Fast-Tracked

by Tracy Rozzlynn

  Mrs. Glabough then asked us all to write out a detailed plan on how we expected to achieve our career goals. Everyone else started furiously writing crazy ideas down in a brainstorming list like she suggested. But I decided to approach Mrs. Glabough instead.

  Looking up from the book she was reading, she said, “Please don’t tell me after that you need help with ideas for becoming a politician.”

  I gave her a small laugh. “No, I had a question about the timeframes of our training.” Mrs. Glabough raised a curious eyebrow. “For me to own my own successful business, timing is crucial.” She gave a short nod of agreement. “I was wondering if there are any rules preventing me from claiming my business now, if I happened to find the right one. I also wanted to know how the early claim would affect my training schedule.” I pressed my lips together as I nervously waited for her answer.

  She took a few minutes to think it through. Obviously these weren’t the types of questions she usually had to answer. “No, there’s nothing preventing you from claiming now. You could still continue your training, but I would suggest finding a mentor to help you with the business until you have the knowledge you need to grow it and to make sure the old owner-turned-CEO doesn’t fleece the business for all it’s worth just to spite you.”

  “True. Bitterness over losing a company could cause a person to throw reason out the window,” I agreed.

  She started laughing, but then she said, “I’m starting to doubt if I have any lessons to teach that you actually need. Get out of my sight and go research some businesses or something.”

  I left the room. As I did, I spied the other girls shooting loathing looks my way.

  I headed down to the library and began researching all the night club licenses I could find. As much as I liked dancing, besides the rare school dance, I never had the opportunity to. A place like Club Night, minus the alcohol, would have been ideal.

  My initial search left me hopeful. The majority of the nightclub licenses I found were for clubs located in the hearts of the largest cities. I wasn’t finding anything for dance clubs located in the suburbs, and I definitely hadn’t found a single one without an alcohol license which I assumed meant, outside of fast-tracker areas, none of them catered to teenage crowds.

  Next I looked up the business license information on Club Night. As I hoped, it was a single building business owned by a blue level man named Mico Leighton. I pulled up his income credit statements for the last five years. The business was profiting, but the owner wasn’t making nearly as much money as he could as a CEO.

  I had just clicked off the screen when Avery entered the library and declared, “There you are. You know I’m going to start taking it personally if you continue to ignore me when I call.” He tilted his head and gave me a sad pouty lip.

  I pulled out my tablet and realized I still had it silenced from class. Fortunately the two calls from Avery were the only ones I missed. “Oops. Sorry,” I said as I switched it from silent to vibrate.

  “I’ll forgive you, this time,” he teased. “Look, to prove it, I even come bearing a gift.” He grandly flourished a white piece of paper in front of me.

  Snatching it from his hand I realized it was my class schedule. “How did you? We’re not supposed to get these until the ten o’clock orientation,” I said in disbelief.

  “I have my ways.” His face split in a crooked and cocky smile.

  “I bet you do… hey, wait! Is this some kind of joke?” I croaked as I started to read my course titles. Getting a Fast-Track Proposal. The Silver Path to a Golden Marriage. The Consequences of Overreaching. Before my eyes could finish the list, I started to crumble the paper up, but Avery grabbed my wrist to stop me.

  “Zandria, it’s not a joke.” His voice was stern and when I searched his face I couldn’t find any trace of amusement.

  “So it’s just the fast-trackers’ way of telling all the newbies we’re not welcomed and we don’t belong,” I grumbled.

  “No.” Avery sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if my attempt to comfort you about your sunken friend gave you the wrong impression. Gaining any kind of power as a newbie is a daunting task at best. As a new fast-tracker you have no inheritance, no legacy to give you power. You have no way to ensure your children will be fast-tracked. These are serious classes designed to help you with that.” He tried to put a comforting hand on my shoulder, but I knocked it off as I jumped to my feet.

  “Wait a minute,” I growled “Are you saying the assessment test has no bearing on who does or doesn’t become fast-tracked? Does the assessment test have any value at all or is it just a farce to get everyone else to stay in their places?” The sudden anger that flared across my face startled Avery enough to make him stumble back from me.

  For a moment he just stared at me, unable to form a response. Finally he said, “No, the assessment test is not a farce.” His voice was shaky, and it made me wonder if he was trying more to convince himself than he was me. He took a steadying breath and continued, “It determines all the levels through silver. Fast-tracker status is inherited by all except a small handful of newbies.”

  “And just how is newbie status determined?” But though I asked, I was afraid I already knew what the answer would be.

  Cautiously, like he could tell what I was thinking and was carefully choosing his words, he explained, “Well unless one of your parents is somehow owed a serious favor from a very powerful fast-tracker, it’s determined by your ranking in the assessment testing.”

  “So then I am only here to make an example out of my dad’s versus Byron’s dad’s behavior,” I admitted aloud as tears welled in my eyes.

  Avery took me by the shoulders and held me firmly at arm’s length. Slowly, he said, “No. Don’t believe that for a moment. You’ve already proven you’re smarter than any of the other girls that got here. You were always at the top of your classes. So don’t you think for a moment that you don’t belong here. You deserve to be here more than any of those other girls do.” There was seriousness to his expression that I had never seen before. He wholeheartedly believed I was here on my own merit, and his confidence in me made me uncomfortable. But how smart could I be when I had deluded myself for so long that the assessment program was fair? Even after seeing what happened to Byron and knowing that fast-trackers inherited from their parents, I still wanted to believe that fast-trackers had to test into their class like everyone else. I was such a naïve fool.

  “If I’m so smart than why am I getting stuck in the most ridiculous classes?” I grumbled. “Let see what classes you have.” I snatched his schedule from the table where he had carelessly left it unguarded.

  “Hey, give it back,” he chided as he attempted to dart around me and grab it back.

  I was faster and kept turning my back to him as I read. Running Your Business, Acquiring Businesses, Managing Your CEO. I would have read on, but Avery finally managed to snatch the paper back.

  “This is so unfair,” I whined in frustration. “You’re taking all of the classes I should be taking.” I crossed my arms and pouted. I was seriously pissed.

  “Ha ha, like you’d have any use for …” He stopped talking the moment he caught sight of my face. “Zandria, you have to realize just how unrealistic it is to think you can own anything more than a local bakery or grocery store without marrying into it. And even then, it will be on paper only; an established family’s not about to let an inexperienced newbie hold a position in the company that actually matters.”

  I refused to believe what he was telling me. It would be incredibly difficult, yes – but not impossible. “It’s been done. If I could time it right with a business that has the potential to expand…”

  “And just where would you get the income credits to expand?” Avery scoffed.

  “Mrs. Glabough suggested I find myself a mentor to help me out with all the details of owning a business, until I have the knowledge I need to run it on my own. Perhaps I could find myself a mentor that would be willing to inv
est in my expansion,” I explained in a tone that made it clear his condescension was not appreciated.

  With sudden alarm, he cut me off. “No! You can’t do that.” I froze and stared at the expression on his face. “No one’s going to give you anything without expecting something back, and you only have one thing that you could possibly give.” For a moment I didn’t understand what he meant – then I saw the hurt and disgust on his face. “Besides, what you’re talking about has a million to one chance of being successful and that’s assuming that you don’t anger the wrong person in the process. Your status is still tenuous and there are fast-trackers more powerful than I am. If one of them feels you crossed them, I won’t be able to protect you from their wrath.”

  I wanted to be furious with Avery for what he was saying. But as he talked, I watched his face and realized there wasn’t a trace of arrogance in it. He was honestly concerned for me.

  I let out a defeated sigh. “So what you’re saying is I’m screwed no matter what I do. I can’t get any real power on my own. And let’s face it, what fast-tracker in their right mind would marry a girl that doesn’t bring anything to the table?” I huffed out a sigh. Not that I considered marring an option; I was just frustrated. Power was what I needed, but the entire fast-tracker system was designed to keep me from getting it.

  “It’s not entirely hopeless. There are fast-trackers out there whose families have more than enough power and wealth to allow them the luxury of marrying for love.” Avery stepped forward and clasped my face between his palms. His eyes searched mine for the answer to an unasked question. He leaned closer, but then quickly pulled back when the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat interrupted us.

  “Mrs. Glabough wanted me to make sure you didn’t get so caught up in your research that you lost track of the time. Orientation starts in five minutes,” Vera interrupted in her most scathing tone. I had never been so happy to see her sour glare and pursed lip expression.

  Avery was back to his usual playful tone when he said, “Please, for my sake, just try to stick with the schedule you were assigned.” He gave me a playful jab on the arm before he swaggered out of the library.

  While I begrudgingly followed Vera out of the library, I couldn’t shake the feeling that if she hadn’t arrived when she did I would have received more than just a kiss from Avery. It didn’t make any sense, but the way he was looking at me, he seemed ready to declare his love for me and propose or something.

  Our first class, Getting a Fast-Track Proposal, was as ridiculous as its name. Our ‘teacher’, Adelynn Blankenshire, was in her mid-thirties with porcelain perfect skin, impeccably styled hair and make-up. She was wearing a dress that accentuated all of her curves in just the right places. At first glance she looked the exact image of what a fast-tracker wife should be. But there was something about her that screamed to me low class.

  Then she opened her mouth and confirmed it for me. She was a complete and total gold-digger who had manipulated a man forty years her senior into marrying her, and she was willing to shamelessly brag about it. Did I say low class? I meant no class.

  Twenty minutes later, when she finally stopped bragging about her conniving path to marriage, she began to instruct us on the different ways to land a man of our own. She prattled on about how to use our feminine charms to lure a man to us, but was quick to warn it wasn’t enough. We needed to make friends with his friends, because if they didn’t like us, we didn’t stand a chance. Plus it never hurt to make some powerful friends of your own. You might not be able to increase his wealth, but there was value in being able to increase his social horizons.

  Next she went on to describe different tactics to finally hook them once you have their attention. Such as being coy or playing hard to get…

  As she spoke I realized just how many of these steps I had inadvertently taken with Avery. I’d have to figure out something to redirect his interest.

  “You make it sound just like a fairytale,” Nola breathed as Mrs. Blankenshire described the damsel in distress angle.

  “Like Cinderella,” Myra chimed in.

  “Or Rapunzel,” Nola purred.

  Everyone’s heads snapped in my direction when I involuntarily let out a sound of revulsion.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Zandria?” Mrs. Blankenshire asked. Her face was downturned in a sneer.

  “I never cared for any of those fairytales. I mean really, all those princesses unable to fend for themselves and just waiting for a prince to come rescue them,” I scoffed. “I prefer stories where the protagonist finds a way to help themselves.”

  Surprise, surprise. A sea of disapproving stares came back.

  “Well I have to disagree with your assessment of the princesses. Their situations made them powerless, but they used the few resources they had to get what they wanted.” She walked over to the stylus board and wrote Rumpelstiltskin, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and half-a-dozen other fairytales.

  We spent the rest of the class picking apart the stories to find out the ways each girl both helped herself or foiled herself in her attempts to get the guy. I thought it was a complete waste of time, but the other girls seemed to completely buy into it.

  “So what do you think now?” Mrs. Blankenshire asked me at the end of the class.

  “All of those girls still looked to a husband as a solution to all their problems. I’d still rather rely on myself,” I answered.

  “You certainly looked like you were relying on yourself in the library earlier,” Vera sneered and the rest of the girls joined in and laughed with her, causing me to roll my eyes. I knew she hadn’t had a chance to tell them what she saw, so they were just laughing to copy her. Lemmings. “You’re a complete hypocrite.” She said each word slowly and drawn out, finally punctuating it with a haughty laugh.

  “Think what you want. The two of us are just friends,” I insisted.

  “Well you certainly were being friendly,” Vera cackled.

  Someone else coughed, “Slut.”

  My patience was wearing thin. I was tired of being stuck with these girls and I was fed up with being stuck in ridiculous classes. So I barked back at them, “I’ve made it clear to Avery I have no interest in a romantic relationship right now. I can’t help what he feels for me.”

  “Avery Huntington?” Mrs. Blankenshire suddenly looked excited. “So, we already have someone utilizing the hard to get tactic. I should caution you, however: play for too long and he could lose interest.”

  “I’m not playing at anything!” I threw my hands up, gathered my things and stormed out of the room. It got me away from Mrs. Blankenshire, her insufferable ideas and the girls– but unfortunately for only a few minutes. I smoothed out my class schedule and realized I was stuck in the same gray-walled room with its tiny little desks for the rest of the day. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the girls were the only people in all of my classes. I had to listen to their constant smug snickering without any reprieve.

  But their torment helped me make an important decision. One way or another I would find a way to get my own business. I might take advantage of Avery’s and Autumn’s help, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow myself to be dependent on them.

  I skipped lunch and spent my time doing more research in the library.

  Chapter 12

  In the afternoon I got myself prepped and primped. It might sound strange, but I felt powerful and confident in my little black cocktail dress. Wearing it I looked like any other fast-tracker. I looked like I belonged. I clipped a black-rose colored flower to the dress, did a final check in the mirror and headed to Senator Blackfield’s gala that I had been invited to.

  I wasn’t surprised to find Autumn was at the event. After chastising me for avoiding her during lunch, she once again brought me around the room making all the necessary introductions. After being introduced to the third Senator and fourth Congressman I finally asked what was going on. Autumn just laughed and said, “The Capital is all that Kansas ha
s to offer. Anyone who’s anyone spends their non-session time in New York.” My naïveté only seemed to increase Autumn’s determination to mentor me.

  I spent the next hour with Autumn as my escort. After that she finally saw fit to leave me alone – and the moment she did, I sought out Jett Dwighton. From my research I knew he was a self made newbie business owner. He could be just the person I needed to give me advice on how to get started.

  The first thing Jett Dwighton showed me is that looks can be deceiving. He was a short and stumpy little man with only a few wisps of hair left on his head and a bushy black mustache that dripped some of the drink he was sipping. He either didn’t care or couldn’t help his constant belching and clearing of his throat. Overall he was rather repulsive, but it gave me hope. If someone that repulsive could succeed, then there was hope for me.

  “I’d be delighted to share some of my wisdom with you, Miss Zandria,” Mr. Dwighton said after I introduced myself and explained my interest to him. “Why don’t we find somewhere a little quieter so we can talk.” He took my arm and guided me up the grand staircase of Senator Blackfield’s home.

  He led me into a plush parlor that was overly decorated in gold and red, but it was unoccupied and would give us the quiet we needed to discuss my business plans. “I’m already aware of the challenge I face finding a viable business to grow. I’m more concerned with the next step, building or raising the capital I need to grow the business I choose. I was hoping to find out how you did it,” I said as I sat down on an overstuffed red velvet couch.

  “Well it sounds like you’ve done your research,” Mr. Dwighton commented as he sat down next to me.

  “I’ve actually only just started, but it quickly became apparent that the finances would be my biggest challenge.” I tried to ignore the potent smell of cheese and liquor coming from his mouth as he breathed through it.