Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

4. Mont

Chapter four

Mont

O h, it’s possible.

And it’s happening.

I’ve decided to take a monster share of my cash and go into pudding.

I didn’t wait ten days just to cause a false sense of security to permeate Evilla’s life. I had to do my due diligence, which took some time. When I was sure the pudding company was a sound investment, I made my offer. It was quite generous. Mike and his family were quite attached to what they’d created, but when I offered three times what the company was worth at the moment, they were happy to sell. I was very adamant that I would like as many employees and former owners to stay on as possible. Whoever wanted to remain was more than welcome. I left room for Mike and his parents—the original founders of the company—but they declined. They had ideas about retirement and tropical vistas that they were happy to trade pudding for.

When I was asked if I wanted a non-compete clause, I didn’t make Mike and his parents sign one. However, I did make sure that I was the sole owner of all the company’s recipes, any patents, and any and all flavors they’d copyrighted. All branding, designs, logos, and even the name went to me in the sale.

As of this morning, at ten minutes after nine, I became the proud owner of many, many puddings and all things associated with bringing them to life and the market. Factories, offices, buildings all across the country…

But there’s only one that I care about.

Tampa happens to be the original pudding’s founding family’s place of birth. They loved this city, so they set up their headquarters of sorts here. I had zero plans on running a pudding company myself. It’s a terrible plan to try and do anything yourself, especially on such a large scale.

People. People make all the difference.

Good people. Good people create.

They bring wonderful ideas and turn those concepts into reality. They make the world spin. I’ve always believed in finding good people and being good to them in turn. I haven’t acquired so many companies or turned them into successful businesses without good people.

The world might accuse me of being successful because I had family money to fall back on and because my parents helped me get started. I won’t say I didn’t have a massive boost, but the momentum I have right now is solely mine and not my parents’.

Before he decided that a semi-retired lifestyle suited him, my dad and his dad before him were in business. As a family, we’ve lasted decades because we’ve surrounded ourselves and built our brand with people who believed in it as passionately as we did. We’ve hired talented and innovative people, people who care for our company like it’s their own business, which it kind of is because I’ve always believed in having all employees own shares. They’ve worked hard to build a brand they believe in.

I love my other companies too much to want to stop what I’m doing and, all of a sudden, solely become a pudding mogul, but for the next few weeks, I’m going to have to take a hard look at how this new place is structured. From the bottom all the way to the top, I want to make sure all employees have good benefits packages, pensions they’re able to pay into, fair wages, and good working conditions.

Pudding isn’t tech, and most of my acquisitions are based in that world, so I have a lot to learn. I’ve already looked at the financials, and they’re solid, but I want to delve a deeper look into the company’s structure and plot out a long-term game plan. I’m a fast learner, and I’ve spent the past ten days also doing as much research into the pudding industry as possible, which, at large, is, of course, the food and grocery industry as well. Retail in all aspects, this place is a goldmine just waiting to be tapped on the merch end of the spectrum.

God, I hate to admit it, but I’m getting excited about pudding.

Even if this was about something as petty as a failed blind date, I’m excited.

But okay, it isn’t.

It isn’t just about the date. It’s not just about getting duped and getting revenge.

It’s more about the fact that I can’t get Evilla Cowbush out of my head.

Not just her purse-stuffing, crab-wielding antics either. She might have been playing a part, but half that part was the real her. Half that part was vibrant, vivacious, sassy as hell, smart, fearless, and funny. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She wasn’t afraid to walk out of that place with a purse full of crab legs. At the end of the night, she basically threw down a challenge. I wouldn’t dare buy this company, and I wouldn’t dare make this personal. I just wouldn’t dare in general because it would be so wrong and so childish. I wouldn’t, just because I could.

But I did.

And today is the first day it feels real.

I’m having zero meet and greets with the new company owner. Me. Everyone here knows the company has been sold, but I’d like a day here before I address everyone.

As president of the company, Mike had his office on the bottom floor of the building instead of the top. In preparation for the sale going through, he cleaned out his things well ahead of time. He’s going to travel for the next few years and then maybe buy something tropical next to his parents. I had a pang of jealousy, imagining him seeing the world and being carefree, but I had to wipe it out. Somedays, I think it would be nice to disappear. Put other people in charge and just vanish.

Today is not that day.

Today, I’m walking into the office that I’ll be occupying for the next little while.

I have a meeting booked with HR and Communications, both for one-thirty, so I can make it clear that no one is in danger of losing their job and that I plan for this to be a great thing. I’d like HR to send out a communication to the entire company, and if anyone has any concerns, I’d like them to be addressed in writing and carefully gone over. If anyone would like to leave due to the change in ownership, I think it’s only fair that I offer some kind of compensation package. But I’d really like people to stay, and I’m willing to do everything I already said. Paygrades, benefits packages, pensions. All of that has to be figured out because I’d like this to go over as smoothly as possible.

My new pudding HQ is nice. It’s not right downtown, which makes a lot of sense. It’s smart to pay less for real estate but still have a great location north of the area and a great building. The place is six stories, so it's not overwhelming. It’s older, mostly glass, and surrounded by different vibrant businesses. On my way here this morning, I counted at least forty-some restaurants and coffee shops that are within walking distance or a short drive.

As soon as I walk in the door, Marjorie, the building’s receptionist, greets me. The place has a nice, modern construction of wood and stone and an even nicer entrance. Everything is tiled and modern in very white, clean shades, and the lighting coming in from the glass windows makes the space look larger than it is.

“Hello, good morning.” The gold nameplate at the top of her desk sparkles. The coffee bar to the left is immaculately clean, as are the square wood coffee table in the middle of the lobby and the four white couches arranged around it. “What can I help you find today?”

“I’m actually…erm…Mont. Mont Montfield.” I could tell from her three rapid blinks that she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t internet search the hell out of me ahead of time, so I can only figure that’s a good thing. No one here seems to be living in fear of new ownership and all the changes. There’s only so much smoothing things over that I could do remotely.

Marjorie covers up any discomfort with a smile. “Oh, it’s great to meet you, Mr. Montfield. We have your office set up for you just down the hall. Would you like me to show you where it is?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“I heard you were coming in today. We all did. The whole place is just buzzing.” Marjorie is probably in her early forties with a shorter brunette bob threaded through with steely grey hairs that don’t want to cooperate as they spring up here and there along her part.

Her dazzling smile matches her sparkly pink top and the sparkly heels she’s paired it with. I’m a little surprised to see she’s wearing jeans, but business casual is good. Wearing a suit to work gets old, and who trusts a suit anymore anyway?

“I hope it’s a good buzz. I’d like it to be a good buzz.”

“Yes.” She waves a hand, dismissing my concern. “I baked chocolate chip cookies last night. I was just on my way to set them in the staff lunchroom. Would you like one?”

This woman is so kind and thoughtful. I have to say, I’m surprised and touched. “That would be great.”

She goes behind her desk, pops open a huge plastic container, and hands me one soft, delicious-looking cookie. It’s perfect from the gooey middle to the golden edges. I take a bite. “Wow! You should go into business for yourself.”

She just laughs before saying, “I’m more than happy here, but if I ever need a side hustle, I just might take your advice.”

Then, she goes straight into business mode, leading me back behind her desk, which opens to a hallway that no one can get to unless they go past her.

I would say the part of the building after the reception area ends hasn’t had an update since the nineties, but the cheap wood, brass door handles, outdated fixtures, and old tile floors don’t bother me. Everything is perfectly clean, and it’s clearly been cared for. None of the ceiling tiles have any marks on them. They’re all very sparkly white.

I open the office door as Marjorie heads back to the front. It wasn’t locked. I don’t even think there’s a way to lock it at all.

There’s an older cherry wood desk that wraps around in a U shape, cabinets in the back that attach to it, a bank of black filing cabinets to the right, and a whole bunch of empty space. The desk is entirely cleared off except for one immaculate stack of papers and a white envelope.

A card.

I pick it up, wondering about it, then slip my finger under the flap to open it. I feel like someone reached into my body with a cattle probe and gave my chest a jolt when I see the red crab on the front of the card waving its happy little claws in the air. An illustrated one. Not a real crab.

Inside is the neatest handwriting I’ve ever seen. Does anyone under the age of grandmother actually handwrite anymore?

Bergamont,

This is absurd. I can’t believe you’d do this. If you want to discuss this hostile takeover before I go to HR and file a formal complaint about workplace harassment and harassment outside the workplace as well, then please meet me at the coffee shop next door. It’s the one with the giant rat head on the window. You can’t miss it. I’ll be waiting.

All day if that’s what it takes.

This is not okay. You can’t have this pudding. Pudding is my thing. Pudding is not your thing. Petty revenge does seem to be, though, so before things go further, we need to get this sorted out.

Evilla (not pronounced Evil-anything)

Well then.

It certainly does seem that I’ve been told. Harassment? Is she serious? All I’ve done was buy a pudding company. Harassment? This, coming from a woman who impersonates someone else and has the audacity to utterly ruin a date for her own entertainment?

She might have been faking it, but she was asked. She was doing her friend a solid and protecting her like any good, loyal friend would do.

I wish I had someone to do that for me.

I do have people who would do that for me, I think. I have friends, and they’ve made it perfectly clear over the years that they can be counted on. Maybe not for fake dates, but then again, I wouldn’t ask anyone to stand in for me.

For the love of meaty crabs, I need to take a breath.

I need to pull the giant stick out of my arse and get a few things straight.

First, I didn’t do this to hurt Evilla in any way. I’m still unclear on all the reasons I did it, but there was a challenge thrown out, and I accepted. This was a great investment. Pudding is a wonderful food. I wasn’t stuck where I was, but I was getting bored .

None of that was the real reason I made this purchase, though.

I’ve never met anyone like Evilla before. Not only have I never met a person like her, but I’m about sixty-two percent sure there isn’t anyone like her on this planet.

She etched herself into my brain permanently. I tell myself the only reason I can’t stop thinking about her is that I’m not ready to let go of the fake girlfriend and later fake fiancée scheme. She would be perfect. She’s smart, sassy, and a great actress. My mom would like her. She’d sell the heck out of it, and then we could both go our separate ways, but in the meantime, we could maybe learn to like each other. Maybe challenge each other. We could have fun with this if we tried.

Then there’s the fact that she just happens to be insanely compelling.

There’s a good chance I might actually be the insane one, but I slip the card into my pocket and head back out of my office.

I smile at Marjorie as I walk past. “Just stepping out to get some coffee before I delve into meetings this afternoon.”

“Oh. I can certainly have them bring one over, or I can send someone to do that. You’re probably going to want an executive assistant, but for the time being, until all that’s sorted—”

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t need someone to get me coffee. I don’t mind going over one bit. The place next door? The one with the rat? Is it good?”

“That’s a great choice! Even just their regular coffee is delicious, but try the cold brew in any flavor. It’s to die for.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you,” I say.

“I’ll hold the fort down while you’re gone, Mr. Montfield.” She’s joking, but I have no doubt she will. Her smile is infectious, and I give another one back, even though I feel like it’s maybe a little too smiley. Not that smiles are bad. They’re great. I just don’t like to go overboard.

The Ratty Brew and Stew is so close that it almost touches my new building. I can’t say if I’m intrigued or disgusted by the name, but the giant rat head logo is pretty adorable. I guess it’s a good marketing scheme. The little ratty is giving two thumbs up, so the place must be all Marjorie promised it is.

I push open the door, and the first thing that hits me is the smell.

It’s not a ratty smell, but a divine I’ve died and gone to the best of coffee heaven smell.

The place is packed, but my eyes shoot straight to her .

There, in the middle, at an unassuming table by the window. The table is a small square with only one other chair not taken across from her. A large handmade mug is in front of her on the table. I couldn’t find a single photo of her online anywhere. She’s got her social media locked up tight, and though her name is all over the internet, related to pudding, there aren’t any images to match.

She’s not a blonde. Her hair is a stunning shade of red—not dyed. All that strawberry copper with the gold highlights set off from the sun coming through the window is all her. Her eyes are still the exact shade of green that has been etched into my brain for over a week. I thought I might have misremembered how gorgeous she was because of the shock factor involved with that date, but no.

She’s beyond lovely. Even looking exactly as herself now and not playing the part of someone else, she has an unmistakable aura I can’t even name.

My heart jolts as my brain internally defibrillates it with that information. My breath is all choppy. If she looked up and smiled, it would be dazzling.

But she doesn’t.

And that unguarded moment where I got to observe her is shattered as her eyes sweep the place and land on me. She doesn’t look surprised. She doesn’t look pleased. She doesn’t smile, and she doesn’t frown. Instead, a guarded expression falls into place, and oddly enough, it hurts. I can tell she’s set and ready for battle without trying to let me know that she’s set and ready. What she didn’t say in that card was let’s go to war. She said let’s talk.

I think it’s pretty much the same thing.