by Soraya May
Leaning back in his desk, he looks at the paper. “Sure, I think they’ll be delighted to. Damn, this is good; I would never have thought to do it this way, but you’re completely right. You are quite something, Ronnie.”
“Thanks boss.” I toss him a salute, and blow him a kiss at the end.
“Even if you have terrible taste in TV shows.” This time, he gets a raspberry rather than a kiss. “Maybe, though, you’re not completely irredeemable.” He reaches out and takes my hands, and I get the familiar electric tingle when he touches me. “I suggest dinner at my place tomorrow followed by a lengthy—” one finger goes down over the back of my hand, and I shiver with pleasure, “discussion—” it traces up my arm, drawing slow circles across my skin, “on the merits of particular aspects of popular culture.”
I take a deep breath. “That. Sounds like my kind of meeting.” Dammit, if we weren’t in an office with glass walls, I’d be on top of him right now.
“Good.” He releases my hand, and looks serious for a moment. “Also, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I think I’ve found a solution about the deal that will give us everything we want.”
My heart leaps. “Really? You think we can—”
“I think we can do a lot of good if we make the right decisions now, definitely.”
I want to lean over and kiss him again, but I stop myself. “How? What happened with the board?”
“Well,” he puts both hands on the desk, palms flat, “I made our proposal, for restructuring the deal, and they heard it out. It turns out that they had another proposal they’d been meaning to make.” He looks straight at me. “Ronnie, they want to make me a partner. Walters Capital would become Walters and Macaulay.”
“Wow.” Is this what you want?
He looks straight at me again. “But, in exchange for doing this, they want the deal to go ahead unchanged. They want to maximize profit, and they will run a PR campaign to deal with any negative consequences caused by wiping out small investors.”
The air around me goes cold. “You can’t be serious.” I lean back.
“Ronnie, think about this. If I’m a partner, think about all the things we can do; we can—”
I stretch out one hand, clawing at the air. “Tom, tell me you’re not thinking about doing this.”
“Ronnie, be reasonable. We weren’t going to be able to stop this deal completely, not really. And—”
“What the hell do you mean we weren’t going to be able to stop it? You told me you could convince the board to do anything, and now you’re acting like it wasn’t even going to happen?” Without realizing it, I’m on my feet, standing back from the desk.
Tom comes around the desk, and tries to move closer to me, but I back away. “You’re not thinking about what this means, Ronnie. When I’m a partner, I’ll have the authority to do things the way I want. I’ll have the power of veto; I can stop things happening then for no other reason than because I choose it.” He stretches out both hands toward me, but I don’t take them. “Think of the amount of good we can do with that power!”
I breathe deeply. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me, Tom. This isn’t what we discussed. It isn’t anything like what we discussed.”
“Look, sometimes we have to be pragmatic. This is a good deal, Ronnie. The board could just have turned me down flat, and sent me back here with nothing. Instead, they gave me the option to make things vastly better in future. How is this bad?”
“It’s bad because you’re going back on everything we said. You’re making this seem like it’s a moral decision, but we’re still going to do something which will ruin people’s lives, and you’re making yourself okay with it. You’re call it pragmatic, because you don’t want to admit it’s wrong.”
Tom’s face turns dark. “You’re being silly. I fought hard for this, and we’ve got a real chance to make a difference. I did this because of what I learned from you. And now all you can do is complain about how it doesn’t fit your perfect moral ideal?”
I can’t believe this is happening. “Tom, I thought you were going to fight for doing something right. Now you’re telling me that we need to be realistic about it? God!”
“Don’t be naive, Ronnie. I can’t do anything—we can’t do anything without the power and authority to change things. I would have thought that you’d have figured that out by now.” He walks back and forth, pacing quickly. “Are you really telling me that if you were in my situation, you wouldn’t make the same decision?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not. You are, Tom. You told me that you were going to try and do the right thing. Or was that just another story designed to get me to sleep with you?”
He stops, and his hands drop to his sides. When he speaks, it’s with the careful precision of someone choosing his words in front of a difficult employee. “If you seriously think that I would risk my position and my authority here in the way that I have done by being with you, and not have a good reason, you’re a fool.”
He walks to the door and opens it. “Now, I am tired of this juvenile nonsense. I have a responsibility to my team, and I have done my best here. If you don’t want to accept that, because you want everything in the world to be perfect, then there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Tom, you’re giving up everything we talked about. Why do you think I wouldn’t be upset?”
He shakes his head, turning away from me to face the whiteboard. “Look, sometimes when you’re in a position of authority, you have to make hard decisions, and that’s what’s happened here. This deal is going ahead, and that’s the way it is. I will complete it, I will become a partner of this firm, and then I’ll set about doing what I can for people. I’m sorry that this doesn’t live up to your high moral standards. Close the door on your way out.”
I stare at his back for a moment, then walk out, trying my best not to scream.
26
I walk straight out of my office and down the hall. My fists clench and unclench as I go, but I don’t let anything show on my face.
“Hey, Tom. How’s it going?” Someone—I don’t know who—calls to me from across the office, and I give them a thumbs-up gesture without looking at them. I keep walking until I turn a corner and get to the photocopy room, go inside, close the door carefully, and slam my palms flat on the wall. The bang it makes reverberates throughout the room, and I wonder briefly if anyone outside heard it.
Why won’t she see sense? This is crazy.
When I walked out, all I could see were her eyes, bright with the hurt of betrayal. I never meant to do anything except find the best solution, and she’s too damn naive to see it.
I slam my palms against the wall again, not caring if people hear. The board were solicitous when I told them I needed to think over the offer of a partnership, but it was plain they were expecting only one answer.
“Sure, Tom. Take your time to think about it. Just don’t take too long, okay?” I nodded and smiled, and came up with something about how it would be a beneficial partnership for both me and the firm, and that was it.
The door opens behind me, and a chatter of voices fills the room. From where I am behind the partition, I don’t think they can see me.
“Hey, who wants to go first with the photocopier? I’ve got a whole goddamn folder to do, so you guys should go before me.”
“Sure, man. I won’t be long.” I hear the noise of the copier starting up, and the conversation continues. It’s some of the trainees—I don’t remember their names, but their voices are familiar.
“So, did you hear what happened with Ronnie?”
“Ronnie who?”
“You, know, Ronnie.” There is a low whistle.
“Oh, the hot blond one? Suuuuure, I know her.”
“Weeeellll, Ricky was talking to her this morning, and he asked her out. Apparently she said she’d think about it.”
“Hah. ‘Think about it’. You realize that means ‘no way’, don’t you?”
<
br /> Goddammit. Why did I have to be here for this?
“It does not mean ‘no way’. It means she’s going to think about it. C’mon.”
“Yeah, like he’s got a chance with her. She’s way out of his league, and it’s obvious.”
“Maybe. She’s kind of a nerd though. Hot, but a nerd.”
“So? What’s wrong with that? Okay, I’m done with the copying. You go next.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I like nerd girls. If I ran a firm like this, I’d have nerd girls to attend to my every need, you know?”
There’s a chuckle. From behind the screen, I keep quiet, although my knuckles are white against the wall. I squeeze my fists together to keep from punching something, which would probably attract attention.
She’s mine. I can’t let her go like this.
“Man, if I were running this place, girls would be the least of my worries. If you had the power to make all the decisions here, you could do pretty much anything you damn well wanted. That’s the great thing about this business—as long as you’re bringing in the dollars, you can do what you want.”
“Yeah, that’s the business. No whiny bullshit about ethics, just nice and simple. Get the money, and do what you want with it. It’s the best way.”
“Amen to that, brother. You coming for beers tonight?”
“Yeah, probably, if I can get through this reading. Remember, if we don’t get offers by the end of the trainee period, we’re screwed. I don’t want to be the last one left without a chair when the music stops, and that means I need to kiss some serious ass.”
“True enough. That is one drawback of this job; you sure do need to kiss a lot of ass. C’mon, you done? Let’s go.”
After they leave, I stare at the wall for a good five minutes, voices playing in my head.
…no whiny bullshit about ethics…
…you could do anything you damn well wanted…
“I never signed up for moral responsibility.” I talk to myself in the cold, air-conditioned silence, and my voice sounds thin. “I never signed up for being some kind of White Knight who does good for everyone. I play the game to win. That’s all. No regrets.”
But Ronnie expects something more of me. Why me? Why does she think I should do better?
I think about Philip and his mom, on the wrong end of a deal through no fault of their own. I see Ronnie’s face crumple when I told her we had to think of the greater good, that we had to be pragmatic.
“Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.” My words hang in the air, and while they’re hanging, I come to a decision.
I’m going to make things better.
27
Flat on my back on my bed, I stare at my bedroom ceiling and try to figure out how I got into this situation.
How could he have told me that things were going to be different, and then gone and done this?
I think about the way his eyes flashed when we were arguing, about the cutting tone in his voice when he said I was being naive. Maybe I was being naive that he was ever going to see things my way. Maybe I need to accept that I can’t always get what I want.
My phone beeps, and I ignore it for a while. I should be going to see my parents, now my father’s out of hospital. Finally, I roll over and look at it. It’s Emily, presumably still living it up in Italy.
Hey Ron. How’s it going?
Hey Em. Lousy. The guy turned out to be a dud.
Oh, honey, what happened?
He said he was on my side, and then he wasn’t. It’ll be okay.
What about your Dad?
He’s out of hospital and getting better, but that’s kinda a mess too. You know the deal I was talking about, right?
Yeah.
Well, it’s going ahead. Tom’s not going to change it, and it’s going to wipe out a whole lot of people. It’s complicated, but I can’t stop it.
Uh-oh. Can you tell your folks you don’t support it?
I can’t. If I’m not on the team, I won’t get offered a job.
Honey, doing the right thing is what makes you happy. It always has been.
I know, but maybe I need to grow up and face reality. Maybe this is just how things work in the world.
You can make things work however you want them to work. You’re an adult now, and you get to decide what that means.
Maybe. I don’t want to let my Poppa down.
Listen to me, Ronnie Haas. You could never let anyone down, not your Dad, not me, not anyone. When I was having a crisis, who was there to support me? You.
Thanks, Em. It’s easier when it’s someone else.
It sure as hell is easier, yeah. But you will never do the wrong thing by being honest, and following your feelings. Your parents care more for you than anything in the world. If you do something you don’t want to do, just to please them, you’ll regret it forever. You told me the same thing.
I prop myself up on my pillows, and look around the room. Is this it? Is coming home to this what being an adult is all about? After a moment, I swing my legs to the edge of the bed, and stand up.
Yeah, you’re right, Em. Thx.
Anytime babe.
“Okay,” I mutter to myself. “How’s this going to work exactly? I’m going to march in and tell my parents this job involves doing things I don’t want to do, and so I’m giving it up?”
28
Barbara’s house is neat and small, with a little patch of lawn, and carefully tended flowers around the steps up to the door. Coming up to someone’s house at night without them expecting you is always a bit uneasy. Everyone’s read enough stories about people who were shot when they knock on doors at night, and it’s not like I think wearing a suit makes this totally impossible.
I knock gently on the door, rehearsing my speech in my head. For the first time I can ever remember, I’m not sure what I’m going to say. After a moment, Barbara appears from behind the screen. She’s still dressed in her work clothes, and she’s got a pen in her hand. I think we work this lady too hard sometimes.
“Dr. Macaulay—ah, Tom. This is unexpected. Is everything okay?” Evidently visits from her employers late at night are not really part of her notion of acceptable business conduct.
“Sure, Barbara. Look, I’m sorry to bother you in your personal time. I’m actually here to talk to Phillip, if that’s okay with you.”
She nods. “Of course. Just a moment.” The door closes, and I hear her disappear down the hallway. After a few minutes, it opens again, and Phillip’s standing behind the screen, with his mom’s hands on his shoulders. He looks at me and doesn’t say anything.
“Hey, Phillip.”
“Hey.”
I look away for a moment. “I’m sorry I forgot about your story. I really did want to read it.”
“It’s okay. It was a dumb story anyway. You wouldn’t have liked it.” He goes to turn and leave, but his mom stops him.
“Phillip, listen to what Tom has to say. This is important.” He looks back at me, and I pull something from my bag.
“In fact, I wanted to read it so much that I got your mom to make me another copy, and I went through it. I really liked it, and in fact, I made some notes. Here.” I hold up the sheaf of paper, covered in scribbles. “I mean, it’s up to you whether you want to change things or not, but I had a bunch of suggestions.
He looks at the papers, and after a pause, reaches for the handle of the screen door. It opens with a click, and he reaches out a hand.
“Here you go. I hope some of the suggestions are useful for you.”
“Thanks.” He thinks for a minute. “Did you…did you still have that TV show you were talking about? Firefly?”
“Yeah, I do.” I smile and reach into my bag for the USB stick. “You keep this, and we can talk about it later. Next time you’re in the office. You know, talking to you has made me realize some things about my job, and how it affects people, and, well…I’m glad of that. So I’d like us to keep talking.”
“Thanks.” There’s the
trace of a smile.
I look at my watch. “Dude, it’s late; I better go. I know you’ve got school in the morning, and your mom is going to kill me if I keep you up late.” A glance at his mom confirms this, although there’s a kindly look in her eyes. “I had one more thing I wanted to lend you.” I reach into the bag again. This time, I pull out a much older sheaf of papers, handwritten, folded and stained.
Phillip looks at it. “What’s…what’s that?”
I hold it up to the light. “This is the first story I ever wrote, when I was about your age. Maybe a bit younger. I thought it was dumb, and so I never showed it to anybody.” In the light, the pages stretch away from me, all messy handwriting and crossed-out words. “You’re the only person ever to read it except for me. I thought maybe you could use some of the ideas in it. If you like them.”
He stretches out a hand again. “Wow. Thanks.”
I try to smile. “Hey, no problem. I just hope you can read my handwriting.” He smiles back, and I turn to go. “Oh, and Phillip?”
“Yeah?”
“See you later, buddy.”
“See you.”
Phillip and his mom watch me as I walk back down the path, and get into my car. The last thing I see before I close the door is Barbara mouthing the words thank you.
29
“Hello? Ronnie? Ronnie, it’s your mother.” I’m on my way out the door of the office, into the street, and I swerve to dodge the foot traffic, bustling to get home.
“Yes, Momma, what is it?” I have to strain to hear her, and I press the phone against my ear.
“Your father and I have some exciting news for you.” Uh-oh. My mother’s idea of exciting varies wildly from ‘not exciting’ to ‘absolutely terrifying’, and you never know which one you’re going to get.
