Killer Weekend by Ridley Pearson Read Free Book Online

yours. She’s going to give her talk, announce her candidacy, and your precious conference will go down in history. Congratulations.”
    Patrick shook his head but not a hair moved.
    “That is what it’s all about, right?” Danny asked. “How many millions of your own money do you spend on this thing? And for what? A little respect? You’re the Rodney Dangerfield of Wall Street, Paddy. The sad thing is, nobody has the balls to tell you.”
    “If it was all about my vanity, would Bill Gates attend? Warren Buffett? Ian Cumming? The conference serves its purpose or I wouldn’t do it.”
    “That money could be put to better use.”
    “Says the man who can’t hold on to a dime. You’re hardly one to talk. You’re off fishing and chasing tail when you’re still ten short on your angel round.”
    “It irks you, doesn’t it? My turning you down?” Danny asked, his tone softened.
    “The offer still stands,” Patrick said.
    “And it’s an incredibly generous one, but one I can’t accept.”
    “It just seems to me—”
    “Don’t start! Please.” Danny placed his napkin on the table and pushed his plate away, growing more serious.
    “Keeping it in the family—”
    “And I wish I could, but I can’t.”
    “Of course you can,” Patrick said. “You choose not to. There’s a big difference.”
    “I choose not to because you’ve bailed me out of every one of my screwups for as long as I can remember. Not that this is a screwup. It’s not. For once I’ve got a chance at something that could actually work. And your help with the business plan—”
    “Was minimal.”
    “It was not minimal. There you go again. Don’t do that. You helped, and I’m grateful, but when it comes to financing it, I’ve got to do it myself. You’re the one with all the right gut instincts. You don’t become a billionaire on luck. I’ve got to do this, Paddy. That’s all. You know that feeling when you know you’re right.”
    “Then at least start with Stu Holms. This fits right into his latest round of acquisitions.”
    Danny joked, “Don’t tell that to Liz. She’ll slap another antitrust suit on him.”
    “Heaven help us,” Patrick said.
    “Any tricks to Stuart Holms? Other than not mentioning Liz Shaler?”
    Patrick grinned and stabbed at the slices of chicken in his salad. “He’s old school. You won’t get a second chance. Practice on Sharples and Jenkins. Save Holms for when you’re ready. You’ve got several strong talking points: Trilogy has done well regionally; the push to national distribution isn’t that big a stretch; lean on the fact that the big bottlers filter the water and that your source is two miles deep. Stu likes a good story, so don’t be shy. He’ll appreciate the evolution and growth. You’ve done a good job, Danny. That’ll mean something to him. You won the trademark on ‘organic water.’ That’s huge. He’ll see the value. Save that for last.”
    “All good stuff,” Danny said.
    Patrick dripped some dressing onto his shirt.
    Danny couldn’t help himself. “The pink shirt doesn’t work, Paddy. You look like you’re wearing house insulation.”
    “You think?” Patrick blushed, tugged on his shirt, and then looked around the restaurant self-consciously.
    Danny saw surprise register on his brother’s face, just before he heard the warm, soothing voice behind him.
    “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Hey, you two.”
    Ailia Holms was strong and fit, like so many of the Sun Valley women. Soon to be middle-aged, with a body that peeled off ten years, she held back a restless playfulness. Her red hair forewarned her personality. She was a comfortable flirt in a bright green top and Oilily stretch pants that cleaved to her backside as she bent to peck Patrick on the cheek.
    “Speak of the devil,” Patrick said.
    She faux-patted the top of her head, taking advantage of the moment to show off the latest augmentation to her breasts. “Devil? Are my horns showing?”
    She