Chapter 11

But to get back to the story...

On the day following the initial meeting with the workers regarding the terrace project, I dragged a very reluctant Kris to Tiffany’s. There we found a perfect diamond of nearly three carats which made a lovely engagement ring. Kris was pouting the whole time, insisting that her slave collar was all she needed.

Back at the apartment, Kris called Terry Michaels at Jack James’ apartment. She heard a recorded message saying that Jack was out of town and wouldn’t return for a month. Knowing that Terry’s contract was almost up a couple of months earlier, she began to worry. I called Jack’s law firm and got his secretary. We hit paydirt. I was astonished to find that Terry was living at the YWCA.

Kris called and left a message for Terry to call her. After a couple of days we still hadn’t heard from her, so Kris took matters into her own hands: She went to the Y and just camped out in the lobby.

That evening she almost dragged Terry bodily into the apartment. When I went to greet her, she wouldn’t even look at me.

“Terry, now spill it!” Kris demanded. “Tell Cam what happened.”

The girl still didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached blindly into her purse and brought out a well-worn letter. Obviously, she had read it far more than just once. Still without saying a word, she just passed it to me.

The letter was on my own letterhead and was signed by Sylvia Stewart, my manager. It said, in effect, thanks for sending your résumé, but we have no openings for a person with your background at this time.

I passed the letter to Kris. Although she hadn’t seen it, she already knew of its contents.

Then Terry brought out a second letter. It was dated only about a week earlier, and had obviously been sent to Terry in response to what I was sure had been a follow-up letter from the girl. Again it was signed by Sylvia.

“Acting on direct instructions from Mr. W. Cameron Harris, III, our firm has no interest in employing you now or at any time in the foreseeable future.”

Never had I seen a letter such as that one. A convict getting out on parole after serving time for embezzlement would have received a more cordial response.

“Terry,” I began, “the statement in this letter is a flat-out lie! I never gave Sylvia any instructions regarding you, although clearly I was very thoughtless not to. I assumed that you would be working for me if you decided not to extend your contract with Jack James.

“Now, what can I do to make this right? Is there anything you need?”

“Yes, sir, there is,” she said tonelessly. “I need a place to stay. I ... I was so counting on working for you that I guess I got a little carried away. Since I was Jack’s housekeeper and mistress, those were the only clothes I had. Anyway, I went out and really splurged on an appropriate business wardrobe.

“Then, when I got this first letter, I was dead. A good business wardrobe costs thousands. Furthermore, because so many of the things are tailored, they’re not returnable.” She looked up at me with tears streaming from her eyes and said, “Could ... could I borrow some money? Right now, I don’t have enough for a security deposit on a decent hovel, let alone any nice place to live.”

Then I did something I immediately regretted. The poor girl was distraught, and I just added to her distress, albeit very briefly. I began, “I really don’t think I can—”

“I’m getting money from Disney,” Kris interrupted. “Terry, you can have it all. And it’s not a loan, understand?” Then her face fell as she added, “Of course, it’s all on the come. I haven’t seen a dime yet...”

“My mistress didn’t give me a chance to finish, Terry,” I picked up. “While I can’t loan you money, I can do something a bit better, I think.”

I led the way into the study, sat behind my desk and got out my checkbook. Scrawling out a check, I passed it across to her.

Terry looked at the amount and gasped. I was afraid she was going to faint, and she damn near did. The check was for five million dollars.

Terry recovered, then her eyes flared. She was mad! “What in hell is this?” she demanded. “What am I supposed to do for it?”

“Nothing,” I replied softly. “It’s payment for work you’ve already done.”

“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed, becoming angrier.

“Not at all,” I insisted. “Do you remember the night we met? The only time we’ve ever been together, for that matter. Do you?”

“I remember ending with a sore ass and a marvelous fucking, but I don’t think that’s what you had in mind,” she replied with a tiny smile.

“No, it’s not. You also told me something about a company in which I had a very big long position. Maybe you don’t remember. I do know I never told you that I had any financial interest in the company at all. You just mentioned it as illustrative of some of the things your Alan Abelson-type research uncovers. Do you remember, now?”

She just slowly shook her head.

“Well, I remembered. More to the point, I took action the next day. I shifted from being very long on the stock to being very short. I guess a few other people eventually tumbled to what you had found and the stock tanked.” Then I grinned and added, “It’s not uncommon for a finder to get 10 percent of a deal. Terry, that check isn’t even 2 percent of what I made. You earned it.”

The girl looked at me, slowly shaking her head and finally muttered, “My God!”

“And one more thing,” I added. “If — and when — my slut slave gets around to showing you the apartment, you’ll find that we just rattle around in it. We’ve got more vacant suites than I care to think about let alone count. So, young lady, you’re going to be living here with us.”

“Oh, goody!” Kris exclaimed. “Looking at all the flab you have covering you, we’re going to have such great fun with you working it all off. Your loafing days are over, kid!”

“But I hate exercise!” Terry protested.

“Of course you do,” Kris replied in a gleeful tone, “but as the confirmed masochist that I know you to be, I’m sure you’ll come to love it! You’ll be hurting in so many different places, too, not just your tits and ass.”

Terry just shook her head sadly but in resignation.

She was installed in a suite of her own that she immediately adored. The next morning Kris started her on an exercise regime that she hated but did come to love.

I decided it was time to pay a visit to the office for the first time in months and I asked Kris to accompany me. Her ring was not yet ready — it was taking too damned long — so we decided I would introduce her by name but with no other identification.

At the office, Sylvia seemed very glad to see me. It was obvious she wondered about Kris, but didn’t have the nerve to ask about any relationship and I didn’t offer. We spent about an hour there. I signed a number of things that had accumulated in my absence, while Kris just wandered apparently aimlessly around the office.

When we returned to the apartment, I asked Kris what she thought. Terry had joined us and we were having coffee in the kitchen.

“What do you really do for a living?” Kris asked.

The question was puzzling. She knew the answer already. But I repeated it. “I just invest my money. You know that.”

“Sweetie, what do you need 23 people in your office for? What is there for them to do? Know something?”

“What?”

“I think they were doing things that had been saved up just for the occasion of your visit. And it really wasn’t enough. While I was watching her, one girl ran out of work in less than 20 minutes.” Kris paused and then wondered, “What’s your payroll there, anyway?”

I just gave her a blank look. “I have no idea. But we can find out easily enough. Come on.”

Going into the library, I powered up my computer and connected to the computer at my office. To make the connection I had to go through a series of security checks, but on my computer in the library — which also served as my office — the validation process had all been automated. It was the only computer set up that way. Even with my laptop I had to manually go through them all, step by step. When connected, I brought up the payroll program to look at the last complete month.

Terry was looking at the pay rates while I concentrated on the total sum. It was substantial. Then I heard Terry whistle through her teeth and run from the room. Moments later she was back with our copy of the morning’s New York Times. Quickly, she flipped to the want ads, then to the help-wanted columns. “Cam, I’ve been looking through the ads lately myself, although I hadn’t been looking for a clerical position. But look at these pay rates!”