A/N
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of High School Musical. If I did Gabriella would of committed suicide a long time ago.
Hey guys! This is my first Fanfic ever and (yes I'm gonna get sentimental on you, back off) I dedicate this to my lover :P. So I've finally got the guts to post it so I sincerely hope u enjoy it. Bear with me because the first chapter is a little unexciting but it gets better. Its rated M for language and future lemonyness which i guarantee will be coming soon. As I stated before this is my first Fanfic so excuse my amateur writing. Suggestions are always taken and feel free to PM me whenever. I'm done now so go on read it!
Come on . . . you kno you want to ;)
The intensity of the conversation filled the room. It consumed all feelings of comfort and security. Every single body in the room was automatically surged with tension and fear. Every movement was rigid and sharp not swift or smooth like it normally was. Nobody but me seemed to want to fight back but the anger was too much to keep locked up. How could they do this? How could anyone think of doing this to me? And not just to me but to the company? The company my father started? How could they think that I was just going to throw away everything that my family worked to accomplish?
I wasn't up for this. Not now. It was too soon to be dealing with overweight son's of bitches, especially this early in the morning.
"What are you talking about?" I stuttered, too shocked to talk without my voice cracking. Impossible, impossible. . . . .
The room, it looked unstable. The edges were fuzzy and disorienting. My head felt dizzy and the familiar pang of nausea hit the pit of my stomach. The only thing that stirred me from my daze was that voice again. The one that I all of sudden harbored an unexplainable hatred.
"Troy," The man repeated to me, but his voice not showing a bit of annoyance. This definitely stirred me. Who the hell did he think he was calling me Troy? Call me snobby, but when I'm at work I like to be addressed properly.
Mr. Hanson must have saw me scorn because he cleared his throat and corrected himself.
"Mr. Bolton. . . We. . ." he motioned to his side of the table to his stubby, short, fat, so-old-they're-already-rotting-away executives who all nodded their heads in agreement.
". . . . think it wouldn't be wise to pass up such a good deal. We would be willing to offer an ample amount for the company, much more than it's worth. We're not sure that you two are ready to take on such a huge responsibility, much the less run a whole business on your own. We are not insulting your skills or your abilities, I mean you do have your father's blood running through your veins and it's most definitely evident, it's just that you two are so young. Much too young to be wasting your time in a place like this. You boys have a lot to live for. You could do whatever it is you want to do. If you accept the deal you'll be set for life."
Okay. Let me backtrack just, just for a sec. I wasn't angry. I was infuriated. There were so many things wrong with what he said.
First of all, what was with the "much more than it's worth"? This company used to be at the top of it all. My father worked years to make this company successful and he sacrificed everything for it too. It was the largest sporting goods company in the world. Well, it used to be. When my father passed away, he not only left the company but piles among piles of debts and my brother and I were the ones left to pick up the pieces. The company was left in ruins. Once at the top of the food chain, now slumped pitifully at the bottom. Paying back everything left the company nearly broke so Ethan, my brother, and I were running every which way trying to make deals with other companies to keep from going bankrupt. I know selling the company would make everything okay, at least financially. But I knew it was worth more emotionally rather than money wise. So I wasn't going to give in so easily.
The second thing Mr. Freaking Hanson said that made me wanna kick his ass was that he thought I wasn't qualified. Sure, Mr. Hanson tried to redeem himself with some crap about my dad's blood in my veins but all I heard was "Your not good enough and that's that." Bullshit I'm not qualified! Just because I'm not over the age of a thousand or don't run a risk of dying in the next five minutes doesn't mean I'm not a good worker. I may not be as great as Ethan, and I accept that, but I work harder than any one of the people in this conference room combined. I know the company like the back of my hand. No one lifts a finger without me knowing about it. No matter how inexperienced I may be, this was my company now. And I wasn't about to watch it slip away into the fingers of some greedy, selfish businessmen.
Third, last, and definitely the most least is the part where he said I was "so young." Sure. I am a little too young to be part owner of a former multi-million dollar corporation but who the hell cares? They sure as hell shouldn't. I was doing fine. Yeah. I was a little more than surprised when they read the Will stating that I would share the company with my older brother only because I expected that my brother would get the whole company and partially because I was hoping I wouldn't get anything besides several houses we had in Cancun and some in Paris. Then, just like that, any chance I had at a different future were taken away from me. Of course I was mad but if this was what Dad wanted, then so be it. I would do it with no hesitation.
I've spent a year trying to build my father's empire back up, I've spent endless sleepless nights doing paperwork, I've spent hours discussing new plans and strategies, I've fought with co-workers. Everything imaginable, I've done it. If I sold the company, not only would I lose my father's efforts, I would also lose mine. I've been told many a time that I'm wasting my time on something that can never rise again yada, yada, yada. I don't feel that way. I know, I just know that I will be able to get this company back on track and on it's feet. Unfortunately, no one else seems to think so.
At this point, I was really regretting coming here today. When I heard that the president of, get this, Hanson Corporation was interested in scheduling a meeting with us, I was psyched. I was hoping it would be for sponsorship or a dealership. But I should have known beforehand that it was gonna lead to this. I mean, I should have expected this a long time ago. But still! It was so shocking to hear it in person. To actually go through it. It was actually insulting.
"What?" I said again.
"Mr. Bolton." Jefferson murmured. His voice asserting but always dragging in the same antsy, nervous tone it always had. Jeez, I can't believe dad hired him. Jefferson's hand shook nervously as he leaned in closer as if he were going to tell me something personal but he was like 4 feet away since the conference table was too large for an intimate conversation.
Jefferson cleared his voice again as I shoot him a killer look.
"Mr. Bolton." he repeated. "Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to consider the offer. It is quite a large amount of money and it'd be a shame if you pass it without a single glance."
What? What the hell? Jefferson was falling for it too?
"Yes. It would be a shame wouldn't it?" I mumbled icily.
Hmmm... I wonder... Its quite a coincidence that The Hanson Corporation made a meeting with us the exact date that Ethan had a business meeting, is it not?
This event was such a big deal so it didn't make any sense that my brother had been excluded from this . . . . .
"Tell me, Mr. Hanson," I muttered, directing myself back to the unusually thin man. "Why did you decide to come here today?"
The old man's eyes perked up, well as much as they could.
"Why, that's simple Mr. Bolton. We would be delighted to make business with you by buying your company. We think that an efficient amount of time has passed by and the company, well, you know. It obviously hasn't-"
"Not that," I interrupted, annoyed. "I meant why today? Why this particular day?"
"Oh well. It just seemed like the most convenient day for both our busy schedules."
I could see right through his artificial smile and his counterfeit words enough to see that he was lying. A trait that came with this business was the ability of lying and being able to distinguish when and how someone was lying to you.
My eyes scanned the room full of executives, assistants, lawyers, assistant-executives, directors, administrators, and more useless people. No one was making eye contact with me. They were either very, very interested in whatever Mr. Hanson said or there was something really intriguing on the ground that they couldn't possibly take their eyes off it.
Oh. My. God. They knew. They knew what was happening. They knew this whole damn time. Those bastards knew! Not even Jake, my best workmate, could look me in the eye. I felt betrayed but at the same time really freaking pissed off. How could they do this to me? Didn't they care at all what the future held for the company? Not even for the sake of their jobs?
"Huh," I uttered in response.
Why did they choose today?
Mr. Hanson looked at me once more with a sort of fake wonder in his hazy, almost unpigmented eyes.
I was the weakest link. I knew I was. I just didnt want to be. I didn't want be the most targeted person in the place. But it was obvious that they knew I was.
I looked around again with betrayal in my eyes. I couldn't believe it.
"Mr. Bolton, We'd be willing to boost up the price if you'd like. And if your worried about your workers, We'll make sure they all keep their jobs. We don't wish to worry you with that guilt."
Oh, so that's it. That's why these backstabbers can't even hold my gaze.
I glanced outside towards the long, narrow stairs that lead up to the front of the building. People walked in and out of the building all looking busy and like they had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, someone to met. So many people. . . .
Mr. Hanson was lying. I knew for a fact that about seventy percent of the staff would get fired by the end of the week. Sure. He promised them higher pay and more work hours. He might've promised them a new mansion and twenty-seven ponies and they probably would've still believed him. But two can play at this game.
I asked him how much and he replied with twice the number of last time.
I sighed and pretended to think about it for a couple minutes as if it were the most difficult decision I'd ever had to make.
"Well, gentlemen. I don't know what to tell you but that I have no interest at all in selling Bolton Incorporated at this point."
"Sir," Jefferson began "Shouldn't we discuss-"
"No, we shouldn't. That's the final decision."
"Mr. Bolton, I don't mean to dismiss your judgment as foolish. But I suggest-" Mr. Hanson started
I began to open my mouth to tell him that he can go right ahead and stick his "suggestion" up his ass when Carl spoke. He was like my savior. Dad's right hand man. My right hand man. He knew what to say exactly and when to say it. A quality that I am thereof lacking.
"Mr. Hanson," Carl said calmly, looking at me with eyes that read "Shut up before I strangle you!" And you bet I did.
"Mr. Bolton has a set of scheduled visits with a very promising company. If the deals turn out, we wouldn't need your assistance anymore."
Mr. Hanson lifted his brow in disbelief.
"Which company, may I ask?" Mr. Hanson questioned, a devious note in his tone.
"In afraid that's confidential," Carl mentioned with an award winning smile. His eyes a friendly response with no signs of malice.
Mr. Hanson responded with a smile also but his was fake and worn out.
"Please. My assistant will lead you out. And again thank you for the offer. We'll sleep on it."
The assistant named Melanie got up a little too excitedly and frantically began to straighten out her already wrinkle-free skirt. She motioned quickly with her hands for them to follow her. Mr. Hanson followed the small hurried girl along with his band of short and chubby executives.
"The offer's still open!" Mr. Hanson called out.
"My foot can still go up your ass," I mumbled back quietly when I knew they were out of hearing distance. Not that that would have mattered. They would've still not have heard me those old coots.
Carl waved back pathetically to the overly wealthy men who proposed to give us an enlarged amount of money for a company that was barely running.
As soon as their asses walk through our door, my face fell in my hands. What the hell was I gonna do? I ran my hands through my hair over and over again, frustrated with this whole situation.
"Nice excuse," I said after a sufficient amount of silence. Those seated across the table had they're eyes glued to the table, still afraid to look up. Ha! They should be scared. Wait till I get my hands on one of them. . .
"Beg your pardon?"Carl asked, his thick white eyebrow arched highly over his oddly animated eye.
"The meetings? Yeah, good save." I sighed. "Too bad there isn't any."
"Now why the hell would I lie to you?" Carl questioned, a devious grin growing on his face.
I frowned. "Wait. What?"
Carl rolled his eyes. "You do have meetings set up, you idiot. I wouldn't lie to those bastards even if they weren't offering you a gazillion dollars."
"I have meetings?" I said dumbly
Carl nodded. I felt a chill run up my spine.
"I have meetings," I repeated to myself. Just to confirm that what I heard was true.
"With, with, with who?" I stuttered stupidly.
Carl smiled even wider than before. "Chief executive of Snave Inc," he said, his voice full of pride.
"No way." I whispered, my tone thick with amazement. "No way!" I yelled snapping back to my normal self "Snave? Snave?" I gasped, my whole being was being filled with an unexplained excitement. "Wow."
Carl gave out a hearty laugh. "Your old man has his connection. I may be old, but I'm not useless like those big, worthless hunks of flesh that pass for executives nowadays."
I laughed with him. Oddly, I liked how he referred to himself as my dad sometimes. It actually made me feel like I had a father.
"Wow." I mumbled to myself once again. "What are they looking for?"
"Well, they want to start a sports wear line and they think that maybe we could combine that franchise with ours and supply ideas for the line. This would benefit us because with their help our line of sports goods would expand. But you got to watch out. Others were looking to score with them too but they weren't able to get past Ol' Carl here."
I grinned back at Carl. I don't know what I'd do without him.
"But your a good looking guy. You'll probably be able to seduce her." Carl said chuckling like he said a really good joke.
"Her?" I asked befuddled.
"Yeah. Looks nice. Sorta. Was a little snappy and a bit mean but she is a woman after all. She has a pretty busy schedule. So she began to reject me right away. But once I told her that The Great Troy Bolton was the CEO and would be willing to meet her she quickly said yes! Haha. Wonder why? Strange, huh?"
Oh, no.
Shit.
"I don't know why she's so bitter. I mean it can't be her boyfriend cause I don't know a man in the world that would be able to handle her, if you know what I mean."
No, no, no, no, no! Oh, God. Why didn't I see this earlier? Oh yeah. Cause I'm an idiot!
"She looks like quite a handful. Troy?"
Oh. My. God.
"You okay?"
I. Can. Not. Believe. This.
"Troy."
Really? REALLY? I kept repeating to God in my head. Did you really have to? You did, didn't you?
"He-llooo?"
For the love of everything that is holy, you couldn't of made it anyone else in the entire world? It had to be HER?
"Troy, are you-?" Carl asked "Whats so funny?"
I hadn't realized I was laughing till I saw the other faces staring at me like I just threw up.
"The Chief Executive? Really?" I said chuckling hysterically. Tears started welling up in my eyes.
"Yeah. Do you know her"? Carl asked, his face concerned.
"Oh God. Do I ever."
And boy did I.