“Cool.” Jay nodded as he unplugged the phone line from his laptop.
“But we have to think beyond today and making sure you haven’t been tracked here,” Donald said. “We still have to find out exactly what is going on, and make sure Michelle isn’t… isn’t going to get hurt.”
“The drive to Philly will help me think about that,” Jay said. He put his laptop in its carrying case. “We can talk about that on the way back here. Okay?”
Donald nodded. “Sounds fine with me.” It was the best plan they had for now.
MICHELLE HAD NEVER sat through such mindless bullshit in her life.
It was almost five p.m. and she’d been sitting in this meeting off and on now since eight o’clock.
When the hell is this shit going to end? she thought.
She was doing her best to look interested in what was going on. Sam was sitting next to her and Mr. Lawrence was directly across from him. Other members of corporate headquarters were there, and each officer gave a presentation to the executive staff of Red Rose Medical Insurance, the company they were in town to consult with. Michelle had been introduced to each Red Rose associate at a mixer during the lunch hour, and learned about the role she’d be playing in assisting them. It was normal everyday stuff as far as she was concerned. Dennis Harrington and Alma Smith were in attendance and they looked the same—vacant and glazed, like zombies. In fact…
When Michelle saw them this morning she paid attention to their mannerisms. She feigned listening to whatever presenter was droning on about corporate profits or whatever, and stole occasional glances at Alma and Dennis. They sat in rapt attention, as if soaking it all in. Her mind wandered, wishing she was back home where she’d be no doubt hanging out at her house over a leisurely morning pot of coffee and a book or magazine, maybe even a television show with Donald. Instead she was here, her entire weekend now ruined all because some suit she’d never met before had a bug up his ass about—
Her thoughts had been interrupted by Sam, who leaned close to her and whispered, “After the mixer today we’re having a private meeting with the people from corporate that I’d like you to be present at. I think you’ll find it quite interesting.”
“Great!” Michelle said, keeping the cheerful spirit in her voice.
Inside she was thinking, why the hell do we have to do this on a Saturday for God’s sake? Don’t you people have lives?
And now it was four hours after the mixer and the representatives from Red Rose had departed for the day. They’d reconvened in a smaller conference room and Michelle was introduced to several people from corporate. She smiled and nodded politely, repeating each name as they were introduced to her: Kevin Smith, Elliot Brand, Nick Dowd, Jim Andreas, Joe Carr, Gary Lawrence. When Michelle shook Gary’s hand she smiled. “Fancy meeting you again, Mr. Lawrence!”
Mr. Lawrence laughed. Sam was standing nearby. “I think we’ve got ourselves a winner here, Sam!”
Sam beamed. “I agree, Mr. Lawrence.”
Alan Perkins was in Chicago as well; Michelle saw him at the meeting and they’d acknowledged each other with polite nods from across the large conference table. After Michelle met the bigwigs of Corporate Financial, Alan approached and leaned close to her. “I see you got dragged out here, too,” he whispered.
Michelle laughed. “You can say that again!”
Alan grinned and made his way to the coffee pot as Sam returned from a brief conversation with Dennis Harrington and Mr. Lawrence, and began asking her about last night’s meeting.
And now it was closing in on five o’clock and Michelle was bored out of her mind.
The meeting had started with Sam welcoming Michelle to the group. “After careful consideration, I’ve chosen Michelle Dowling to head up the Building Products job. As you saw in the documents I sent to you all last month, Michelle possesses an impressive background and list of accomplishments from former stints at competing consulting firms. She did well in all her interviews, has exceeded my expectations at orientation and her first few weeks on the job, and I’m told she performed admirably this past week in El Paso. Results from last night’s meeting were very satisfactory to me. In fact, I’m so pleased with them that I’ve asked her to join us this afternoon to immerse her in our business, and I figured the best way to do that was to have one of these sessions with you, our corporate elite and our top performers.” Sam reminded Michelle of how a proud father would look giving away his daughter in marriage. “So… let’s begin!”
Despite that introduction, which originally made Michelle nervous, what followed was more of the mundane. Each executive stepped in front of the conference room and outlined specific guidelines and goals of each specific section of the business. While the meeting appeared to be directed to her, each presenter addressed the entire room. Everybody sat in rapt attention, including Sam Greenberg and the rest of the people from headquarters. Michelle tried paying attention, figuring there would be something she would need to know to perform her duties well, but as the hours wore on she realized that what was being presented was basically what she’d skimmed through in the employee manual. She struggled to stay interested, and during those moments her concentration from the presentation lagged, she at least tried to look interested.
And as the afternoon wore on and she grew more bored and fought harder to look interested in what was being said, she noticed that everybody in the room was sitting in rapt attention, listening to every word the presenter at the moment was saying.
At one point Michelle shook her head slightly to clear her mind. She’d caught herself slipping into a light trance. That weird tune that’d been floating in her head the night before resurfaced. It was soothing, intoxicating, and as she cleared the cobwebs from her mind she realized it was closing in on five in the afternoon and the presentation was nowhere close to finishing. She glanced covertly at the other people in the room. Nobody appeared to be uncomfortable or bothered that this meeting was taking so long. Nobody had excused themselves to go to the bathroom or attend to some other personal matter. At that thought, Michelle suddenly realized she hadn’t peed in hours. Her bladder felt heavy and full. She squirmed slightly in her seat and brought her legs close together. Nick Dowd was standing at the podium, going through a Power Point presentation. Michelle blinked. She didn’t remember when the overhead projector had been introduced to the meeting. For the first time, she realized the room was dark and everybody was still sitting upright like… like…
Like dummies.
A sharp pain in her bladder. She suppressed the urge to pee, glanced around quickly. Surely somebody should have gotten up before, she thought. Somebody getting out of their chair would have snapped me out of it, and I would have followed them but I didn’t because nobody’s gotten up yet to take a piss!
How is that possible?
There was a clock on the wall of the conference room, opposite the side Michelle was sitting at. She glanced at it quickly. Five o’clock on the dot. She’d been here for nine hours already, stuck in this place. What bullshit. She had to pee, and she didn’t care if Sam looked at her with disapproval.
She rose from her seat.
“—when funds are disbursed to these accounts they are held in suspension for two days, and then—” Nick said, then stopped as Michelle got up.
“Excuse me,” Michelle murmured politely. She attempted to squeeze past Sam’s chair.
A hand touched her arm lightly. Sam. “Where are you going?” He whispered. There was disapproval in his tone.