Taking Care of Business

On the surface of it, Miles Mallison had everything that a man of his age and status desired. He had a business that had developed from a small real estate company that was a graduation gift from his wealthy father. It wasn't, however, a gift given of love, because there was no love between father and son, it was a gift given of some filial obligation to a son. It was a sign of a father cutting all ties with a son that had been a disappointment to him.

Miles had made it perfectly clear that he was never going to go into the family business, and that he would rather starve than be beholden to a father for his success. He determined to make a success of his life despite his father. His father had handed him the keys to the real estate office with the words, "I give you this not out of love, but out of a family obligation to look after one's child. I don't expect that you will succeed in this, but I warn you now, do not come to me with your tail between your legs hoping for a hand-out when you fail. You will get nothing further from me."

Miles had graduated from University with a degree that required the least amount of academic effort, not the degree that his father had hoped would lead him into the family company, eventually to take it over.

What his father hadn't realised was that Miles had a mindset that would propel him to great heights in the business world. He had a drive to succeed, and a tenuous grasp of business legalities, the knowledge of which would have hindered his progress. His first week in his new business was spent, not in scrounging around for new business, but investigating the market trends, and how he could use those for his own purposes, that of making himself obscenely rich with a minimum of effort, and risk.

His initial strategy was to find a suitable investment vehicle, and then find a suitable investor to finance it. The vehicle was a small warehouse building that would lend itself to an apartment conversion. He employed an Architect to design the interior fit-out that resulted in four good sized, modern, light-filled apartments. He then promoted the development as a new experience in inner-suburban boutique housing. The apartments were sold quickly to upwardly mobile trendy business types, who were to become his greatest business assets. The upwardly mobile and trendy friends of these four came knocking on his door seeking their own boutique apartments.

A property development company was the result of this first venture. His financial backer in that first venture couldn't wait to become involved in the subsequent projects. Miles sold him a 40% share of Mallison Projects, which meant that the investor would get a slightly bigger cut of the pie, which he loved, but he would also have to carry a bigger percentage of the losses should the venture fail. It didn't. In fact Mallison Projects expanded and diversified from residential property development, to commercial and industrial. They began buying up land in the outer western suburbs that had once been market gardens, and building industrial complexes. And along with these industrial complexes, they developed housing projects to provide houses for the workers employed in those new factories.

The next logical step was to further diversify into the financial sector. Miles found a small brokerage company that had been swamped by the major players in the finance sector. He approached the owner with an offer. He would buy the company, along with its trading licence for an agreed sum. The sweetener was that he would bring to the brokerage an increase in business that would knock his socks off. What he in effect was doing was to buy a licence to trade. He made the choices of what stocks would be bought and sold, and when. Here his analytical mind came to the fore. His research did not only concentrate on the share price movements on the board, but also took into consideration politically driven resource trends. He bought shares in mining companies whose fortunes would be enhanced by a political decision, and sold shares in those companies whose destinies would be devalued by political decisions.

He was astute enough to realise that any political alignments could be seen as giving him an advantage that allowed him to use insider information, to be gained from seemingly innocent conversations with politicians. He studiously avoided any associations with politicians from both major parties. This in no way affected his reputation as an astute trader. The brokerage was forced to employ more staff and to expand into the international financial arena.

By the time that he was thirty-five years old, he was a multi-millionaire. His father still wasn't talking to him, a fact that he was not saddened by. He had his own circle of friends, several circles of friends in fact. These kept the tabloid gossip pages filled with news of his latest conquest. He was never short of a beautiful young lady willing to hang off his arm at a social function, in the knowledge that she would share his bed for at least a night. She always hoped that her charms would be enough to extend that one night to a permanent proposition. They never did.

He made his city home a large mansion in Darling Point. He had a week-end retreat overlooking both the Pacific Ocean and Pittwater at Palm Beach on Sydney's Northern Beaches. He had a ski lodge at Thredbo in the Snowy Mountains, and a tropical retreat in a penthouse apartment on Queensland's Gold Coast. His fleet of cars were equally subdued. His main drive when in Sydney was a Bentley Continental Sports, his car of choice when at Palm Beach was a Lamborghini, he drove to Thredbo in a Range Rover Vogue, and in the garage of his apartment at Surfers Paradise was a Jaguar XKR convertible. He also owned shares in a game fishing charter company that were only too happy to entertain any business clients who had expressed an interest in big game fishing. The icing on this particular cake was the entertainment provided after dinner on the boat. this consisted of well endowed and obliging young ladies prepared to cater to the particular perversions of the clients, at a price, a very good price.

But there was a side to Miles Mallison that no-one knew of, not even his closest associates, he had no friends. Despite the luxurious houses and apartments that he owned, the one thing that he was lacking was a home. Somewhere he could live with a partner, she didn't have to be married to him, he wouldn't have minded if she was married to someone else, just so long as she gave her life to him. He was even prepared to have children, in fact he wanted children, someone on whom he could lavish the love that was denied him by his father.

He had been at this party for just on an hour, his date for the evening was pursuing a music producer, hoping to get him to produce her first album. It would, if he wanted to, take a lot of Miles' money to convince him that she had any talent, but it would, he had just decided, be worth it to lose her for this evening. His attention had been drawn to a woman of such beauty that he simply could not take his eyes off her. He recognised the short, so bald his head gleamed, man who was attempting to interest her in something. She stifled a yawn and looked around her. Miles took the opportunity to step in. He moved over to them and, using a casual knowledge of the man, engaged them both in conversation. In small, subtle stages, the short bald man was excluded from the conversation, leaving Miles and the woman alone.

"Hi, I'm Miles by the way. We haven't been officially introduced, but I'm pleased to meet you." He waited for her to introduce herself.

"I don't know that I should be speaking with you, for one thing I'm happily married, and this would do my reputation as a monogamist no good at all. Secondly I will not allow you the opportunity to entice me into your bed. If you can agree to those rules, we can talk."

"I am here with a young lady who has the realistic expectation that she will be going home with me this evening, and going home to her own place in the morning. I am not in the habit of dumping a date and chatting up another woman. I have my scruples. Is your husband here?"

"No, he is at our villa in Tuscany. He very rarely ventures out in public these days."

"How sad for you, you look like you would enjoy a party or two. Does he mind that you are here tonight?"

"He doesn't know about tonight. I am staying with my sister and her family, who are getting on my nerves, so I managed to get an invitation to this party through one of my school friends. That's her over there with her tongue down that guy's throat. I might have to find my own way home."

"I would be only too happy to oblige, that's if you can accept that I will not attempt to make a move on you."

"We shall see what we shall see, let's leave it at that for the time being, shall we?"

"I understand that you have another reason for being in Sydney."

"Oh?"

"Word has it that you are returning to the stage after your stint in Hollywood. Sort of getting back to your roots so to speak."

"You've been reading gossip mags, that would surprise me."

"Not really, you see in my business one has to keep abreast of all the movers and shakers, they can tell you a lot about what is happening in the world that you won't read in the financial pages. For instance, you, Miranda, coming back to town would suggest that you will be looking for an apartment to lease for the duration. Now I might just be able to help you to find the right place, if you're interested that is."

"I could be, but I doubt that you would have any interest in an apartment that I could afford at this time."

"I'm sure that we can come to some arrangement."

"Oh no. You're not going to use this to get into my pants."

"You malign me, I'm offended now."

"Your reputation would suggest otherwise."

"Now who's been reading the gossip mags. You can't believe everything that you read in those trashy publications."

"Touched a nerve did I?"

"You could say that. What is held up to public scrutiny is my public persona. My private self is a different matter entirely."

"So now you're going to tell me that you really are a caring person, who talks to his mother every day, and buys her expensive gifts for no reason. You donate to several worthwhile charities connected with the care of children and baby animals. In short you are a great big, though totally misunderstood, softy."

"Don't you dare laugh at me. I am all of those things and more, although I don't have that kind of relationship with my mother, or either of my parents, if you knew them you would understand. I make up for it in other ways. I also donate a lot of money to the arts. For instance, the play that you're planning to star in, I am the major financial backer of that. I could, if I so desired, decide whether you are chosen, or not. Before you get angry at me, I will not influence in any way the casting process."

"Unless I agree to go to bed with you, in which case you will make sure that I am chosen."

"No. In fact the opposite is the case. If you think that, by going to bed with me will ensure your getting the part, you are sadly mistaken. Take for instance the young lady that came with me this evening. I have no interest in whether she gets the gig with that music producer. I do not mix business with pleasure."

"I thought that pleasure was your business."

"Touché. That's what most people think, but business is business, pleasure is just that, pleasure to be enjoyed."

"Does that mean that you don't enjoy business? I would find that hard to believe."

"There are some aspects of business that I find most enjoyable, like when I make a move that goes against the trend and it comes off. And when I do something that I know will piss off my father, now that I enjoy. But there are some things in business that I really dislike."

"Such as?"

"Such as when I place my reliance on the promises of others, and they don't honour those promises. Or when I am paying someone to carry out certain functions and they either don't do it, or do it so poorly that the project fails. I find that I am having to rely on others even less than I have done in the past, and that creates more work for me. I have always tried to take the line of least resistance when it comes to work."

My date for the night came over to us. "Miles, Julian wants to take me to meet the session musos that he will use to produce my album, You don't mind do you?"

"If you must, then go. I need to get an early night anyway."

She had two distinct looks, one of disappointment that I wasn't upset with her leaving me, and the second was directed at Miranda, saying loud and clear, 'just who the fuck do you think you are, monopolising Miles when he is supposed to be my date?' The fact that the emotions behind these two thoughts were incompatible was beyond her comprehension. She stalked off to rejoin the waiting Julian.

"Someone's not a happy person." Miranda said. "And I guess that she's not the only one. I've just spotted my friend leaving with the man that she's been playing tonsil hockey with all night. That leaves me with something of a dilemma, do I call for a cab, or do I accept your kind offer and take the chance that I won't have to fight you off. Now which will it be?"

"You will accept my kind offer and I will promise not to put the hard word on you."

It was close to midnight when they left what remained of the party, several comatose bodies in various stages of undress, a man draped over the bar who looked like the once immaculately clad bar attendant, in one hand a glass dripping the last of something liquid onto the floor, in the other the limp body of a young woman who looked decidedly worse for wear. No-one noticed them leave.

Miranda settled into the soft leather seats of the Bentley as Miles eased it out onto the street. "Where to?" He asked.

"I suppose that I should go to my sisters place, although getting in without waking the kids might be a problem. The youngest wakes at the slightest sound."

"I could take you to a hotel, or . . . " He looked at her by the light of the passing street lights and the instrument panel of the Bentley. "I could offer to let you sleep at my place, you can have one of the guest beds, you can even lock the door if you feel that you cannot trust me to behave myself."

"I don't have much choice do I?"

Miles showed her where everything was, the en-suite bathroom, the wardrobe where she could hang her dress, a supply of night dresses that she could wear if she chose to, and a robe to put on in the morning. "Breakfast is served at 7:30, but don't mind if you aren't awake at that time, we can provide for you at any time."

"You say 'we'?"

"Yes, I have a housekeeper who knows my routine. I usually sleep in on the weekends, hence the late breakfast, it is usually at 6:30."

"What stamina, to be able to stay out late and still get out of bed at this ungodly hour. When I am on stage I seldom rise before mid-day. I will see you in the morning. Good-night." Miles shocked her by not attempting to kiss her good-night.

Miles had just sat down to his breakfast when an apparition in pale pink silk glided into the room. He rose to his feet and ushered her to a chair. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Coffee, black, and is that wholemeal toast I see?"

"Yes. What would you like with it, we have butter, salted or unsalted, take your pick." He pointed to the appropriate dishes with pats of butter in them. "You have a choice, you can have scrambled eggs, although if you're on a diet I'd steer clear of them, Rosita makes them with cream. If you don't fancy that, there is a selection of jams and marmalades to choose from." He poured her coffee and handed it over to her.

She took a sip. "This is nice."

"I have the beans flown in from Columbia."

"My, you do spoil yourself, don't you?" She took a slice of toast and spread it with butter and an English Breakfast marmalade from its pot. "And so is this." She said, munching her way through it.

"What are your plans for today? Miles asked her.

"I have nothing of importance planned, why do you ask?"

"I was wondering, how would you like to spend the weekend at the beach?"

"What do you mean? We are only a few kilometres from the beach here, aren't we?"

"Yes, but these beaches are so crowded. I prefer something a little more secluded."

"Where did you have in mind?"

"I have a beach house at Palm Beach, at the northern end near Barranjoey (lighthouse)."

"Sounds divine, but I should get back to my sister's."

"You could always ring her and tell her that you have been invited to the beach for the weekend. You don't have to tell her it was me that invited you."

"I suppose so, I need a break from her kids. I will on one condition."

"I know, no funny business. Okay, against my better judgement, I promise."

"But I have nothing to wear. I am not going skinny dipping for you or anyone."

"That's okay, Rosita has laid out some clothes for you. If you need to make up your face, there is a selection of several brands in the cabinet over the vanity basin. Now, would you like anything else for breakfast, more coffee perhaps?"

"No, I'm fine thank you. Do you lay this sort of treatment on for all of your house guests?"

"No, some are bundled into a cab and sent home."

"You are joking, aren't you?"

"Of course. I, being the perfect gentleman that I am, see them home personally."

"And there it ends I hear."

"In most cases, yes. I find that I have run out of conversation about then. The young ladies that I usually bring home, conversation is not one of their strong suits. Now you, on the other hand, I find easy to talk to, incredibly easy."

"That's because you haven't fucked me, you are still in your attracting phase."

"That's not true. I don't want to sound egotistical, but I have never had to go out of my way to promote myself with a young lady, it is usually they that are seeking attention from me. Tell me about your husband, what does he do for a living?"

"Bronson's an artist. At the moment he is searching for inspiration for his next major work."

"Is he successful?"

"He has sold a couple of major works, he tends to only do commissioned works these days, and that's where the problem lies. The last couple of men who have commissioned works have tried to wrest the artistic control of the painting from him. It was obvious from their demands that they knew little about the composition of paintings."

"So commissions are thin on the ground, is that it?"

"Yes. He hasn't had any commissions for over a year now. The frustration of relying on my income to live has taken its toll on our relationship. I can't believe that I've just told you that. Forget that I said anything."

"Do you think that he would paint my portrait?"

"He would probably jump at the chance. But I'm going to ask you not to do this, please. If he thought that I was out scrounging work for him, that would be the end of it."

"That thought has merits. With him out of the way I would be in there with a chance."

"You can get that thought right out of your head. If you continue along this line you can take me straight back to my sister's place. Putting up with her kids will be preferable to having to fight you off."

"Consider the thought gone. Now I suggest that you get changed, I would think that we would draw attention to ourselves if the general public saw me driving you through the streets wearing that silk gown, after all, I'm having trouble taking my eyes off you, you would have to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"I would be flattered if I didn't think that you have used that particular line on numerous occasions in the past."

"You could be right, but I've never used it with such conviction before."