Grumpy Boss by Hamel, B. (best non fiction books to read TXT) 📗

like, of course. “We’re building a new one. It’s going to be the largest religious complex in the United States when we’re finished, and this cross will be the heart of it all. I’m going to minister to thousands beneath the gold of a saint, and all glory to god.”

“Amen,” Rees said, grinning now. “I see you haven’t changed a bit. I bet that thing’ll look great on TV.”

Modesto laughed loudly, and I thought that was a risky ojek, but apparently Modesto didn’t take himself too seriously—or at least they were close enough that kidding around was allowed. I kept my mouth shut, of course, but I had some thoughts about that thing down in the grass. For example: if he sold it, and took all the money he made, he could probably fund and run a charity that would help thousands of people.

“Yes, yes, I know, Rees the heathen, but it is good for the lord, and good for my flock.” Modesto leaned with his back against the railing, weight on his elbows. “You know how the gifts go. You’ve been blessed yourself.”

“I’m no heathen,” Rees said, shaking his head. “Only not as pious as you are.”

“Not many can be.” He glanced over at me with a slight frown. “And what about you, Millie? Have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart?”

“Of course,” I said, which was sort of true. I grew up Christian, went to a Methodist church, and was probably baptized—but I wasn’t particularly religious. Grandmom was too busy to take me to church, and I was too young to go on my own, and so I sort of let it lapse. As I got older, I was too busy surviving and working hard to think of anything else.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Modesto’s face grew serious as he looked down at his feet. The vibe shifted instantly, if only slightly, and I didn’t understand why. Rees seemed oddly perplexed by Modesto’s sudden mood change, and I moved a little closer to him without thinking about it. “I am happy you came here, my friend,” Modesto said.

“I’m happy to be her, though you know it’s not an entirely social visit,” Rees said.

Modesto nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, your SPAC. I spoke with my investment advisor. There are people who believe this is a no-brainer investment, and that the shares are criminally underpriced. And yet I wonder why it is you come to me, asking for money, when people should be giving you everything they have.”

Rees tensed, and I knew that was the question that bothered him. All the scandals were driving investors away, not the underlying fundamentals of Rees’s business or his ability to successfully run the SPAC. Nobody questioned that aspect of the deal, only the murky political and social aspects that floated around it.

“I’ve had some bad press lately,” Rees said, glancing toward me, but pushing forward. “It’s all been bullshit. You know how that can be.”

“Yes, of course,” Modesto said, nodding along. “I didn’t think you’d sleep with a married woman. That doesn’t seem to be your thing.”

“Giana and I were friends,” Rees said. “That’s been cleared up between us, even though the press still thinks it’s happening.”

“It’s an ugly thing,” Modesto said. “And as a man of faith, that’s a real problem for me.”

“But as a man that likes to make money, you can invest through an intermediary,” Rees said, facing his friend with his arms crossed over his chest. “You know me, Modesto. You know I don’t make stupid mistakes like sleeping with a woman married to a politician.”

“I know that,” Modesto said, wiping his brow, and looking uncomfortable. “But there have been rumors, and the rumors aren’t good for you.”

“They’re lies,” Rees said, and glanced at me.

“He’s not kidding,” I said. “We’ve been trying to catch the guy responsible.”

“Of course,” Modesto said, then pushed away from the railing and walked toward the house. He stopped and turned, spreading his hands out, an almost regretful smile on his face, and I felt my stomach sink into my feet. He was going to turn us down—I could already see it. I didn’t know why the bastard would invite us all the way out here then send us home without a cent. He knew all the rumors before this was set up, and yet he still was going to pull this.

But before he could speak, Rees held up a hand. “I know what you’re about to say, but hear me out,” he said, and Modesto let a breath out, head tilted like he was waiting. “I know you think it’s a lost cause, investing in my SPAC if it’s only going to cause drama. But I know where Desmond is, I have his phone number, and I’m going to handle it. He’s the one that’s been spreading the rumors, and I’m going to ensure he stops.”

Modesto raised an eyebrow. “You found him?” he asked.

“I found Alvin,” Rees said. “And that led us right to Desmond.”

“Ah,” Modesto said, chuckling. “His little henchman. Interesting.”

“We’re going to fix this. And in the meantime, I could really use your support.”

Modesto touched his face with a palm and pulled his cheek down, letting out a long, frustrated breath. I could tell he was torn—he wanted to invest, since it was a good financial move, but there was a part of him that knew his Christian flock wouldn’t be happy if he got involved with someone with scandal written all over them.

“I’ll consider it, if you’d be willing to do something for me,” Modesto said.

“What do you need?” Rees asked, and I noted that he didn’t instantly agree.

“Sign a contract stating that you will not have any affairs until after the SPAC has gone public. No more women, no more clubs, no more anything. You will behave yourself.” Modesto stepped toward Rees and I felt my heart race. Rees pushed back when people told him what to eat for breakfast—and I could only imagine how he felt about Modesto telling him