Cimmy’s Notes: Thank you for your review, Ashley!
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Chapter 5. Reality Strikes
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I step out of the elevator, doing the best I can to hide from my co-workers. They are all back-stabbing vultures who would sacrifice their own offspring for a higher position in this company.
You don’t get much higher then me, actually. Even though I’m barely noticed by the management and those other really rich people, I actually have more power then most of them. I just have to go through my Dad before anything remotely dramatic happens.
The authority to fire people lies in my hands, something most people aren’t aware of. I can also close down smaller business companies, by making one single phone call.
My Dad is the most powerful one around here, along with Mr. Miller. They are the ones making all the decisions. Then there are the management people, hired by the general directors to take care of the more unpleasant work. Miller Corporation owns 1/5 of everything important in this world. Oil, cars, companies, production networks, airlines, food-chains, people, police forces and God knows what. Most important must be the silence all of us in the higher departments are able to buy of different governments.
Even though I’m titled as ‘Vice President’, second in command after the general directors, I’m still treated like dirt. It’s just a title. When my father dies, I’ll get his position on the top floor. I can just imagine where that would put my family. We’d get status, but we wouldn’t be happy.
Gale looks up from her computer when I arrive, tapping something on the keyboard, probably trying to close the window to keep me from finding out her screen name. Most people would’ve fired her by now, but I’m content. I rather have a loyal secretary then an efficient one.
“Good morning, sir,” she greets me. I automatically wrinkle my nose. I hate when people call me ‘sir’. I almost take that as an insult. Gale is the only one who gets away with it. I happen to like her.
“Hello, Ms. Flynn. Any messages?”
“One from Mr. Clairmont, asking if you’re free over lunch. He wants to discuss the prospect of...” Gale begins, but I shake my head to keep her from continue. “Headache, sir?”
“A severe case of,” I add, grabbing the rest of my messages, along with the mail.
“Your father was wondering why you’re coming in late today,” Gale announces right before I enter my office. “I told him you were at the bank, closing that deal.”
“What deal?” I ask, my usual trademark written over my face. Confusion.
“The made-up deal I created for you,” she smiles. Then she tilts her head, looking curious. “May I ask where you were really spending your morning?”
I give up a short laugh, unable to wipe the grin off my face. “Actually, I was making love to my wife.” I push the door open, knowing that Gale is snickering from behind her desk.
A couple of hours later, my migraine is back to stay. I’ve placed myself on the carpet, trying to divide the folders and papers into the right piles. Most people on this department would consider me as weird for not sitting by my desk, but what do I care? Most people here are in their late 30’s, while I’m barely done with my teenage years. If I wanna sit on the floor, I’ll sit on the fucking floor.
While I’m trying to place another pointless paper in the right pile, I suddenly feel my hand starting to shake. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. This job isn’t good for me. I’m easily stressed, I have a bad temper and my assignments are killing me. I couldn’t be more stereotyped. A stressed out business man, chewing Prozac just to calm down a notch.
Luckily, nobody knows about my addiction to these indispensable pills. Not even my wife. What’s there to tell? I reach for the jar on my desk, trying to get myself to stop shaking long enough so I can get the lid off. Instead I hear a knocking sound, and I quickly throw the jar across the room, away from the door.
“Busy?”
I look up. It’s Robert Clairmont. Another one of the really big hot-shots. Surprisingly young, since I’m pretty much the only one around here below 25. Robert is 26, a real asshole and he sucks up to me every chance he gets. I bet, if I’d been a woman, he’d sleep with me just to get to the top.
“Yes,” I say sternly. This guy is pure scum; I want nothing to do with him. For some reason, he keeps pestering me, showing up at any time just to bug me.
“Come on, let’s go grab some food,” he suggests. Then he laughs. “Why are you on the floor? What’s with the scattered papers?”
My instinct tells me to shut up – don’t tell this guy what you’re doing. If he finds out I’ve screwed up the Kessler-project, he’ll never let it go. He’ll tell everyone on this floor, and word would quickly spread to my Dad’s office.
Everyone tries to show me off as a failure, just because they think I have no business doing here in the first place. I agree. Fire me, I beg you.
“I’m just working,” I mutter, hiding my quivering hand behind my back.
“Interesting concept,” Robert grins slyly. I almost gag. “But I keep forgetting that you’re young. Youngsters have a strange fascination about sitting on the floor.”
“Can I help you with something?” I almost snap.
“I want you to get off your ass, and come with me to lunch. You can let that go for an hour. Did you mess it up?”
“No, I didn’t, and I only have forty minutes.”
“Why is it disorganized? I thought you’d been working on this for weeks. You’re supposed to be done next week, right? I thought you had this under control.”
I get up from the floor, clenching my fists with anger. Don’t yell, don’t yell. “Look, Robert, if you have a problem with how I handle my job, maybe you should...”
“Calm down,” he laughs. “I was just trying to show some concern. Fuck, get a grip. What happened anyway? Did you drop it or something?”
“No, my... my son...” I hate myself. I just blamed Bailey for something I caused on my own. And it wasn’t even him. It was Catalina. That’s stooping low. I let someone else take the blame for my mistakes. Really mature.
Robert shakes his head. “They’re a handful, aren’t they? Let’s go, grab your coat, the girls down the hall are waiting.”
I’m so filled with regret right now that I just do as he says. The girls, huh? Oh, joy.
Before I dash out the door to catch up with evil Clairmont, I throw myself over the Prozac, lying on the floor. It’s inevitable to avoid getting stressed with Robert Clairmont and his ‘girls’ around me for forty fucking minutes.
Gale gives me a sympathized look when I stroll out; probably looking like a train just hit me. I betrayed my son thanks to some idiot named Kessler, who I don’t even know who it is.
Robert always tries to drag me along on different events. To get me into trouble, presumably. Just so he can prove that he is better then I am. His attempts to get me to cheat on my wife are low, but I would never fall for something like that.
Cathy MacCallister, daughter of one of the management people, is grinning at me when I get to the elevator. We have one thing in common. Our age. She’s straight out of college, MIT I think. She’s probably smarter then most people around here, and still she follows me around just to get a boost on her self confidence. Catalina is probably far more competent then this girl and she’s unemployed, which is an unfair concept.
Girls like Cathy MacCallister should really work more on their self esteem, instead of trying to sleep their way into the company. Cathy is smart; she could use her skills, not her sex appeal.
I decide to continue being feisty and grumpy, even though we’re in public. The other woman, Nina something, is lead around by Robert. He’s disgusting. He’s married, has two children and is still screwing around with everything that moves.
“You want anything to drink?” Robert offers, making me snap out of my thoughts. We’re at a glamorous restaurant not far from the office.
“I’ll have a cosmopolitan,” Cathy beams.
Nina seems to ponder for a while. “A screwdriver,” she settles with.
“Water,” I growl.
Robert snorts out a laugh. “Water? Come on, it’s happy hour! Order something now.”
“Water,” I repeat. “I have to get back to work later.”
“We all do,” Cathy points out.
I’m not backing down, and Robert shrugs. “Fine, you’ll get your water. I’ll be back in a minute.” Nina gets up to join him over at the bar, and I’m alone with Ms. MacCallister.
She scoots closer, and I almost knock over the flower vase when I try to move away. “So, Bobby says you’re married. Are you?” Her gaze travels over my hand, looking for my wedding ring. Her face falls when she finally spots it.
“Yes, I am.”
“For how long?” she wants to know, not as interested anymore.
“Three years in October,” I answer monotonously.
“Why’d you get married?”
“Because I love her,” I mutter, wishing that I’d brought my Prozac with me. Cathy suddenly seems eager to proceed with the flirting she provided with a minute ago, before the knowledge about my marriage threw her off.
“Are you planning on having children?” she goes on.
“We already have a child.” Why am I telling her all this? It’s none of her business.
Cathy looks satisfied. She probably assumes that I got a girl knocked up, then I had to marry her, and now I’m miserable. They all assume that. Even my parents.
Once, there was this girl my parents actually liked. Jenny Porter. I dated her for about three months, during that year I wasn’t with Catalina. My mother adored Jen. She was pure marriage material, and everyone expected me to propose. Instead I went to bed with Catalina, and Jen found out. So she dumped me. I never liked her from the start. She was this blonde, ditzy energy-pack; Catalina’s complete opposite. I’ve never cheated on anyone after or before that, but Jen deserved it. Every ounce of my body just screamed in despair whenever she was close.
“Here is your drink, lady,” Robert comes back, winking at Cathy. Then he puts down my glass in front of me. “And your water, sir.”
I look at it with a suspicious face. Then I sniff at the contents in the glass. “This is alcohol,” I speak up. “I can’t drink this.”
Robert laughs. “It’s water.”
“It’s vodka.”
I should know, I spent a lot of time in high school trying to find the beverage that contained the most alcohol, but with the least smell. Then I used it in my water-bottles for practice. No wonder they suspended me from the team.
That was a long time ago, come to think of it. I don’t even know if I still remember how to play hockey, yet alone skate. I haven’t touched the ice in years. That thought is slightly depressing; I used to love the game.
Robert gives me an impressed look, while I’m being furious. “Nice call,” he tells me. “I never thought you’d figure that out.”
“I told you, I don’t drink alcohol!”
“Calm down! It was just a joke. You would’ve found out eventually,” Robert grins, switching glasses with me. I sniff at this new drink too. It’s water. Lucky for him, otherwise I’d be forced to become hostile.
While the other three discuss some report they’ve been reading about, I stare out the window. Once in a while I check my cell phone in case Catalina has called, but she hasn’t. I could really use hearing her voice right now.
The lunch is dragged out endlessly. Robert convinces the girls to go to some bar by the Hilton. I don’t know why I’m still here. Maybe because Cathy is holding my arm, despite my attempts to shrug her off.
We end up at the bar, while Robert and Nina is off breaking several laws. I don’t really want to know. I’ve met Robert’s wife many times, and she’s a sweet, young woman. I couldn’t look her in the eyes at all, knowing about the awful things that went on behind her back. That night I went home to Catalina, and I just couldn’t stop crying for hours.
Cathy is ranting about how much she loves the Hamptons and how her new car is working. I don’t listen; I just stare into the table, turning the glass with my fingers. “What’s your wife like?”
Back off, Blondie. “Wonderful,” I say. “Perfect.”
“Really? You’re not bored? I can’t imagine how it’d feel like to be with the same person for the rest of my life.” I bet you can’t. She moves closer to me and puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t you just wanna forget about it for a moment? She would never find out.”
Yes, she would. Eventually. And while she’s clueless, I would still know. I would hate myself. That’s not something I can live with. “No, maybe not,” I mumble, just to get out of the conversation.
“What do you say you and I get a room upstairs? Just for a few hours.” It’s amazing how the sorority girls sometimes end up being just like prostitutes. Doesn’t she have any self esteem at all? I find that sickening.
The bartender is giving me a much anticipated look, waiting for my respond. I think our conversation amuses him. I don’t see where the fun lies in.
“I don’t think so, Cathy. You’re much too talented to be wasting your time giving offers like that. Especially to guys like me, because you’d get nothing out of it. Except for a bad reputation.”
I get up to leave, grabbing my coat. Then I turn back to her. “Order whatever you want. I’ll pay for it.”
Cathy MacCallister’s face lights up again, excited by the fact that she can empty out the bar. I nod at the bartender and walk out. I try to hail a cab, but decide to walk back instead. Then I grab my cell phone, feeling the urgent need to hear my wife’s voice.