Finding Sky

by Cass Sellars

  “Afraid I’m going to piss off Toni again?” Skylar offered in an uncharacteristically playful way and noticed that Jess seemed grateful for a relaxed rapport with her.

  “Oh, I’m positive that’s going to happen.” Jess sent her a sarcastic smile and made Skylar laugh, breaking through her haze of exhaustion.

  “Fair enough. See you tomorrow.”

  Jess clicked the unlock button and fell into the driver seat, sitting still until Skylar was safely in her own car. She waved and pointed her little gray Mercedes toward the city.

  Skylar tapped the steering wheel of her choking Honda Accord, praying it wouldn’t pick today to act up, not in front of her new boss. “Come on, Betty, it’s not that far. You can do it.” Betty sputtered to life and, she was afraid, polluted most of Alameda County in the process.

  Chapter Four

  “So, Ms. Ivan, tell us about how you got started in this business. From what I’ve learned, your father’s business model wasn’t about using derelict buildings in the Bay to prop up the unemployed and homeless communities. What made you decide to be a benefactor instead of a businesswoman?”

  Jess tried not to squint as the set lights threatened to blind her. She adjusted her position just under the San Francisco Live and Local banner stretched across the wall behind her. It was uncomfortably warm despite the fact that the exchange with this reporter had just cooled significantly.

  “Well, Mike, I think that if you looked back into my father’s acquisitions, you would find quite a few properties that still exist in our portfolio to this day.” She looked at him cautiously. “Yes, the company began on property rehab with the intention of taking dilapidated buildings and turning them into leasable for-profit space. We did that exclusively and successfully for a very long time.”

  “Right. So, when did that change?” He poised his pen above the index card notes he held in his lap.

  Jess wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. “Well, about fifteen years ago, right before my father died, we bought a print shop that was failing miserably, and we’d planned on simply shutting it down. We intended to use the historic commercial space as leasable storefront property to a different business.” She loved telling the story of how she and Yolanda met.

  “I went in after we took over, to explain to the remaining employees that their jobs would be ending, not news I enjoyed delivering. The manager started to cry. I told her that I was sure that she would get another job and I would help her as much as I could. She said that that wasn’t why she was sad. She was sad because she knew that she could have made a profitable business out of the entity and no one had ever given her a chance because she didn’t have a college degree or the business background. I did some number crunching and discovered that it was a lot cheaper in the long run to leave the business open and give it a try under her guidance. I didn’t have anything to lose at that point because we had technically paid for a running business even though it was failing.

  “Within six months, we were doubling the profit over the entire year prior. She was right. Yolanda Yates built that business and saved ten jobs. Yolanda now runs our corporate headquarters, and her husband still runs that print shop. Together we have figured out ways to make a profit while harvesting time and talent where no one’s looking for it. I’m not helping people per se, I’m simply taking unrealized talent and watching it grow instead of adding to the jobless and homeless situation just to make my business or my profits bigger.”

  He completely ignored her explanation and searched his notes for his next question without responding to anything she’d said.

  “As a woman in the very male-dominated world of San Francisco real estate development, how have you had to compromise to fit in?” He looked very satisfied with himself.

  “I haven’t,” she returned bluntly, trying to understand his agenda and anticipate his next question.

  “Well, you must admit your look and your affect is not typically what one would expect in the boardroom.” He motioned at her in a demonstrative gesture.

  “I don’t believe I know what you’re suggesting.” She was awestruck at the level of sexism and outright misogyny still present, even in a progressive city like San Francisco. At least that was what she thought it had to be. Because she didn’t wear flowery dresses and makeup? Because she didn’t defer? She certainly wasn’t planning on making anything easy for the little prick, but he steered around her response.

  “Ms. Ivan, you remember Pam Landry?”

  “Of course. She worked for Ivan Associates briefly.” Jess made sure her face remained expressionless, something she had practiced. It had served her well, stopping her from being the open book her father had often cautioned her about.

  “Well, she says that your employees had to take on some of your work given your incessant socializing and self-promotion. Would you say your business suffered because of your serial dating activity in San Francisco?”

  She hoped she didn’t look as bewildered as she felt at that moment. She thought of herself as a serial monogamist, certainly not a serial dater. “Mr. Durham, neither Pam Landry nor anyone else has ever worked harder than I do. When I’m not at the office, I’m working from home. Ms. Landry is no longer any part of Ivan Associates and wouldn’t be able to provide you any current, or relevant, data for this interview.” She leaned forward, no longer caring about production values or stage blocking.

  “I am confused, however, as to how this interview turned from a spotlight on a local business to an exposé where I look like some irresponsible absentee manager who doesn’t fit your personal idea of what a woman in a boardroom should look like. Pam Landry no longer works for us—the circumstances of which come under employee relations and are confidential.” She considered adding that he should consider his source, but appearing defensive might play into whatever was going on here.

  “Of course our city wants you to succeed. You’re helping to clean it up, aren’t you?”

  The attempt at a smooth recovery was followed by a plastic grin honed over many years for the benefit of an audience who didn’t know just how much of a snake the man apparently was.

  “The fact is, we do good work. I believe that we’ve made a positive difference in our community and we have many years to go, despite rumors or ex-employees with an axe to grind, which is really just fodder for people who don’t care about real issues, right?” She wondered if whatever contact Pam had managed with the TV anchor was a lucky accident or calculated revenge for being fired.

  Mike Durham suddenly looked less smug and more uncomfortable. Jess knew the live interview would need to be softened or it would be more than obvious that he had lost control of it.

  “I hope you do know how much we at KCSF wish for your continued success, Jess. It really has been a remarkable ride over the forty years of Ivan Associates. There aren’t enough companies like yours with deep roots in the San Francisco area.”

  He swiveled his seat toward a secondary camera when the director held up three fingers to indicate the camera number he should focus on. Jess looked across the set and very much away from the anchor.

  “And that’s it for this edition of Live and Local, where we find the best parts and people of our City by the Bay.” Mike Durham’s fake smile stayed frozen on his over-Botoxed face until the lights faded. Jess just tried not to scowl.

  Jess disconnected her mic pack and dropped it into the chair. She yanked the cord from under her jacket herself despite the desperate attempts to be assisted by the PA. She walked off stage without a word, resisting the urge to key the Lexus sporting the “Durham1” license plate in the lot. She vowed that this was her last appearance on community TV. It was usually good PR, but she had no tolerance for the new regime or the bullshit.

  Jess gripped the steering wheel and decided that returning to the office wouldn’t be in her best interest, though the untrue words about her absentee management rang in the back of her mind as she crossed the bridge and headed home. She sent the
payroll files from her laptop perched on her kitchen island to Yolanda, who would handle everything just as she would have. She had promised Whitney an early dinner at Largo, and the intervening hours of solitude were easy to fill with emails and phone calls and seething. She left a voice mail for Brett; he was the best person to offer his confident reassurance that there wouldn’t be any fallout from the interview. He had been around Ivan Associates almost from the beginning, and she valued his input and guidance.

  The restaurant had barely unlocked its doors when Jess sat heavily in the booth by the window. Whitney would be driving from work, so it made more sense just to meet at the tiny French bistro on Twenty-fourth. Whitney had casually mentioned how much more romantic it would have been if Jess had picked her up, but San Francisco’s rush hour traffic made “romantic” a luxury they couldn’t afford and still have dinner by midnight.

  Jean Paul approached the table with water, and Jess selected a bottle of 2015 Cabernet Franc from a boutique winery in Napa. She had nearly finished an entire glass by the time Whitney swayed through the doors.

  “Well hello, my TV star.” Whitney leaned forward, her cheek turned.

  Jess stood up and accepted a brief kiss that felt vacant in the wake of her day. She glanced her palms along Whitney’s narrow waist and gentle slope of her hips. She was searching for something, something not at all sexual. She hoped she didn’t look like she was doing a mental inventory of her reaction to Whitney, even though she kind of was.

  “You look fabulous as always.” Jess stepped back and appraised the white sheath and towering cage heels in black satin. Well-placed compliments could right any listing ship, she mused.

  “Thank you, sweetie.” Whitney took a grateful sip of the wine Jess handed her when she finally sat. “So, what was up with that interviewer quoting Pam Landry?” Whitney and Pam had only met once or twice before her unceremonious exit.

  “Right? My theory is that he’s a frustrated investigative reporter and has started turning Live and Local into an attempt at an exposé show. He did one on a law firm in SOMA last week and practically accused one of the partners of failing the bar. I don’t know that he’ll have his job long at that rate. And Pam will say anything to anyone for five minutes of attention, which was part of the problem when she worked at IA.”

  “Well, still, you came off really strong, and I’m so proud of you.”

  Whitney’s eyes dropped back to the menu, and Jess analyzed why Whitney being proud of her seemed odd. There was kind of a proprietary undertone that Jess supposed she wasn’t ready for.

  “Pam was underqualified and lied to get her job. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s willing to push some personal agenda.”

  “I suppose.”

  Whitney’s eyes didn’t leave the menu, and Jess thought she looked like she couldn’t have seemed less interested in the conversation at that moment.

  The next hour was spent sharing forkfuls of cream-laden French cuisine and hot crusty bread while Whitney regaled Jess with stories of her day at the office and the cutthroat world of San Francisco residential real estate. Jess loved living in San Francisco, so dramatic tales from the treacherous housing market were always interesting, even if she didn’t get to say much herself.

  As they strolled along Noe Street after dinner, Whitney clung firmly to Jess’s hand. Jess glanced over and thought how beautiful Whitney was and how easy it was to be with her. Whitney had made it clear she cared for Jess, but Jess still wondered why she wasn’t also firmly ensconced in that infatuation stage.

  Then she reasoned that perhaps at the age of forty-five, one doesn’t go through that stage anymore. Relationships, like business negotiations, were really just a series of unscripted compromises. She didn’t want to believe that was actually true; the thought was fairly depressing. Had she become that jaded?

  When they arrived at Whitney’s boxy Japanese sedan, Jess pressed Whitney between the steel of the car and her own body. She slid her hand along Whitney’s ribs and kissed her deeply, hoping for the butterflies that never came.

  Whitney returned the kiss enthusiastically, knotting her arms around Jess’s neck. “I know I’ll see you Friday, but I can’t wait to be with you again.”

  “See you Friday,” Jess whispered and dusted her lips over Whitney’s cheek before shutting her into the car. Jess was grateful for the block walk to her own vehicle and the silence that waited for her at home.

  Chapter Five

  “Well, just come on in.” Jess smirked at Brett Lincoln, who hadn’t bothered to knock.

  “Hey, Jess.” He strode determinedly into her office, looking tragically stylish as always.

  “Welcome back and good morning.” She smirked at her vice president and acquisitions manager as he straightened the contrasting blue plaid cuffs of his teal paisley dress shirt.

  “Sorry. Good morning.” He gestured at the door. “Two weeks away makes me antsy.”

  “Good vacation?” Jess couldn’t remember when she had last taken a vacation and hoped it hadn’t been as long ago as she thought.

  “Well, Cindy spent most of it blowing through the Vegas boutiques, but I managed some sun time by the pool. It was nice to not have to pick up the phone.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion you did that anyway.” She pictured him with his laptop and cell phone, slamming vodka tonics while his girlfriend collected overpriced tchotchkes and designer clothing from glitter-laden shops in the hotels.

  “You know me too well, boss. Good news is that Blanding is about ninety percent finished.” His enthusiasm for their projects was infectious and always reminded her that they had an amazing company.

  “Good to hear.” Jess cocked her head and regarded him suspiciously. “That isn’t why you’re here, though.”

  “No.” His back was stiff, and he forced his shoulders out of the tense posture near his ears. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay with the Pam thing. I don’t know much about the new girl, but I assure you, Pam was a fluke.”

  “First of all, she’s not a girl, she’s a manager. And she’s good, Brett.”

  “Whoa. Did I miss a Friends of Hillary Bonding Convention while I was out?” His attempt at humor bordered on sarcasm and was bathed in the sexism that she was too weary to confront completely.

  “Careful, Brett. Your chauvinism is showing.” Jess had a long history with Brett but had never hesitated to call him on his infuriating opinion that he was a member of the superior sex. She blamed it on his driven nature and a lifetime in the male-dominated construction industry.

  “Seriously, Jess. You’re killing me.” He pointed through the window. “I’ve got six projects in the pipeline, and Stevie Nicks down there is rearranging staff and moving files.” He seemed to catch himself. “I mean, we have to look at the big picture like Billy did. What I’m saying is, let her change the world on new projects, I’m fine with that, but we really don’t have time to hunt for resources and retrain another clerk.”

  Toni Starr had obviously made Brett aware of the changes while he was away. She had expected as much. “I think she planned on doing it herself for a bit.” Jess waited for the eruption.

  “That’s crap, Jess. She can’t get up to speed by the time I go to turn in the finals on these jobs.” His face was uncharacteristically red as he paced.

  Jess held up her palms as if to surrender but didn’t say anything. She wanted to see where he was going with this.

  He stopped in front of her desk. “This company is in my blood and worth more to me than just any job. It always has been. I understand, it’s great to do philanthropic projects, but we really have to keep an eye on the bottom line.”

  “I know, and that’s what she’s trying to do. But talk to her before you judge her changes, okay? She’s pretty clear about the plan. In the meantime, I’ll ask Skylar to leave Toni in place a bit longer, but that directive comes from her, not you, all right?”

  “Fine.” He managed a smile this time. “I’m beginning to
think you’re punishing me for Pam.”

  “Nope. Your lack of bonus this quarter should do that for me.” She raised her eyebrow and grinned.

  “Very funny. You interviewed her, too.”

  “I’m well aware of that. I never blamed you. Your guilty conscience is getting the better of you.” She saw him visibly relax when he got the reprieve he was after. “Now, go buy me some buildings.”

  “On my way. I’ll leave you to figure out how to save the world. See if you can build some profit in there while you’re at it? Cindy just upgraded her Bimmer.” He pulled the door firmly against the frame like he always did, as if his leaving needed a sound effect.

  Jess knew there was a serious message in his banter. Brett was often frustrated when she allocated corporate profit to places other than the company coffers. She knew that he wasn’t always wrong and reminded herself to school her obsession with leaving her mark and honoring her father’s legacy. The company had to continue to do well before she could keep doing good.

  She pushed away from the desk and mentally sketched out a conversation with Skylar. She didn’t relish rescinding her earlier support, but she’d find a way to make her okay with the delay in her plan.

  * * *

  Jess had just balled up the wax paper from an egg salad sandwich when Skylar pushed into her office, flashing an exaggerated grin in response to Jess’s reaction to the volume of paperwork she carried.

  “Don’t worry, only half of it’s for you.” She laughed when Jess maintained her look of horror.

  “Well, that’s a relief, I’ll only need half a bottle of wine.” She mimed wiping sweat from her brow.

  Skylar knelt on the large expanse of floor near the conference table and began methodically arranging a rainbow of file folders across the carpet.

  “Please tell me that our new finance manager isn’t advocating cost savings by eliminating chairs.” She perched on the edge of her seat, unsure what protocol might be in this particular situation.