorize you and make assumptions on how your life will turn out based on the failures of other kids like you. Boxing you up and tossing you aside before you can even show them that they are wrong.

  To show them that you aren’t just another statistic. That you can also do big things in life, regardless of parental absence.

  So, I did what I have never done before in my life. I initiated first contact.

  It just so happened that my introduction was, well, not the one that usually happens between strangers.

  I tap the nearest girls’ shoulder and she flips her long hair in slow motion kind of way and bam, I’m looking at soulful hazel eyes and a beautiful face, then her throaty voice greets my ears when she says.

  “Yes?”

  “Yeah, you and your friends are really distracting. Some of us can’t hear what’s being said. So, if you don’t mind...” I leave her to complete the statement and by then her other friends turn around to look at me

  One of them turns and gasps, dramatically, “Uh, if you wanted to hear that dreary speech then you should have taken a front row seat, nerdy.” she says in a catty voice.

  Judging by the way they were all dressed, they were rich. Rich and snorty. Walking around all air and no brains in their pretty heads.

  The way they held themselves, the way they sat, it all indicated one thing; these girls probably models or involved in the fashion industry in one capacity or the other.

  Just great.

  The other girls chime in but I have already tuned them out.

  The girl I had tapped is still looking at me, studying me. She hasn’t said anything, but I ignore her and the rest of her catty friends. I grab my tattered book bag and start moving out of the row.

  Escaping my problems yet again.

  By this stage in my life, I was a master at escaping, slipping through the cracks anyhow I can. It also didn’t hurt that I was invisible to everyone else.

  I walk closer to the front, aware of multiple eyes on me but I make no eye contact with anyone. I’m really not here for any of them. I have a plan in mind...

  I find three open seats at the edge of the second row and I plop down in the middle one.

  As I take out the notepad that I was using to jot down important information, I see through the corner of my eye, a sight in soft pink with beautiful hair, plop down beside me. She spreads her own notepad and twirls around her pen.

  I just stare at her as if she lost her marbles.

  “What? They were really annoying.” she says as she catches me staring at her and shrugs her slender shoulder, delicately.

  “It was a long time coming anyway.” She carries on talking without waiting for a reply.

  I really don’t know what to say or how to react.

  I look back and sure enough, the other girls she was sitting with look outraged and shocked that their classy friend is interacting with someone like me.

  “I’m sorry about that, they were really getting on my last nerve. By the way, my name is Samantha Barker, but you can call me Sam. I have a feeling we are going to be the best of friends.” And with that she turns to face the front and listens to the speaker.

  Leaving me flabbergasted at her confidence and the way she just, waltzed into my life.

  Long story short, here we are. Enjoying each other’s company. Laughing and talking about trivial things that make up our lives.

  MOST GIRLS ARE BEST friends from kindergarten. Some cement their friendship along the way of growing up, sh
aring experiences and common trials that they share.

  Sam was my very first friend, ever since my parents died. Even while I was in foster homes, I didn’t have friends.

  I heard their whispers. They would say that I was strange and that no one would have been my friend because I might kill them like I did my parents.

  Maybe that’s why no one wanted to adopt me.And so, I stayed away, kept to myself and my books.

  It was already decided for Sam that no matter what would happen after we leave that orientation hall, that she was going to be my best friend no matter what.

  I didn’t know that she was going to be someone I needed in my life until she forced herself into it. Breaking parts of my concrete wall that I didn’t particularly want broken. For safety reasons.

  I have been grateful for her ever since then.

  “So, tell me.” Sam starts, “What’s happening now at your job from hell?” She questions, finishing her food.

  She now wears her big sister face, her concern for me always amazes me at how genuine and authentic it is.

  “What can I say other than the fact that I am working like a dog for that man. Forget recognition of my efforts, at least stop treating me like a call girl.” I explain the all too familiar frustration I feel towards my job and the man I work for.

  I often times wonder if Sam can pick up on the anger that I try by all means to conceal from her whenever the subject of my job comes up. I wonder if she suspects that there is a lot happening than what meets the eye. If she does, she doesn’t show it.

  I haven’t told Sam about my entire life and why exactly I am here. Why NYC, or why I work for the man I work for? It’s just not so easy for the words to flow right out of my mouth. But then, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

  “You know, I still don’t get why you are still working for that ugly monster anyway. You are overqualified for that job.” she seethes, pissed off on my behalf.

  We always have this same conversation. Sometimes I want to tell her the real reason why I work for effing Stefan Demetri but I know she wouldn’t understand it all.