Something Unfortunate

Chapter 4

FOUR

THREE WEEKS AGO

Ken Hargrove watched Frank Oliver pace in front of his desk. Sunlight streamed through open mini-blinds in Ken’s office and bathed both men in a splash of washed-out brilliance. Frank was livid, acting out his anger in a fashion Ken had seen countless times before. Although it once had its desired intimidating effect, Ken now simply found it tiresome. Veins pulsed in Frank’s forehead, throbbing at the fringes of his thin face like special effects. He set his lips in a straight line as he struggled to control himself, something both men knew was an exercise in futility. Ken sat silently, awaiting Frank’s next outburst.

It was a short wait.

“And you know damn well what I’m talking about!” Frank yelled. Self-control was now a distant memory for him. “It’s been your goal since day one – ever since you got here.”

“What’s been my goal?” Ken asked. He shifted his chunky figure forward in his chair, casting a broad shadow on the desk. “You keep pissin’ and moanin’ but you haven’t said anything that makes a damn bit of sense. Now tell me – what’s been my goal? I want to hear you say it in plain English.”

Frank abruptly stopped pacing and whirled around to face Ken. The two men stared at each other, Frank through wide eyes boring from beneath his protruding brow, while Ken peered through narrowed slits cut above his fleshy cheeks. Frank leaned across the desk and jabbed a finger in Ken’s face. Ken instinctively drew back his defiant chin, and it melted into his neck.

“Don’t play innocent with me, you sonuvabitch,” Frank said. “That hurt and innocent act may play for everyone else, but it’s not going to work on me. I know what you’re up to, and I won’t stand for it, Mister.”

Ken stared blankly at Frank. Drops of sweat materialized around the edges of his receding hairline and rolled down his face. He waited, looking for the right moment to launch a counterattack. As always, Frank’s next assault came quickly, as if two seconds of silence meant an opportunity lost.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Frank said. “I won’t stand for it. I’ve worked hard to build this section and –”

“That’s a crock!”

Frank straightened in surprise, his pointing finger still suspended in the air.

“You didn’t build anything,” Ken said. “You happened to be in the right place at the right time when Erwin Christopher retired. He built this section, not you. You just inherited it. You were born on third base but think you hit a triple.”

“You think I didn’t have anything to do with building this section, you little piss-ant?” Frank’s face quivered and his pointed finger twitched like a metronome. “You think I haven’t worked my butt off to keep building up this section after Erwin left, to build up relationships with clients and to bring in new clients? I’ve worked damn hard to do that. No client left this firm after Erwin retired, and that’s because of me. And new clients flocked here in droves after I took charge. All before you got here, Mister. This section got along perfectly well before you got here, and it will get along perfectly well if something unfortunate were to happen to you.”

As he talked, Frank resumed jabbing his finger at Ken, as if punching a recalcitrant doorbell that wouldn’t ring. Suddenly Ken slapped Frank’s hand away and jumped to his feet.

“And this whole firm would get along perfectly well if something unfortunate were to happen to you, too, so back off, you pompous ass,” Ken said. “Don’t try to threaten me. And don’t try to intimidate me.” He laughed, a short staccato burst. “I’ve gone through tougher men than you just to get to a fight.”

Frank’s blank expression telegraphed his shock at Ken’s defiance. He backed up a step and blinked.

“If you think I’m trying to steal your clients, then you’re nuts,” Ken said. He spoke calmly and evenly, but neither man mistook the tone for control. Ken’s temper was as far gone as his hair, and they both knew it. “I’m talking literally nuts. Certifiable! But I can’t believe that even you really think that. I think you’re just pissed about Centennial Energy. Because Ernie Nabors called me instead of you about the Massey file. Isn’t that it? You’re pissed and now you’re throwing a tantrum.”

Ken c****d an eyebrow and looked at Frank, as if expecting an answer. Frank remained silent, standing in front of the desk, red-faced. His whole body quivered.

“That’s not my fault,” Ken said. “Even if there was something evil about my talking to him – which there’s not, and you damn well know it – but even if there was, it’s not my fault. He called me, remember? I didn’t call him. And I didn’t ask him to call me. He’s a grown man and he can call whoever he wants.”

“Well, why did he call you?”

Ken waved his arms in frustration. “Just how in the hell should I know? But I’ve got an idea how we can find out.” He picked up the receiver to his desk phone and offered it to Frank. “Call him and ask him.”

“I don’t have to ask him.” Frank backed away from the desk and resumed his pacing. “I already know why he called you.”

Ken slammed the receiver down. “Then please share it with me. Give me the benefit of your superior knowledge.”

“It’s because you led him to believe that you’re calling the shots on this file and not me. You made him think that you’ve got all the great ideas, that you’re making all the decisions, and that I’m nothing more than a figurehead.”

“First of all, that’s bullshit. I’ve done no such thing. But even if I had, where’s the harm in telling the truth?”

“What do you mean ‘the truth’?” Frank stopped pacing again and leaned forward on the desk. His knuckles turned white as he pressed on the top. “I’m not a phony. I do real things.”

Ken flopped into his chair. “What the hell does that mean? You’re not a phony? You do real things? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I mean I’m not just a figurehead. I get involved in these files. I actually do things on them.”

“And your point is?”

Frank wagged his finger in Ken’s face again. “My point is this, Mister.” There was nothing respectful intended, or taken, by Frank’s use of the word “mister.” It came out of his mouth like an epithet. “This is the most shameless bit of self-promoting I’ve ever seen.”

“There’s nothing to see,” Ken said. He made a circling motion around the side of his head with the index finger of his right hand. “This is all in your mind. It’s a delusion, totally unconnected to reality.”

“It’s no delusion.” Frank narrowed his eyes. “Don’t screw with me.”

“Or what? Something unfortunate’s going to happen to me?”

“Try me and you’ll find out.”