“I’m sorry I had to do it like that. You okay now?” Tara flung her arms around Clem and hugged him tight.
“I’m sorry, too,” Tara said, burying her head in his chest, too embarrassed to look into her husband’s eyes.
“I didn’t want to put you through that little charade but I figured it was the only way I’d be able to convince you I was telling the truth. You were ready to kill me back at the house. You were so furious, you weren’t go to believe anything I told you.”
“I know, I know. I was so mad at you.” Tara opened her purse and tore up Mistress Krystal’s business card.
“I agree that does look like my handwriting. But it’s totally bogus. I’ve honestly never seen that card before – ever. I swear to you. I have no idea how it got into my pocket but it’s obviously a fake card.”
Tara knew there was
nothing
fake about that card. For the first time in a long while, she believed him. Tara pushed the start button of her Lexus and they headed for home.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing a chiropractor?” Tara asked, as she turned onto the interstate.
“I’ve only just started seeing her. I go to see a chiropractor once – just once – and you hire a P.I. because you think I’m having an affair?”
“That was the first time you’d seen her?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, boy. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’ve been gone so much that when I found that card I just…. oh, I don’t know. I guess I was just getting lonely and missed you. That’s what women do. We overthink stuff. I’m truly sorry.” Tara couldn’t help but smile at her foolish assumptions. “I’ve been such an idiot.”
“And I’ve been a prick getting so crazy with work. I apologize for being so fucking wrapped up in my world and not including you.”
“As long as you still love me,” Tara smiled, teary eyed.
“Of course I do, you nitwit.”
“And you don’t love anybody else?”
“Well, I kinda fancy Jessica Beal and that Sofia Vergara chick,” Clem smiled.
“That’s okay. I’ll let you have those two.” Tara laughed as they set off for home. Nothing that Clem said now could have such a devastating effect on their life. All was good. Then Clem broke the real news.
“But we do have a problem, Tara. A real problem.”
“Don’t mess around, Clem.” Tara looked at Clem and she knew by his serious expression that he wasn’t messing around. “Oh, shit. What now? Don’t do this to me.”
“Fitz made CEO. I’m done.” Clem sounded almost apologetic for failing to win the prize he’d so coveted for so long.
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“I’m serious.”
“You know that for sure?” Tara knew the consequences of Fitz getting the nod over Clem. Their life would be changing dramatically.
“I’ve been well and truly stitched up. Fitz out-maneuvered me. My days at Bergensons are numbered.”
Tara let the news sink in as she kept her eyes on the road and her hands on the wheel.
“Well, we’re just gonna have to sell up and downsize. At least we’ve got our savings.”
“That’s the problem,” Clem started.
“What?” Tara glanced over at him. “You invested it all right?”
“It’s all gone. Poof!” Clem waved his hands like an old school magician making a bunny rabbit disappear into thin air.
“Clem!”
“That hedge fund went belly up. We lost everything.”
“Holy shit!” Tara swerved over to the curb and slammed on the brakes. “You mean we really do have
nothing?
Why didn’t you tell me this?” Tara was incredulous.
“I didn’t want to worry you. I couldn’t change it. I figured I’d make CEO and get a big salary bump with bonuses and stock options and we’d recover our losses.”
Clem looked as downcast as Tara had ever seen him. What an emotional roller coaster this drive was turning out to be.
“I don’t know what to say. All our money’s gone?” Tara stared at her deflated husband.
“Ever been to Birmingham, Alabama?”
During the remainder of their journey home to Dunkirk Crescent, Clem told Tara about what Justine had heard from Rose and that Frank and Fitz had been conspiring together to undermine him. He told her how his meeting with Hank Britney had proved fruitless after all, after which Daniel Ellerby had painted a pretty grim picture of his prospects for landing any job anywhere even close to his level. And even living dangerously on the squash courts with Jack Perkins hadn’t left any impression with the board: only several on Clem.
They talked about the logistics of relocating to Birmingham and how much money they’d lose on the sale of their Eden Prairie house. Their future looked financially bleak and uncertain. Suddenly, the freezing Minnesota winters didn’t seem quite so bad after all.
Tara listened as Clem finally opened up about everything that had been going on at work and it became very obvious to her why he’d been so detached. She felt useless. Her fate was tied to his. Tara’s allegations regarding Clem’s faithfulness seemed trivial by comparison. While her fears had all been imaginary, his fears were now very real.
That night, Tara Drew felt an intimate closeness to her husband that she hadn’t experienced for a very long time. Ironically, it seemed their adversity had brought them closer together, both emotionally and physically, than they had been for a very long time. Tara made a Greek salad for dinner and they sat out on their deck with some Chianti and warm bread. It was a calm and peaceful summer’s evening and the perfect way to chill out at the end of what had been the strangest of days in their long relationship. It’d been both an antagonistic and reconciliatory day. Clem was now in a philosophical mood. Opening up about everything had made both of them feel so much lighter inside, even if the news was not all good.
“What are we bitching about? We’ve been living in this big house and living the life many people still dream of enjoying. And let’s be honest, we’ve been no happier here than when we were both broke living in that crummy apartment in North Hollywood all those years back.”
Tara frowned. “True. So just how much money did we lose in that hedge fund?”
“Hell, it’s only money!”
“Jesus, Clem. That was over two hundred thousand dollars – just gone?”
“I know, I know. No use crying over spilt milk.”
“That’s a few drops more than spilt milk! That’s the whole dairy and the cows.”
It was a beautiful evening and the sun glowed orange as it sunk below the tree line. Clem put his feet up on a small ottoman.
“So we can wait and see what fate has in store for us or we can dictate our own destiny.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, rather than just wait around and let outside forces impact our future, we can decide for ourselves where we go and what we do next.”
“And what do we do next?”
“Damned if I know.”
The two them stared out at the sunset. When it came to having control, neither of them seemed to have much of it now. As evening turned to night, they stayed out on the deck in the warm air and reminisced about the past and how they’d always seemed to get by. When they’d met, neither of them had much money and now here they were worrying about losing a lifestyle they never dreamed they’d ever have anyway. They both saw the irony in that and couldn’t help but chuckle about it.
That night, Tara and Clem had sex for the first time in months - gentle, passionate, loving sex. It was something they were both in dire need of. Tara couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an orgasm that wasn’t a solo effort. The events of the day had changed both of them and for the better it seemed, so maybe it wasn’t all so bad after all.
The two of them slept in the same bed that night and so soundly that it was almost Sunday afternoon before they started to stir. Both of them were nursing wicked hangovers when they finally awoke. It was Tara’s second thumping headache in two days.
“Holy moly. How much did I drink last night?”
Clem felt his pounding forehead as Tara rolled over towards him and hugged his warm naked body.
“I don’t remember…. but let’s do it again tonight.”
Over a very late breakfast, they both seemed like different people compared to the crazed versions of themselves they had been just yesterday morning and over the previous weeks. Clem’s usual get-up-and-go appeared to have finally got-up-and-gone while Tara was relieved that her marriage was not the train wreck she thought it was. That was more important to her than the money.
Clem gulped down two pills with his OJ and stared out of the kitchen window at some neighbor’s kids cycling down the sidewalk towards Caribou Lake. Tara chewed on a bagel as she walked over to be beside him.
“That’s Brian and Heidi’s kids, isn’t it?” Clem asked his sleepy wife. “Heck, they’ve grown up fast. Haven’t seen those two in a long while.”
“They’re always playing outside. Even in winter.”
“Where does the time go?” Clem sighed. Tara wrapped her arms around him.
“Y’know, I still can’t figure how that woman’s card got into your jacket pocket,” Tara mumbled. Clem turned away from the window and grabbed his half-finished juice.
“Yeah, that’s a mystery.” Tara looked at Clem for any sign that he could be lying to her. “I’m going to talk to Justine about it,” Clem continued.
“Why Justine?” Tara frowned.
“Because I always put my jacket on the back of my chair when I get to work. Who else goes in my office all the time?”
“Justine wouldn’t do something like that. Why would she? If it was meant to be a gag it really wasn’t funny. Especially not with your handwriting.”
“That wasn’t my handwriting,” Clem insisted.
“Why copy it then?” Tara asked, suddenly wondering if Clem knew more than he was letting on. But what Tara did know, was that she’d tried to catch her husband in a lie on more than one occasion and had failed with flying colors. Her female intuition appeared to be malfunctioning, so going on her gut instincts was a definite no-no.
“Amazing how destructive something like that can be.”
“Who would do something that could create such havoc in a marriage? I mean, that’s just plain vindictive.”
“That’s the kind of crap Fitz would pull but he’d need to be alone in my office with my jacket to do it. I’ll talk to Justine about it when I get to work on Monday.” Clem smiled and kissed Tara’s head.
They spent the rest of their lazy Sunday afternoon sitting around reading the newspaper and talking about what the future might hold if and when Clem parted ways with the agency. Tara read through the jobs in the business section. It just felt so good to have the old Clem back.
Late afternoon their hangovers had subsided. Tara was starting to feel human again.
“Come on! Let’s get out of here and get some fresh air.”
Moments later they were strolling through the park towards the lake. Tara reminded Clem that it was his birthday on Monday and that they should go out and celebrate in some manner though the thought of more alcohol really didn’t appeal to either of them.
“Why don’t you come up to Bergensons? We can go out for dinner afterwards.”
“Okay, sounds good.” Tara smiled, looking forward to actually going on a date again with her husband.
CHAPTER 17
Heading to the office along Interstate 62 on Monday morning felt strange for Clem. It was his birthday but he felt ten years older than his forty-four years. His usual motivation to bust a gut to get into the agency was no longer in him but he still had a job and a paycheck. At the end of the day he was still a professional who took pride in his work but he really wasn’t in the mood for all the bright pink and yellow balloons waiting for him when he arrived.
“Happy birthday, boss!” Justine squealed as she greeted him with his usual morning cappuccino but today he got a slice of banana and walnut cake with a blue sparkler stuck in it. It made Clem smile at least. “Remember, you have an internal photo shoot at one o’clock for the big Rebakor press release we’re doing,” Justine reminded him.
“Is Molinaire coming in?” Clem sipped his caffeinated brew.
“Apparently,” said Justine, pecking her boss on the cheek with a birthday kiss.
Clem spent the morning calling old connections on both coasts. He needed an exit strategy and knew he couldn’t depend on Daniel Ellerby to find him anything other than the dubious Alabama gig at Wardle & Ward. Seemed Ellerby wasn’t kidding about the state of affairs in recruitment. Everyone was more concerned about hanging on to the jobs they had. No one was about to help Golden Balls take another step up the ladder that they were barely clinging to. But then that was the ad biz; a dog eat dog world.
As desperate times call for desperate measures, so Clem started surfing the web. After exhausting Linkedin for any leads, he turned to the murky postings on Craigslist. Sure, there were hundreds of ads for ‘marketing positions’ but they were barely more than internships.
Clem’s calendar was looking auspiciously empty for July and August with only a few internal meetings on his schedule. He’d delegated the handling of his other accounts to fellow account execs as clients were all cutting their budgets so there was no need for him to get back involved. Those accounts were ticking over just fine without him. But it seemed word had got out that Clem Drew was not going to be the chosen one as everyone had been expected. His rivalry with Fitz was common knowledge and everyone was very aware that whoever became the new broom would sweep the agency clean. Word had gotten out about the Rebakor debacle and it’d shot around the agency gossip grapevine very swiftly. Frank Bergenson’s imminent retirement was becoming something of a lightning rod. Employees had to make sure they didn’t get on the wrong side of the next king. There was no doubt that Clem was far more popular than Fitz within the agency rank and file but as Clem knew only too well, people jump ship when it starts sinking.
One o’clock came around quickly. Clem skipped lunch and headed down to the photography studio on the forty-second floor. All the main players were in attendance -- Frank Bergenson, Earl Chambliss, James Molinaire, Kurt Fitzgerald and Fitz’s creative guys, Gerard and Patrick.
Chuck Svensen was a notable senior management absentee and understandably so, considering that no one gave a flying fuck about consulting him to approve the campaign they were all gushing about. At least he could piss off Frank by being a no-show.