Chapter Four
1069 Words
Chapter Four
Doing Gretel’s Dirty Work
Anger and confusion took turns assailing Kurt Merchant. Ten long years with BizMart, kissing clients’ asses, giving up his social life and losing his wife to divorce, always putting on a happy face to mask heartburn and high blood pressure, pickling his liver and generally endangering his health with way too many cocktails—only to have Casper fire him on a whim. Kurt had to find out why.
He’d keep his word. He’d give Casper five minutes to prepare for the “exit interview,” as human resources called it. “Tirade” described Kurt’s intended remarks. He glanced at his watch: 2:57. Great. The day was shot before Casper’s bombshell, thanks to Rich’s pissing away most of an hour with his gossipy rambling and veiled threat. Trying to call clients proved as futile as chasing ghosts.
Kurt shrugged philosophically. I consider half of Baltimore as acquaintances, he thought, but few close friends. Judd is the only one I can count on. But I can savor those moments of glory when I helped businesses help each other, even if some of the deals made sewage smell good by comparison. And some of my gaffes! His laugh shook his body, but he clamped his mouth shut. What was I thinking? Oh well, time has healed most of the wounds. No harm, no foul.
If I can’t change Casper’s mind, Kurt wondered, what will Judd think about my firing? My fair-weather friends could provide me with job leads—except business brokering. Damn no-compete clause!
Kurt sprang to his feet. Time’s up, he decided.
The hallway was strangely vacant for a Friday afternoon. Kurt expected to see Rich by the water cooler, trying to fit in with the staff, debating with some poor, trapped employee whether the Ravens would win on Sunday.
Kurt heard Jessica Noble, BizMart’s new marketing director, talking in the suite of offices where Rich supposedly worked. Jessica always pitched her voice slightly too high, exaggerating her femininity and sweetness. The other voice sounded surprisingly similar to Jessica’s, but more relaxed: earthier and sexier. Kurt was intrigued but too preoccupied to give the muffled conversation further thought.
Ms. Haversham stood to greet him in Casper’s office. “Mr. Waverly is expecting you.” Her voice was warm, but her eyes shifted fitfully and her hands trembled.
“Thank you,” Kurt smiled. He liked Ms. Haversham and sympathized with her because Casper had exposed her to unnecessary pressure.
When Kurt walked into Casper’s inner office, he was taken aback by his boss’s pathetic appearance. Casper was a throwback to the times when people didn’t care how a CEO looked. During the increasing popularity of flash over substance, his days were numbered. The garland of gray over Casper’s ears and beneath his shiny dome looked oddly unkempt. Casper was pale.
And right in the middle of his forehead was a patch of ruby lipstick.
“You horny bastard!” Kurt upbraided him. Under the circumstances, why speak respectfully to his boss? Kurt recalled his conversation with Rich. “Let me guess. Schisslinger sent Gretel Fox over here to entrap you and blackmail you.”
Kurt’s accuracy visibly startled Casper. “What happened in my office doesn’t concern you,” he said.
“Like hell! You’re throwing away my career. And why don’t you stand up and face me like a man?”
Partly out of courtesy and partly as a reflex, Casper rose to his feet. Kurt spotted the stain on the crotch of Casper’s pants. Plopping back in his chair, Casper suddenly looked old and tired. “See why I remained seated?”
“I hope she was worth it! Damn, Casper! Ten years of busting my balls.”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Casper jotted some figures on a small pad. “You’ll be financially set for awhile. Your draw against commissions has left you a healthy lump sum. Plus, we’ll give you fourteen months’ salary and fringe benefits—November and December of this year plus all of next year.”
“It’s not about the money.”
Casper looked wistful, clearly letting his mind wander. “It’s about what money can buy,” he said. “When you find your passion, you pay whatever it takes. Including money.” He blinked. “And money matters for basic needs, not just exotic addictions.”
Casper’s bizarre sidetrack baffled Kurt, but he let it go. “You know what matters more than money?” Kurt asked. “Right now, work is my passion.”
“Really?” Casper sat up straight. “What if you could choose? What if I signed over fifteen-percent ownership of BizMart to you, instead of the five percent you already have? Fifteen percent of our net profits, every quarter, for the rest of your life—in addition to the lump sum of your commissions and fourteen months’ salary. The only proviso: You’d be banned from business brokerage in Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, or Virginia.” Casper extended his index finger. “That’s choice No. 1.”
Casper stuck out his index and middle fingers in a narrow V. “Choice No. 2 would be forfeiting the commission, the salary, and the fifteen percent ownership. In exchange, we’d waive the no-compete clause. You’d lose a small fortune, but you could still broker businesses. Which would you choose?”
“Easy. I’ll take what’s behind Door No. 2. Wheeling and dealing is in my blood. Keep your money.”
“I almost wish we could do that. But,” Casper rubbed his hands, as if washing them clean of Kurt’s dilemma, “that was just a hypothetical proposal.”
“When did you get so callous?” Kurt asked. “You’ve never toyed with people, just to see how they’d respond. Why now?”
Casper looked helpless. He had no answer.
Kurt’s mind returned to his conversation with Rich, and his face brightened. “Oh, I get it. Schisslinger put you up to asking me that question. Just to see how I’d respond. First Rich. Now you. Is there a conspiracy to farm me out to Chimera?”
“Don’t jump to silly conclusions,” Casper said, without conviction.
“What’s going on, Casper?” Kurt threw his hands up in the air again. “Did Schisslinger swipe the deed to your house and threaten to evict you? Or is Gretel’s p***y made of gold? Man, I’ve got to meet her! But you’re giving away the store. You’re sacrificing me.”
Casper looked even more downcast. “One other business matter,” he said. When he took out his wallet and opened it, Kurt noticed the absence of Casper’s usual wad of bills. Casper took out a business card. “This is the psychiatrist who handles all of BizMart’s counseling. I took the liberty of scheduling an appointment. We’ll pay for it, of course.”
Kurt took the card. “Thanks for nothing,” he grumbled.
“She’s expecting you at four.”
“Today?” Kurt looked at the name and address on the card. “Lila Krafft,” he read. “She’s on the other side of town. I’ll never make it in time.”
“She’s aware of the, uh, extraordinary circumstances.” Casper looked relieved, as if putting behind him the hardest part of dismissing Kurt. “We deliberately avoided picking a psychiatrist nearby. Didn’t want BizMart employees bumping into each other going to and from her office.” Casper finally smiled. “You’ll find her very helpful.”
“As if I had a choice,” Kurt grumbled.
When Kurt watched Casper’s face cloud into hopelessness, he realized Casper had no choice, either.
- Writer
