Claire remembered the day because as they sat to eat Anthony asked her if she had swum in the outdoor pool yet, it was heated. After so much time following his rules and being incarcerated inside, her bravado failed her, she started to cry. Her reaction obviously surprised him. Through muffled tears Claire replied, “This is the first time I have been outside in two months. I didn’t think I was allowed to go outside.”
If he had been moved initially at her emotional response, he quickly recovered. “Yes, that is correct. I do know exactly how long it has been since you have been outside.” His voice resumed the authoritative tone she despised. “And I am happy to see that you still remember who is in control of your access to additional privileges.”
Claire nodded her head ever so slightly to indicate yes, she understood. Anthony cleared his throat. She looked into his eyes trying to blink the tears away from hers. “Yes, I understand. But I truly love being outside.”
“Surely you are smart enough to figure this out,” Anthony teased.
Confused and upset by the loss of her falsely perceived equality, she said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Claire, I am an important man. I have hundreds of thousands of people in hundreds of companies that depend upon me for their livelihood. I balance a lot on my plate. Being observant to your wants and whims is not on my priority list. If you want to go outside, ask.”
The simplicity startled her and the reality made her ill. She was an adult and she was asking permission to go outside. Her memory seemed foggy, but she couldn’t recall doing that since she was maybe ten or eleven. It was one of his tests. Would she surrender to his authority or would she refuse and spend the summer inside? If she surrendered was it really submission or was it her way of controlling the situation? The internal debate continued for such a short time.
“Anthony, may I please leave the house and go outside?”
“You may be outside. Do not leave the property without me or my permission.” His tone continued, but Claire’s only concern was his meaning, “Remember to be available to me whenever I am here. Therefore, no wandering the grounds if I am present. And you must be in your suite at five each evening for instructions. Can you follow these rules?”
“Oh yes, I can.” It may still be a prison, but it had just multiplied in size.
Greed, for lack of a better word is good . . .
Greed in all its forms for life, for money, for love,
forknowledgehasmarkedtheupwardsurgeofmankind. —Gordon Gekko, Wallstreet
Chapter 7
The cloud of smoke levitating near the suspended ceiling created a haze, making the florescent lights appear dim within the small office. Nathaniel clenched his teeth while analyzing the figures. Since taking the company public, the numbers showed profits. The stock continued to grow, and industry reports were favorable. Rawls Corporation was in the black. And considering the current economic climate of the seventies, that was good. The problem is Nathaniel Rawls doesn’t want good. He isn’t content with black. He wants more, a lot more. The sound of the furnace blowing warm air created a hypnotizing hum. He leaned back, took a long draw on his cigarette, and rubbed his temples. How could he make the figures in the profit column multiply? Hell, others are doing it. He wanted to too.
Punching the black button on the small box, he said, “Connie, get Samuel in here now.”
The crackling voice responded immediately, “Yes, sir, Mr. Rawls.”
Samuel entered the small paneled office inhaling the suspended cloud. The sight of his father hunched over the books and spreadsheets meant only one thing: he was in for the “We can do better” speech. “Yes, Father, did you want me?”
“Have you seen the latest figures?”
“Yes. Sales to major distributors are up 18 percent.”
“That is chicken feed. Textiles can’t make shit in the United States. We have to revisit the idea of moving operations out of country. In Mexico, we can produce the same merchandise for less than a quarter of what it costs here. Hell, the unions here in Jersey are costing us a fortune.”
Samuel learned long ago to pacify his father, let him blow off some steam and things would settle. “We have looked into that. The problem is that we would lay off hundreds of workers who have been loyal through the years. Besides, as I said, we are in the black.”
Nathaniel blew a cloud of smoke toward his son. “I’ve decided to hire Jared Clawson as CFO, chief financial officer. The man has some innovative ideas.”
“Didn’t he just leave New England Energy amid allegations of illegal activities?”
“Nothing was proven. Besides, I have seen the figures. When Clawson was assisting with finance at NE Energy, their profits were through the roof. Since his departure, they’re doing well to keep the grids going.” Samuel remained silent. “The man is a damn genius. We’ve met a few times. He believes Rawls has potential and has some great ideas.”
Samuel knew his opinion didn’t matter. If Nathaniel’s mind was made up, Jared Clawson was coming on board. The only thing he could do was watch and do his best to stop anything illegal before it began. “The contracts with Huntington House are in their final stages. They have plans for a whole new clothing line. The potential for revenue is huge. They have distributors all up and down the East Coast.”
“Damn chicken feed.”
A strong positive mental attitude will create
moremiraclesthananywonderdrug. —Patricia Neal
Chapter 8
Survival for the last two months was facilitated by a technique Claire called compartmentalization. She couldn’t bare the entirety of her situation, but she could handle a part at a time. The colossal lapse in judgment that brought her to this circumstance; the treatment, punishment, or consequence that he felt he had the right or ability to carry out; the duties he could tell her to do, and the fact that she obeyed—all were too much. She had to separate them and deal with them in small manageable bits. Some days that was possible. Other days it was more difficult.
Her morning workouts now included swimming and weight training. Exercise supposedly produced endorphins, and endorphins helped elevate mood. That seemed like a good idea.
Before she was allowed outside, Claire spent many afternoons with a blanket and a good movie. The lower level of the house contained a movie theater. With Anthony’s busy schedule, she wondered if he ever used it. It held hundreds, if not thousands, of digital movies. Claire loved the classics, especially musicals. She could lose an entire afternoon curled up in a large soft recliner watching happy people sing and dance. It was a magnificent escape from reality.