1 Executive Lunch

by Maria E. Schneider

  When I checked over my shoulder, he was still watching patiently. He got an eyeful of me stepping behind a potted plant and peering into the lobby.

  No Ted that I could see. Turbo followed, doing his own watching from behind the plant.

  Like a little mouse, I made my way along the wall to the door. The damn doorman opened the door before I could peek out into the parking lot, but my Mercedes was right in front, so I sailed through and hopped in. The windows were tinted, but not enough that someone couldn't see through them. I didn't waste any more time.

  Just as I drove off, I saw Ted in my rear view mirror running out the front door of the hotel. He looked both ways, but I pulled around another car that was waiting for its owner. I would have stepped on it and been gone, but a resort catering truck and one of the moving trucks blocked the lane out.

  The doors were locked. Unless Ted got out a crowbar, I was probably safe. He hadn't seen me get into my SUV. At least I didn't think so.

  I let out a huge breath as the bottleneck cleared. I eased into traffic, keeping an eye on the mirror the whole way, just in case.

  Chapter 29

  My hands had mostly stopped shaking by the time I opened the door to my apartment. Sadly, instead of a quiet, soothing peace, I found Huntington pacing in the condo. He reminded me of my father in some ways, bigger than life and full of energy. But where dad's energy was focused internally, Huntington's was like a laser, centered wherever his eyes went, testing the walls of the condo, me, the air.

  I wasn't afraid of him anymore, but that didn't mean I was happy to see him making himself comfortable at my temporary home. "Could you wait until I get home to barge in?" I grumbled. "Shouldn't you be with Baxtell and his lovely wife?"

  He pivoted away from me, completing the circuit back to the balcony door. "Vic and Christopher have it covered. If anyone should have been at dinner with Baxtell, it would be you. Since you decided it wasn't worth your time, how could it be worth mine?"

  Except he really was supposed to keep the customers happy, while I was just pretending. Baxtell needed people that could truly influence decisions. Huntington had set me up in a good position, but I still didn't have a real role.

  "Baxtell probably isn't involved in the scam," I said.

  "That's the problem!" Huntington paced back my way, his long legs making short work of the living room. He stopped in front of me. "Who is? No one has even attempted to bribe you. Why not? You're young, obviously vulnerable," he looked me up and down with the blue lasers of his eyes, "and...pretty. Why wouldn't they approach you?"

  I sucked in a confused breath. Had he just called me pretty? "I don't think anyone has noticed me."

  He reached out a hand and almost brushed back a lock of my messy hair. "Impossible."

  I stared up at him, my briefcase suddenly too heavy. His eyes were a mixture of emotions; frustration, maybe a bit of anger...and a glint of...curiosity.

  I was willing to bet my own eyes were pretty curious too. The backpack weighed me down from behind. It started to slide. I had to set my briefcase down to lower it. Our eyes broke contact, but my breathing was still shallow. I really didn't fit in his world. It was all just make-believe.

  Without daring a glance back up, I headed for the kitchen. There was frozen cookie dough in the freezer, and boy was I in need of comfort food. I popped a set of four cookies into the toaster oven. "There's no reason for anyone to approach me. I don't have anything they want."

  He stayed on the other side of the bar, but I could feel his eyes following me. "We've given you access to money, people, company assets. What are they waiting for?"

  I licked dough from my fingers, until I noticed Huntington staring. I stopped, leaving my hand pressed against my lips. His eyes finally raised up to meet mine. Half of me wanted to step forward; the wiser half wanted to run.

  "Are you done with that cookie dough?" he asked softly.

  "Uh...um." I kept my eyes on his while I used the spoon to scoop some dough out of the container. Tentatively, I handed it to him--without going around the counter.

  He took the spoon without breaking eye contact. Our fingers didn't touch.

  I put the rest of the dough back in the freezer, and tried to remember what we were talking about. It had to do with work, I knew that. I had been hired to do a job, something to do with slimy Allen. "I might be a threat to Allen, but he's avoiding me entirely, hoping I don't get too many of his perks. Dan doesn't need me for anything. Since I can't do anyone any favors, essentially I'm powerless. Why would anyone buddy with me? They have nothing to gain." I rinsed my hands and dried them off while Huntington began pacing again.

  "Whoever is looking to make money off of these deals doesn't know that. They should see an up-and-coming woman desperate to get ahead that is ripe for corruption!"

  I didn't think now was a good time to tell him I hadn't been looking especially desperate. Eager to please might even be a stretch. "I haven't done anything corrupt. I haven't tried to fire anyone or get to the next job level or oust Allen or give anyone any reason to believe I'm in over my head."

  He stopped and stared at me. "Why not?"

  In confusion, I checked my cookies. They weren't done. "Well…because I guess…I haven't been. In over my head that is. The worst thing that has happened so far is that Allen has tried to make my life more difficult by not telling me things or sending people home. But I know how to run my own stuff so it isn't a big problem. You've made sure I have what I need. I haven't had to bargain or, uh, look desperate." This wasn't going well.

  "Did you just ask me to yank your support?"

  Even he couldn't believe my stupidity. I was having a hard time believing it myself. "No, I'm pretty sure that isn't what I said." But it was. Executives counted on owed favors to get what they needed. Huntington had created a high level position, but he handed it to me with everything I needed to get the job done: people, equipment, a budget and a salary. No one was going to come to me to get payback or favors. I didn't owe Gary, and I didn't owe Allen. While I probably should have tried harder to bargain with the other managers on the work that needed to get done, I hadn't bothered because I really didn't need to.

  "You're unbelievable," he muttered. He opened the oven, tried to grab a hot cookie and burned his fingers. He cursed, yanked on the towel hanging by the stove and snatched the cookie again. Juggling the broken pieces, he slammed his way out of the condo.

  Chapter 30

  I was tired, confused and almost light-headed from a jumble of emotions, but the second Huntington left, I headed for the phone and started dialing.

  Marilyn answered on the second ring. I barely had time to explain that her husband had seen me at the hotel before she muttered, "I'm fine," and hung up.

  Sleep did not go well. If I had known where Marilyn lived, I'd have driven over there and kidnapped her. Plots to do just that mingled with dreams of people chasing me and me chasing something I couldn't see.

  In the morning, Marilyn was still alive when I called before work. She hung up on me after telling me to quit calling.

  With no real choice, I stopped calling, but I checked the internet at least five times when I got to work, looking for any domestic violence deaths.

  I hadn't even gotten organized or interested in my real job when Huntington phoned. Lucky me, he caught me before the meeting to discuss the schedule of old clients and possible new clients from yesterday's event. Like a sitting duck, I was available to respond to his latest idea. Apparently he had spent the night thinking up plans for making me look like a bigger idiot.

  "You need to throw a party. Invite the group, but specifically get Gary's staff to attend. I have a list of other people to invite too."

  "A party," I repeated flatly.

  "You have the place for it now. Let everyone see that you're living it up and that you need some extra money to support your new lifestyle. I picked up the Dodge Viper yesterday. At the party, you'll have to act like you're not sure how you're go
ing to pay for it. Someone is bound to approach you to make a deal under the pretense of helping you earn extra money."

  He made it sound like he had picked up a loaf of bread, and I was supposed to do something as simple as make turkey stuffing. "A Viper, as in the car."

  "Exactly. But this is my personal car and not covered by the fees from Strandfrost so don't think you can drive it to work everyday."

  "Wouldn't it be easier for me to just shoot myself and leave a suicide note claiming I couldn't pay for it all?" At least then I could benefit since I would be out of this situation.

  He paused to give my suggestion serious consideration. "No, that wouldn't work," he decided. "No one could approach you after that, and we still wouldn't know the identity of the perpetrators."

  I didn't mention that maybe I should shoot him instead. "So let me get this straight. The condo in Alpine Hills isn't enough debt. Walking around in fancy new clothes isn't enough. Now you want me to throw a party and drive a set of fancy wheels into the middle of the living room."

  His reply was cautious. "It would be better if you left the car in the garage and casually showed it to some people."

  I didn't reply. After listening to the various phone clicks and silence, he added some encouragement. "Look, with the party we can show people how desperate you are for extra money. You're young, you got promoted, you spent too much."

  "This isn't misspent youth, it's insanity."

  "I've already hired the caterers. With the Fourth of July coming up, it will be a good excuse to get people out. The car will intrigue them enough that they won't dare miss the party."

  I should never have told Huntington that people didn't think I was desperate. "Wouldn't it be easier to take a bunch of these guys out golfing?"

  "Probably, but that would only get you talking to three of them at a time. And even if you drove the Viper some of those guys wouldn't--"

  I knew what he was going to say so I finished for him. "Won't play golf with a woman." Dan came to mind, and I was betting Patrick wouldn't play golf or come to the party in spite of the Viper.

  "Which night is it?" I asked with a sigh.

  "Saturday."

  "You should move it to Friday night." Men didn't know anything about parties, not even one as smart as Huntington. "The Fourth is on Monday and on a long weekend like that people might be traveling on Saturday. A Viper isn't going to have a lot of pull with a wife trying to get dad and the kids over to Aunt Melba's in Tennessee."

  "Aunt Melba?"

  "Yup. Or Uncle Edward."

  "You have to visit your Aunt Melba on the Fourth?"

  I prayed for patience. "It was an example. I don't have an Aunt Melba."

  "Then why the hell did you bring her up?"

  "Just move the party, Huntington. You have a better chance of getting people on Friday."

  He grunted. "Okay, I'll change it. Do you think that lady that you hired to clean can perform butler duties? The caterers will handle the serving and food, but you need someone to answer the door. Tell her you'll make it worth her while and get her size so that I can order a uniform."

  Butler duties. Oh boy. Marilyn wasn't going to like this news. I wasn't even sure she would still clean the condo anymore never mind greet a room full of strangers. "Uh. I'll have to check."

  He didn't notice my hesitation or didn't care because he spit out some other details about the food. After reminding me to get the invite out pronto, he hung up.

  With less than a week, it would take a miracle for me to be ready. I needed a second miracle to live through it. I snorted. A Viper. With all the power it had, I would probably plow it through the building the first time I drove it.

  Huntington's call made me late to staff and that was hard to do since Gary liked to stroll in ten or fifteen minutes late himself. I arrived breathless and foolish. Since I had already interrupted and everyone was staring at me, before I lost all possible friends and enemies, I announced the party.

  "A getting started party," Gary mused. He looked like he might be trying to think of a way out of it. "I think that would be great. Good way for you to team-build with your new peers." He nodded, getting more enthusiastic as he politically commanded his troops to go, all the while working on excluding himself.

  "Well, yes, that is certainly one reason." I hesitated and looked shyly over at Dan, the most easily manipulated male in the room. "I uh, well, I bought a new car…last weekend…and I'm sort of having problems with it."

  Predictably, Dan's eyes widened as he sensed a vulnerable female. He wouldn't want to miss a chance to point out his superiority or in my case, use any opportunity to show I was an idiot and unfit for my job.

  Patrick, on the other hand, looked pained. Ross was busy ignoring the entire thing, and Allen hadn't bothered to stop picking at his fingernails.

  Before Dan could run with things, I added, "It has this kick. I can't figure out how to get it going, like from stop lights, without stalling it. I'm just learning to drive stick." I hadn't asked Huntington if it was stick. It had better be.

  Patrick actually snarled. Ross didn't look any more interested, but he did comment. "Why not just get a friend to give you a couple of driving lessons? Shoot, couldn't take much more than an hour. What are you going to be serving?"

  I didn't know what kind of food Huntington had ordered, so I stuck to the car. "Oh, you know how Vipers can be difficult to control. The salesman warned me it wouldn't be like driving other stick shifts even though I sort of already know how."

  At least that ended the discussion on food. The grimace on Patrick's face eased into slack-jawed amazement. Dan choked on his coffee. Gary perked up immensely.

  "I don't think there's anything wrong with the car or anything like that," I added hurriedly, "but you know, it would be nice if a few guys could drive it and check it over for me."

  It was probably Ross' marketing background that gave him the agility and speed to step in ahead of everybody else. "Shoot. I'll be more than happy to show you how to shift that thing." He sat up straighter. "Shouldn't take more than a few days. Maybe a once a week lesson for a month or two. Be happy to bring it home and check it out for you too, if you're really worried something might be wrong."

  "Sounds like you need your team, and we'll be there for you," Gary announced.

  Dan and Allen nodded automatically when Gary looked around the room. Patrick just continued to look stupefied, but he wasn't scowling anymore.

  Huntington had been right. They would show up, if not for the car, just because all the other guys were going to be there to see the car. Amazing.

  Gary was so pleased with the party idea that he barely paid attention to the schedule discussions. Even Patrick's occasional attempt to whine was brushed aside. Gary gave me partial okay to go ahead with hiring the new group, approving half of the people and all of the equipment. That made no sense because without people to run it, why order it, but I was learning not to argue.

  Allen was overjoyed at one more sign that instead of replacing him, I was just a new regime. He put in a request for people too "in order to start building a special team" but it appeared rather spur of the moment. Probably to be politically fair, or some other reason I didn't understand, Gary gave him permission to hire a technician and order a couple of servers. Allen went from nearly shutout to a startup up team in a heartbeat--for no good reason at all.

  I scurried out of the meeting and sent the hiring requisitions with Gary's signature to HR. Then, before I could pretend it wasn't happening, I sent out a proper invitation to the party. Depressed, I stopped by to talk to Turbo. He had already begun to hear rumors, but he was ecstatic when I confirmed the story about the Viper. He completely ignored me when I mentioned that Gary had approved the fifty thousand dollar analyzer he wanted to purchase.

  "What color is it?" he asked.

  "The analyzer?"

  "No, no! The car!"

  I took a deep breath. It would have been easier to guess the color of the
analyzer because most computer equipment was beige or gray. "Uh…probably red." I remembered my earlier car discussion with Huntington and figured that now that he was trying for attention, it was probably red. "Or black," I considered, changing my mind. If Huntington was stuck with the Viper, he might not want red.

  Turbo looked at me askance. "Probably?"

  I shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I should have asked." For a moment, I think Turbo had forgotten I was playing a part because he looked rather chagrined. "It isn't as though I picked it out."

  "Oh. Yeah."

  "It was Huntington's idea, of course."

  He nodded. "Absolutely. You, uh, might want to do some research."

  He was right. "I guess I'll go do that. I told the guys it was stick shift. I hope that Huntington ordered it that way."

  Turbo looked pained. He closed his eyes. He did that whenever he was about to tell someone bad news or in my case when I did something particularly dumb. "It has a six-speed manual transmission. That type of vehicle does not have automatic transmission. Ever," he emphasized. "That would be pointless. It has at least 450 horsepower and can go nearly two hundred miles per hour."

  "Oh." The ability to go that fast seemed rather wasteful since I hadn't seen a speed limit that high, but I was supposed to own the car, which meant I had to be impressed with such things.

  "Did you get the coupe or the roadster?" he asked.

  I just stared at him.

  "Does it have a soft top or hard?" he clarified.

  "I haven't seen it."

  He looked terminally wounded.

  "I think I'll go do some research." I kept my head high during my escape, despite feeling more than a little stupid.

  The condo was quiet and peaceful when I got home. Half-heartedly I looked at cars on the internet, but when I put my laptop next to me on the bed, somehow I fell asleep.

  Michael woke me from a hard sleep. "I am bringing her up," he said into my ear.

  My fogged brain didn't figure out he meant Marilyn until I opened the door.