Strike Me Down - Mindy Mejia Page 0,27
into my office.
I’d covered one entire wall with framed pictures, milestones from Strike’s twenty years in business. There was the ribbon cutting at our production factory, promo images of our first bestselling supplements, and a People magazine cover of Logan. They’d written a profile when we opened our first gym, a fawning piece that was part essay, part Q&A with a sidebar recipe of Logan’s favorite recovery meal, spinning her as an American champion turned maverick businesswoman, a singular force who was ready to bestow her strength onto a grateful public.
Nora surveyed those wordlessly before stopping in front of a picture of Logan with Elon Musk. “Wow.”
“CEO TKO.” I smiled.
CEO TKO was my brainchild, the corporate team building program we’d started a few years after the gyms gained traction. It was designed as a day for executives to literally get in the ring with their employees. The event came with a softball training session interlaced with business psychology and martial arts philosophy, and ended in the ring where senior leadership had to face off with anyone who wanted a round. On the day SpaceX came to Strike, Musk went 4–0.
Nora moved along the wall, tracking the photos of Strike’s rise. There were endless images of Logan posing with celebrities and athletes, fierce, unsmiling Logan, her trademark look daring the camera, while the real Logan flopped onto my chair and put her feet on my desk. Another kind of dare entirely, and one I chose to ignore.
“This is a young company.” Nora pointed to a shot of a group of kids surrounding Logan and a few other trainers.
“That’s Strike Next,” Logan piped up. “Our first graduating class.”
We began Strike Next around the same time as CEO TKO. An after-school program for at-risk youth, kids came from all over the city to learn self-defense and fight technique. Part of Strike’s membership fees went toward scholarships the kids could use for college. I moved to Nora’s shoulder and looked closer at the picture. Standing in the back of the shot, like a shadow hovering behind Logan, was Aaden Warsame.
The Washburn Mill, the world’s greatest flour mill at the time, had exploded from a single spark. I stared at the skinny Somali kid in the picture, with his jaw set and eyes bright. He’d seemed no different than the rest of them, trying to act tough in the presence of Logan Russo, following her every move, hanging on to her every word. Fans, yes. Disciples, even, but I hadn’t been worried that any of these kids would open a vein on our living room carpet. I didn’t realize Aaden Warsame was the spark that would blow us apart.
Nora turned from the wall with a bland smile, done with her photographic tour of the history of Strike. “The accountant didn’t come off very well in the meeting.”
“He’s incompetent.” I moved to the windows, eager for any distraction from that picture.
“Did you think so before last Friday?”
My mouth twisted into a grudging smile. “Sometimes.”
“We’ll do background checks on everyone, of course, while concentrating on the most likely candidates, namely finance employees and executives.” Her eyes scanned both of us as she moved to the desk and dropped her briefcase on it, an unsubtle gesture that she was now in charge. “If the funds were merely mismanaged and overspent, we’ll also be looking at your cash options. Bridge loans, divestitures, accelerated collections, and other ways to free the required capital by the deadline.”
“Gregg doesn’t mismanage,” Logan interjected. “He spends lavishly, of course, as you’ve already seen. Nothing but the best for his baby.”
“Logan—”
“But every move is deliberate. Obsessively planned and executed to perfection.” She leaned back farther and crossed her arms.
“And look what we have to show for it. A billion-dollar company.” A slight bow.
Nora had fallen still, tracking the volleys back and forth.
Logan flashed her a glance. “I’m sure Gregg will find a way to save Strike. He’d die for this company.” Then, turning to me. “Wouldn’t you?”
Ridicule, dare, and threat. Logan never threw a punch for just one reason.
“I wouldn’t exactly peg my value to Strike.”
“No one would.”
A tense silence filled the room while all three of us shifted, recognizing the alpha, the predator, prowling within the others. Every movement became heightened, amplified. Before I could pivot the conversation, Nora stepped in.
“While I have both of you together, the only two shareholders of the company, I’d like to ask a few general questions.”
She gestured to the conference table, but neither of us moved. Unperturbed, Nora