Billionaire's Pleasure-Chapter 40: Flashback Memories
Sebastian’s POV
The moment Louis gets a bright idea, he’s like a kid at a candy store. So, instead of waking up early in the morning after the crazy-ass week that has been ours with these discussions, we’re all traveling to the country club in separate cars to play a round of golf with Dad. All credit goes to Louis for this brilliant idea. For our father’s amusement, he’d like to make a couple of recommendations about the Mr. Bill’s oddities in general and see how our father responds.
I suppose it’s not a terrible idea, but I’d prefer not to spend my Sunday mornings bundled up in plaid and freezing my arse off in the process. Fortunately, Louis is aware that we can meet up with Dad for breakfast later, Dad will be in a less accommodating mood. To avoid having to share the eggs, he’s always preferred me to be at his side while he’s engaged in his favorite sport. Whenever Louis’s name is brought up in the conversation, turning up while he is performing will help to ensure that our conversation is well received.
Dad has already been on the golf course for over an hour, so when we arrive, his caddy will be driving him back to the clubhouse in his golf cart so that he can begin a second nine-hole round with his caddy. I’m not sure how he managed to escape losing a limb to hypothermia while out here. A lot of ice spots and snowdrifts have formed all over the place. While walking to the golf cart, the turf crunches under my feet as we get closer. The truth is that I am not going to make it through the entire round, and I don’t want to.
"Pops," I yell at him from across the room. "Could we take a driving range tour instead?"
Dad looks at me with a hard expression. "It’s not so cold out there, son. As you can see, these kinds of situations will prepare you for the rigors of the winter season. "I’m a tough cookie, but I keep my ideas to myself and wait for him to take them into consideration before sharing them. He shoots a sideways glance over his shoulder towards Louis. "Can you tell me how you feel about it? Did I give birth to one or two wimps?"
Louis is fully aware of the hazards of caving into his father’s teasing and avoids doing so at all costs. He raises his brows and creates a small line with his lips to indicate that he is thinking about something. "None, Pops," the narrator says emphatically. Do you have a sense of the breeze? It’s as if you’re in the Arctic when you’re out here. Right now, racquetball is a lot more appealing sport for me. Alternatively, hot breakfast can be given in the dining room of the hotel. In addition, there is coffee. There is something alluring about the sound of the driving range.
"That would be two wusses," Dad says sarcastically. "After that, it’s off to the driving range."
Despite the fact that Jace and I don’t always agree on everything when it comes to dealing with Dad, we are always in agreement. We don’t consider our older guy to be a foe, but he is old school, a self-made millionaire who made his fortune in the difficult oil sector of Texas. He’s just as tough as the rest of the crew.
His caddie directs us to the far end of the driving range, where we will find a tee-off area and a large bucket of balls for each of us to use during our round. Dad takes up all of the available space between us and doesn’t spend any time getting to work. We’ll be keeping a watch on him as he chooses his preferred club to support.
Sets himself upon the icy piece of turf and performs his first swing, resulting in the successful delivery of his first golf ball.
"Nice one," Louis says as a compliment to him. Dad is getting ready to take another swing when he takes a moment to glance at each of us. "Boys, stop with the nonsense. Which among you has the intention of telling me why you’ve come here?"
In the face of the biting wind, "We have a few inquiries," I scream. He takes a swing and delivers a beautiful drive to the opposite field.
"Can you tell me what you’re talking about?"
"It’s really elementary stuff. What I’m wondering is whether you’ve come across a lot of hedge fund firms that have made a 100 percent investment in privately-held enterprises? "
"Does this have anything to do with Mr. Bill?" his curiosity peaked. "Let’s pretend, for the purpose of argument, that it is possible. Do you have any other cases like this that you’ve come across?" This is something I repeat again and again if only to deflect his focus away from Mr. Bill.
After moving to a nine-iron, he takes a deep breath and resets. "If the subsidiary is considering an initial public offering (IPO), the parent company would have to sell its whole ownership in the subsidiary at least a couple of years before the subsidiary goes public, according to the source. Otherwise, the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) will become involved, and don’t expect them to go empty-handed once they’ve crawled up your posterior."
"Nice visual, Pop, but it makes sense, too."
"What if they don’t want to go public?"
"The hedge fund firm, on which you may put your last dollar, intends to divide up the subsidiary and sell it in pieces, according to the source," I pause for a moment to reflect on the situation. "No one at our company has any business interfering with the day-to-day operations of the assets listed in our ledger. It is a complete waste of time."
I’d like to extend a hearty congratulations to Louis, who, like myself, has yet to hit a single drive. "I’ve got things under control."
Dad lays his golf club down and looks me directly in the eyes. "Do you have anything to say to me, boys?" Because I don’t say anything, he looks to Louis for guidance. "Anything?"
"No," Louis responds as he places his golf club back in its carrying bag. "Do you think I’m a complete moron, boy?" This is the first time in years that you and your brother have gotten up this early, let alone come to see your father on the golf course. "What in the world is going on?" he wonders aloud.
In his narration, he states, "far too early to tell, but that you will be the first person we communicate with once we confirm some information."
"Make sure you don’t put yourself in a situation where you’ll have to call on me for help," dad says. Louis takes a step back from the edge of his lane and offers his father a thumbs-up sign. "It’s not something we’re going to do."
"Please, hold on a second. Is it possible that I’ll run into you both at your Aunt’s birthday party?"
"When?" As I get ready to go, I asked.
"Tomorrow night."
"Sure," he responds.
"Good. It is necessary to bring dates. Many of my most important contacts will be in attendance. For males your age, having a woman on your arm is just as significant as having a lot of money. These individuals want to know that you’re in a good place," he says.
"It’s all right," I assure him.
"I had no intention of inviting anyone, Pops," Louis explains. It’s possible that I’ll have to call on a last-minute...friend."
That one brings a smile to my face. Michelle, Steve’s daughter, And they’re much more than just good friends. When my father hears the truth, I’m looking forward to seeing how he reacts. Dad hits another grand slam home run. "I’m hoping your buddy is a female, as that would be more appropriate. I’ll have my assistant resend your invitations to you through email as soon as possible. Please don’t be late," dad says.
As we make our way back to our respective cars, Louis takes a big breath.
"What are your thoughts on whether he will notice if I don’t show up?"
"I’m sure he’ll do it. Simply bring her with you."
He presses a button on his red Maserati, which is parked next to my car, a silver Limited Edition Bugatti Veyron, "It doesn’t matter," he says.
"He’ll take care of it," he says.
"Could you tell me who you’re coming with you?" he asked.
I have a large number of women on my contact list who are confident in their ability to handle a formal gathering with a bunch of wealthy socialites. That, however, is not what I’m looking for. I’m thinking about someone in particular right now. Then I get into my car and drive away. "You’ll find out," I tell him as I get into my car. "I’ll see you later tonight," I say while smiling.
