The Wilson Mooney Box Set

by Gretchen de La O

  “What’cha thinkin’ about?” Joanie asked as she lifted her head up to look at me. I looked back at her, her body now rolling back and forth as the massage changed settings, and didn’t say anything right away. Joanie took notice and pushed the button to bring her chair up to the sitting position. I noticed she sat patiently, waiting to hear the whole story rambling around in my head. I guess the loss of color in my face clued her in. “Wilson, what’s going off in that head of yours?” she asked again.

  “When Max and I got together, I never thought he’d be doing anything but teaching,” I murmured. “And now, everything has changed so fast.”

  “Yeah, well, I would say maybe for the better? He isn’t going to love you any less when he is CEO of GP,” Joanie said convincingly.

  “That’s the issue, J. It isn’t for the better. Private jets, helicopters, and mansions in Aspen won’t give him what he truly wants in his life. I’m not saying it isn’t freakin’ amazing, and that some day, I too, may become accustomed to it as nothing more than the life I have simply because I am Max Goldstein’s girlfriend. All I’m saying is there has always been more to Max than the perks of being the son of an oil tycoon.”

  Joanie’s face dropped white. She knew who I was and what was important to me. We both believed love and happiness was something made in fairy tales dreamt up by young girls who wanted something better than what they were born into. We just never thought we’d be living something so real in our lives.

  Joanie wasn’t super rich by any means, but her family was well off. Her father was a retired pilot, and one of the perks was that she got to fly standby whenever she needed. When we were younger we’d talk about meeting really rich guys who were best friends so we’d live next door to each other and we’d use her flying privileges to travel the world together. Now she was falling for the son of a gazillionaire and I was in love with Max Goldstein, the CEO of a multimillion dollar family-owned company. Yeah, maybe fairy tales are things based on love and dreams coming true; but at whose expense?

  ~ Max ~

  The meeting was dragging on and on. Signing papers and making decisions that affected so many people and the financial standing of GP really sucked. I felt the pressure of hundreds of people’s livelihoods changing as it filled my lungs with shallow breaths of regret. My phone vibrated against my leg. God, let it be Wilson telling me she’s safe. I felt the tension in my chest loosen as I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket and saw her words light up my screen.

  HeY, My LoVE. We made it 2 Cali. We R N the Car, HeaDING to Wesley. MISS U terribly. J & I talked. lots 2 tell U. Take my <3 make sure U keep it safe. <3 U.

  “Gentlemen, can you give me a moment?” I requested as I pushed the bubble below Wilson’s text. I didn’t wait for their response.

  “Sure, Max, no problem,” Gary answered as he adjusted his attention to the other end of the table, where Calvin and Dan were sorting through the stacks of papers we hadn’t even talked about yet.

  Wilson was the reprieve I needed to get away from the pressure of decisions I had to make. Decisions my father must have procrastinated making because he knew they were going to affect so many of our customers.

  I took a deep breath before I tapped my screen, answering her text.

  Hey Sweets, glad you’re safe. Hope your flight was ok. I am still stuck in meeting. BTW, when I see U I am getting you an iPhone. No arguing either. Glad U & J had time 2 talk. Getting close to wrapping up my biz here. Will call U once I’m done. Got UR <3 N my pocket next 2 my <3… LUV U back.

  I pushed ‘Send’. All I wanted to do was wait for her response. I wanted to read her words, hear her voice in my head, and feel my heart pound hard in my chest for reasons she created.

  “Okay, Gary, how much longer do we need to thumb through these papers?” I asked, annoyed, as I pulled on the knot of my tie to loosen it from around my neck.

  Dan must have noticed I was beginning to stress. The next thing I knew, he was pulling me to the side and lecturing me in a heated, elevated whisper.

  “Max, look, I know you don’t want to be here. I also know your goal is to get to Wilson as fast as you can. But this is way bigger than the passing of the torch or slamming out signatures so you can wash your hands of your family’s legacy. There are real people behind these small companies; people who will be affected by the choices you make. I’m not asking you to sacrifice your life or sell off your soul. But you have an opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives; in your family’s life.” Dan held my arms, his fingers digging into my biceps. “Just think about it. Think about what you’re willing to leave your family when you walk away from the company that gave you the privileged life you have.” Dan stared at me uncomfortably long. The darkened circles that cradled his eyes were laced with wrinkles as he narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips. His expression was almost begging me to crumble under his declaration.

  Dan’s words weren’t lost on me as I stood there for a moment. I wasn’t heartless or uncaring. I knew my father had dealings with huge mega-companies as well as mom-and-pop–sized shops. I didn’t need Dan to tell me about it. There were plenty of evenings when I’d listen to my father tell my mother about some small business he sold to because they were being threatened by the mega-giant conglomerations that were swallowing up and absorbing the small businesses in the area.

  “I appreciate your concern, Dan. I am well aware of who is affected by the decisions I have to make. Your concern has been duly noted.” I felt his fingers loosen before a loud beep broke the rumbling of voices in the room.

  “Uh, Mr. Goldstein,” I heard my father’s secretary’s voice echo through the speaker.

  “Yes, Elaine?” I responded. There was a sliver of time where I heard her catch her breath. Maybe it was because she expected my father’s gruff voice to answer her call.

  “Umm, I have Mr. Clay Langley here. He had an appointment set with…your father. I’m so sorry, I thought I canceled it, but I must have missed this one. Would you like him to come back another time? Why don’t I just tell him—”

  “No, that’s fine, Elaine. Let him wait in conference room one. I’ll be right down.”

  “Thank you, Max—oh, excuse me, I mean Mr. Goldstein,” she said, embarrassed.

  “No problem, Elaine,” I responded, trying to ease her discomfort.

  Well, here we go. This was my moment to see if I was cut out for the corporate world. I pushed the knot in my tie back up against my neck, pulled my collar straight, and slipped on my navy jacket.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said as I noticed Gary, Dan, and Calvin standing there silently. Their lips were closed so tight, you’d think they’d been threatened with spoons filled with poison.

  It didn’t take me long to get to Mr. Langley. Just a short ride down a couple of floors in the elevator to the front reception area. Elaine was waiting by the elevator as it opened. Nervously, she tried to fill me in on what company Mr. Langley owned and what sort of relationship he had with GP. I listened as we shuffled to the conference room. She opened the door, presenting me to a man much older than me, his eyes worn by the stress of the years he’d been struggling to keep his company afloat in this economy. His blue pinstriped suit was pressed with sharp edges. His tie was a deep red, knotted tight around his thin neck. He’d combed what remaining hair he owned on either side of his head across the prevalent balding space on top. The lines dug deep in his face told stories filled with worry and regret. His hazel eyes gave me everything I needed to know. He was here to beg for help. What was I thinking?

  I swallowed hard before walking determinedly over to the space where he was standing. He pushed his hand out in front of him. I collected his boney, dark palm in mine, and we shook as he began to tell me why he’d come.

  “Mr. Goldstein—” he began.

  “Please, call me Max,” I said.

  “Max, I want to tell you how sympathetic my family and I are for your loss. Frank was a true gentleman, such a prudent busin
essman,” he said as his eyes glossed slightly at the mention of my father.

  “Thank you, Mr. Langley. I appreciate that.” He let go of my hand and I noticed he began to run his fingers across the edges of his jacket as he thought about what to say next.

  “Mr. Gold—Max, your father and I have been in business for years. He helped me when I was losing my shirt several years ago. He worked with me and set up options to keep my company open. And, well, now that he is…not with us, I am afraid that what we shook hands on a couple of years ago, well, I am afraid—” he struggled to speak openly.

  “Mr. Langley, it’s okay to voice your concerns. You are afraid that with my dad’s passing, the verbal agreement you had with him will go by the wayside as well?” I said clearly. I was actually surprised I said it without choking up.

  “Well, something like that. GP is the only company that gambled on us. It’s the only one I am willing to work with. GP is one of the last honest companies still run by the same family for generations. Max, my company is family owned too. Every ounce of blood I’ve spilled, I’ve spilled while keeping Langley’s independent.”

  “Well, Mr. Langley, I can see and honor your passion,” I answered him as my stomach twisted in knots. I watched this man giving me what he considered his last ditch effort before he lost everything he had built for his family—probably a relatively meager living while the fat cats got fatter and the feral cats fought for the scraps they left behind.

  “Max, I just wanted to come in person and meet you. I thought the proper thing to do was to tell you how sad we are for your loss. And if you find yourself passing through Fraser, my wife, Lydia, wanted you to know she’d love to have you and your loved one out to the house for dinner. We’d really like to show you what your father has done for Langley’s and the town of Fraser,” his voice trailed off.

  It was at that moment, through his words, that I figured out what he represented for me. Clay Langley was manifestation of every moment my father missed dinners and baseball games when I was growing up, the thoughts that resided in my father’s eyes when he was preoccupied with work. Mr. Langley symbolized every small company my father made deals with on a hand shake. It was at that moment I realized Mr. Langley epitomized the legacy my father passed down to me. Max, there will come a day when you will have to make the decisions I’ve had to make. Make it with your head, but don’t forget to listen to your heart. It happens to be the strongest muscle in your body. My father’s voice saturated my soul.

  We stood facing each other in silence. Mr. Langley stood there, waiting for me to acknowledge his testimony; and me, I was waiting to come back from the invading boom of my father’s voice still ringing in my ears.

  “Mr. Langley, thank you for stopping by. Your sentiment isn’t lost on me. I will personally handle the business relationship you had with my father. You have my word,” I said as we firmly shook hands. I felt every emotion filter through his grip and bleed into my skin. In the split second my heart fissured for the legacy of my father, Mr. Langley found a way to mend the anger and take away the pain of a vacancy from my childhood.

  Clay Langley’s expression brightened. His smile climbed up his weathered cheeks and his broken eyes filled with new hope for his life. It was fulfilling to see the power I had to affect and help the human side of GP. He nodded to me, turned toward the front doors, and left. Not asking for anything in writing, not second-guessing my intentions. With just a handshake and a pile of words, his life had new hope. My lungs filled with a breath of fresh air and my mind swam with the renewed purpose I had no idea existed.

  My gait was confident as I left the conference room and headed back toward the elevators. Elaine was on the phone in my father’s office. The huge glass windows gave me a peek into her business. I smiled, waved to her, and then pressed the up button next to the elevator. It wasn’t long before I was back upstairs, surrounded by the heaviness of sorting through and figuring out what GP really represented financially.

  I had my hand on the door as I felt my iPhone vibrate in my pocket. It wasn’t a text, because I noticed the vibration came in waves. It was Wilson, calling me. As I pushed the answer button, I knew I wanted to tell her about Mr. Langley and how empowering it felt to actually help someone. Excited to tell her I understood the reason why my father decided to name me CEO of GP, I pushed the phone to my ear.

  “Max, are you there? Max, can you hear me?” she spoke fast, almost frantic.

  “Yeah, hey, yes, I am here, what’s going on?” Suddenly the contentedness that filled my soul gave way to the fearful panic of Wilson yelling into the phone.

  “Oh my God, Max, I am so scared. I came back to the dorms and I…I found an envelope…it was on my bed…”

  “Okay, alright, Wilson, what did it say?” I said really slowly, trying to calm the raging sea pounding in her voice.

  “It was addressed to me, no return address…it only had Wilson Mooney on the front of it,” she said building upon the energy she had swirling so vigorously I could feel it through the phone.

  “Wilson, sweetheart, what did the letter say?”

  “I am so frickin’ scared, what if it’s about my financial aid? What if they decided to pull my funding because I don’t have any legal guardians any more?”

  “What did the letter say?” I repeated as evenly as possible.

  “It said, it said, well here let me just read it to you…” I heard paper scraping against itself as she pulled the phone away from her mouth. “Joanie, this fucking letter won’t stay open. I can’t hold the phone and keep the letter from folding closed.”

  There was a rustling of the phone.

  “Joanie, I don’t want to be expelled.”

  “What the hell is going on out there?” I started to feel myself getting stressed. “Can you please just read me the letter?” I barked.

  “It says, ‘Miss Wilson Mooney, Due to the newly collected and recently discovered discrepancies in your schooling, the acting executive board of Wesley Academy for Girls and I request your appearance in my office upon receipt of this letter. If you fail to appear in my office I will have no choice but to revoke your financial aid and expel you from Wesley Academy without due process or cause. Please call my office at 555-7337, extension #14713, Yours truly, Dean McCallous.’ That’s all….it is dated yesterday, December 29th. Oh my God, Max, I don’t want to lose my financial aid five months before the end of school!”

  “You’re not going to lose anything. The letter is only dated yesterday. Settle down. They aren’t going to take away your financial aid. I’ve never heard of them doing that because someone’s guardian died. And if they do, I will take care of your tuition,” I said, trying to ease her mind. I heard Joanie say something to Wilson and that’s when everything shifted and her voice became the calm before the storm.

  “Oh my God, this letter has nothing to do with financial aid. Why didn’t I see it sooner? They know about us!” Wilson yelled into the phone. “Oh my fucking God, they know about us. Max, what are we going to do? Oh my God, Max, what are they going to do to you?” she hollered.

  “Wilson, everything is going to be okay. Even if this letter is about us, I’ve already signed and sent in my resignation papers. They can’t do anything to me. So don’t worry about what’s going to happen to me. Wilson, listen, I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear me? I love you.” I waited for her to answer.

  “Yes, I love you too, Max,” she sobbed.

  I heard Joanie in the background talking to Wilson, saying, “You have to settle down, Wilson. Do you hear me? Take a couple of deep breaths and settle down. You are all worked up over an assumption. You don’t know for sure what this letter is about. The best thing to do is get into the bathroom, run some cold water over your face. I’m not going to let you go to Dean McCallous’s office alone. I will be with you, okay?” Joanie’s voice was firm and reassuring. Thank God she’s there with her.

  Suddenly the rustling of fabric and air sounded like Wilso
n gave the phone to Joanie. My heart was thrashing in my chest and the edges of my ears fucking hurt from pressing my phone so hard against it.

  “Max, hello? You still there?”

  “Yes, Joanie, I am,” I answered quickly.

  “Listen, she’s really starting to freak out. I think I got her settled down. But, honestly, I have a bad feeling about this letter. I think it’s pretty serious. I don’t know how much more she can take. After everything you guys have been through this week...She just might lose it. How much longer before you are able to come out?” Joanie’s voice was very methodical and slow as she spoke.

  “I don’t know, Joanie. I will do my best to get out there as soon as I can. A day, maybe two,” I answered.

  “Do what you need to do. Just get out here as fast as you can,” Joanie said in a heavy whisper.

  “Okay, thanks,” I answered.

  Joanie didn’t respond before she hung up. I knew her attention was on Wilson. That was her number one concern, and mine too. My head was spinning, the victim of the ebb and flow of elation and desecration. One minute I was fulfilled, the next empty and lost. What am I going to do? I gotta stay calm…should I call Gary? No, he’s already handled my resignation from Wesley. What if he can help Wilson? No, no, no, no…I don’t need him to know about that. Maybe I just need to get there; damn I just gotta get to her. I snatched my phone and dialed. The phone rang several times before I heard her voice.

  “Hel—”

  “Mom, listen, I really need your help…”

  ~ Wilson ~

  After splashing some water on my face, it wasn’t long before I started to feel a little more put together. Thank God for Joanie, she wouldn’t leave my side. I think the fact that I blew up on the plane about everything being so fucked up in my life may have caused her to be concerned with my stability and whether or not I was about to fall off the deep end, or so they say.