Inside Traitors

by David Allen

  “We don’t like it any more than you do Paul. The fact is that Steve Peterson waited on the sidelines while hundreds of smaller companies initiated stock offerings during the bull market. The key employees of those companies made millions. Employees just like you and me. For three years, were begged by investors to issue an IPO. They were right here at our door with their money in hand.”

  Tim lowered his arms. He glanced around the table in an attempt to get a read on his audience. His voice returned to a more moderate tone.

  “The bull market is over, but the company is still going strong. We are on top of our game. Sales and earnings are moving up and the company’s products are unrivaled. The competition is not even close to our performance or features. The best part is that the investment community is still interested in an IPO. Now is the time to strike. It is now or never. I do not want to wait eleven years to get a meager payout. I want what should be mine and I want it now. Steve’s plan for us is nothing more than extortion to force us to stay with the company.”

  “But, it’s his company,” said Paul. “Steve started this company entirely on his own with his money. He can do whatever he wants. He’s the boss.”

  “I am not through explaining,” Tim barked. His face grew to a deep shade of scarlet. “And now, now he wants to… ”.

  Tim paused. He tried to regain his train of thought and his composure. His anger was starting to permeate his mind and cloud his words. He glared around the room before continuing.

  “Who has seen the newspaper articles on Steve’s latest attempt at giving away more of the company?” shouted Tim. “Anyone?”

  “The shelter project?” responded Mike Powers. His voice was low. He hoped he had the correct answer.

  “Right.” yelled Tim. “The homeless shelter project. The goddamn homeless shelter project!” Tim’s arms thrashed about wildly. “Now Steve Peterson wants the company to pay for renovating a goddamn homeless shelter!”

  Several droplets of spit flew from Tim’s mouth as he continued his rant. The expressionless faces around the room stared at Tim’s antics. Tim grabbed up a couple of pages off the table. He shook them vigorously at his audience.

  “This is the contract. It calls for Peterson Software to pay half a million dollars a year to operate a goddamn homeless shelter. It calls for another half million in renovation costs. This is not how you run a business. This is not how you reward your employees. This is goddamn insanity. It is up to us to put a stop to it. This is our money. I hope to postpone the signing of the contract until the four of us have a say in it. We will kill this goddamn project before it gets an inch off the ground.”

  Mike Powers felt a twinge of leftover courage from providing the right answer to Tim’s earlier question. He decided to jump in and lend his opinion.

  “Tim is right. Deep down, you all know he is right. Paul, you say we are screwing Steve, in reality he is screwing us. He is screwing everyone in this room. He is the one making millions. He is the one taking the profit. Meanwhile, he still comes out looking like some kind of super hero in the press. You should see the latest news articles. They make him sound like some modern day Florence frickin’ Nightingale.”

  Paul struggled in his seat. “Well, I still don’t like it. It doesn’t seem right.” Paul turned and looked across the table. “What do you think about the idea, Taz?”

  Taz looked uncomfortable. He did not like being put on the spot. “Well, out of everyone, I have been with the company for the least amount of time,” he said. “I don’t know how much I can offer. I feel it is Steve Peterson’s company, but I can see some of Tim’s points. I guess I would like to know more on how an IPO of Peterson Software would affect me?”

  Tim jumped at the words. “Good goddamn question,” howled Tim. “Finally someone is thinking.”

  Tim had been waiting for someone to ask the question and he was prepared. He was prepared with his facts and his figures. He was prepared with his full color charts and his three-dimensional graphs.

  Tim had what everyone in the room secretly wanted. He had the hard dollar amounts. That was the question everyone wanted the answer to. What’s in it for me? How much for me? After all, that was why Tim called the meeting in the first place.

  Chapter 2 - The Proposal

  It was a few minutes after seven o’clock. The sun was just starting to rise over Tampa Bay. Gold rays of light sliced through the silver haze hanging low over the calm water. The bay front facades of the million-dollar condominiums along Bayshore Boulevard became bathed in a warm yellow glow.

  Slivers of light began to weave their way through the elaborate designer window treatments that were intended to impress but offered little resistance to the morning onslaught. The battle was over before it started. Sunlight streamed through the meager defenses of the drapes and into the awaiting eyes of Steve Peterson.

  On most mornings the sunlight’s arrival would gently nudge Steve into getting ready for the adventure of a new week of work. But today was going to be different. Today was a rare vacation day and a very special day in the life of Steve Peterson.

  Steve had been lying awake since a little before three o’clock in the morning. He couldn’t sleep from the anticipation of the day about to begin. Instead of sleeping, he spent the early morning hours reviewing each nuance of the approaching day in his mind. He had to be sure that no detail of his morning plan had been overlooked. He considered today to be one of the most important days of his thirty-three years. He wanted everything to be perfect.

  Steve rolled over to read the display on the bedside clock radio. Seven minutes after seven Steve said in his head. The words were to assure himself the morning had really arrived.

  The anticipation of the new day and what was to come sent hundreds of thoughts haphazardly racing about through his mind. Steve could feel his heart start to pound. He could feel a tight knot starting to form in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard and concentrated on clearing his mind.

  First things first, Steve thought. Just stick to the plan. Step one, step one, he repeated in his head. Steve concentrated hard. He worked to arrange the jumble of thoughts into a reasonable sequence that could be processed logically.

  Steve took a deep breath, just like they taught him in stress management. In through the nose, hold it for a few seconds and out through the mouth. The practice helped to control his excitement.

  The disorganized thoughts fell into place. Steve turned his head slightly and glanced toward the other side of the king size bed. Christy was sound asleep next to him. The first step of the plan was to get out of bed without waking her. Just stay calm, Steve shouted silently to himself.

  Christy was not a morning person. Steve knew this from past experience. He knew the ill effect of waking her too early could last the entire day.

  Steve began to move slowly. Inch by inch he crept toward his goal. Once he was in position, he used his feet to gently shift the covers aside. As his feet pulled the covers out of the way of his legs, he slowly raised both of his arms and completed the uncovering process.

  Then, in a much-practiced maneuver, he swung his feet out and over the edge of the bed. In the same fluid motion, he pushed his upper body up with his arms. His body came to rest in a somewhat hunched over sitting position at the edge of the bed without any movement of the bed or any sound.

  Steve was never very athletic or graceful as a child. He was quite thrilled with his flawless execution of the bed-exiting maneuver. A quirky smile appeared as he raised himself off of the bed and onto his feet.

  Step one was complete. Steve lifted his arms over his head and celebrated with a quiet, uncoordinated victory dance. The celebration boogie helped to eliminate some of his built up anxiety. It lasted for several seconds, and then back to the morning plan.

  Steve gently shuffled over a few feet toward his dresser. He reached down and grabbed a pair of plain gray sweat pants. Quietly, he slipped in his left leg, and then started for the right. As his right foot
entered the pant leg, his little toe got caught-up on an uneven inside seam of the pocket.

  The unexpected hesitation of the snagged toe sent Steve into an awkward, off balance body roll. It sent him reeling in the direction of his large black lacquer dresser. One arm tugged upwards on the waistband of the sweat pants while the other attempted a useless backstroke maneuver against the unsupportive and uncooperative surrounding air.

  In a last ditch effort to regain control of his falling body, Steve let go of the waistband. This allowed his right foot to drop to the floor with a somewhat muffled thump. The procedure was a little noisy but proved successful. Steve was able to regain control over his flailing limbs. His body stopped a split second before crashing into the dresser and what would have been certain disaster for his morning plan.

  Steve’s heart pounded heavily. He reached out and took hold of his dresser with his right hand as he pulled up the sweat pants that were bunched-up around his ankles with his left. The dresser stabilized his body to prevent any repeat of the morning acrobatic performance.

  Steve stood deathly still. He feared the commotion might have caused Christy to wake. His back was toward the bed. He was hesitant to turn around.

  Steve took a deep breath and held it. The room was silent. He turned his neck to take a quick peek. Christy did not move. She was still in a sound sleep.

  A rush of adrenaline surged through Steve’s body. It helped to clear the new clutter of thoughts in his head. His new priority was to get out of the bedroom.

  Steve’s lanky body began to move across the bedroom floor. The deep pile carpet acted as his ally in masking any sounds generated by the exit. When Steve reached the bedroom door he glanced back at Christy to be sure she was still asleep. He stared at his sleeping beauty. He could not believe she was with him.

  “Who would ever have pictured someone like her with someone like me,” he muttered quietly. Steve slightly shook his head from side to side. “With me?”

  Steve gazed at Christy’s face. He thought she looked even more beautiful than she did on the day of their first date, six months ago to the day. He stared in quiet wonderment.

  The gleaming white satin trimmed covers rose and fell ever so slightly with Christy’s rhythmic breathing. Steve gazed at the way the faint yellow beams of the morning sun touched upon her wavy golden blond hair. Steve believed her hair to be her natural color. In reality, it was Clairol Summer Blonde.

  From the early days of their relationship, Christy captured Steve’s heart, his soul and his mind. She became the girl of his dreams. Steve fell fast and he fell hard.

  At first, Steve wished he and Christy had more in common. He hoped she would grow to tolerate his friends a little more. He hoped she would be more understanding.

  Christy didn’t change, but Steve did. He soon became blind to Christy’s many faults. In all of his thirty-three years, Christy was his first true love. She was his first real relationship. Although Steve wouldn’t admit it, she was his first real lover. Today on the six-month anniversary of their first date, he would ask her to be his wife.

  Christy raised one arm slightly to her face and made a small cooing sound. It appeared she might be waking. Steve decided he had pushed his luck far enough. He took the last step to the door. One last peek then he quietly left the bedroom.

  Steve gently pulled the heavy six-panel oak door closed behind him. The door groaned as it came to rest against the jamb. Steve cringed at the sound. He put his ear up to the door and listened for any sound of movement from inside the bedroom. He heard nothing. The morning plan was still intact.

  Steve entered the expansive living room on his way to the next step of his plan. The strong smell of the two week old Italian leather sofa and loveseat filled the room. The odor caused Steve to slightly wrinkle up his nose.

  The leather was not Steve’s first choice. In his opinion, it was too slippery and didn’t provide enough support. Steve preferred the feel of the 100% cotton fabrics.

  The high priced interior decorator disagreed with Steve. She stated that all new luxury construction in the area was being decorated using leather. Leather sofas were all the rage, especially the soft Italian leather.

  Christy didn’t have to hear another word. Steve’s vote for the cotton fabric was overruled. The final tally was two votes for the Italian leather against Steve’s vote of one for the cotton.

  Steve proceeded through the living room. He paused at the wall of sliding glass doors at the far end of the room. A soft golden glow from the morning sun flooded in around him. The entire room was filled with the full morning splendor.

  The view from the recently purchased eighteenth floor penthouse condominium was unequalled in all of Tampa. The central location provided spectacular views in all directions. Steve stared out at the downtown Tampa skyline, Bayshore Boulevard and the golden waters of Tampa Bay.

  Steve ran his fingers down through his rumpled jet-black hair. “I guess Christy was right when she said to buy this place,” he said softly. Steve marveled at the magnificent view. “This place is going to be just perfect for raising our family.”

  Outside the glass doors, the morning was in full swing. Steve caught sight of several dolphins surfacing in the shimmering water of the bay. “I think I could really get to like this place,” he quietly whispered.

  Steve’s built-up anxiety faded away. He stood in a mesmerized dream state as he watched the morning unfold outside the glass divide. Temptation was drawing him out onto the balcony, but then he suddenly realized there were several important pieces of his plan in need of attention.

  “Oh damn,” he mumbled, “I better get moving before Christy wakes up and comes out for breakfast.”

  Steve headed off to the other wing of the sixty-one hundred square foot penthouse condominium. He walked through the elaborate gourmet kitchen, with its optional forty-five thousand dollar polished granite counters and restaurant quality stainless steel appliances. Steve continued into the enormous great room with its soaring ceilings and professionally designed entertainment center. He entered the hallway of the private guest area, passing by the guest bath with its two-person Jacuzzi tub and double marble sinks. Finally, Steve reached his destination. In the original floor plan the room was designed to be the guest’s sitting room. Steve changed the building plan slightly. The room was now simply referred to as Steve’s computer room.

  It was a major accomplishment for Steve to get buy in from Christy for the redesign of the computer room. This was the only matter Steve did not allow Christy to command in their short relationship.

  At first, Christy was totally against the computer room. She forbid it. The idea of a sitting area for her guests seemed very impressive to her. Christy eventually came around to the idea of the computer room. Her change of heart coincided with the presentation of a brand new BMW M5 as a bargaining chip.

  Steve stepped over a computer that was sitting on the floor next to a new flat panel monitor. He pulled the two raised panel colonial doors of the closet open. Inside were several sagging shelves overflowing with computer parts, software boxes and miscellaneous computer peripherals.

  The left door of the closet only opened half way. The skeletal remains of an old computer prevented the door from opening any farther. Steve lowered himself into the awkward area between the partially open door and the overloaded shelves. He was careful not to hit any of the shelves out of fear of starting an avalanche of computer parts.

  Steve strained to extend his body further into the narrow cavity. Finally, he felt the object of his search. He grasped a handle in the far reaches of the back corner. There it is, he whispered in his mind. I’ve got it.

  Out of the depths came a silvery gray Saks 5TH Avenue shopping bag. Inside the bag was the latest style Gucci handbag in black. Christy had been placing quite a few not too subtle hints to Steve lately that she really had to have the new style Gucci bag.

  “The new trendy Gucci bag, in black,” he remembered her repeating. “The
latest style, just like the one her friend Lisa wanted to get. It has to be black, all black with the embroidered Gucci logos on the front.” He had heard the obvious clues being repeated over and over for weeks.

  The Gucci bag was purchased several days prior. It was hidden away in anticipation of today’s special occasion. Steve reached into the Saks bag and removed the Gucci handbag along with some gift-wrapping materials.

  One additional item still remained in the bag, tucked down in a crumpled lower corner. Steve felt around in the Saks bag and grasped the small ornate box. The box was gleaming sterling silver. The top was decorated with a perfect miniature 14k gold metal bow.

  Steve opened the box to reveal a gold engagement ring sitting in a bed of plush black velvet. The ring was topped by a four carat, round cut diamond. The flawless center stone was mounted between two carats of channel set diamonds that continued one quarter of the way down each side of the ring.

  The ring was as stunning as its fifty-nine thousand dollar price tag. Steve handpicked the center diamond himself and had the ring custom made from a picture of a ring that Christy once said she liked.

  Steve took one last look at the ring. He needed to assure himself everything was still perfect. It is beautiful, she is going to absolutely love this, he thought. He gave the box cover a slight nudge. The lid sprang shut with a sharp snap.

  The silver ring box was loosely wrapped with some gold and silver tinsel. It was placed inside the Gucci bag on top of a pre-made bed of bright silver and gold tissue paper. The Gucci bag was zippered shut and slipped into its satiny black Gucci dust cover.

  The Gucci bag was loosely wrapped with gold tissue paper before being placed back into the Saks bag. Gold and silver tinsel was packed into the empty cavities of the Saks bag. The surprise was topped off with several large silver and gold ribbons tied around the handle. The remaining tinsel was tucked in around the edges of the bag so it would flow over the sides of the bag.