Awakening, 2nd edition

by Kuili, Ray N.

  Chris knocked on the table and cleared his throat.

  “Thank you, Stella , for sharing your interesting perspective with us . I ’m glad we ’ve talked this over . Now let ’s move on. We have a draw to finish. Joan—”

  “I think Stella touched upon a very important subject, ” Michael said, softly interrupting him. “Does anyone disagree with what she ’s said?”

  Chris was stunned.

  “What are you talking about? Let it go. Why don ’t we also agree not to set this house on fire? Of course everyone agrees with what she ’s just said. Isn ’t that obvious?”

  “Is it?” Michael asked thoughtfully.

  “What kind of a question is that ?” Kevin reacted , appalled . “We ’re not out of our minds ; we wouldn’t play those kind s of games. I deal with enough backstabbing at work.”

  Michael studied the faces.

  “Okay. Seems that everyone is in agreement. Let ’s move on then.”

  Chris shook his head in slight frustration.

  “I agree that was an interesting discussion, but let ’s try to stay focused. Otherwise we won ’t be done with this draw before lunch time .”

  He shook his head again and turned back to the flipchart.

  “Fine, we skip Alex. Who ’s next?”

  Joan, with barely noticeable irritation, looked sideways at Stella and drew the next piece of paper from the bowl.

  “Brandon,” she announced.

  “When it comes to my past, there ’s one thing you can be sure of, ” Alan began. “There ’s nothing unusual about it.”

  He opened his hands with a winning smile.

  “It’s the unremarkable past of an unremarkable A-grader. Of course, I could tell you where I was born, who my parents were, at what age I went to kindergarten, names of my friends at preschool and the names of the boys I fought with, the name of my first -grade teacher, the subjects I liked the most, and the name of the town where we moved when I was twelve. But something tells me that this information would only exemplify how ordinary my bio is. Plus, to be honest, I don ’t remember the names of my preschool friends , nor do I have any recollection of my first—grade teacher ’s name or even what she looked like .

  “Truth be told, I do remember the name of my last teacher , along with the fact that I had a thing for her. Back then I was under the impression that this striking young woman was attracted to me beyond the usual teacher-student relationship ; however , speaking about this today would be nothing but a miserable attempt to stir some cheap interest. So I ’m not about to bore you with all the tedious details and milestones of my path to this room ; instead I’ll entertain you with a few select episodes from my past. These episodes are directly related to the subject of our course and, at the same time, won ’t lull you off to sleep. Come to think of it, ” he pondered for a second, “I ’ll even ignore the chronological order.”

  He’s good, Stella thought, looking at the slender figure dressed as usual in light colors. He ’s really good, you have to give him that. He knows how to talk to people. His speech is so crisp, so clear, so witty and charming, and it benefits so much from his fresh smile, which seems much more natural than Chris’s flashy but unquestionably artificial smile . You ’d think that , of all the people in this room, Alan would not be able to score too high in this particular exercise. Everyone around is likely to have more stories to tell than this boy. You wouldn ’t expect him to tell anything comparable to the kind of stories Rob and Brandon are likely to present. And what do you know, he ’s using this obvious shortcoming to his advantage!

  Instead of trying to impress us, he stands up and says, “I don ’t have much to tell, I ’m boring, I ’m average . . . Don ’t expect a lot from me.” And next, he turns this message upside down. True, I haven ’t been around as long as you have (hey, it ’s because I ’m young in case you haven ’t noticed), but to tell you the truth, I do have stories to share. And you ’re going to listen to me, and you ’re going to relate to my stories, and you ’re going to laugh with me. And you ’re going to realize that I ’m a first-rate leader despite —or perhaps because of—my young age .

  And he’s all business now. It ’s hard to believe that this is the same guy who was proclaiming last night, “I ’m not ambitious. I just want the world to drop dead at the sight of my awesomeness, that ’s all.” Although he probably meant it.

  Yes, he’s good. There ’s one peculiarity in his behavior today though. Why is he glancing so often at Joan? At times it looks as if his speech is intended for her ears only. This is a mistake. People will take a note of this. Although he ’s not the only one whose eyes gaze too often in the direction of the blonde hair /blue eyes combo. Paul is in the same camp. Okay, all the men here glance at her every now and then, but these two are much more active than they were yesterday. Makes you wonder why . . .

  “ . . .Imagine this, ” Alan was saying , mean while, “I ’m at my first meeting ever with clients who are real important. There are three of them—real enterprise -level folks. Representing our company are our director, a couple of general managers, and a few other big shots. And of course, yours truly, proud and eager. We all meet at some super luxury athletic club, proceed into their restaurant, sit down, order some ridiculously expensive food and start a lofty business conversation. This meeting being so important, we expect the arrival of our VP. He ’s late but, being a VP, he can afford to be . I ’m keeping a low profile, being the least important person at the table, but whenever an opportunity presents itself, I open my mouth and say something shrewd and insightful. Everything goes without a hitch : the clients are happy, our big shots are happy, my director is happy, eve ryone seems to appreciate my comments, so I ’m happy too.

  “Finally our VP arrives. What a great timing, I ’m thinking, I ’ve just spent the last fifteen minutes honing my image and becoming a respectful member of this gathering, so now it ’s show time, baby! He walks in and everyone stands up for the usual handshakes and greetings . He knows everyone on our side, save for me, and has never met the clients. So he shakes hands with everyone, listens to introductions, repeats his own name every time . . . n ice to meet you . . . terrific to meet you . . .” Alan squeezed an imaginary hand, “Nice to meet you . . . Finally he meets all the client reps, shakes hands with me, listens to my name and , exactly in the same tone , repeats his , ‘Nice to meet you.’ And then this crazy thought hits me . . .” Alan quieted for a moment, “He probably took me for one of them! And, being fast and sm art, I immediately inform him that I work for our company, not for theirs. He gives me this extremely lengthy look, trying to internalize this revelation , and then says , ‘Despite that fact, it is still nice to meet you.’ And all those bastards giggle and snort.”

  Stella chuckled with the rest of the room. Another well -measured portion of self-irony. Look at me : I ’m not perfect, I make mistakes, I ’m down to earth . . . Self-irony is a very powerful tool, if, of course, you don ’t get carried away and end up turn ing yourself into a clown. I wonder , does he know where to draw the line?

  He knew. One more story depicted him in a funny light and this time made his listeners laugh. But then funny stories somehow transformed smoothly into stories of a different kind, in which, instead of making blunders , he was making sound decisions and handling tough situations. And these decisions were anything but trivial, and the situations were anything but simple and at times were even ethically challenging. And he was assuming responsibility and wasn ’t afraid of dangerous consequences and fought fearlessly for his people, and sometimes even suffered the wrath of his management for his tendency to explore un beaten paths.

  Not only did he know where to draw the line, but he also knew very well where to draw the next one. At some point the dramatic stories faded away , replaced by further stories. In these stories , he was making mistakes but later they somehow miraculously turned into victories.

  He knew a lot, and when he didn ’t know something, his gut instinct helped hi
m . So when his speech was over, they all applauded —although had anyone asked them an hour ago whether he would get such a reaction, they would only have snort ed in response. And he glanced again at Joan and headed for his seat—slender, offensively young and extremely confident. As for Joan , she smiled a mysterious smile, which he did not find mysterious at all.

  Their generosity, however, had its limits. Stella, who was next in line, did not get any applause, although , after hearing their reaction to Alan ’s speech , she had been keeping her hopes high. At first everything was going well—the story of a not-so-popular schoolgirl was getting their attention, just as planned. She covered the incident at a Miami summer camp (she had to skip the juiciest parts), told them how her entire class had boycotted a lesson at her instigation , and mentioned her face-off with the school principal. The part about her a ikido studies even sparked some approving murmur s from her audience, and she had the impression that , for the first time , Robert was looking at her with some interest. But somewhere in the middle of her speech something went wrong.

  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was clear that she had lost the momentum. The contact with the audience that she had just managed to establish began thinning rapidly and in less than ten minutes was gone altogether. She saw clearly that they were listening to her with cold, polite attention—but without a hint of interest. Of course, they didn ’t stop smiling; Chris ’s smile alone could ’ve illuminated the room had the sun decided to hide behind the clouds. But these smiles were fake, and their boredom was shining through. Only the expression on Brandon ’s face and the intent gaze of Robert ’s eyes remained unchanged .

  These fake smiles maddened her. And once she beca me angry, she turned into the woman they had seen for a second in front of them ten minutes ago when she was speaking about a greedy power-seeking corporate monster —a decisive, rigid and uncompromising woman . Someone commanding respect, but not sympathy. A whistle -blowing bitch. And it was as a whistle -blowing bitch that she delivered the rest of her story, smiling almost furiously and barely concealing her irritation. As she was walking back to her seat, there was only one thought on her mind: Now these rascals will never vote for me!

  “Time for a break?” asked Chris, checking his watch. “We ’ve been talking for two hours now. The stories are marvelous, by the way. Stella, you rock. So, back in ten minutes?”

  “How do you like it so far?” Joan asked.

  “It’s okay, ” said Stella. “At least it doesn ’t lull me off to sleep. What about you?”

  Joan waited a second before answering. They were alone in the boardroom . Alex had disappeared somewhere as soon as Chris had uttered the word ‘break ’, closely followed by Robert . A s for everyone else, Chris had taken them to the balcony , “For a breath of fresh air .” Stella ’s initial inclination was to join them, but the fresh memories of her fiasco made her change her mind and stay indoors .

  Now the two women , smiling sweetly at each other , talked at the deserted table. Something in the way they spoke and held themselves made them look like a couple of watchful cats, circling each other, ready at any moment to spring away or to attack with their razor-sharp claws.

  “Yeah, it’s okay, ” Joan said finally. “Not exactly what I expected, but okay.”

  Stella nodded in understanding.

  “Yep. It was hard to expect anything , actually. What they had given us upfront was too murky.”

  They went silent.

  “That thing you said this morning . . .” said Joan, cautiously breaking the silence. “So, do you know anything?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You said something about playing fair, about the line you don ’t want us to cross . . . Was this just in case, sort of preventive medicine, or do you know for sure that something sleazy has been going on?”

  “Ah, that,” Stella smiled lightly. “Funny, I had the impression you weren ’t too happy about that discussion.”

  “What?” Joan was clearly surprised by this observation. “No, not at all.”

  “Is that an honest answer?”

  Joan’s smile vanished.

  “Yes, it is, ” she said, with haughty notes in her voice. “I don ’t see why you would doubt my honesty.”

  “Fine,” Stella didn ’t mind smiling alone. “Then you can safely assume that it was pure ly in terms of preventive medicine.”

  “Safely assume . . . What ’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that my answer is as honest as the one you just gave me. There are only two of us in this boys ’ club, and of course we support each other wholeheartedly. So we ’re done, right?”

  Joan sighed heavily.

  “All right. Suppose I was irritated by your little speech this morning.”

  “Suppose I have some information.”

  Stella fell silent again.

  “And?”

  “And what? You and I have just shared our hunches. Is there anything else to talk about?”

  “I wasn’t happy, ” Joan said grimly, “because it seemed to me that you were trying to turn everybody against everybody else.”

  “The information I have is rather curious, ” Stella parried.

  “But now I see that I was wrong about your intentions.”

  “But come to think of it, this information may prove to be completely useless.”

  “What else do you expect me to say?” Joan asked dryly.

  “The same thing Clark wan ted from us yesterday : t he truth.”

  “I’ve already told you the truth.”

  “And I’ve told you everything I kn o w, ” Stella rose to her feet, setting her jacket straight. “Guess we can go and get some fresh air.”

  “Fine,” Joan ’s voice became unmistakably stiff. “I wasn ’t happy about your speech, because it was taking attention away from me. Although it beats me why you ’d want to make me say that.”

  Stella returned to her seat.

  “Because there ’s enough scheming going on here without us adding to it .”

  “What do you make of Michael?” she asked without any segue.

  “He’s good, ” Joan said briefly. “Why?”

  Stella studied her accurately manicured fingernails with utmost attention.

  “In case you ’ve been considering, ” she lifted he head, “voting for him, there ’s an interesting piece of information to take into account.”

  A wary expression appeared on Joan’s face.

  “Are we talking about voting already?”

  “Oh no, of course we ’re not , ” Stella once again studied the results of her manicuring efforts and apparently found them satisfactory. “You ’re right, it ’s too early to talk about voting. But there ’re things you may find useful.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the little conversation that took place yesterday at the bar. After you and I left, Michael waited until half of the guys left too and then gave everyone who stayed an earful about his relationships with his wife. The way he put it, he used to show that woman her place on a regular basis. In other words, he had been abusing her for year s . He spent at least half an hour telling them how important it was to teach women a lesson and how they should be forever grateful to men for letting them have fun at men ’s expense. His wife had finally had enough and filed for divorce and took everything poor Michael had been sweating for, but he hired a good lawyer and once again put her where she belonged—this time for good.”

  Joan shook her head in disguise.

  “What a pig. He seems like such a nice guy. But why did he bother to boast about it? And what does this have to do with the voting?”

  “Everything. Some of our boys liked the story. Our fearless cutie leader Chris, for example, said that this was the only way to treat those bitches. And our manliest man on Earth Robert didn ’t mind hearing the story either. He was very pragmatic about it and reminded everyone to be always watchful with physical abuse. In this country, he said, you can ta
ke anyone to court and prove anything you want as long you have enough money. Michael said that was exactly his point. Anyway, yesterday night a close-knit fraternity was formed at the bar , with Michael as the founder and life and soul of the party.”

  Joan looked askance at the balcony, where Michael was discussing something with Chris.

  “You’d never think he ’s a wife-beater. So if he— Wait, ” she glanced at Stella with doubt. “How come you know about this?”

  Stella opened her hands.

  “Michael miscalculated the reaction of one of his listeners.”

  “Who?”

  “Would you tell me if you were in my place?” Stella asked innocently.

  Joan’s face lengthened.

  “I think you would, ” Stella was thinking out loud. “So, I ’m going to tell you , too. Kevin.”

  “Kevin?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And why all of a sudden did he decide to tell you?”

  “Who knows,” Stella ’s jovial eyes were sparkling as if saying , “You ’re not the only one who get the men ’s attention here .”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Pretty much. Something bad had happened to his family and he was extremely pissed off at that story. Said Michael was an animal .”

  “What about his family?”

  “Can’t say, he was very vague about it . It ’s definitely an effort for him to discuss the subject. All I gathered from his mumbling was that there had been an accident and his wife had died—either alone or with the kids. And it wasn ’t too long ago.”

  “Oh my . . . What a shame.”

  “It is,” said Stella. “So he of all people is not going to vote for Michael.”

  Joan fell into thought .

  “Speaking of voting, ” she said finally, as if still in doubt whether it was wise to continue, “what if—”