Chapter 7

On the fifteenth of the month Brad Tarkenton, CEO of Amalgamated Industries, left town on his corporate jet to go to the Bahamas and do an on-site survey of operations there, or what was called an oversight visit. The flight plan his pilot filed indicated a stop in Cleveland Ohio for refueling. A few empoyees noticed and a couple grumbled about the boss having perks. Others looked at them with frowns. What the boss did was his business. They liked their jobs and didn’t think much of people who didn’t appreciate what they had.

The pilot and copilot didn’t bat an eye at the flight plan which called for refueling in Cleveland. They knew about the luscious little thing who had spent so much time in his hotel room on the last trip. Any man would want to go back for seconds. They also knew that telling Jackie about that luscious little thing would have caused her to be less than happy ... so they hadn’t.

Brad smiled at Jackie, when she welcomed him onto the plane. Again she made it clear that whatever he needed, including her, naked on the plush rug, legs spread wide for him, all he had to do was ask. He smiled because she was going to be one pissed girl the next time he boarded the plane.

When they landed it was about nine in the morning. As the jet was taxiing toward its parking place Brad saw, out a window, a brand new Viking Chrysler 300 limo waiting for him. It was painted in Amalgamated’s color scheme and George was standing beside it, wearing a uniform that matched the car’s color scheme. He knew what George’s answer had been before he stepped onto the tarmac.

George opened the door as Brad walked toward him. “Good to see you again, sir.” he said formally.

“Thanks George, how did Claudette take it?”

“Your secretary sent us pictures of the house and a contract that even we could understand. Claudette said if I didn’t take the job I could go live in the garage. We’ve been a little cramped since Jimmy and Jake came along.”

“I didn’t know how she’d react.” said Brad. “A lot of women don’t like moving around when they have children.”

“The moving company called and said they could have us there lock, stock and barrel in three days. They just said throw out anything we don’t want to take with us and to leave the rest to them. Josh said we could move the family up there in the limo. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“It’s a car, George. It’s just a car.”

“It’s my office sir, and it’s gorgeous. Thank you for everything Mr. Tarkenton.”

“Thank you, George,” said Brad and got in. After all, it had been George’s seal of approval that had tipped the scales in Jasmine’s decision on whether to ‘escort’ one Brad Tarkenton to a dance. Brad felt like he owed George a lot more than he could ever repay.

When he got to the hotel there was a message waiting for him from Jasmine. It said, “Don’t contact me and don’t try to find me. George will pick you up at one and take you where you need to be. Your clothes are in your room. I love you.”

He followed the instructions and George delivered him to the hotel where Jasmine had been living for the last few years. George parked and they started towards the door when a two men approached them. One had a camera. He was holding it like a weapon, ready to use.

“Mister Tarkenton!” said the other man. Even if the photographer hadn’t been there, Brad would have smelled reporter before the man said another word. “I’m Jerry Renner from the News-Herald. Are you here to get married Mr. Tarkenton?” The photographer took a picture of George and Brad. “Is it true you’re marrying a prostitute?” asked Jerry, with a slight sneer.

Brad reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat. “I have something here for you Mister Renner,” he said, smiling. He unfolded the tri-folded documents and handed them to Jerry. “You’ll have plenty of time to read over these documents, because you are not invited to this wedding. As you can see, I have purchased the News-Herald and am now the owner and Publisher, as I believe I am titled now. You work for me now, Jerry and it is my opinion ... as the Publisher ... and your employer ... that this wedding is not news.”

Jerry was looking skeptically at the pages in his hand.

Brad didn’t let him speak though. “Now you have two choices ... both of you...” he included the photographer, “You can forget this story, and go about reporting some real news. That also means you will not ... I repeat will not ... share any of the information you may think you have uncovered ... with any other person ... anywhere in the world ... under any circumstances. I now own all information you have about this wedding and about me, and it is not for sale to any person at any price. It is confidential information.”

Brad was moving into a voice his employees had learned to recognize, based on reports from other employees who had actually heard this voice, usually to their peril. It was called his ‘you-fuck-this-up-and-I’ll-have-your-balls-for-dinner’ voice.

“And, if asked about it, you will respond that you are not at liberty to talk about it. That is a condition of your continued employment. The other option you have is to try to make a splash, at which time you will be fired. My litigation division will then ruin your lives gentlemen. They will ensure that you will be in debt to me for the rest of your lives, and that you will own nothing more expensive than a bicycle to get to whatever work you can get. Who I am marrying is my business and nobody else’s unless my wife and I decide to involve them. I remind you again, gentlemen, that any notes you have, are property of the News-Herald and, therefore, my property. Should those notes be left lying about where someone might find them, option number two, which I mentioned before, will kick in.”

Jerry was now frantically trying to read the documents that he’d been handed. His mouth was hanging open. Brad said “Oh, I almost forgot. There’s a third option. You can quit. Of course the materials I mentioned still belong to me, and if you think you can quit and then try to make a splash, you’ll get to meet my litigators then too. Now. You’re wasting your time around here. I don’t pay people to waste time. Go find some news.”

Jerry tried once. “But it is news! She’s a hooker and you’re an important man!” Jerry, like many in the media, thought that anything he knew, or thought he knew, was vital knowledge that the public had a right to know. And a need to know too.

Brad gave him a level gaze. “She’s a human being who found a man who loves her. I’m a man who found a woman I love. That’s news? Who actually cares about our pasts? Some high society freaks who have nothing better to do than titter behind closed doors? You’d give up a good job just to give them something to gossip about for a couple of weeks? We’re just two people trying to find a little happiness. You screw that up and I’ll crush you. It’s that simple Jerry. At least it is to me, and I’m the Publisher. You can do what you want to. This is America. But I can do what I want to as well, and that includes going after somebody who tries to mess with that happiness.”

The photographer, possibly a lot smarter than Jerry, had already pulled open the back of his camera and was pulling a strip of film out into the daylight. “Damn, I ruined the film.” He looked at Brad. “Sorry ... boss. I promise I’ll be more careful in the future.” Brad turned and walked off. He could hear Jerry whining and an explosive, “Shut the fuck up, you idiot,” from the photographer.

George accompanied Brad to the ballroom, which was on the floor directly beneath the penthouse. Josh was waiting for him when the elevator doors opened and escorted him to a small room where he said, “Now we wait. I brought cards. You play Hearts Brad?”

Brad was uncharacteristically nervous, and not just because he was marrying his own daughter. His last two marriages had seemed routine somehow ... just another business transaction to get through so he could move forward. But this one was different. He was madly in love with Jasmine and waiting to see her was what got his heart rate up.

Just about the time Brad began thinking he might actually throw up, a beautiful young woman came to the door and told the men they should follow her. She took them through a side door in the ballroom, which had been decorated with streamers and other things. The odor of fresh flowers was almost overwhelming.

There were probably thirty or forty people sitting in chairs lined up in rows, leaving an aisle between them. An official was standing at the head of that aisle. As the men took their place to the left of the official, music started up from a small orchestra that was off to one side. Brad examined the people who had been invited to his fourth wedding. He had only seen six of them and didn’t know any of the rest, but that didn’t matter a bit. This ceremony was for the bride and he knew it.

There were about ten women who Brad assumed were Jasmine’s former peers. They were almost painfully beautiful in general, but each was gorgeous in her own way. Some were short while others stood taller, some up to six feet. There were large breasts and small breasts, and curvy bodies and slim almost boyish ones. Some were dressed elegantly, while others wore more simple attire. There was hair of every hue. Every race was represented. It was like a small female United Nations. Brad was amazed that a town like Cleveland could support that many high-priced call girls.

Well, after today there would be a little less competition.

Other people present included Claudette and her children, and pairs and clusters of other people Brad assumed meant something special to Jasmine.

He saw movement at the back of the room and looked to see Julie strolling toward them, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Her hair had been done up in some way that used sparkling stones on a net made of gold thread. Her gown was made to display, rather than hide her pregnant condition, and there was just enough cleavage to display breasts ready to do their duty when that stomach flattened. She looked like the poster woman for achingly beautiful mothers-to-be, a living billboard that urged women to become like her, and men to do their best to make women’s bellies swell with life.

Brad started to feel some small shame as his prick lurched, looking at his wife’s best friend. But then he relaxed. There wasn’t anyone in this room who would hold an erection against him.

Julie winked at him and took her place on the official’s right, turning to face the back of the room.

Two women opened the double doors in the back and Jasmine stepped forward, her hand laid lightly on George’s arm. For once she was the one being escorted. She was dressed in a dark forest green colored gown that was cut like a wedding dress, with a train. It was sleeveless, and appeared to be hanging on her body only by virtue of some unknown magic. It came around her back and crossed over about half of each of her breasts, dipping down to a point below her breasts. It looked amazingly sexy, but somehow didn’t look like it was showing that much skin. She had strings of pearls that started almost as a choker and then dipped lower and lower until they rested between her breasts. Dangling pear shaped pearl earrings matched the necklace and hung from her ears, swaying slightly as she walked. Her hair was in a simple, but long French braid that hung down her back to her buttocks. She looked like a simple peasant girl, who had tried on a glass slipper that had fit. Now the simple peasant girl was a princess, about to become a queen.