Truth Meets Love Read online

  The complex we live in has four townhouses in a line facing the street. There are two-car garages between each of our units within the same complex. The last unit in the row as you turn on to our street is mine, and I have owned the complex since I was 22. Pugs had found the jackpot online when she moved out from South Dakota to help me find a place to buy. I got it for a steal, and there were even improvement allowances built in to the closing. My current tenants consist of a single father, Tyler, and his five-year-old daughter Macey, who occupy the unit next door to mine. On their other side is Betty, better known to Tyler, Macey and me as "Pugs." The last unit was just vacated by my 25-year-old assistant Shelby, who found love with the head of our IT department. Shelby and Marcus are now the proud co-owners of a four-bed, three-bath ranch-style home just outside of town.

  After Dez got sick and I knew my MBA was paid for by Greyson Capital, Inc., I didn't need all the money I had saved for my education. Instead, I put it to even better use. I pulled the down payment from my savings and let my little pack of punches, Pugs, negotiate the details. She had more experience with these things and I had my hands full. Pugs offered to assist with the down payment but I refused. She had done so much for me already, and it was important to me to do this on my own. It was my first real "home purchase." However, I needed a place where Dez could be comfortable, too. I also made sure it would accommodate Pugs and me so we could be close to Tyler, Dez and Macey to help take care of them. Although this was for convenience, it was also to give Dez peace of mind. It was a way to make sure Dez understood I got her message loud and clear. She didn't have to worry about Tyler and Macey and I wanted to make sure she knew they were always going to remain an important part of my life once she was gone.

  I will never forget when she told me that she had breast cancer. She was so calm, composed and brave. She had stopped by my place unannounced one evening. She had already made up her mind about continuing her pregnancy, even after she had gotten the news the day before, all the time knowing that not pursuing aggressive treatment immediately would lower her chances of being able to fight it before it was too late. It was like she was staring down the barrel of a partially loaded weapon, knowing her chances of escaping a fatal blow were minimal.

  I was in shock. I was angry at her at the time for not fighting to save herself. I love Dez so much, and I still feel guilty every time I look at Macey now and think back to that conversation. However, Dez got me to see her point, as always. Her argument was that there was no guarantee at that stage she would even survive after the treatments were started, and she would never forgive herself for terminating the pregnancy if she lived through it, anyway. She wanted me to make sure Macey knew how much Dez loved her and how important it was to have her. She didn't want all the focus put on what Dez sacrificed to bring Macey into this world. She said she didn't want Macey thinking that she would ever choose to leave her without a mother or that Dez regretted that she chose to continue her plan to have Macey once she found out about the breast cancer. She was afraid Macey might feel like it was her fault, and Dez wanted her to know that it was the only peace and light she had to look forward to. She felt she was leaving this world with a better piece of her. Macey was a dream come true in Dez's life and it was her dying wish that Macey always knew that.

  I remember I broke from my tears and laughed when she instructed me to burn the box in her extra bedroom closet that contained old love letters from ex-boyfriends. She said they were not of any value to her anymore, and she didn't want Macey or Tyler to ever have to read them. She was also adamant that I not bring up some of the things she might have done back in our wilder days. I can already tell Macey is going to have a few of those stories of her own. She is her mother's child, after all!

  Dez got choked up, resigned to her fate, when she asked me to make sure I talked to Mace about her, since she probably wouldn't remember much about her Mom and I knew her best. Then I couldn't contain the sobs that followed when she asked me to make sure Tyler and Macey don't miss their chance at love. She took this opportunity to let me know that setting an example and being open to finding love for myself might be a good place to start when that time came.

  I pull Macey's cheek to my face with my hand as I bend down to her so she is peering up at me. I see Dez so I kiss her forehead followed by, "Mace, thank you for being the first love of my life to bring me flowers, and that poem will be branded on my heart forever. It was beautiful just like you." Mace grins and that little gap in her teeth shows bright. My heart breaks. I set Mace to the ground and run both my hands over her hair and put the long black strand behind her ear. I give Pugs a hug as she and Mace make their way to the door and trail down the walk to try one of those cinnamon rolls.

  Chapter TWO

  WORKING GIRL

  Hadley-

  I come into my office and pull my laptop from its case, along with the presentation slides for the close of the $860M merger I am championing today. It is my first official day in my newly-appointed role as SVP of Acquisitions and Mergers at Greyson Capital, Inc. I have two hours to prepare the room before the suits begin folding in. I check my phone and see I have two text messages. There is one from a potential renter in response to the ad Shelby, my assistant and former tenant, listed in the company newsletter about the vacant unit in my complex. They would like to set up a time to meet. I quickly browse my schedule and respond with an invite for 8PM tomorrow evening.

  The other is from Mr. Greyson, my CEO and the largest shareholder in the company, who has asked that I come to his office ASAP. There is someone that he wants me to meet. I sigh slightly at the realization that this is probably what my new role entails. It seems there may now be less focus on studying files on my laptop and analyzing data and asset quality and more face-to-face meetings. The close of the deals was just the beginning of the work that lies ahead to consolidate organizations and hundreds of millions of assets. I liked the challenge, the intensity and mostly the camaraderie of my compadres on the team. We have coined our new execution strategy as, "We either find a way or make one." We have six months to completely consolidate and enfold Mathis Engineering, Inc. into the commercial and government construction projects and development sectors of an affiliated entity of Greyson Capital, Inc.

  Behind e-mails Hadley could be a man, and the statistics and strategies for solutions and investment opportunities would have more credibility with them… you know, coming from a MAN. Deals I would manage would be closed by Mr. Greyson, and I could stay in the background. I could be like the puppet master. I could continue to focus on organizing the team, aligning vendors to consolidate systems, infrastructure migrations, and security details.

  My new position requires me to come out from behind the scenes, and it opens up some of my inner vulnerabilities. However, I keep moving my legs in strong, confident strides through hall to the office just two doors from mine and give myself the pep talk. I like to focus on the work keep my eye on the wider scope. Mr. Greyson says that is of my strongest qualities. I see the possibilities and fill the steps to lead and direct resources there, as opposed to letting results or outcomes steer my direction.

  It shouldn't matter that I am a 29-year-old woman and not a 35 to 50-year-old male if I can do the job. The 35 to 50-year-old male populace makes up 100% of my peer base. They don't seem to share the sentiment. Pussies.

  Let's see, I have been discussed over beers in gross detail. Marcus got into a fist-fight with our previous Chief Accounting Officer for spouting his mouth about what he would like me to do with mine at a gathering after work. Mr. Greyson must have caught wind and not appreciated the comments any more than I did when I heard about it. We were only CAO-less for two months before they found Sam, and he's the bomb.

  I have been ogled, propositioned, asked to make travel arrangements, get the coffee for the meeting… you know, all part of being a woman in a man's world. My all-time favorite was the invitation I received from our Director of Marketing, which is now an outs
ourced function.

  I had accompanied Andrew to a business conference held in downtown Chicago a few years ago. It was during the opening social hour over drinks that he proceeded to inform me how well connected he was in the company and that he was on a first-name basis with the CEO. Andrew went on to say that we could "help each other get what we both want." He continued the sales pitch by telling me that he had gotten a hotel room at the event and if I didn't want to make the 45-minute drive home, I was welcome to stay.

  Hmmm… unfortunately, I knew what I wanted and how to get it. Apparently Andrew needed some coursework in how my kind operated.

  I shared this sentiment with Andy. "Oh, all that character and marketability and you still can't close the deal. Pity. I was looking forward to that 30 seconds of fame. However, I am perfectly capable of getting what I want without your assistance. I do appreciate your concern and I would suggest the next time you are presented with the urge to throw out an offer like that to a woman, just compliment her shoes instead."

  I get a kick out of the idiocy of their attempts to rattle my cage and put me in my proper place. They think they are coming off as concerned about increasing my value and providing me more perceived worth by being graced with their presence in front of the right eyes. Have the right connections to drop your name and wham… you're in. Unfortunately, those antics succeed too often in the workplace. Too many make their way to the top through the air pockets they laid for themselves in the wake of the smoke and mirrors. They didn't earn their stripes; they stole the stripes, badges of courage and medals of honor from their staff or peers and took credit for saving the day. They let the people in the trenches take all the heavy fire and carry the heaviest load while they strutted their pirated decor in the boardrooms and executive committee meetings, fanning the flames and spreading their smoke.

  These Mitt-Romney-Themed-Gentleman are unable to get me to buy their concern for my wellbeing and devotion to increasing my perceived value. Egos step in to man the fort, and they change tactics and go for intimidating. All are trying their hand at playing on many of my insecurities, but I don't work that way. I have worked to gain knowledge to provide me the means to exhibit a level of confidence and the clarity to make informed decisions. It is not a political or a posturing maneuver. It is scaling and envisioning, where I need to get resources and frameworks to lay the stones for that path. I research and evaluate what our strengths, weaknesses and areas of risk exposure are and plan and scale the components and milestones to reach the objectives.

  I have sought out the resources that knew the battle plans drawn within the trenches and executed them. I fought alongside them. I led them into battle and we came out with only minor casualties and were stronger for the experience. We found out what we were made of and how big our brave was. I earned my stripes. I earned everything I have. I don't use people to get what I want, and I don't let others use me to execute their personal agendas. I have been fortunate to have been given some key opportunities along the way and I have had some very good coworkers and friends, my only form of family supporting me. However, I have worked my ass off in more ways than one to get to where I am in my career and in my life.

  Not many know the truth behind my success and what decisions I was forced to make at major intersections in my life. They have no clue about the kind of roads I have taken to get me here. I think I may have actually even created a few not on the map. It was important to me that I made my own way and pulled from my strength and sheer will to get to where I wanted to go. The decisions that led me to this point in my life were not easy, but they were mine to make. If I set my mind, my heart and my soul to it and I didn't give in when the plan didn't go exactly as expected, I could forge my line and hold on to control of my own destiny.

  She hadn't…

  The people I work with are definitely not privy to the information or details regarding my previous "profession." That is probably best, considering there are a lot of stereotypes that go along with women who have worked in the "clothing optional workforce." I wasn't ashamed of my choices; I just didn't need the judgment and criticisms to obstruct my path to glory road. It was not their road to travel. They may not have been right for everyone but they were right for me. It hadn't been some mistake I made, nor some big regret I had. It wasn't some detour on some aimless road I just happened to stumble across. It was all part of the first phase in becoming "Had-Worthy." The project schedule had been scoped, planned, scaled and executed masterfully. The plan had been executed and came in within scope, on time and within budget. My inner trucker makes a grand entrance: Not bad for a girl who used to wear nipple clamps while shaking her shit in front of toothless wonders and geek squad members holding the biggest bills out in front of sniffer's row.

  When I approach the door is already open. I peer through and I see Mr. Greyson, whom I swear, with those blue shining eyes and high cheekbones, could fall back as an Elvis impersonator with the proper sideburns and rhinestone suit. I convinced him of this theory at the Halloween Costume Charity event last year when I sewed up his costume. We were all astonished at his resemblance to the late 40-ish stage phenomenon. I had dressed as a biker bitch, which was actually a modestly modified version of one of my "stage outfits." This time I wore more than a thong under the chaps, obviously.

  Dorris, or Petals, is Pug's sister. She taught me how to work the pole at age 16. Petals had specifically selected this outfit for all the riders present who would be passing through, headed to the Sturgis Bike Rally in South Dakota. Needless to say, it was a hit and an outfit I always keep with me. It made me the last $10K I needed to get off that stage and on to the next in my life.

  Phase 2: College.

  The University of Illinois was the first stop in Phase Two, after researching many schools that had preferred MBA programs. Phase One of the plan was complete. I had reached my goal. I had gotten my GED and I was able to save enough money to put Phase Two officially in execution mode. I recall doing a reflection on my achievements and weighing my success at that point in my life. It was a sanity check and a personal assessment of my state of wellbeing. I was still alive, unscathed and had built up some confidence in my abilities to make it out in the world all alone. I told myself, You can do this, people do it all the time. How badly do you want it?

  On the bus ride from Rapid City to Chicago I met Shelby. She was young and adorable. She has big brown eyes and white-blond hair. I was 18 when we met and she made me look old. She looked scared and alone, but a safe enough bet to sit next to. I offered her one of my steak Baja Gorditas I had just grabbed at the last top from Taco Bell. She let her guard down then.

  We talked and laughed, and we became kindred spirits of sorts. I was like a big sister to her. I helped her get through high school and gave her a place to live while she was attending college and helping Tyler, Pugs and me care for Macey and Dez. She became my assistant about three years ago and met Marcus on her first day on the job. Let's just say it marked the beginning of many of her firsts to come from that point on. We have always known we had each other's back. She has always been a hard worker. Shelby has a tendency to run before she crawls. She got done with a four-year Business degree in two years. I helped her out financially and with her studies. It didn't take much, and she was up and on her own feet in record time. She blossomed into a very successful and beautiful woman. I couldn't be prouder if she was my sister or my daughter! I guess Shelby is a substitute for that great daughter I am never going to have.

  Mr. Greyson greets me by motioning me into the room and standing to come around the desk to meet me. I meet his smile with a warm, excited flutter as I approach his outstretched arms. In a way it has been his leadership and guidance over the last seven years with the company that has helped mold my success and freedom to exercise my influence to achieve my dreams. I gaze up at him from beneath my lashes and wonder if he realizes that he is the closest thing to a "father" I have ever really had in my life.

  My mother apparent
ly didn't think it was important enough to remember my father's name, considering he was probably just some farm boy that didn't have any money or home to offer her. He was most likely just a moment of weakness in her quest to find her "deep pocket" provider. However, my more recurring dreams peg him as a married man with 5 other kids at home. My half-siblings.

  I forged my mother's signature on the appropriate documents to legally change my name from "Harley Mason" to "Hadley Masters." I used my new name on college applications. I made the name close to mine in case I ever screwed up and I had to repeat myself to correct it.

  She had kicked me out at 16 and left me on my own, after her boyfriend AJ hit me while I was attempting to protect to her from his drunken rage. She held on to a furious AJ who was coming at me, apparently to teach me the same lesson he was attempting to teach my "ungrateful pathetic and piss-poor excuse for a mother"… his words not mine. I defended myself with an aluminum bat leaning against the porch outside. Ally pressed her slight weight against AJ's flailing as he continued his drunken rant. She pushed me out the door and rushed forward. She reached under a flower pot on the front walk and pulled out a vinyl bag wrapped in plastic. She whispered as AJ threw objects at the door behind her head, yelling profanities, "Harley, take this. Call me when you get somewhere safe. I will try to get you help, but I need you to leave and never come back."

  I took the dirty package and later discovered it to be $3000 she had shoved in my hand. She had instructed I leave and I was supposed to call her when I "got somewhere safe." Huh? Not a term I was familiar with.

  I eventually called Mom back when I "got somewhere safe." That only took me about five years and a lot of tequila one night. It was on my twenty-first birthday in my inebriated state I called her. It was during my last year of college to finish my undergraduate degree in Finance. I also just applied for the MBA program. Things were finally looking up.