I take my time, wanting as many of the employees as possible to recognize me, to remember my ignominious departure. It’ll be good for morale, I think. Or good for the morale of my staff, the ones I take from this godforsaken place.
Kenneth’s office. It might as well have been Valhalla for all Alex saw of it. Not once was I, was he, summoned to this floor.
I stride into the room, letting my eyes wander over the paintings, the walls, the furnishings. Let Kenneth think I’m in an avaricious mood. Let him think my eye is on his job.
Kenneth sits behind his desk (with the window behind him, no doubt wanting the light to illuminate him and make him appear godlike and strong, but I’ve read the books, too, Kenneth, it won’t work). “Have a seat,” he says, indicating the chairs in front of his desk.
“I’ll stand, thank you,” I say, and walk over to a side window, peering out at the view of London.
I hear Kenneth’s chair sliding back across the carpet, the wheels squeaking ever so slightly. “I understand you’ve been poaching my clients,” says Kenneth, the façade of friendliness gone.
I turn to face him. “Poaching?” I say, one eyebrow raised incredulously. “Your clients?” I tilt my head and appear to think. “I didn’t know you owned any clients. How curious.”
He flushes. “You know what I mean. I want them back. They were mine first.”
Bet he was the bully on the playground. Every school has one.
I shrug. “So sorry, but that’s for them to decide. They like my campaign ideas. If you can do better I’m sure they’ll go back to you next year.”
“I’ll sue you, you smug bastard.”
I laugh. I stand in Kenneth’s office, the window now at my back, illuminating me, and I laugh in his face. “For what? Fair competition?”
His face turns an ugly mottled red. “For poaching. For breach of contract.”
I sigh. “Prosecute me if you want. My lawyers will look forward to taking your money.”
“Give me back my clients.”
Wah, wah, wah. Alexander stole my blankie, Mummy. Make him give it back.
“Kenneth, you’re getting tedious. You’re like a parrot. Now why don’t you shut up and listen to me?”
He just gapes at me, stunned.
Does my language shock him? Has no one ever told him to shut up before? I can’t imagine why not, he’s such a wearisome old windbag.
When he remains quiet—from outrage as much as anything else I should think—I continue: “Good. That’s better. If you’d bothered to do a little homework, Kenneth, you’d know that I’m not in breach of contract. There’s nothing in my contract about taking clients with me. And I didn’t even take them with me, they came to me afterwards. You can take me to court and try to sue me but you’ll lose. Can you really afford to waste all that money, Kenneth? What would dear Elizabeth say?”
He seems to fade a little, almost to deflate, and I know I’ve hit it right on the button. He’s having financial difficulties.
Poor Kenneth. Is he having to worry about making the mortgage payments? (If he even has a mortgage, which I doubt. Maybe it’s just Elizabeth’s lavish tastes he’s finding difficult to support.)
“You’re right.” Kenneth’s voice is a croak, and if he weren’t such a bastard I’d feel sorry for him.
No, I wouldn’t, but Alex might have done. Alex would have done—I was such a sucker. Alex would have felt sorry for Kenneth, and Alex would have given him a bone to tide him over so he’d feel better and then Kenneth would have snatched the whole bloody bag. But I will do no such thing. I know what I have to do to succeed and helping out pitiful little (and I’m not talking short) men like Kenneth isn’t part of the program.
Kenneth sighs. “I’ve already looked at the contract.” He runs a hand through his thinning hair and then he straightens, visibly regaining his stature like a balloon being filled with hot air. “I have a proposition for you, young man,” he says, his voice brisk, businesslike, back to normal.
“A proposition?” I can’t believe this. “First you invite me into your office and you threaten and insult me, and now you want to make me an offer?”
Kenneth nods. “We’re both men of business, Alexander. We know how these things work.”
I want to snort and laugh in his face, but I don’t. I’m enthralled. Whatever will he say next?
“How would you like to come back to Wilmington-Wilkes? As one of our directors?”
“You’re serious?” I say, keeping my voice neutral.
“Yes, of course. I can see now what a valuable contribution you made to my company. To our company. I’ll make it financially worth your while. Salary is not an issue.”
I doubt he can match my current earnings, but I keep silent on that point. It’s not important now.
“If I’m such a valuable contributor, why did you sack me?” I ask, no more pussy-footing around.
A muscle twitches in his cheek and I stare at it in fascination. Does he feel his empire crumbling about him?
“Yes, well, I’m sorry for all that, I must say. I was led astray by rather unfortunate advice,” he says.
Lame, I think, lame, lame, lame. “You didn’t bother to check the facts. You wouldn’t listen to me. You didn’t wait for an investigation. You didn’t even wonder if Jed was lying.”
“Why would Jed lie? He’s one of our best employees.”
“He was screwing my girlfriend.”
I can see this isn’t what Kenneth was expecting.
“Ah,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t give me a chance. You didn’t want to hear what I had to say. You’d made your judgement.”
“What can I do to make it up to you?” Kenneth looks earnest now and I wonder how far he’ll go.
“Jed will have to be punished,” I say.
“Of course. He lied to me.”
“Yes, he did lie to you, Kenneth, but he also got me sacked and that’s what I consider to be the more important offense. And wrongdoers have to be punished in kind, do they not?” No, I don’t believe they do, vengeance can be mutable, but for Jed that’s what I want.
Kenneth licks his lips. “What are you saying?”
“Jed will have to be sacked. Immediately. In my presence. He has to be sacked and the papers signed and sealed so that there’s no going back. I refuse to work with him.”
No hesitation. “Done. I’ll do it.”
Poor Jed. I know he thinks Kenneth really likes him. That they’re buddies in a weird sort of master-and-servant way.
“Now,” I insist. “Do it now.” I’m relentless, eager. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for ever since I was reborn as Alexander.
“Now?”
“Yes,” I say. “Or I’m walking out this door.”
Kenneth sits, defeated.
I step closer, pointing at his phone. “Call him,” I say. “Summon him here.”
Kenneth does as I order, and five minutes later Jed knocks and walks into Kenneth’s office. To say that he’s shocked to see me there is like saying that Romeo was merely a tiny bit glum to find Juliet dead. Jed’s floored. He can’t believe his eyes.
“Hello, Jed,” I say. “How’s Sarah?”
(Have you had any clues that she’s no longer so keen on you?)
“She’s good,” Jed says, looking from me to Kenneth, wondering what’s going on.
I indicate Jed with a sweep of my arms. “Proceed, Kenneth,” I say.
“I’m sorry, Jed,” says Kenneth.
I clear my throat. “You’re sorry?” I ask Kenneth. “Your employee lied to you and you’re sorry?”
“Look, I can explain,” says Jed, obviously knowing I’d spilled the beans. “I was crazy, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was jealous.”
I laugh. “So you admit it? Good. Carry on, Kenneth.”
Kenneth sighs. “You’re sacked, Jed.”
“What? But what did I do?” His eyes dart about the room, seeking a way out.
But there is no escape. Not from Alexander.
“For lying to me.” Kenneth’s voice is getting stronger and I’d guess it’s slowly dawning on him just exactly what Jed did. Is Kenneth starting to feel a little outrage on his own behalf? “And for causing me to lose my most valuable employee.”
“Valuable employee?” Jed’s mouth drops. “Him?” he says, pointing at me.
Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to point?
I’m happy to help clarify the situation for him. “I’ve gone into the business,” I say. “I’m a competitor now.”
“I don’t know what he’s been telling you,” says Jed, pleading with Kenneth, “but he’s a nobody. Nothing. A loser. He’ll never amount to anything.”
Was that how Jed saw me? Saw Alex? He thought I was nothing? That I was less than nothing?
But what does that say for Sarah who spent two years with me?
Jed’s right. I’d agree with him. Alex was a loser. And that means that Sarah must also be a loser for losers always stick together, right? Therefore, by association, Jed’s labeled himself a loser too. I could go along with that.
Jed’s still pleading, but I can see that Kenneth’s eyes have glazed over. He’s not listening. Kenneth can’t afford to listen. “You don’t have to worry about his so-called competition. I’ll take care of him,” says Jed. “Come on, Kenneth, you can trust me. You can rely on me.”
“Obviously not,” says Kenneth, pressing a button on his desk. “If you were going to use my company to carry out your own personal vendettas you should have made damn sure they worked and didn’t blow up in your face. I don’t appreciate being stuck in the back draught.”
Jed flushes. “But—”
“You’re sacked, Jed.”
“Please, I can—”
The door opens and two beefy security guards step in. Not the two who were present for my sacking, I’m sorry to say, and I wish they were, for it would have made the whole thing that little bit more perfect. It would have been a complete and absolute form of poetic justice, but I don’t mind, not really, it’s near enough to perfect as it is.
“You’ll pack your things and leave immediately,” says Kenneth.
Jed swallows. “What about severance?”
“You’ll get the normal package.”
“Uh-uh,” I say, wagging my finger. “The contract states you aren’t required to give severance in the case of misconduct.” Alex sure as hell wasn’t given any.
Kenneth closes his eyes for a moment, clutching the edge of his desk. When he reopens his eyes, his words are clipped. “No severance package,” he says.
Jed stares at me as the security guards escort him out.
Is he wondering how he could have so misjudged me? But that’s just it. He didn’t misjudge me. Doesn’t he realize that he helped to create me? He’s like Dr. Frankenstein. I am who I am because of what he did to me. He’s my creator, not the sole creator, but the leader in charge of creating the monster.
It’s because of Jed that I have my own company, that I have Camilla and the lifestyle she represents, that I’m on the board of E-genes. Without Jed none of this would have happened. And now Jed is getting his just reward. Let’s see what he does with a little adversity. Will it make a new man of him?
Once Jed is gone and the door is closed, Kenneth speaks: “When can you start?”
“I want to see the paperwork,” I say. “The papers about Jed.”
“Fine.” Kenneth looks annoyed, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s made his choice and now he has to live up to it.
Kenneth rings his PA, gives her instructions, and she enters a few minutes later with a document. Kenneth signs it with a flourish and hands it to me to read. This paper terminates Jed’s employment, stating serious misconduct as the cause. I read it and hand it back to the PA who takes it from the room.
“I’d like a copy for myself,” I say.
“Why?”
“To ensure he doesn’t return.”
“He’s been released, he’s betrayed me, he’s guilty. He’s not coming back,” says Kenneth. “I won’t take him back. I need employees I can trust to tell me the truth.”
So long as you remember that.
“One other thing,” I say.
“What is it?”
“I’d like the expenses of the entertainment of the Shire Horse representatives to be refunded to me. You’ll have to take it out of Jed’s last pay packet. He is the one to blame.”
“Consider it done. Anything else?”
“Just my copy of Jed’s dismissal.” I’m going to frame it and hang it on the wall so I can look at it when I stare at my daisies. (Not that I’m planning on sleeping in my room now that Amber’s bed is available.)
Kenneth rings his PA. “Make a copy for Alexander.”
Doesn’t he know he’s supposed to say please to the ladies?
He folds his hands on his desk. “Now, enough of this. When are you starting? When are you returning my clients to the fold?”
“Starting?” I ask.
“Working for Wilmington-Wilkes?”
“Oh, that. I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll think about it?”
“That’s what I said,” I say. “You can fax me your offer. I need details, Kenneth, and then I’ll think about it.”
“But I sacked Jed. I liked Jed.”
I shrug. “It needed to be done. He did lie to you, Kenneth. You can’t have people like that around you. You said so yourself.”
“But I sacked him. For you. That’s what you asked for.”
“Yes. And you did well. Now I’ll think about your proposition. You can’t expect me to decide without the figures in front of me. Good-bye, Kenneth.”
And I leave his office before he can respond, picking up my photocopy of Jed’s dismissal form from the PA on my way out.
and he scores
Sucker. Kenneth is a fool. I have absolutely no intention of joining Wilmington-Wilkes. Not soon. Not ever. I’m my own man now. Why would I want to subordinate myself to Kenneth? I’m not that gullible. I won’t succumb to a little bit of flattery. And there wasn’t even much flattery: Kenneth obviously needs more practice eating humble pie. I’ll see what I can do about that in the future.
For the rest of my life I’ll treasure the look on Jed’s face when he saw me standing in Kenneth’s office looking like I owned the place.
And maybe one day I will. If Kenneth’s finances are ailing perhaps Wilmington-Wilkes will be susceptible to a takeover bid. Wouldn’t that be something if in a few months or next year Platypus-fox buys out Wilmington-Wilkes? Not a merger of equals. A takeover. A hostile takeover. It’s worth keeping in mind. And the first thing I’d do is get rid of the Wilmington-Wilkes name. The whole entity could be known as Platypus-fox or Platypus-fox and Fairfax. I’ll see when the time comes.
I am the giver of vengeance. Jed has been reduced to dust. My opponent has been vanquished and I am the victor.
paving the way for the future
I head to the Embankment and sit on a bench near Cleopatra’s Needle. It’s nearly time for me to collect Amber and head down to Surrey for my father’s birthday dinner, but I told Camilla I would ring her, so I do.
As we’re talking and Camilla is telling me about her day, it suddenly strikes me how glad I am that I invited Amber along tonight. If I’d asked Camilla I’d be spending the evening dreading the moment when my mother discussed the time I peed all over the back seat of my father’s brand new car when I was three, or the time I put my pet worms on the pillow beside my head and how they dried out and died overnight and how I was inconsolable with grief for a week. But for some reason I’m not worried about Amber learning these things. I have no need to hide my past from her: she won’t care where I’ve come from or what I’ve done, she doesn’t judge people like that.
And I don’t really feel like seeing Camilla tonight, I’m too wired, too full of energy after the day I’ve
had and I might want to shout, to leap, to run and jump, and Camilla would approve of none of those things. It’s good I’m seeing Amber instead. She’ll jump with me if I want her to.
When Camilla invites me over I say, with a tone of regret, that I have to entertain clients tonight and it’s not a social outing so she can’t join us.
She’s pouting, I know she’s pouting: I can hear it in her voice.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Why don’t you come over to my office after work tomorrow? We can eat and maybe look at property.” (It’s time I start looking for a place of my own.)
“Property?”
Aha. I bet she’s sitting up now.
“I want to buy a house,” I say, “and I’d appreciate your advice.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Something in London with a minimum of four bedrooms so I won’t have to move when I get married and have children.”
Have I stunned her? Is she shocked to hear a man talking about marriage like he really wants to do it?
“What sort of area?” Her voice is warm, it’s practically purring, and I know I’ve got her on my hook.
“I trust you,” I say. “Think of somewhere you’d like to live. A place we’d be happy to stay in for a number of years.”
I throw in that little “we” deliberately to see if she’ll notice, to see if she’ll comment.
“Leave it with me,” she says. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try and make us some appointments for tomorrow night.”
Us, she said. Appointments for the both of us and not just for me.
It’s like we’re speaking in a subtle code, neither of us wanting to come out and say what we’re thinking exactly but willing to hint at what we’re feeling. (Or pretending to feel.)
Being Alexander Page 23