Page 1 of Takeover

1

I throw the newspaper across my office with all my strength, but being only a two-page article, it barely makes it past my desk. It flies through the air and floats back and forth before finally dropping to the ground.

Unwilling to think about what was written, what I’ve known was inevitable for months, I turn back to my computer only to let out a groan of despair when I see the unread email in my inbox.

“I can’t escape this nightmare,” I say to myself while I scan the email. My eyes bulge when I see the last sentence, and I quickly look up to the recipient details, relieved when I see the email was only sent to me.

“Really, Dad?” I say after dialing his extension.

“Really, Tara,” he says back, his tone just as flat as mine.

“I don’t see why I need to be there when you make it official. Everybody already knows, and if I have to sit in the same room as that man, you’re going to need bail money.”

He sighs into the phone. Despite the heaviness of the situation, I smile as I picture my father’s face. I can see him in my mind’s eye; his eyebrows practically to his forehead, his lips pursed, and his nostrils flared.

“Tara, I’ve sold the business. I had no choice. It was that and save everyone’s jobs, or file for bankruptcy in a year or two. Is that what you want? I worked a good deal. BradCo is a good company. They treat their employees well, and you’re guaranteed a job.”

I blow out a breath and my bangs flutter off my forehead. Deep down, I know my father is right. Taylor Toys’ days were already numbered and being bought out by BradCo, the country’s biggest discount retailer, is the best-case scenario. Our company’s been struggling for years, and Dad admitted to me that he was tired and ready for retirement. He even joked about getting a house in Florida and living there half the year, but I know he and my stepmother will never leave New York.

“I understand all that, Dad, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m coming to this impromptu meeting.” He starts to speak, but I talk over him. “Who does this Ethan Bradford think he is, anyway? Just because a Taylor won’t be in charge anymore in a few months means he can just barge in here and we’re supposed to bend over for him? No, thanks. We’re still in charge for the time being, and we need to let him know he’s not welcome here.”

“Tara Marie Taylor,” my dad says. I stop my rant at the mention of my middle name. “Weare not in charge here. I am. When you’re in this building, I’m your boss, and as your boss, I’m telling you to have your ass in the conference room in twenty-five minutes with a smile on your face.”

“Dad, I’m—” Before I can complete my apology, he slams the phone down on me.

I lean back in my chair and exhale. I take several breaths to purge the tension from my body. If I had the time, I’d take out my yoga mat and do a few downward dogs and warrior poses, but I have neither the time, the right attire, nor the inclination. After one final exhale, I grab my phone and send a group text to my brother and sister.

Me: Dad’s pissed at me.

Alan: What did you do now?

Vicki:You know you can’t take it when he’s mad, daddy’s girl.

Me: Ethan Bradford is due here in twenty minutes for a meeting. Told Dad I might commit a felony if we’re in the same room.

Alan: You want me to come over there and kick his ass?

Vicki:Alan, everybody knows you can’t fight.

Vicki:Tara, it’s business. Go in there and be fabulous.

Alan: Maybe I can’t fight, but I have pepper spray.

Me: Thanks, wonder twins. Love you.

With one final breath, I grab my purse and freshen my makeup before walking out of my small office.

“There you are,” Bernice, my dad’s secretary and cousin says. “And looking fabulous,” she adds as she admires my navy-blue couture pantsuit.

“Thanks, Bernie. Are you going to the meeting?”

“Girl, no. I’m retiring right along with your daddy. I’m sixty-four, so it’s time.” Bernice is dad’s oldest cousin and best friend. When her company forced her into early retirement when she was only fifty-five, dad hired her as his personal assistant. “Ethan Bradford,” she says, lowering her voice and moving closer to me, “just got here, looking so sexy. I had to hold myself back from sniffing him. He smells so damn good…like money.”

I roll my eyes and make a face. “Dad’s making me go.”

“That man is fine, Tara. I had a chance to check out his ass.” She bends her index finger and bites it. “If I was forty years younger, I’d make a move. Things were different in my day. I couldn’t go after the white boys back then. I was born in the wrong time.” I shake my head at her as she tightens the belt around her waist and practically swivels her wide hips. She lowers her voice and comes closer. “That’s the type of man you trap with a baby.” She cackles at her own cleverness, and I can’t help it when a laugh escapes. “That’s what I did with my first husband. Unfortunately for me, he wasn’t shit.” She laughs again, and I shake my head at her. The thing with Bernice is you never know whether she’s serious or not.

“Don’t forget you have a wife, Bernice,” I say.

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