Chapter 30: The Plank

MORE OF SOMETHING MORE,

a story about a salesman trying to establish himself,

 a CEO scheming to buy out his father's influence

                                            and the woman important to each 


 

30

     Despite the warm and sunny day, Atom Green trod the Manhattan Beach pier like a man walking the plank. He passed other solitary souls and skirted the Aquarium & Café to reach the end, which seemed a reflection of the episode at Slade, where a forced resignation killed something that began with such promise. He gazed over the water with questions unmatched to answers, when a dark figure spotted the corner of his eye and became a seagull which hovered until webbed feet see-sawed onto the railing. The bird had an abdomen of pure white, lead gray wings and slender yellow bill with a blood-red splotch near the tip. It turned toward him as though to start a conversation, then looked out to sea.

     Was he working for a condo, a car and entertainment --available as long as he stayed on the treadmill?  The prestige of being top salesman?  The respect of his peers, though not of the boss, which proved the limits of hard work? He could land another position and work until his final breath, but what would be the carryover? Waves rocked the pier and the glaring sun obscured the horizon, and only the fresh breeze soothed and caressed until teasing forth the image of Helen Roy.

     His brow wrinkled as he recalled the wedding where she acted strangely, the blow to the head and then being stranded by the side of the road. Since then silence was another kind of darkness when he couldn’t reach her and no one at the company would speak to him, as if the past had been declared off-limits. Worst of all was the thought she was actively avoiding him.

      Then he got the letter from CO Associates citing, though not defining, certain events and asking him to call. He did and they recorded the conversation in which they asked about his intentions and offered a settlement in exchange for silence. Stubbornly, they demanded his answer while ignoring his questions. He refused without thought of the going price of freedom of speech for madmen shouting in obscurity. The gull squawked. He looked over to the bird that had nothing further.

     The look, the scent and the taste of Helen were a reality he was unwilling to let go. Though their time together was short her influence was like a musical note softly struck that lingered, a memory that pleased and tormented. Jumping over the railing would end it, or off a cliff in mockery of flight, but his imagination could envision a reconciliation, and then he could move forward. The gull squawked and stretched wings to catch the wind and soar until it was a speck in the sky. Atom twisted to keep it in sight before walking the only path available to him: back to the beginning to start anew.

The next chapter will be posted by June 4.
  
The characters and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event

    

Chapter 29: Anonymous

MORE OF SOMETHING MORE,

a story about a salesman trying to establish himself,

 a CEO scheming to buy out his father's influence

                                            and the woman important to each 

29 

     Helen Roy, atop the covers in a thick white robe that bears the hotel crest, crooks her head on a pillow as she works the remote control in vain: nothing is as vivid as what is playing in her mind where she sails head over heels in a nonsensical world and miraculously lands on her feet, or so six-figures in her checking would indicate.

     “’CO Associates’ doesn’t even sound real, but they gave the money for the settlement, the non-disclosure and my job, and that I never associate with anybody from Slade, never speak about what happened there or about the wedding. They needn’t have bothered about that last: tears and nausea then suffocation, nothing I want to talk about. But the two years since moving from Wisconsin, and Stephen and Atom, erase them all? If I could only learn to forget. The settlement supporting my new life is a reminder not to talk. Lots of girls in L.A. run around like they own it, but no one knows how. I’ll be just another, flashing mysterious smiles in the face of too many questions.

     “I’ll know without being able to say ---not to Kelly even, who knows I was working there when we drifted apart. If I said I’m not there anymore, and found another job that would be half a lie, and he knows enough to be suspicious. Money doesn’t fall from the sky, like we might have believed back in Madison. We weren’t naïve, just thought the future would be better on the coast and now I have the settlement, weren’t we right? But Melissa wouldn’t know. I’ll say it’s severance pay and fly us to Hawaii and feed her belief in fleecy greenbacks. Little sister trusts what I say.”

     The thought inspires her to sit up against the headrest. She looks toward the open window where a light breeze carries the sounds of outdoor activity.

     “I want a walk, a bite to eat, and to call Melissa, yet struggle to go because the shame I bear has settled and weighs me down.  Better to carry a sign with my crime written boldly, and suffer hoots and hollers from blowhards and quiet contemptuous stares, and so share half the burden. Alone, I am accuser and accused both.

    “But of what crime? The settlement specifies nothing in particular of the past, and cautions against the future so that I can’t say goodbye to Stephen or to Atom. That cuts deep.  ‘Anything pertaining to or about the individual named Atom Green…’ If he finds me and were outside the door, would I let him in when gaps in conversation would be obligatory? But if he signed too, he wouldn’t come looking; something inside me hopes he didn’t.

     “I’ll make myself small like a little ball, and suck my thumb and cry onto these sheets instead of going into the light where it might show, where even Melissa might see and know.”

     She falls asleep and wakes after dusk has fallen. Rising from bed, she changes into denim jeans and jacket, brushes her hair then leaves to step into the evening air that’s cool, refreshing and anonymous.

The next chapter will be posted by April 30.
  
The characters and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event

Chapter 28: Eviction

MORE OF SOMETHING MORE,

a story about a salesman trying to establish himself,

 a CEO scheming to buy out his father's influence

                                            and the woman important to each 

28

      Meanwhile, Clayton Clamp had observed what became known as “the Wedding Event,” an innocuous term with deep significance to insiders. He tracked Stephen Slade and Bill racing up the slope and saw the chauffeur assaulting the male and the CEO kissing the unresponsive female. He photographed the loading into the limo and the odd seating arrangement: two in back, one in the trunk. Another investigator captured the sequence on video.
     Concerned for the company’s reputation, Clamp lingered close by the valets, affecting an air of nonchalance. In turn, they looked to him as someone in the know and seemed to conclude that if he’s not interested, neither are they. Satisfied, he went back to the other side of the mansion where his eye cast a wide net to discern three major groups: one occupied with the bride and groom; a diffuse one seeking the next sensation; and one drawn to Chairman Graham Slade who approached trailing two wives. They huddled on the green lawn until the chairman said, “Let’s do it.”

     Then he gathered up the other investigator, Jon Acres, a CPA grown tired of working behind a desk. Vegetarian-thin and exceedingly cautious, he worried about the woman and suggested calling the police. Clamp convinced him private intervention was best. The valet brought the car and they climbed in.

     Driving toward the estate gates, his mind worked through lists of those involved, those who saw and those who might tell. The CEO had his own special category. Then came the woman, the salesman and chauffeur. Lola McIntyre, who he had spotted earlier, was a nexus and gossip. Of other staff and managers, he expected to conference with the chairman before interviews assessing knowledge and allegiance. Identification of tendencies was tricky business, but private enterprise could exploit every advantage that didn’t leave traces.

     Then to his left, on the short lawn in advance of a copse of trees, he was surprised to see Lola and two men cutting across. They were smiling and laughing, and the man with stringy brown hair had a bottle of champagne tucked to his side. He slowed the vehicle and gazed, unable to place them until he recognized her buddies from the company break room. He had not considered them before, but his list, as yet mental, had plenty of room.

     An hour later they clustered outside the condo door: Chairman Slade, tall and grave, his wife Rhea whose short hair shone like a pewter helmet, and mournful Delfina in toga-like dress. Clamp and Acres stood by, the latter clasping a laptop computer. The chairman rapped on the door, and a minute later Stephen Slade opened it. He did not express surprise and coolly stepped aside to admit them.  

     “I’ve called the board to an emergency meeting. They’re at corporate. Where’s the woman?”

     Stephen gestured to the back. Delfina squeaked and Rhea pulled the taller woman into a hug. Acres went back to confirm the statement. When he returned the chairman said, “There’s something you need to see.” Acres opened the laptop and played the video as Stephen leaned against the wall, acting like it had nothing to do with him. When he closed the laptop, the assembly looked toward the CEO who stood upright with arms crossed. 

     “The board has already seen the video,” the chairman said. “It will ask for your resignation.” Stephen twitched an acknowledgement. “While we’re next door, someone needs to take the young woman home.”

     “She lives here,” mumbled Stephen, then said more clearly, “There’s nowhere to take her.” Delfina stifled a cry.

      “Maybe not tonight, but she’s going to have to leave, and you can’t be here. Someone should stay to make sure she’s alright.”

     Rhea spoke. “We’ll stay until you get back.”

     They left the two women sitting by the panoramic window. Outside, night had fallen and Los Angeles became a show of twinkling lights, some stationary, some moving and some about to go dark.

       

The next chapter will be posted by March 19.
  
The characters and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event