The Brass Statuettes

By: Autumn Writer

© Copyright 2007

Chapter 13  Expendable

Frank hung up the telephone.  He’d been discussing his plan for putting together the new financing package with the Company’s investment banker in New York. 

The intercom buzzed.  “Agent Henderson would like to see you,” Jeannette announced over the speaker.

Henderson walked into Frank’s office with the employee roster in hand.  “Do you have a guy named Fishberg working here?  I don’t see him on the printout.”

“It’s Fishman,” Frank answered.  “He’s a Financial Analyst; he works on the sixth floor.”

“Whatever his name is, I’ve got to talk to him.”

“Since you called him ‘Fishberg’ I’m sure that you got his name from Jason Lowell,” Frank said.  “Aaron’s small potatoes—only a few years out of school.  He may not even be thirty years old.”

“Lowell tried to use him to bait ‘n’ switch me and figured I’d bite because the guy is Jewish,” Henderson said.  “I didn’t like it much, but the fact is I’ve got to talk to him.  From what he said, he’s the one who put the forecast together and that makes him privy to inside information.  I can’t let that slide.”

“I can’t deny that,” Frank admitted.  “I’ll have Jeannette call him upstairs.  Do you want him to meet you in the Controller’s Office?”

“Yes, but don’t tell him what it’s about,” Henderson asked.  “It shouldn’t take long.” 

Frank flipped the switch on the intercom.  “Jeannette, would you find Aaron Fishman and ask him to come up to the Controller’s Office right away, please?  Don’t tell him what it’s about; tell him he’ll be filled in when he gets there.”

“Thanks,” Henderson said.  “Like I said, it should be a quick interview.”

“Don’t be surprised if he’s already figured out the subject,” Frank said.  “Secrets are hard to keep around here.  By the way, how did it go with Jason Lowell?”

“Can’t talk about that,” Henderson said.

“I should have figured that.”  Frank looked at his watch.  “Can I help you with anything else?  If not, I have a meeting with Mr. Warner.”

***************** 

It was late in the afternoon.  Alvin poured Frank a scotch and a bourbon for himself from his private stock. 

“I don’t usually drink at the office,” Frank said.  “I’ll make an exception today.”

“Bad day?” Alvin asked.  “Does it have anything to do with the FBI guys running around here?”

“Mostly,” Frank answered.

“Fill me in—but after we meet with Al Crossman.  He’s on his way up right now.  He says he has news about the hearing for the injunction.”

“It must be good news if he came all the way over here to deliver it,” Frank said.

Before Alvin could answer, his secretary came on the intercom to let them know that Al Crossman was waiting outside.  “Tell him to come on in,” Alvin said to the speaker on his desk.  “He knows the way by now.”  Al Crossman walked through the door and Alvin got up and walked to his minibar.  He clinked some ice cubes into a glass.  “What’re you drinkin’, Al?  Frank and I started without you.”

“Jack on the rocks,” Crossman answered.  He reached out his hand and took the glass of whiskey from Alvin as he made his way to a chair in front of Alvin’s the desk.  “There’s good news and bad news,” he uttered as he sank into a chair.

“Give us the good news first,” Frank sighed.

“They kind of go together,” Al replied, “so I’ll give it to you all at once—the molasses mixed with the sulfur.”  He took a swallow of the whiskey and then took a deep breath before he started.  “We got the injunction from a Federal Magistrate.”

“That’s great news,” Alvin said in a buoyant voice.

“Not so fast,” Crossman cautioned.  “As soon as the injunction was signed the SEC attorneys went upstairs and got a stay from the District Judge.  It’s a temporary stay to give them time to appeal.”

“So, we’re back where we started,” Frank said.

“Not exactly,” Crossman said.  “The other side’s on defense now.  They have to convince the District Judge to overturn something that’s already done.  I don’t think they can.  It’s Judge Stenson.   I believe he’ll rule for us.”

“When?” Frank asked.

“A week from today.  Of course, the SEC could take it higher if things go our way.”

“What’s the chance of that?” Alvin asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Crossman replied.  “It depends on how Stenson words his ruling—if they think he’s left them an opening.”

“That’s assuming Judge Stenson rules for…” Frank began to say.

“Of course,” Al interrupted.  He took another swallow of his drink.  “How’s it going with the FBI?”

“Alright, I guess,” Frank answered.

“Let me tell you, Henderson is their best.  He’s not about to whitewash anything.  I only asked them in to keep the SEC out.”

“He looks tough, that’s for sure,” Frank acknowledged.

“That, he is,” Crossman confirmed.  “He won’t look favorably on any funny stuff—so make sure he doesn’t get any.”

“Too late for that,” Frank said.

“What?” Alvin gasped.

“Jason was scheduled to be interviewed by the Feds late this morning.  He took a powder instead of showing up.”

“You’re kidding!” Crossman exclaimed.

“Goddam that guy!” Alvin uttered.  “Is that what you were trying to get to me about while I was meeting with Rigby?”

“That’s it,” Frank said.

“Where in hell is he now?” Crossman asked.

“I found him at about two o’clock.  He snuck upstairs and Jeannette let him into my office.  I convinced him to find Henderson and talk to him.  I don’t know where he is now.”

“You didn’t see him afterwards?  He didn’t say how it went?”

“Henderson came in to see me and told me that Jason tried to finger Aaron Fishman.”  

“Who’s Fishman?” Crossman asked.

“Yeah, who is he?” Alvin repeated.

“He’s the young guy from downstairs who helped us put the forecast together,” Frank reminded them.  “We needed some extra help because we haven’t hired a Controller yet.”

“I see,” Crossman nodded.  “What’s more important, why did Lowell do a disappearing act.  What’s he afraid of?”

“Damned if I know,” Frank answered.  “He’s not an easy guy to figure out.” 

“Could he have been in on anything?” Crossman asked.

“Anything’s possible, but I doubt it,” Frank said.  “It wouldn’t add up.  Jason isn’t that smart, except when it comes to chemical formulas; and he hasn’t got the guts for it either.  We discussed it this morning—my opinion is still the same.”

“Greed can make people do strange things,” Crossman said.

“Right,” Frank acknowledged, “but Jason’s earning many times more than what he ever made as an Engineering Prof—even as Dean of the Engineering School.”  Frank shook his head.  “He’s too dumb, too scared and he’s got more money right now than he ever thought he’d have.”

“We’ll have to keep an eye on him,” Alvin declared.

“Right,” Crossman agreed.  “He didn’t run from Henderson for no reason at all.”

“I think that he just wasn’t thinking right,” Frank insisted.  “These R&D types are all a little goofy.”

“And what about this Fishman?” Crossman demanded.

“I have to admit that it’s legit for Henderson to interview him.  He was in on every step of the forecast.  He knows as much as we do about what’s in it—probably more.”

“You think he’s clean?” Alvin asked.

“Sure,” Frank said.  “I have no reason to suspect…”

“It would be nice if he isn’t,” Crossman thought out loud.  “That would mean that Jason is clean, after all.”

“I see what you mean,” Alvin said, rubbing his chin.

“I don’t get it,” Frank admitted.  “Why should we want either of them…”

“We don’t,” Alvin said, “but if it has to be one of them…”

Crossman turned to Frank.  “I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you.  After the beating your stock has taken on Wall Street, if your head of R&D is implicated…”  Crossman paused and finished the whiskey in his glass.  “There’d be hell to pay.”

“We’d be taken over, for sure,” Alvin said.

Crossman and Alvin stood and went to the bar to pour themselves another drink.  Frank looked at them, but the two older men turned away.

“What are you saying?” Frank asked.

“Just what I said,” Alvin answered.  “If Jason’s implicated in some kind of bad deal Wall Street will assume the Company’s falling apart. It would be a disaster.”

“You’d be easy pickin’s for a takeover firm,” Crossman added.  “It wouldn’t be pretty.”

Alvin handed Frank a fresh glass of whiskey.  Frank set down his old glass and took a gulp of the stronger replacement.  “I think Jason will be cleared in the end.  I told you what I think happened.”

“What if he’s not?” Alvin challenged.  “Are you willing to take that chance?”

“If he did do something, there’s nothing we can do to turn back the clock,” Frank argued.

“We need a replacement,” Crossman said.  Frank looked at Alvin, who was looking at Crossman and nodding in agreement.  “We need to feed them someone so they take the pressure off Lowell.”

“To take the pressure off all of us,” Alvin added.

Frank took another gulp of his whiskey.  He lowered his glass and looked at the two men who were looking at him.  It gave him an uneasy feeling.  “Al, it was just this morning you told me you hung Jason out to dry.  Now you want to protect him.  What gives here?”

“I had no idea Lowell would go on the run like he did. I thought he was innocent.  Now—let’s just say there’s some doubt  We’ve got to be nimble,” Crossman retorted.  “The situation’s changing; we’ve got to change with it.  I think we’ve got a better alternative available to us at this moment.”

“You want to give them Aaron Fishman, don’t you?” Frank said.  Alvin looked down at the plush carpet below his feet.  Crossman took a deep breath, but then stopped short as he was about to speak.  Each of them took another pull on their whiskey.   Frank waited for them to set their glasses down and then he spoke.  “Aaron isn’t guilty of anything.  He was only doing his job—the job I asked him to do.” 

“It’s hardball, Frank—I know.” Crossman said.  “It’s survival, too, and it’s the logical thing to do.  Sometimes the logical thing is what takes the most guts to pull off.”

“Don’t lecture me about hardball,” Frank answered back.  “I’ve thrown ‘em—and I’ve caught a few, too.  There’s a time for it; and there are other times when it’s not called for.”

“This is no time for Mr. Nice Guy,” Alvin warned.  “It’s sure that someone’s guilty.  If it was Fishman, we could cut our losses.”

“And get this whole thing over sooner and not later,” Crossman added. 

“This is crazy,” Frank protested.  “I’ve been with this company a long time.  We’ve had tough times, but we’ve never…”

“I don’t like it, either,” Alvin said to Frank, raising his voice.  “I don’t like having to choose.  It’s not between the Fishman and Jason.  It’s between Fishman and all the shareholders.  They’ll get crucified in a takeover—pennies on the dollar.”

“We’re not saying that we want him convicted of anything,” Crossman said, “or even arrested.  We just want the Feds to focus on him instead of Lowell.”

“That would give us time,” Alvin explained.  “We can bring in someone more senior over Jason.  We’ll call him Chief Technology Officer, or something like that.  After the new guy’s in place, well shoehorn Jason out.”

“We can’t start feeding innocent employees to the FBI just to keep them busy.  Pretty soon everyone will be watching their back instead of doing their jobs—from every vice-president right down to the janitors,” Frank warned.  “And, I don’t think Henderson will buy it, anyway.”

“They’ll get over it,” Crossman said as he looked out the window.

“So you knew about this before I came in,” Frank said.  “You’ve got it all figured out.”

“We didn’t know about his latest caper, but Jason’s been on the radar screen for a while.  This latest thing is more an opportunity than a threat.”

“You can do it without pulling down Aaron Fishman,” Frank insisted.

“Not now, if Lowell’s under suspicion.  It would be too obvious,” Crossman explained.  “We’ve got to do this right.”

“Look Frank, I admire you wanting to protect your people,” Alvin said.  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him.  A nice severance package, outplacement; we could get Jim Sweeney to get him a job at his former oil company down the street.”

“He may even thank us when it’s all done,” Crossman mused.  “He’ll fall on his sword for the Company and come out looking golden, too.  We’ll call it the ‘Golden Sword’.”

“Thank us?” Frank shot back.  “We say, ‘Aaron, we’re trashing your reputation.  Here’s some money–now go away’.”

“C’mon Frank, you’re not on the team here,” Alvin said.

Frank didn’t answer.  He saw the two men looking at him expecting an answer.  He set his drink on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands.

“There are directors who wanted you out,” Alvin said.  “You could have been out—you’re still here.  One hand washes the other.”

Frank looked up at Alvin who was standing over him.  “At least, let’s see if Jason’s in trouble or not.”

“And then…” Alvin started to say.

“We can wait until then,” Crossman said quickly before Frank could answer.  “No need to pressure Frank about this now.  He’ll do the right thing if he has to.”

Frank slowly exhaled and then stood.  Alvin slapped him on the back and then put his arm around his shoulder.  “Fix yourself another,” Alvin said, motioning Frank to the bar.

“Thanks, just the same,” Frank answered.  “I’m past my limit already.”

************* 

When Jason arrived at his house, he expected Darlene to meet him at the door.  She didn’t and he was disappointed.  “Where could she be?  I was sure that she’d be home.”  He set out to find her.  Perhaps she had a late errand to run.  He decided to go upstairs and change his clothes.  At the top of the stairs he heard the muffled sound of the radio and it seemed to be coming from their bedroom.

“Darlene, Darlene,” he called out.  “Are you up here?”

He waited a few seconds for a response.  He’d nearly given up when he heard her reply.

“Jason!” she yelled back.  “What are you doin’ home at this hour?  Ah’m busy; Ah’m takin’ a bath.”

A smile lit up Jason’s face.

“Half-way home.”

He sauntered in—so as not to seem in a hurry—to the bathroom door.  He stopped before going in, wondering whether to announce himself first.  He thought not, and gave the door a little push so that it creaked open.. 

He continued into the bathroom without fanfare, stopping at the counter to turn off the radio.  The air was warm and moist, laced with a perfume scent.  Darlene sat in the tub beneath a pool of steaming water and a mountain of suds.  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.  He slipped off his suit jacket and hung it on the hook on the door.

It was just as he pictured her.  Her hair was up, make-up steamed away.  She looked vulnerable.  A glass of white wine rested on the ledge of the tub.  Beads of condensation rolled off the glass as proof of the coldness inside it.  As he approached the tub she sank lower into the suds, although not low enough to get her hair wet.  The foam rose up around her collar bone.  Jason could only see the crests of her breasts in the sudsy water; at least, he could see more in his mind’s eye.  By sinking down, her bent knees broke the surface of the water.  Spare suds dripped off her thighs and they glistened.  Her legs looked slippery.  It made Jason think of another slippery part of her.  He would find it if he could only start his hands on those glistening thighs and follow wherever they led him.  He loosened his tie.         

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he repeated, only this time more demanding than the first time.  At least that’s the way he’d intended it to sound.

“Ah asked you first, Jason,” she replied, not moving from her protective layer of bubbles.  “What are you doin’ home at this hour?  Ah wasn’t expectin’ you home until at least six.”

“I…I kind of…I decided to call it an early day.”

“Early day?” she queried

Jason winced a little.  He should have covered that base during the drive home.  He should have been ready for that question.  “I thought we could have some extra time together, Darlene.”  He started unbuttoning his shirt.  “It looks like I was right.”  He pried a foot out of his shoe.

“Jason!  You know this is mah private time o’ day,” she protested.  The cheeks on her face were getting red, in contrast with the white mass of suds.  It was an interesting coloration, but it made Jason’s hopes sink because he knew she was angry.

“Oh, c’mon, Darlene.  What would be the harm?”  He looked down, his mouth formed into a pout.  He scuffed at the tile floor with his remaining shod foot.  Pouting almost always worked.  It ignited her motherly instincts.  If pouting didn’t work, he’d have to give up.

“Ah should be mad,” Darlene lectured from her snowy lair.  She leaned forward and the mountain of suds started to move away from her.  He was sure that she intended it to happen in order to afford him an advance peek at the prize.  But as her perfect breasts were about to be arise from the water she leaned back and it all stopped.  She must have seen the disappointment on his face.    

“Well, alraht,” she said.  “The water was gettin’ cold, anyway.  Go in the bedroom and get ready.  Ah’ll be in as son as Ah’m dried off ‘n’ powder mahself.”

“Oh boy!  I love it when she powders herself.” 

Jason plucked his jacket from the hook on the door and reshod his fott as he and hurried out of the bathroom.  It was very special—the way the scented powder cast an aroma on her.  When she put the powder on a man could slide up and down her smooth body. 

“Like she was oiled, but still dry.”

He cast off his clothes and threw them on a nearby chair.  “Don’t forget to hang up your suit,” she yelled out from the bathroom.  “Don’t just throw it on the chair.”  He obeyed.  He would do anything she demanded in return for this one favor.  He heard splashing as she climbed from the tub and the door close.

He took off all his clothes except his briefs.  He wondered if they should go, too.  Perhaps he should let Darlene peel them off, but he decided to shed the last garment, too.  He hoped the sight of his erection would excite her.  He peeled back the covers of the bed and lay down and waited for her. 

At long last the door opened as she began the slow promenade from the bathroom.  It had taken her a lot longer than Jason expected.  She wore her lavender, silk robe with purple and yellow orchids painted on it.  It was a gift from a Chinese exchange professor during their University years.

“Happier times,” Jason uttered silently.  He was certain that she was nude underneath the robe  The silk fabric caressed her as she swayed into Jason’s view.  It made him think about what his own hands might do as soon as she came closer.  Through the silken orchids he imagined her: breasts, thighs and golden thatch of womanhood, all soft and smooth, dry but slippery and approaching him full of promise.  It seemed like she floaoted to their bed, slower than she ever had.  Jason reminded himself that the trick was to not allow his sweaty hands to ruin the powdered slipperiness of her skin.

Jason licked his lips as she came closer.  He had left himself uncovered—an unusual move for a rare occasion.  It was sex in the afternoon, itself unusual.  His penis bobbed as his anticipation grew.  It felt cool, so he knew that telltale droplets had escaped from it.  She sat down on the edge of the bed.  Jason reached his hand out, thinking to slide the robe down slowly to reveal her shoulders.  She took his hands in hers and softly laid them back on his chest.

“Not yet,” she whispered, “not until Jason tells Mommy what happened at the office today that made him come home so early.”

The sun was low in the sky and shone through their bedroom.  The shaft of light captured her, blotting out the fine features.  All Jason could see was her outline.  The whispered words came from her statue-like form, as he might have heard them from a Greek oracle.

“It was nothing, Darlene,” he lied.

“Ah know better,” she answered in a soft voice.  “Don’t Ah always know better, Jason?”

“Really, Darlene; it was nothing.”

Darlene didn’t ask again.  She remained sitting on the edge of the bed alongside him.  She formed a circle with her thumb and index finger and slid the loop tenderly over his erection.  She eased it down the whole length. 

“You are—so—excited.”

Jason gasped at the pleasure, and the expectation of pleasure.  Darlene let go of him.  She caressed herself through the silk robe with her fingertips.  Jason watched her.

“Ah can’t wait for you t’ take this robe off me,” she breathed.  Jason reached up to do her bidding.  She stopped him again.  “All you hafta do is tell Mommy an’ it’s all yours, darlin’.”

Jason sighed in frustration.   She had him; she knew it and so did he.  Self-denial was impossible.  Were she to bare all, so must he.  “I was questioned by the FBI about the Company stock fraud.”

Darlene gasped.  “Why would they ever question you?”

“I think Frank Bennett set them on me,” Jason said.  “He doesn’t like me, you know.”

“That’s just nonsense, Jason,” Darlene countered.  “He’s jus’ like his wife—straight-laced as a Baptist preacher in a revival tent in July.  With him, it’s nuthin’ but business.”

“Well, why else…” Jason started to say.

“What’d they ask you?”

“Not much,” Jason answered.  “They wanted me to sign something to let them see our records at the stockbroker and I said that I wanted our lawyer to see it first.  Then the agent left.”

“Oh, Jason,” Darlene shrieked, “how could you?  Now they’ll nevah stop.  Why would you do that?  You have nuthin’ t’ hide.”

Well…”

“What?” Darlene yelled even louder, her eyes wide.

“I was afraid they’d see the time I sold the Pro-Tech stock when we were at the University.  I might have exaggerated the cost on our tax return.”

Darlene buried her face in her hands.  “Jason, do you really think they give a damn about that?”

“I didn’t exaggerate the cost; I made it up.  The stock was a gift from Pro-Tech for the research I did for them.  It was worthless when they gave it too me.  It didn’t have any cost at all.”  Jason paused as Darlene glared at him.  “It was to save on taxes.”

“But, Jason,” Darlene said, “they aren’t interested in that.  The Western stock deal was for millions; that was pennies.”

“I sold the Pro-Tech for five hundred thousand,” Jason protested.  He paused to think about what he had just said.  “I guess I panicked.  They’re going to get to see the papers, anyway.”

Darlene had her face in her hands again.  She mumbled something at him that he couldn’t understand.  “I wish we were back at the University again,” he told her.

Darlene sat up straight.  “Oh no!  Not that again,” she fired back.  She sprang from the bed, anger in her eyes; she pointed a finger at him from a long, slender arm that she thrust out from the silken robe.  “Ah tol’ you—Ah’ll nevah go back there.  You promised!”

“Would it be so bad, Darlene?  The money would be a lot less, but it would be enough.  We would have a lot more time together.”

“Ah tol’ you!” Darlene shouted again.

“I got a call the other day.  Ferrin Whitttier called me.  He’s President of a University in Upstate New York.  They’re searching for a Dean of their Engineering School.”

“No!” Darlene screamed.  “No—nevah.  Ah couldn’t stand it.  You got to make it right here at Western.”

Jason felt pathetic lying naked on their bed.  Darlene was still in her robe, standing over him, looking angrier than he’d ever seen her.  His scheme of late-afternoon sex was degraded to a humiliating pipedream.  Darlene was panting after her tirade; she finally calmed down.

“Ah see that you’re somewhat less excited than you were a few minutes ago,” she announced in her most haughty way as she looked down at his flaccid penis.  Her hands were mounted on her hips.  He was about to tell her that he would recover, to just stay with him.  She had already turned and was marching back to the bathroom. 

“It’s just as well,” she declared as she walked away from their bed where he lay.  “Ah was nevah very excited, mahself—raht from the start.”  She halted and dropped the silk, lavender robe to the floor as she reached the bathroom door.  The robe pooled at her feet and Jason saw the back of her.  It was as perfect as the front.  He rose up to call to her—to beg her to come back to their bed as she was, without the robe.  He would promise her that they would never leave their adopted life.  He could not, and she stepped through the open door and disappeared behind it.

************ 

Frank had called Trudy from the office to let her know that he would be late.  She saved dinner for him in the oven.  When he finally walked through the door she noticed he wasn’t carrying his briefcase.  She was glad because it meant he wouldn’t be working that evening—catching up and reading what there had been no time to read in the office.  He was nearly always tired after a day at the office.  He was different than usual, though, and that set her on alert.

“How was your day?” she asked as he shuffled into the kitchen.  Frank grunted something that Trudy didn’t quite make out, but she wouldn’t ask Frank to repeat what he’d said.  “I saved dinner for you; it’s in the oven.  Do you want to change your clothes first?  You can sit down right now and change later, if you’d rather.”

Frank stopped in his tracks, pondering the question.  The lines worn into his face and his inability to decide something so simple told Trudy how weary he was.  “Do you mind if I skip dinner tonight?” he asked, and turned and headed for the stairs.  Trudy grimaced and said nothing as he walked out of view.  She put the food away and turned off the oven.  The task took a couple of minutes and then she followed him upstairs.

“I thought I’d put my bathing suit on and sit by the pool for awhile,” she said as she began unbuttoning her blouse.  The blazing hot evenings of mid summer had passed, but it was still warm enough to sit by the pool.  Frank hadn’t yet finished changing.  He’d hung up his suit, but was still in his underwear.  “Why don’t you join me?” she suggested as she kicked off her shoes. 

“I dunno, Trudy.  I’m whipped.  I might just read a while.  Where’re the girls?”

“Out,” Trudy answered.  “Patricia went to a movie with ‘you-know-who’.  Margaret got invited to Jenny’s house to listen to music.”

“Jenny’s parents home?”

Trudy smiled at the question.  Good old Frank—ever vigilant, even in his weary state. 

“Yes, I made sure before she left.  They’ll both be home around twelve.”

She slipped off her blouse and unbuttoned her shorts.  She paused before she slipped them down and stole a glance at Frank to see if he was watching her.  She couldn’t quite tell, so she pushed the shorts down all at once.  She stood in front of her dresser in her bra and panties.  Frank hadn’t said much, but she also noticed that he could have finished changing, but didn’t.  She pulled open a dresser drawer to find a bathing suit. 

“Why don’t you come out to the pool, too?” she re-issued the invitation.  She pulled out a two-piece suit.  It was her skimpiest one; she hadn’t worn it in a couple of years.  She quickly turned toward Frank to give him an eyeful as she slipped off her bra.  Then she stepped out of her panties.  “We won’t have many pool nights left in the season.” 

She pulled on the bikini bottoms.  She gave him a look as she lifted the top but paused before covering her breasts. 

“He must feel down.  He’d never let me get my suit on once I had my clothes off.”

She dipped her breasts into the cups and walked over to him.  “Can you fasten the back, Frank?” she asked.  Frank did as she asked.

“He’s a hard case tonight, but I’m not done yet.”      

“I think I will join you,” Frank conceded. 

“Good!” she replied.  She would have normally put a tee-shirt on to cover up until she got to the pool.  She decided to forego it.  She swayed from the bedroom with only a towel to protect her.  Bring us a couple of cold beers when you come out,” she called to him over her shoulder.

It didn’t take Frank long to catch up to her and take a chair alongside hers near the pool.  “Need a glass?” he asked her.  She shook her head and he twisted the cap from an amber bottle and handed it to her, and then one for himself.

“I think you’re whipped,” she admitted.  “You’ve got that tired look.”  Frank shrugged and they both took healthy gulps of the cold beer.  “Anything you want to tell me about?”

Frank took another swallow and then sighed.  He leaned back in his chair.  “You know, Trudy,” he began, “I don’t mind working hard.  I don’t even care if the going gets a little tough.  I can take all that.”

“No doubt about it,” she agreed.

“When I’m not sure why I’m doin’ it the fight gets drained out of me.”

“You don’t say things like that very often, Frank.”

“Sometimes, Trudy, I wish I was back in the CPA business doing debits and credits for mom ‘n’ pop stores.”

“Sometimes I wish it, too,” Trudy answered.  “We both know it’s not going to happen; that’s not what you were meant to do.  You know that even better than me.”

“Let’s just say that today some people acted in a way that was very disappointing,” he answered. 

“It happens.  You can handle it.  Like you always say, ‘keep the big picture in mind’.”

“Right, the big picture,” he sighed and took another swig from his bottle.

“Something terrible must’ve happened,” Trudy repeated.  “You hardly ever get like this.”

“Well, the first thing was that our celebrated VP of R&D went on the run when he was supposed to be interviewed by the FBI this morning.”

“What?  You’re kidding!” Trudy laughed.  “Does anyone know where he is?”

“He showed up later and told them ‘he forgot’,” Frank said.  “But that’s not the worst of it.  He told the FBI agent that he thought Aaron Fishman had something to do with the stock manipulation.”

Trudy sensed anger in Frank’s voice.  She leaned forward, determined to pay closer attention.  She hardly knew who Aaron Fishman was; she vaguely recalled being introduced at some company function or another.  She understood why he was angry.  Frank was never afraid of battle; combat with someone unable to fight back was taboo.  “Why would Jason pick on someone like that?”

“I think part of it was that he panicked and threw out a name to take pressure off himself. The other part of it is that he’s resented Jason ever since I brought him upstairs to help me on the forecast.  He’s got it in for him ‘cause he’s Jewish.”

“Oh no, Frank,” Trudy exclaimed.  “You’re not going to let that happen, are you?  I know you would never let that happen.”

“I already spoke to the agent and he told me he wasn’t buying it.  They have to talk to Aaron, anyway.  He was in on all the details of the forecast.”

“That Jason is a worm,” Trudy said.

“Yeah, I knew that already.  That’s not the big problem.  Guys like Jason are here today and gone tomorrow.  What really got to me was that I told Alvin and Al Crossman about it.  They want me to let Aaron take the fall to protect Jason.  They’re afraid if there’s a scandal involving a corporate officer the company’s stock will collapse.”

“I can see why you’re disappointed, Frank.  I would be, too.”

“It’s me who I’m disappointed in,” Frank corrected.  “I should have told them to go to hell.  Instead, I just argued with them.  They still think they’re gonna hang it on Aaron.”

“I know you too well, Frank.  You would never let them do that.” 

”I’m trapped, Trudy.  If I walk out they’d get someone else to do it for them.”

“You’ll figure it out, Frank.  You always do.  It’ll get tough—that’s when you’re at your best.  You’ve done it so many times before.”    

“I should have reminded them that the stock will collapse with a resignation of the CFO.  I should have said that, but I’d have been bluffing.  I never bluff.  I always thought that Alvin was above this kind of thing.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Trudy said.  “He has a lot on his mind.  He’s got to deal with Gloria, for one thing.  He’ll think it over and see it differently—you’ll see.”

“That’s no excuse,” Frank replied.  “When you take on a job that big, you’re expected to be a big person.  You know, he tried to tell me that I owed it to him to feed Aaron to the wolves because he saved me from getting canned by Mueller and Lambert.”

“Don’t give up on him,” Trudy said again.  “He’ll come around.”

They stopped talking for a minute and drank the last of their beer.  “I will hang in there, Trudy.  I’ll do it because of you—because I know you expect me to.”

Trudy took Frank’s hand into her own.  She leaned close to him.  “I would never bet against you in a fight.”  She kissed him on his cheek.

“Do you want to go in the pool for a swim?” he asked.

Trudy grinned and shook her head.  “Not tonight,” she answered.

“But you went to all the trouble to put your suit on and…”

She put a gentle finger over his lips.  “Some other time,” she told him.  “I just thought of something even better.”

“But Trudy,” he protested, “What could be…”

“Frank, you’re the kind of man a woman like me wants to make love to,” she whispered and touched her lips to his forehead.  Frank looked at her but didn’t say anything.  They were still holding hands and she kept her face close to his.  “Right now.”

************** 

TO BE CONTINUED