Cimmy’s Note: Chelsea, I’m so glad you found your way here. I sort of missed your nice reviews, now when I’m so unable to update any MD related stuff. Since I haven’t seen The Lost Boys, any reference to that movie is completely lost on me. Thank you so much for your heart-warming words. But I still don’t like McDonald’s...

Thanks again, Kristine. You’re my lucky penny. Or something. This time I won’t say anything sarcastic, I promise. Hey, I didn’t! Yay me! Eh, just read...

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Chapter 9. Bedazzled
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    I had to leave early this morning, looking for the closest pharmacy. I need my Prozac, because Cathy is driving me insane. Robert refused to trade rooms, because he said that it was sign that I should seize the day. When I’m done with the Prozac, I’m shoving the jar down his throat.

    When I get back, Cathy is up, lying on her bed watching TV. I hear the theme from ‘Beverly Hills 90210’, which reminds me that she’s so immature that it makes me stressed just looking at her.

    “Where did you go this morning?” she demands. “I was concerned.” Sure, concerned that I might not be interested in adultery.

    “Out.”

    Cathy watches while I go through my bag. “I have a question.” Dear God, spare me. My wife is a catholic, can’t that be enough this time?

    “Uh-huh.” I use Bailey’s expression, in lack of other things to say. Maybe I’m taking after him, and not the other way around? What if my theory isn’t true? If parents take after their children, my Dad should be taking after me instead of me taking after him? Yes, that’s the topic for today’s meeting. I need something to ponder about while the rich, smart people discuss important things.

    “How old is your child?”

    “Bailey? He’s three,” I answer automatically, before I remember that details about my personal life shouldn’t be aired about to this cow. She’ll use it against me, I just know it.

    “Bailey? Is it a boy or a girl?”

    “Bailey’s my son.” Dammit, shut up already.

    Cathy jumps down from the bed and walks up to me, her hands behind her back. Now she’s really making me nervous. “Did your wife want a daughter? When are you planning to have more children?”

    “We’re not having anymore children,” I mutter.

    “Don’t you want a daughter? I’ve always wanted one.” Well, isn’t that nice? Is she really considering me as the intended father to her unborn daughter? Where’s my Prozac?

    “I don’t want a daughter, I have a son,” I growl, fighting back the urge to hit her with my laptop.

    She giggles, sounding like a school girl. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have both!”

    Actually, I wanted a daughter. Catalina wanted a son, and I had to disagree and wish for a daughter. Not that it mattered too much to me; I’ve just always been surrounded by boys. I don’t have any sisters; I’ve not known many girls and I just thought it’d be nice to have a daughter. But I don’t want one now, I have Bailey and I love him more then anything.

    “Cathy? Could you please not talk about my family?” I snap. “It’s none of your business.”

    “I’m just curious,” she beams. “I’m not here to challenge your wife for the chance of becoming your trophy. I wouldn’t mind, but you know...”

    I have to really try hard not to loose my temper. “My wife is not a trophy,” I explain as calmly as I can. “You don’t even know her.”

    “She must really be special, if she managed to get a guy like you,” Cathy decides. I’m not sure if she’s being sincere or not. I don’t think she is. She’s just sweet talking me so she can get the advantage of getting me to like her.

    We don’t have time to bicker anymore, me being the one who’s bickering, she being the one smiling like an idiot to everything I say. Our ‘important’ meeting takes place in one of the conference rooms downstairs, so I grab my things and leave without MacCallister. Not that it matters the slightest, because Robert is waiting right outside my room.

    “Have you thought about what I told you last night?” he says the minute I close the door behind me.

    “I’m not going to cheat on my wife,” I hiss. “Leave me alone.”

    Robert doesn’t say anything for a while. When we reach the conference room, he opens his mouth again. “This is an important meeting, junior. Leave it to us who know what we’re doing.”

    “Lovely,” I mutter. Fine, I won’t mind. I have lots of things to let my mind wander about, and I usually do that while I’m stuck in endless meetings. “You’re right. You can handle this.”

    He seems surprised that I gave in just like that. Mostly people have to drag me away from my assignments while I’m kicking and screaming at them. Well, not literally, but you get the picture.

    I sit down at the end of the table, to avoid getting too much attention. They only ask me questions because they know that my father’s opinions are important. Of course, I represent my father, so my opinions are supposed to be just as important. I’ve had lots of fun with that. Like when I told them that I thought that the gas prices were too high, so they lowered them with several cents. My Dad was furious, because he lost a lot of money on that deal.

    “We should talk things through,” Robert reckons, taking the seat next to me. I put my head against the table. What’s with people? “Hey, you’re acting immature again.”

    I jerk my head up, knocking over the water pitcher. “I’m immature? Try sharing a room with the most annoying creature on the face of the planet, huh? She’s even more irritating then you are!”

    Robert snorts. “Cheers. You’re being quite violent again,” he points out, while saving his papers from the water. I start to wipe it up, at first using my sleeve. My manners aren’t the best. Besides, I never did that before Catalina came along. She’s been a huge influence on me. Yeah, Fred, blame it on her...

    “You’re very entertaining,” Robert announces, watching me trying to hide my soaked sleeve behind my back when the Belmont-people enters the room. “Juvenile, but entertaining.”

    I really do try to pay attention in the beginning. The first fifteen minutes, at least. Then my thoughts start to pop into my brain, like always. What’s up with Cathy MacCallister? Why is Robert Clairmont being such a jerk? What’s my wife doing? What college should I send Bailey to? How much on a scale from 1-10 do I hate my parents?

    Two hours later, I’m deep into debating with myself about how to convince Catalina that we should drink more milk. What can I say; I’m not really that into my work. Suddenly I notice that no one’s talking. I look up to find that they’re all staring at me. Crap, what did they ask me this time?

    “We’d like to hear your opinion about this. It’s a very important question, don’t you think?” one of the VP’s from Belmont Industries speaks up. Is it that obvious that I was daydreaming?

    I try to get a quick glimpse of Robert’s notes, but he’s conveniently hidden his pad under his arm. What is this; high school? I have to improvise. “I’m convinced that this deal won’t prosper into all of those expectations your company has set up...” Robert gives me a horrified look, like I’ve just announced that the world is ending in thirty minutes. Which it probably will do if I screw this deal up.

    “...but I can assure you that in the long run, you’ll be very satisfied with our management, even though it might take a few years for the new concept to settle among the consumers. But according to how the figures are looking right now, I can definitely promise that we’re talking a big profit for all involved parts.”

    It’s all bullshit. When you’re working with assholes all day long, people who only care about words like profit, money and success, you learn how to dazzle them. I could make this speech a thousand times at a thousand different meetings, and no one would know the difference.

    While I keep rambling numbers and randomly fancy words, comparing different companies up against each other in percent and other cool digits, Robert Clairmont just stares at me, impressed that I even know income from expenditure. I have actually no idea what I’m talking about. I just repeat what I’ve learnt by heart.

    My father would’ve been proud of me, if he’d been able to express that sort of emotion. But I don’t expect any kind of gratitude from him, even though I totally wiped the table with those idiots. I think that’s the first time my opinions alone closed a deal of this proportion.

    Belmont Industries are now officially taken over by Miller Corporation. In a few years, they’ll be forced to go into bankruptcy, their whole management will be fired and all of the employers under them. I just ruined several families’ lives.

    Yes, I do hate my job, but I love my wife and son even more.

    Cathy MacCallister isn’t the only one who can sweet talk people.