Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
“Just
who, in hell, do you think you're jerking off,” Sommer’s shouted, words
escaping through the cracks of the door.
Now,
Ted regretted Brad's warning not to become involved with Sommer’s.
A man with a reputation who had friends no
one wished to defy.
In a mad attempt to
smooth his clients ruffled feathers, nervously Ted replied, “Calm down Howard,
calm down.”
Chubby
fists thudding upon Ted's desktop bore Howard's weight.
Leaning over, his breath reeking of cigar
smoke, he spewed, “As much as you enjoy using that rod of yours, it would be a
real shame to lose it now, wouldn't it?”
Sommer's
reputation for carrying out threats surged to Ted's faltering mind, the words
rushing his throat colliding before escaping rationally.
“I apologize, Howard. I realize I have been
difficult to reach.
I'm back now and
promise your merger will take president.”
In
a flash, Howard's hands gripping the loose ends of Ted's tie tugged him half
way across the desk.
Warm, vile breath
rushed Ted’s nostrils.
“I'll give you
exactly one week.
Then, who knows what
will happen.”
Plump hands loosened their
hold.
Gradually, painstakingly he
straightened Ted's tie before shoving him backwards into his chair, “You owe me
a huge sum of money, my friend.
One way
or another, I intend to collect.
Got
it?”
Fear
clawed at Ted's chest.
Fighting to
unscramble his thoughts, he aspired to sound in control.
“No problem, Howard.
Honest!
I have everything ready to roll.
Our deal still stands, doe it not?
If I complete the merger, my debts will be wiped clean, right?”
“One week Peterson, or you'll undergo
a permanent sex change.”
Ted's
lungs did not expel the air trapped within until Howard turned to leave.
Sommer’s glare sliced the security guards
entering the office with intentions of physically removing him.
Clearing the gobs of fear from his throat,
Ted reassured the officers everything was under control.
Reluctantly stepping aside, they allowed
Sommer’s to exit as tempestuously as he arrived.
Worry
crunched Ted's face.
He felt like
hell.
It took him long moments to summon
Stacy to his office.
Having rescued him
from many a plight over the years, rarely did he keep anything from her.
Conceivably, she could come up with a plan for
this one.
Stacy
recalled Ted's invitation to Keller's holiday gala held annually the Saturday
before Thanksgiving, one week away.
The
timing would be perfect, she believed.
While attending the party he could use his abundant charms to influence
Keller to sign the merger.
The only
hitch was persuading Brad.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….................................................................…………………………………………………………….
Brad
arrived at the office a short time after Sommer’s departure.
His primary reasons for showing up at all
were to clear up some important matters before informing Maggie of his pending
leave of absence.
It was a surprise to
find Ted tending to business.
“It's about time.
Now, do not worry, I will take care of
everything.
You just go and have a good
time,” Maggie clucked, pecking him on the cheek.
Brad was locking his office door when
Ted approached. “Can I discuss a matter with you before you go,” Ted sheepishly
asked.
Ted looking pale and
anxious caused Brad to gesture with his hand toward his suite.
“Sure.
You caught me just in time.
What's the problem?”
No sooner did the
door click Ted blurted, “Have you had time to speak with Keller about the Sommer’s
merger?”
“Interesting you
should bring that up.
I told Keller to
forget it.
It's a bad idea.”
Fear registered in
Ted's ashen face, “You what?”
A frown scored Brad's forehead.
“Are you blind?
Sommer’s is an uncouth bastard.
I merely mentioned the possibility to Keller
because of my obligation to you.
My gut
feelings say no deal.”
Mashing the thick carpet, he padded
back and forth in front of Brad's desk.
Removing a hanky from his pocket, he wiped the moisture from his
brow.
Trying not to sound terribly
disappointed, he questioned, “Why not, for Gods’ sake?
The circumstances are perfect.
Keller has been searching for a construction
company to enable him to build a couple of high rises.
Sommer’s needs the capital to keep his
company afloat.
A merger would offer
both a way out of their predicaments plus put big bucks in our pockets.”
Brad's heightened suspicion over his
partner's behavior deepened his frown. “What's going on Ted?
What kind of hold does he have on you?
Are you in trouble?”
“Trouble?
Me?
No, it’s just that . . . I . . . promised Sommer’s.”
Unable to face Brad,
crossing the room Ted paused in front of the windows.
Jamming his fists into hip pockets, he stared
into space vividly recalling Sommer’s threat.
Heading in Ted’s direction, gripping
his shoulders Brad reeled him.
“Look at
me, Dammit.”
Clashing eyes made
crystal-clear Ted’s deceit.
With visible
heat flaming from his neck, “Christ, man, Sommer’s of all people, Jesus, he's
got a mean reputation.”
Knowing if he
touched his friend he would crush him, Brad walked away hoping to bottle his
temper.
Over the year’s he had bailed Ted
out of many gambling debts, each episode costing more than the last.
Unable to withdraw enough money from the
corporation without auditing questions, he tapped his own personal
accounts.
Feeling guilty after the last
payoff, Ted signed over a portion of his shares of the business to Brad vowing
never to gamble again.
Having put enough distance between
them, irritated to the max with Ted’s irresponsibility, Brad's voice bellowed,
“You've been gambling, haven't you, how much, God Dammit, how much?”
Ted felt the weight
of Brad's disappointment on a chest suddenly inflating with remorse.
“I know I promised. I have tried.
I swear!”
Clenched fists at his
sides squeezed the blood from Brad's knuckles.
Teeth gnashing he demanded, “How much?”
“Chill out, buddy.
This time there is no money involved. When I
complete the merger, he will wipe my slate clean.
I am giving it up. I have too. I have Sam
now.
I want to marry her.
Straighten my ass out.”
Reasoning processes shot to hell,
Brad slammed his fist into the back of his chair.
“Keller is not only a client, but a
friend.
He trusts me.
If I steer him wrong, it will be my ass, my
reputation.
What kind of friend are you
to, go against me, get my ass in a wringer, cause me to lose a valued client?”
Keeping sufficient distance between
them before he broke Ted's neck, Brad swiftly moved to the other side of the
room.
Facing the wall of shelves
peppered with books and memorabilia forced his glance to several photos
depicting happier times.
Shaking hands
withdrew a childhood memento as seniors in high school clad in footfall
uniforms, arms around each other sporting smiles of victory.
Next to the photo, a football, its lashes
frayed, leather tattered from use, the inscription on the front, “To a true
friend,”a
treasured Christmas gift from Ted.
Brad's eyes scanned the remaining pictures of
them, fishing, knee deep in water holding rods, net, and the catch of the day
measuring all of three inches in length, another, of them horseback riding, and
another in their beat up Chevy convertible.
Both held a favored brand of beer, the backseat crammed with beautiful
girls.
God, where did the time go, he
wondered silently.
Flash backs serving
to ease the sting of his temper.
Grabbing a photo, his voice steady and resolved he faced Ted, “How
much?”
Ted swiveled toward the glass wall
unable to witness Brad's reaction, his hands sinking deeper into his pockets
fumbling with keys and coins.
Hesitating
for a few moments, head lowered, he said faintly, “One million.”
A roar of powerless rage shattered
Brad's control.
An object wheezing past
barely missing Ted's skull dented the wall.
Looking at the fragmented wood and glass, Ted cringed at the sight of
the photo.
Brad's blood reaching its boiling
point made every follicle of hair stand on end as if struck by a bolt of
electricity.
Every filament of his body
trembled from the urge to explode.
Emphasizing and struggling with each word, he exclaimed, “This is the
last time, my friend.
Believe me when I
say this, you have pressed me too far, too long.
If you value what remains of our friendship,
tread lightly.
I will agree only because
of Sam.
Now, get out before I break you
in two.”
Like a scolded child,
Ted approached.
“I don't know what to
say, brother.
I'm sorry.
I know I don't deserve this.
I've given you a rough time .
.
. I”
Tightly squeezing his eyes closed,
Brad battled the pain and anger fighting for prominence.
Disgust turned him away from Ted.
A hand placed on a shelf supporting his
shaking body, fingernails turning white from the strength with which he
squeezed the wood kept him from striking his friend, “Get out of my sight. Get
out!”
Ted's hand reaching to touch Brad's
shoulder fell short slumping to his side instead.
Chin touching his chest he quietly closed
the door.
Sheepishly, he walked the
aisle lined with desks and curious faces.
Eyes never wavered from the floor as he made his way to his office.
Maggie was not the only one who overheard parts of the
conversation.
The shrill words and sound
of breaking glass tugged at everyone's curiosity and nerves.
It took all of her will power to remain
seated in her chair so desperate was she to sooth Brad.
Biting her nails, unconsciously swinging the
foot of her crossed leg under the keyhole of her desk, minutes ticked into an
hour before a blinking light consoled her.
Brad's backsides were leaning
against the front of his desk, head bowed, his feet crossed, hands pushed into
pockets.
Glancing at her, through puffy
blood shot eyes, “Maggie, get Keller on the phone right away please?”
She wanted to fling
herself at Brad, cuddle him against her breasts, and whisper endearments.
Instead, having time to collect her wits she
asked, “Are you alright?”