Loving Quinn

(Quinn)

Last night went exactly how I figured it would. Well, almost. The earlier part of the evening I spent with a busty brunette whose name I can’t remember. It might have been Cindy or Candy. I am fairly sure it started with a C.

We met at a cocktail party thrown by one of my investors. Fancy suits and scantily clad women on a yacht. Not my kind of party, but I go where the money is. My date for the evening ended up making out with someone else, so I found another date.

The busty brunette was very bold, which appealed to me, so I took her down to a stateroom below deck. Her dress hit the floor the moment the door was closed. No surprise there. Then she was on her knees undoing my belt.

I had her on every flat surface in the room, in various positions, until she was breathless and exhausted. As I got dressed, she handed me a piece of paper with her number on it, which I threw in a trash can on my way off the yacht. She more than delivered on what her eyes promised me when she glanced my way hours before.

The second part of my evening was spent using the weight room in my penthouse to work off some frustrations and exhaust my body. That didn’t work so I showed, dressed for the club I frequent, then fucked two hot blondes in a private room. Threesomes are a lot of work and I left them more than satisfied. Then I went home and passed out after I showered again.

Physical exertion has been my go-to distraction for years now. I used to start my mornings with a jog, but some mornings I go to this fantastic gym I found close to my penthouse. Mixed Martial Artists from all over the world train at this gym. I know the owner well.

I have my own gym but this morning I want the sound of other people in the background to distract me, so I head to the gym to get sweaty. Nightmares from my past woke me up this morning and I could really use a distraction.

Even after years of therapy, I am still chasing the dreams away in the morning. Well, at least on the mornings that I don’t fall into bed with someone the night before or from the extreme exhaustion of not sleeping for days. The last few years have gotten better, but I am forever haunted by my time as a soldier.

After parking my truck at the entrance, I head inside to get my day started. I sign in with the receptionist, who gives me the double glance like always. Her eyes roaming over all my exposed skin as I grab my gym bag off the floor and head to the locker room. The tattoos on my arms and chest always get attention.

I have the insignia of the Army Rangers on my right bicep. Then a cherry blossom tree goes down the rest of the arm to mid-forearm. Hidden within the leaves are little crosses with names and dates. I never tell anyone who notices them what they are for. On my left arm is a full tattoo sleeve of many different images. The one that stands out the most is my St. Michael’s medal.

A single tiger lily sits at the base of the medal with a name in flowing script within the petals. Annora, the girl, now woman, who branded my soul as hers for the keeping. I don’t want it back. She can keep it.

I head straight to the locker room to store my gym bag then I wave at the owner of the gym, Hollis, as I walk over to the weighted heavy punching bags. I put one ear bud in then I get down to the task at hand.

Distracting myself.

It worked for an hour but then thoughts of where I am heading in life creep up in my mind as I give the punching bag a beating. I like where I am in my professional life.

What I have done with my money has made me who I am today. That and the never-ending support of my best friend, who is now my business partner. We grew up together, went into the Army together, then got out to do some good things together.

It is my personal life that is edging towards the point of no return. Work until my brain is comfortably numb, fuck a different woman or two every night, then go home to my empty penthouse. It is a lonely existence. One I force on myself.

Though the life I am living now is not how I saw my life as a teenager. Back then, I never thought more than a few days ahead at a time. At least until I enlisted in the Army to get the hell away from my father and the ghost of my mother.

I thought of dating, like seriously dating someone, but I am reminded of how my last relationship ended. That shit won’t ever happen again. I don’t date. I take women out, give them an enjoyable time, then fuck them until they are screaming my name. Then I leave them in their beds to sleep it off while I go home.

Sometimes, when I am sitting alone in the darkness of my living room, I think I am a terrible human being. What I do to these women is wrong, but they know what they are signing up for when they agree to go out with me. Hell, most of them are practically begging me for attention.

Shaking my head clear, I see that I have destroyed the punching bag. I head to the locker room to shower, then drop a check off on Hollis’s desk for the bag. The drive back uptown to my penthouse is long, but it will clear my head further.

By the time I arrive at the office, it is nearly nine in the morning. My thick black hair is slightly messy, but I like it that way. I am wearing a navy-blue suit with a white button-up shirt beneath, without a tie.

My secretary greets me with a smile, and I don’t miss the look of lust in her eyes.

“Hold my calls until Aaron gets in, then send him to my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

The last few days have been hectic since we started inquiring about our next venture. We have decided to buy a hospital but the one we want is in some serious financial crisis. We have a plan to get past that, but the owner has been resistant to meet with us. Time will wear him down. How much time will it take for the man to realize he owns a sinking ship? If our luck holds, the old man will come to grips with reality sooner rather than later.

I look out the window of my office towards the elevators to see if Aaron has arrived yet. I am still glad I had the office redesigned when I bought it. As it is now, the entire top floor of the building is mine. Well, mine and my best friend Aaron’s. G&C Enterprises is our company name, a name that took us about a year to agree on, but it has worked well for us for the last five years.

“Ok, so the board members of Mercy General called. They are willing to sit down for a meeting.” Aaron says as he enters my office.

Aaron is dressed in a charcoal gray pinstripe suit, his hair still in that military buzz cut he favors, and his brown eyes are staring at the file in my hands. I know what he is waiting for, but I haven’t decided what we will do if they refuse to sell.

We are offering to buy a hospital, one that used to have the most prestigious veterans’ programs on the west coast but has come on challenging times over the last few years. G&C Enterprises owns and funds many programs to help war veterans. We own manufacturing companies that specialize in artificial limbs for combat veterans. Companies that work to give housing to those veterans who lost their homes while fighting wars for their country.

When I heard about the program at Mercy General, I knew it was the one.

The program we had been looking for. Their program used to get patients from all over the country. It was once considered top of the line for helping wounded veterans get back to their lives. Then the hospital made some terrible investments and started cutting funding to the program.

I had thought of just funding the program, but Aaron made the observation that we would have more control if we just bought the hospital. So here I am staring at the folder in my hand, not ready to open it yet to see the numbers that will show me just how bad Mercy General is doing financially. They gave us a copy of their records for the last year, but I wanted to have a deeper look at how they spent their money.

“Is it worse or better than what we expected?” I ask Aaron.

“Open the file and find out,” He replies. He sits in one of the overstuffed office chairs in front of my desk.

I groan, then do as he says. I open the file and scan over the pages quickly. The hospital is doing worse than expected. With a few major changes, I am sure it can be rejuvenated back to what it used to be. What concerns me the most is the veteran’s program. Some numbers in this file do not match what they originally gave to us. The discrepancies alarm me. Thousands of dollars that were said to have gone to the program didn't go where they claimed.

Where did it go?

That will be something to find out. I will give my friend Mac a call. He is a corporate investigator. I want to know what has been going on with those funds before we buy Mercy General. I want a clean accounting book before we move forward.

“Call Mac, we need him to pull the threads on these discrepancies,” I tell Aaron as I close the file.

“Already on it. I emailed him a copy of both files they gave us and told him our concerns. He got pissed and said he would dig deeper for us. He should get back to us today. We can start the talks to buy the hospital while we wait for his call,” Aaron says.

“Why do I even bother making suggestions to you when you are always one or two steps ahead of me?” I ask him.

“That, I will never understand either. They will be here at two tomorrow afternoon,” he says. Then he stands from his seat. “I will go grab some lunch, then we can start strategizing our approach.”

Sometimes my best friend knows me better than I know myself. I have only allowed one other person to get that close to me. No, stop, don’t go down that road, I tell myself. Now is not the time to go down memory lane. I have meeting notes to prepare. Who knew that I would go from being an angry teenager to a war-weary soldier, then to a rich business executive?

I sure as fuck never expected my life to turn out this way.

I shake those thoughts away when I hear the elevator ding, signaling Aaron’s return from grabbing lunch for us. I grab the files and my notes and follow Aaron to his office. We discuss our game plan over lunch.

“Do you think we will persuade them to sell?” Aaron asks.

To anyone else, he looks calm, but I know him well. The twitching of his left leg as he taps his foot under his desk. He is nervous that the hospital board will decide not to sell. I can understand his nervousness as I share the same thoughts.

There is so much good that we can do for our fellow veterans with this acquisition. Yes, we could have just bought the Veterans Program. However, Aaron is right. We will have much more control over what happens with the program if we own the hospital. There is a need for reform in the very foundation of Mercy General.

They have a cash flow issue of more money going out than coming in. As it looks now, they will barely be able to stay open for the rest of the year if something isn’t done now. Aaron and I have a game plan to set things on the right track for Mercy General. Unfortunately, all that hinges on one old man, his son, and the rest of the board of directors. I hope Mac finds something that will give us a trump card. I have a feeling that there is more going on with Mercy General’s finances that even the old man knows about.

“I think Mac will find something that we can use to persuade them in our favor.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The outflow of funds goes beyond what it should for a hospital of that size. With all the programs it operates, they should run well into the black. Not to mention how many charity events they have a year to raise money for those programs. The money is going somewhere it shouldn’t.”

“I thought the same thing when I read over the report. I was thinking of using that thought in the meeting to get them to open their eyes.”

“No, let’s wait on that card until we hear from Mac. I want concrete evidence of my theory before I use it against them.”

I shake my head in laughter at a joke Aaron makes about rich old men. We spend the rest of the morning going over our game plan. We refined our notes, goals, and first priorities. Neither of us know the first thing about running a hospital. We know people that do, who are on board to help us if the sale goes through.

Please let luck be on our side.

Authors Note

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