Eviscerating the Snake - The Complete Trilogy

by Ashley Fontainne

  Carl lugged his gear onto the elevator, using his foot to push the button. His 6’1” frame was still in remarkable shape, mostly due to his affinity for playing tennis. In college, he struggled with wanting to go pro versus finishing his degree, but in the end, his parents incessant prodding finally pushed him to drop his dream of being a world-class athlete and settle for graduating with honors—which he did—and becoming an accountant, just as his father had been. Although he was glad that he listened to his parents, since he had become quite successful at his trade, it was days like today when he felt much older than he actually was, giving rise to brief moments of regret at the life he had chosen for himself versus what it could have been, but these moments didn’t last too long, for Carl was just a naturally happy person. Colt had remarked numerous times that he looked like a “skinny Santa” with his gray hair and rosy cheeks and quick smile. Colt didn’t know that the pink in his cheeks came from excessive drinking binges in his youth when he used to hit the sauce heavily. But all that mess was behind him now, so he would just let the boy think he glowed from happiness.

  The elevator doors opened, and Carl made his way to his spacious office that overlooked the gorgeous mountain range. He noticed a low hum when he walked in and realized it was the sound of voices whispering throughout the office in monotones, sort of like children do when the teacher isn’t looking. Renee wasn’t exaggerating when she said everyone was talking about it.

  Renee saw him coming and opened up his office door, quickly shutting it behind them after hurriedly ushering him in. Obviously, she couldn’t wait even one minute to finish their previous conversation. She helped him with his computer and then motioned for him to sit down with her chubby little hands so she could tell him the rest of the sordid tale.

  “Olin had been squawking at her for about ten minutes before he came out to her desk. I think he was mad because she couldn’t get that Reed guy on the phone—you know, the guy he is always yammering about the Sprigg oil rig explosion with? Olin was acting like the end of the world was about to happen if he didn’t talk to Reed right then. Poor Gabrielle was trying to get in touch with him but wasn’t having any luck.” Renee rambled on excitedly, obviously enjoying retelling the story. “All of a sudden, he flew out of his office and slammed his fist on her desk and started yelling. You should have seen her face, Carl,” Renee said, her last bit of breath gone as her cheeks glowed from the rush of blood that was pounding in them.

  “I can only imagine how mortified she was after what he said to her! What an atrocious thing to say to someone, especially in front of a crowd of co-workers! I can’t believe how unprofessional that was of Olin to humiliate Gabrielle like that. Poor girl,” Carl piped in, genuinely sorry for her. He and Olin had gone toe-to-toe several times over the years on numerous issues, so Carl was well aware of how ugly Olin would get when he became angry, especially when he was pissed off at a woman. Like all the other partners, he knew that Olin had been chasing Gabrielle ever since she walked through the door for her first interview, and since he hadn’t heard anything to the contrary, he assumed Olin had grown tired of chasing her and opted to run her off as he had done with numerous other females employees that refused to play into his hands over the years. The inside joke about Olin was that if you didn’t play, he made you go away.

  “No, Carl, she didn’t look embarrassed—more like scared,” Renee said, her eyes wide and questioning. “The look in her eyes was the exact same look that my mamma used to get when my daddy would come home from work and start yelling at the dinner table. Mamma knew from past experience that once he started yelling, the evening would eventually end with him beating the daylights out of her. Even though she tried, she never could hide the terror behind her eyes from us kids at the table. That same expression was in Gabrielle’s eyes today—that look of fear. It was weird!”

  Renee continued to babble on about the morning’s events, but Carl’s attention drifted off as he thought about Renee’s description of Gabrielle’s fear. Carl had been an equity partner for years and knew, just as the others did, all about Olin’s issues with women, for he’d had to cast his vote on payout issues to previous female employees more times than he cared to think about. Although Carl respected Olin’s brilliance when it came to business, he personally found him an arrogant, self-centered bastard that cared about no one, let alone himself. And although Carl was on his fourth marriage and Olin still his first, Carl had never cheated on any of his wives because his religious upbringing prevented him from doing so. If Carl found himself in a situation where he felt attracted to a female other than his current wife, then he would just get divorced and then pursue his newest interest. Of course, every time he had, ended up in another marriage. This pattern gave Carl a sense of moral superiority over the other partners in the firm that continuously played musical bedrooms, especially Olin.

  If what Renee said was true about Gabrielle being frightened and basically fleeing from Olin’s presence, then Carl felt he needed to investigate things further, although he really hated the thought of doing so since he had mounds of returns to review. He hoped he was wrong and that Renee was just exaggerating, but the gigantic knot in the pit of his stomach told him that she wasn’t. The “Olin Situation” as he liked to call it, had been deteriorating rapidly the last few years, and the events of the morning were just one more reason that Carl wished that he hadn’t caste a “yea” vote when Olin took over the firm. It gave him a huge sense of shame knowing that he was partially responsible for the monster that Olin had become.

  Carl snapped back to the conversation at hand and decided he needed to start his investigation. He knew, however, that he would have to give Renee a project that would grab her attention more than what had snagged it this morning, so he looked over at her and interrupted her in mid-sentence and flashed his best smile. “Thank you, Renee, for being my eyes and ears while I’m out of the office. I do appreciate all you have told me this morning about Gabrielle and her rather unsettling morning. I promise to contact Lily and get to the bottom of the situation. In the meantime, however, I need you to do something really important for me today.”

  Renee’s attention span was about as long as a microbe, and she quickly forgot all about Gabrielle in her eagerness to please her boss. Carl continued. “I need your help in picking out a new car for Shelly. I honestly have no clue what she wants, and since you two are so tight, I can only assume that you would. Do you have time today to go down to Rumner Luxury Autos and take a look around for me? You know, take a few out for a spin to get a good feel for the best one for her and Colt? Ask for Lamar Randolph; he’s a good friend of mine, and I have bought several vehicles from him over the years. He will make sure to take care of you.”

  Renee beamed from ear to ear as she jumped up out of her seat, forgetting all about the morning’s wild events at the thought of taking the day off to shop for luxury cars. She clapped her chubby hands together like a little girl as she squealed, “Oh Carl, what a wonderful idea! I would love to!” Had she been able to, she would have scampered out of Carl’s office to her desk, but her scampering came out more like a lumbering waddle as she scooped her purse and keys up off her desk and headed down the hall.

  Now that she was gone and her prying ears and eyes were away from his desk, it was time for Carl to start making some phone calls. As he picked up his phone, Carl wished he hadn’t given up drinking.

  THE STEWARDESS WAS GIVING the usual safety spiel about flotation devices and emergency exit doors. Robert sat in his first class seat trying to make his short, stubby fingers type faster on his iPhone so he could finish his email before the in-flight Gestapo told him to turn it off. He was tired and shaky from a long week of schmoozing potential new clients at the annual rigging seminar—enduring all those late night, boring dinners, and consuming entirely too much Booker’s bourbon. Thank goodness his flight would only be two hours.

  In the midst of sending instructions to his assistant regarding follow-up lette
rs to his newest business contacts and potential new audit clients, an email from Carl popped up marked “Urgent,” and the subject line simply read “Olin-call me ASAP.” Robert quickly finished his email and hit send, then looked around to see how close they were to taking off. He started to dial Carl’s direct line just as the announcement was made to turn off all electronic devices. Damn, he knew whatever it was that Carl wanted to discuss most likely would take a while since nothing pertaining to Olin was ever easy or short lived, so he would have to wait until he landed to call him.

  Cripes, what now?

  Robert turned off his phone, reached into his laptop bag, and grabbed his hidden stash of Booker’s, quickly downing a few sips to ease his nerves. He hated flying, always had since he had been in a minor plane crash at the age of sixteen in one of those death trap puddle jumpers that his best friend Vince had been flying one day over his father’s horse farm, but travelling was an unfortunate requirement of his job as an audit partner and his newly acquired position as marketing director. Ever since the crash in his youth, Robert had always taken a bit of liquid courage with him whenever he flew. The familiar burn that raced down his throat helped, as it always did, and he leaned back in his seat and wondered what kind of mess Olin had gotten them into now.

  Robert had met Olin their senior year in college when they became roommates. He was immediately intimidated by the fact that Olin already held a law degree and was just completing his last few credit hours in accounting so he could sit for the CPA exam. He was also taken aback by the crudeness and rooster-strutting attitude that Olin exuded, especially when he heard him talk to or about women.

  Robert would not classify his relationship with Olin in the “friend” category since he didn’t believe that Olin was actually capable of being another person’s friend. He viewed Olin more as a wild, crazy big brother. The one that dared you to jump off a cliff or stick your tongue on a frozen piece of metal then laughed raucously as you sat in pain and cried. If you did his bidding, he patted you on the back and flashed you a “job well done” smile. Robert considered Olin someone to keep on the good side of, for God knows he had seen his bad side numerous times. He intimately knew the dark and ruthless man behind the bright smile and light blue eyes, and the deepest part of Robert had always cautioned from within to be careful around Olin.

  Although their personalities were completely different, they both were studying the same subjects, and in one particular class that Robert struggled with, Olin ended up being his saving grace. Having grown up on a cattle farm, Robert’s first love was agriculture, and he had really wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a farmer as well. He didn’t have any interest in sitting behind a boring desk every day, shuffling paper back and forth for some overbearing boss, dressed in some tight fitting monkey suit. He wanted to be outside, working with his hands in the fresh air, wearing his favorite worn out pair of blue jeans and cowboy hat as his cowboy boots plodded through the open fields. However, his father insisted that times were changing, and that in order for him to leave his farming operation to Robert, then Robert must attend college and obtain a degree or the farm would never make it. Robert had initially balked at the idea of attending college for the simple fact that adding another four years of school would be akin to driving rusty nails into his eyes; he was intelligent in some areas, but sorely deficient in others. His first three years of college had been a tremendous struggle, but he had made it through to his senior year, and then he almost flunked out.

  After one particularly difficult test in intermediate accounting that he had failed miserably, Robert noticed that Olin had aced it. He approached Olin after class that day and offered to pay him for tutoring sessions since finals were coming up next, and his entire collegiate hopes rested upon passing that one class. Olin, of course, agreed since money was his reward, but had one caveat—if Robert passed the final then he would owe Olin a fifth of Booker’s bourbon and would agree to be his designated driver for a night on the town chasing tail. Robert readily accepted the terms and a few weeks later, passed the final with flying colors. He made good on his promise, and they headed out on the town in Robert’s truck with him driving, since, had it not been for Olin, Robert would never have graduated.

  It was the worst mistake he had ever made and a night that would become a permanent, darkened stain in his soul and forever cement his unwanted ties to Olin.

  Buried deep inside ever since, the blurry memories of that night were only dredged up when Olin called in a favor or events from that night came to torment him during his nightmares. Robert had used booze to attempt to drown the mental images of that tragic summer evening so long ago, and two things had become central figures in Robert’s life: bourbon and Olin.

  Since his father was still alive and running the farm after he graduated college and Robert was choking from mounds of student loan debts, he reluctantly accepted a job offer from the same firm that had just hired Olin. The prestigious Winscott & Associates they both would now call home. Robert had always felt a bit of gratitude to Olin for helping him land the job since the firm had a prestigious reputation and paid well, and he needed the money. But he also wondered if the reason behind Olin’s insistence on the two of them working together was a deeper, more sinister plan of Olin wanting to keep tabs on Robert.

  For the next decade, Robert and Olin worked their ass’s off, climbing to the level of partner and then to equity partner, with Olin leading the charge and Robert struggling just to keep up, hanging onto Olin’s coattails for dear life.

  Robert respected Olin’s ability to lure clients from other firms and marveled at his business prowess and tremendous knowledge of the oil and gas industry, but he silently cringed at the way Olin conducted his personal life. Even though Robert was more than well aware of Olin’s shenanigans with women other than his own wife, Robert felt a strong sense of perverted loyalty to Olin for bailing him out of trouble ever since that wretched night with Gina.

  As Robert was climbing the corporate ladder, he had made numerous mistakes along the way, some of which could have cost him his job had Olin not been there to save him with just one vote. He had never truly understood why Olin kept bailing him out, other than for the sheer enjoyment of the power of having someone owe him a favor, or just so he could keep a close eye on Robert, not letting him get too far out of range of his controlling rope. Robert thought he was repaying those many favors and wiping the debt slate clean when his vote five years ago was the deciding one that put Olin in as managing partner. He feared that the day was coming soon that the biggest favor would be called upon, and he just wasn’t sure if he still wanted to be a passenger on the Olin train; however, his caboose seemed welded tight.

  Robert had begun to realize recently that the side of Olin he knew from long ago, the one that Olin had kept hidden so deftly from others, was rearing its ugly head again because since Olin’s ascension to top dog, his out of control behavior was making Robert uneasy. No, uneasy wasn’t the right word. It was more like the feeling he had that night when they were drunk and naked in the back of his truck with Gina. When he heard her scream and saw Olin’s face. That feeling. That gut wrenching stomach drop as he realized his world was about to be rocked. Even though Robert tried to soothe that fear by dousing it with more bourbon, it wasn’t working.

  Robert didn’t condone adultery and had never participated in any of the raunchy activities that Olin and others at the firm did, even when they gave him hell for it. He didn’t care about that, for he was still crazy about his sexy wife after all these years. Besides, his father would have kicked his ass from here to Canada if he had partaken in even just one drunken night in the arms of some shameless Jezebel while he was a married man. When his father had sat him down for the “birds and bees” talk when Robert was eleven, he vividly recalled how his father insisted that it was one thing to “spread his seed” through the herd when single, but once married, no more.

  Robert knew that his firm had
a reputation for being overtly sexual with its employees, as well as for driving them hard and “putting them away wet” as his dad would have called it, but the latter was just the nature of their work. The sexual part he did not condone nor take part in, so he felt his hands were clean even though he knew deep down inside that was just a way to hide from being forced to deal with it.

  No matter how hard he tried not to be, Robert had always been a follower. He was never the one to come up with “the” brilliant idea but was willing to go along with it as long as it didn’t conflict with his gut. He also hated controversy and would go to great lengths to steer clear of train wrecks waiting to happen. When partner meetings were held and discussions became heated about whatever issue was on the table, Robert would just tune out, envisioning himself at his farm with his beloved cattle and only pop into reality long enough to cast his vote whichever way Olin had voted. As of late, he had really started regretting casting those blind votes in Olin’s direction, but it was too late to cry about that spilt milk now.