Chapter 7: Getting down to Business

Life is like a golf shot

Relax or you'll shank it

Ned Proctor June 30, 1992

My first stop on Tuesday morning was Wanda Rowell's office. She'd listened to my plan, made suggestions and wished me luck in carrying it out. I owed her a report. Besides, I needed an eager ear to hear me boast about how smoothly the plan had been carried out.

"You look like the canary that swallowed the cat," she said, as I took a seat across from her.

"You're funny, Wanda. I wanted you to know that it worked the way we said it would," I said, watching her nod her approval.

"She refused your proposal?"

"Not only that. She told me that I pissed her off for proposing marriage without asking her what she was wearing first. She cried and beat on me with her fists. Then she said she needed to talk to her mother before my parents arrived for dinner."

Wanda reacted just the way I knew she would. If anyone would understand the complexities of the mess I'd gotten myself into and the pains we'd taken to get me out of it, it would be Wanda. By needing to speak to her mother, Kelley revealed that they had expected me to propose on bended knee, probably just as dessert was being served. My preemptive strike, asking her to be my wife over the telephone, had taken her by surprise. Delaying her answer had also given her time to consider the conditions of my proposal; would I cancel the free pass and why was I being vague regarding the date?

Wanda was the one person I could talk to about this because she got it. To Wanda, Kelley reacting the way she did, berating me for not asking what she was wearing, crying and beating me with her fists, was what any normal girl would do when told canceling the free pass was not negotiable.

"Did you stay for dinner?" Wanda asked.

"Yes, and it was very enjoyable. Mrs. Harvey kept sneaking peeks at me, like she was wondering what I would do next. I'm sure she wondered how I could be in a good mood after her daughter had turned my proposal of marriage down."

"You don't think Kelley told her the reason she said no?"

"Are you kidding? Kelley would never tell her mother about the free pass. That would require revealing the reason she agreed to it. As far as Mrs. Harvey is concerned, she probably thinks Kelley is just stringing me along until someone better comes along."

Wanda was quick to react. "I don't think her mother is that stupid."

"Why not?"

"Because, she knows you hold some control over Kelley. You made her show the botch you made on her ass to her mother, and you made her tell her mother that you would be using her room any time you chose. By the way, did you take her upstairs?"

"I didn't have the heart, not after everything I'd put Kelley through yesterday."

"Sammy, you're slipping. That's not the dominant Sammy I remember."

"Kelley's special. I don't want to dominate my future wife."

Wanda got up, walked around her desk, closed the door to her tiny office and turned to me. "This is serious. Give me three reasons why you chose Kelley to be your life's partner."

Her question didn't offend me at all. It showed that she was interested, even concerned. I watched her take her seat and considered my answer. "I've known twenty-six women. Some were loving, caring more for me than themselves; some were independent, caring more for themselves than for me; some were promiscuous; enjoying sex more than they enjoyed me; one was submissive and you know her.

"Kelley is all of these things. She has her faults; she's demanding and she's controlling, but I don't mind as long as she lets me think I control her. She's beautiful and rich and that makes up for her faults. She knows my requirements and she's willing to put up with my inadequacies. In short, her love for me is unfailing and I'm in love with her."

I sat back in the visitor's chair, waiting for Wanda's reaction. "That's only one reason," she quipped.

"Bullshit! That's sixteen reasons. What if I add that she's a redhead?"

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. A young woman that I didn't recognize opened the door. "Mr. Oldham, your mother ... ah, Mrs. Oldham wants to see you."

I told Wanda I'd be back to take her to lunch and on the way to Suzanne's office I found out the young lady's name was Sharon and she was filling in for Stacy, Mr. Oldham's assistant. Suzanne got right to the point.

"What was that all about, Sammy?" she asked before I took a seat.

"What do you mean, Suz?"

"You know what I mean. Last night at the Harveys, you laughed at everything that was said. Personally, I didn't think any of it was funny. Were you drunk?"

"I was drunk on power, Suz. Can we change the subject?"

She dropped the stern look and smiled, like she knew I wasn't going to say more about my conduct at dinner. "I spoke to John about you, Sammy. You seem to be bored. What would you like to do?"

"I am bored. I guess I need some direction."

"Good, that's what I've been telling John. He thought you needed some more time to get your feet on the ground, but I think you need responsibility so you can hit the ground running when you start working full time."

"When is that?" I asked.

She looked at me for five seconds before answering. "Next summer of course."

"I guess that rules out my staying at Pontiac for a fifth year," I said, thinking that it was a good thing I'd been cautious and only scheduled one architectural course for the coming year.

Her face took on the stern look again. "Not a word about this to your father, understand?"

I nodded and waited for her to continue. "He needs you here, Sammy. We ... I need you to come home and apply yourself."

I knew there was more that she wasn't telling me, but I couldn't bring myself to ask, thinking, she'll tell me in due time.

"What will I be doing ... next summer?"

"We want you to be the troubleshooter. In other words, take the travel load off of your father. That won't be a full time job. So, as the boss's son, you can take your pick of fill-in work."

I was mulling over what she'd told me when Mr. Oldham stepped into the office. "Sam, I'd like you to brief the staff on what you told me about Denver. Can you be ready by two?"

"Today? Two O'clock? Ah, yes, Sir."

"Also Omaha," he added as he left Suzanne's office, without waiting for a reply from me.

I looked at Suzanne. "Is that how it's going to be?"

She nodded. "He's brief, but thorough. He's also proud of the way you're grasping the vital intricacies of the business."

"In that case, I better get to work. I don't want to disappoint him."

"There's an office down the hall," she said before buzzing the outer office. "Sharon, please arrange to have Mr. Oldham's name on the empty office next to Arthur." And then, looking at me, "It should read S.K. Oldham."

Sharon responded that she would take care of installing my name on the office door.

Suzanne looked at me, "Anything else?"

"Yes, I don't need a full week in the cities I visit. Three days would be enough time to tour the properties and meet the office staff."

Suzanne looked at me, critically, "Did the Harvey girl put you up to this?"

"Her name is Kelley, Suz. And no, she didn't have anything to do with it. When I discovered a week was too much time in Denver, I took the side trip to Omaha last week."

Her look softened. "I'll take care of it, honey. Now, off with you," she said, giving me a farewell wink.

As I passed my new office I saw Sharon talking on the phone. "I was just telling the receptionist your extension number, Sir."

"What is it?"

"Ten, seventy-four, Sir."

"Please call me Sammy," I said and watched her smile. "There's something you can do for me. Will you order sandwiches and have them delivered to Miss Rowell's office? I'm on a tight schedule."

"Is chicken salad all right? I know that's what Miss Rowell likes."

"Sounds good," I said and was going to leave the office when I saw her start to speak so I waited.

"I'll get rid of these magazines. It looks like this office was used as a library."

I could see that trade magazines were strewn everyplace. "Just stack them in the corner, Sharon. I won't be in here very often," I said, leaving before she could think of anything else to say.

Wanda looked up from her monitor, shocked to see me back so soon. "It's not lunchtime yet, Sammy."

"I know. I need you to prepare some shit on Denver and Omaha for me."

She looked aghast. "I'm not your fucking servant, Sammy. I don't work for you. I'm backed up as it is..."

I slammed her office door shut and closed the blind on the single side window. Wanda's eyes were getting big when I rounded her desk. I was leaning over her back before she had a chance to turn her chair. "That can change in the blink of the eye. I'm the boss's son, remember?" I asked, whispering into her ear. I felt her shaking as I massaged her tits, rolling them in my hands as I nibbled on her ear.

"This is highly irregular, Sammy," she whispered in a raspy voice. "If someone comes in and catches us I'll have to file sexual harassment charges."

"You wouldn't do that," I whispered, blowing in her ear to make her shiver.

"You know I would never do it. I'm just saying, you should lock the door if you're going to take me."

"Don't get your hopes up, you little slut. I need your expertise and I need it now. Start making graphs I can use for my presentation," I said, releasing her tits and backing away.

"That's not fair to get a girl worked up and then stop like you did."

"I seem to recall hearing that life isn't always fair, Wanda."

She stood up, adjusted her bra and looked at me. "We can stop by my apartment at lunchtime. You haven't seen it."

"We're not going out. I ordered in," I informed her. "Now, start spitting out those graphs. I want to do some 'what if' projections."

She didn't move. I glared at her. "You called me a slut," she said.

"I love you like a sister, Wanda, but admit it, you're still a slut."

She smiled and sat down, mumbling softly, "I love it when you talk dirty."

I explained what I wanted and Wanda went to work, printing graphs showing the square footage of Denver leases that would expire during the three succeeding years. We projected lease renewal successes based on several economic formulas. Worst case, if the space glut continued, would result in a thirty-three percent vacancy rate in three years.

Next, we generated slides showing possible solutions, actions that could be taken to stem tenant exits. Again, we produced graphs based on various success rates.

I knew I was going beyond what Mr. Oldham had meant when he asked me to brief the staff on Denver, but seeing Wanda's excitement each time one of us thought of a unique angle made me let her go wild. I felt I owed her something for getting her excited and not following through.

Three times while I was there, administrative assistants stuck their head in the door and asked if their boss's project was ready. Each time, Wanda meekly apologized, saying a priority job had come up. And each time, the young ladies glanced at me and shut the door without saying anything.

At some point, our sandwiches arrived, complete with soft drinks, chips and a pickle. Wanda offered me half of her sandwich and I accepted it. At five minutes before two, I arranged the slides in a folder.

"Adjust your tits again, Miss Rowell. You're coming with me," I said and watched Wanda's eyes get big again. She rose to her feet and put on a show for me, wiggling first one way and then the other. I recalled that she'd already graduated before I started college, but she was only three and a half years older than me. At twenty-five, she was still cute, and often acted more like eighteen.

"We didn't do Omaha," she said as we walked to the conference room where the briefing was to take place.

"Don't worry; I'll wing it," I assured her.

Well, I pissed a lot of people off that day. I could almost read their minds by the scowls on their faces. The marketing and sales VPs were accusing me of telling them how to do their jobs. Legal and Finance were thinking that I was proposing unnecessary concessions in order to retain tenants and Arthur from Public Relations, who occupied the office next to mine, was probably wondering how he would clean up the company's reputation after the kid brought it down. Suzanne sat stoically, as if she was deaf, and I just knew there would be hell to pay when I got home.

The small hand on the clock was approaching the three when I finished the Denver portion of the briefing. "I want to thank Miss Rowell for helping me organize my presentation," I said and watched Wanda beam at me.

Mr. Oldham began clapping and I thought he was applauding Wanda's contribution until others began to clap, while grinning at me.

"I'm happy to learn that college tuition is rendering dividends," Mr. Oldham said when the clapping stopped.

It was then that I realized what we had expressed in graphs was what I'd been learning in the various business classes I'd taken. So much for crediting my creativity; perhaps I hadn't reinvented the wheel after all.

"I haven't covered Omaha," I said when I saw that I was losing my audience. Everyone was filing out of the conference room.

"Put your findings in a memo, son," Mr. Oldham said as he followed the others out of the room. Only Wanda, Suzanne and I remained. Suzanne approached me.

"I can see that we're going to have to set time limits when we ask you to give a briefing," she said, touching me on the arm as she looked into my eyes.

"I could have done ten minutes on Omaha," I said.

"Put it in writing. Sharon found a computer for you and I'll send the distribution list," she said, patting my arm once more before leaving the room.

Wanda and I exchanged a look that soon broke into a wide grin. "Next time you want me to put some shit together, just nibble on my ear, Sammy. Feeling me up constitutes sexual harassment."