by Paul Byers
“It’s not every day I get to sit down next to— he paused a moment in mock thought. “— how did Art put it, oh yeah, ‘a real hero.’”
“Keep it up and guess who’ll be getting all the bridge retrofit inspections for the next six months?”
“Okay, okay, but seriously man, that was some piece of flying you did.”
“I got lucky, that’s all. I just hope the FAA doesn’t pull my license.”
Grant took a sip of his beer and set it down. “I don’t think so. You’ve seen all the press; the media loves you. The FAA might slap your hands in private and tell you never to do that again, but publicly there would be such an outcry if they took your license and I don’t think that’s something they want to deal with.”
“Maybe. I sure hope you’re right.” Pike took a sip of his coke and swished the ice around in this glass, it made a clinking sound, almost like ones of the old poker machines paying out a jackpot, but the ice also reminded him of something else.
“Have we heard anything from the Cain Corporation and the final inspection of his iceberg? Since I missed the press conference I wonder if we still have the contract?”
“I don’t know; George hasn’t said anything. It’s probably a fifty-fifty bet either way. Big corporations don’t like to be stood up and I’m sure there are a dozen firms lined up just pounding on the door ready to take our place.”
“Thanks for cheering me up, old buddy.”
A woman, about thirty with short blonde hair, wearing a two piece pant suit, looking like she just stepped out of a business meeting sat down on the other side of Pike. She looked at Pike, gave him a smile that you would greet any stranger with then, ordered a drink. Then slowly she turned back to him and her eyes lit up as she recognized him; suddenly the smile became a lot friendlier. “Aren’t you the pilot who saved all those kids today?”
“Yes, yes he is.” Grant said, slapping Pike on the back. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to the party.” Then he leaned next to his friend and whispered. “Remember, it’s good to be King.” Grant smiled at the woman and then walked back to the table.
“Hi, I’m Linda, a pleasure to meet you.” She said as she held out her hand. “Gabriel
Pike.” He shook her hand and he noticed she held on just a little too long. They had been talking for a few minutes when Pike suddenly felt a hand run across his shoulder, then felt the warmth of someone’s cheek brush up against his face and heard his name whispered in his ear. Startled, Pike jumped and turned to see who it was.
“Gees Marilyn, you scared me.” Pike shook his head as he turned back around. What he didn’t see was the look that Marilyn had given to Linda. It was the universal stare that one woman gives another, warning her to stay away or face the unpleasant consequences.
“It was nice talking to you Gabriel but I really have to run.” Linda said abruptly.
“Okay; it was nice meeting you too,” Pike replied, not knowing what he had said to upset her and have her leave so suddenly. He watched her leave then turned back to Marilyn. “I’ll never understand you women. One second you’re having a nice conversation and the next you’ll suddenly get up and leave.”
“Some women are just like that.” Marilyn said shrugging her shoulders, and smiling to herself.
“Your quite the hot commodity right now Gabe; every girl’s dream. You know, the knight in shining armor,” she said, placing her hand on his.
“Aircraft aluminum to be exact,” he replied, trying to move his hand but unable to as Marilyn held it down, gently but firmly.
“You know Gabe…” Marilyn started to say but was interrupted when K.D. walked up.
“Hey Gabe,” she said as she sat down next to Pike on the other barstool. She leaned in front of Pike and looked at Marilyn. “Marilyn, your husband wants to talk to you back at the table.”
“He does, does he?” Marilyn said coldly.
“Uh huh.” K.D. replied nonchalantly, taking a drink and chewing on the ice.
Marilyn slid her hand off Pike’s and turned slowly back toward the table, holding a steady glare on K.D. until the last possible moment.
Pike let out a long sigh. “Thanks K.D., I owe you one.”
“No problem.” She replied, still chewing on her ice.
“I appreciate the help, but you had better watch your step. Marilyn doesn’t take well to challenges.”
“Well then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m such a darn good engineer so you and George just have to keep me around or else you’d go out of business. But we all know why Marilyn won’t let George fire you, and it’s certainly not because of your engineering skills.” K.D. smiled.
“Thanks a lot; what’s the old saying, ‘with friends like you, who need enemies’?”
“What can I say. We all have our talents.”
Pike just smiled and shook his head. “Listen, can you do me one more favor?”
“Sure.”
“Cover my retreat for me. I’m going to slip out, grab something to eat, and hide out in my room. I’m not quite ready for all this attention.”
“Sure thing, Hot Shot.”
“Thanks.” He smiled at K.D. then got up and quietly slipped in with a group of businessmen leaving the bar. Once he got out into the lobby, he saw a little sandwich shop and tried to order a sandwich to go. But when the waiter recognized him, he asked him to stay right there and that he’d be right back. Wondering what was going on, Pike watched as the man scurried away and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, the manager, a short, round man of about fifty came out and said that his money was no good there, they he would take care of everything and not to worry and that his dinner would be delivered to his room in fifteen minutes. Pike tried to speak but the manager shooed him out of the restaurant like a grandmother chasing her grandkids out of the kitchen after she had just taken cookies out of the oven.
Slightly bewildered, Pike returned to his room and had just stepped out of the shower when he heard a knock on the door. At the door were two catering carts pushed by three waiters. With the trained skill of a professional sports team, the waiters set about transforming the hotel room into five-star restaurant with a table for one.
Two of the waiters took a fine, white linen cloth from under one of the carts, spread it over the table, then began setting the table using the shiniest sterling silver utensils Pike had ever seen. The other waiter began laying out a centerpiece for the table with brilliantly colored and exotic looking flowers that Pike thought only existed in magazines.
While the other two were setting the table, the third waiter worked on the food. As soon as the waiter removed the first of the round-topped silver platters, Pike’s knees began to buckle. The smell of perfectly roasted prime rib escaped in a plume of steam when the lid was lifted and it filled the room like a low lying summer fog—light, barely viable but unmistakably there.
The waiter lovingly placed the beef on the table then surrounded it with three small cups of horseradish sauce, mild, medium and “bring out the fire hose hot.” He placed a baked potato that was flanked by an army of condiments next to the prime rib. Pike could feel his mouth starting to water and just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, it did.
With the flair of a showman, the waiter took a smaller covered platter, whirled it around, then gently placed it on the table, and flipped off the cover to reveal a petite lobster tail worshiped by a congregation of bacon wrapped scallops.
Next, the waiter placed another small covered platter to the back of the table. He lifted the lid just enough to reveal a chocolate cake drizzled with mint sauce. And just as quickly he put the lid back down, teasing him with its decadence, like a fan dancer teases, then strategically covers again.
Pike didn’t know how long he had been staring at the food, when he suddenly realized he must look the fool. He started to say something but the headwaiter held up his hand.
“It is all taken care of Mr. Pike, compliments of the house, served with our thank
s.”
“Well thank you very much; hang on a second.” He ducked into the bathroom to grab his wallet, hoping he had enough cash on hand to give these guys the tip they deserved. When he came back out, the door was just closing. He looked at the table and all the food. Maybe it was good to be King.
He took his time, wanting to savor and enjoy every bite and yes, enjoy a little of his fifteen minutes of fame as he knew the clock was ticking away. Satisfied, he stood and gazed out his window. He lived near Seattle, so the lights of the big city were nothing new to him, but the lights of Vegas were different from any other city on the planet. Here, not only were there more colors than a Sherwin-Williams paint store, they also moved.
They glittered, flashed, ran in lines, blinked on and off, popped with the sound of music; they were alive and gave life to the city. From space, he imagined that Vegas would look like some giant, undiscovered sea creature probing in the inky depths with its brightly colored tentacles scouring the dark ocean floor for food.
He enjoyed the pulsing lights for a few more minutes then closed the curtains and told the city good night. It had been a long day and he knew he would sleep well after the meal he had just devoured. He laid his clothes out for the next day and had just stripped down to his shorts and was preparing to climb into bed when he heard a knock on the door.
“What now?” he grumbled as he grabbed his robe and answered the door.
Marilyn Talbot stood at the door, eyeing Pike up and down.
“Looks like I’m just in time.” She smiled seductively.
‘”What do you want, Marilyn,” Pike said flatly, “I’m really tired and want to go to bed.”
“Well don’t let me stop you, why don’t you open the door so I can come tuck you in?”
Pike sighed. “Marilyn, we’ve been through this before, I can’t, we can’t, you’re my boss’s wife for Pete’s sake; besides, who says I’m alone in here?” He threw in as an afterthought.
Marilyn laughed. “That’s a good one, Mr. Boy Scout. If you won’t sleep with me, then why would you sleep with anyone else?”
“Marilyn?”
“Fine.” She replied with a bit of frustration and anger in her voice. “George finally checked his voice mail and Nigel Cain’s office called. They want you and the Clipper in New York by noon tomorrow.”
“NOON?”
“Yup. George doesn’t care how you do it or what time you have to get up and leave, he just wants you there. You know how important this contract is to him, to us?”
“Okay, okay. I’ve got a million things to do, not to mention trying to get a little sleep…alone.”
“Alright.” Marilyn ran her finger up and down Pike’s cheek and around his lips then off his chin. “I’ll leave you alone…for now.” And in an instant, her mood changed from temptress to business executive. “Remember, Twelve O’clock noon!” she said and walked away.
Chapter Eight
Nigel Cain walked with long purposeful strides, his Lucchese boots clicked on the polished marble hallway floor, pounding out a steady, strong beat. He didn’t usually wear boots with his business suits but they had become a passion since visiting the factory in El Paso. Beside him, his personal assistant, Elizabeth Mallory, was matching him stride for stride even though she was a good eight inches shorter than he was.
Her brunette hair was pulled up into a business power bun held neatly in place by two ivory chopsticks crowned with gold caps. Her pantsuit didn’t match, but rather complimented Cain’s suit as they strode down the hallway from the conference room to the executive elevators. They both carried themselves as CEOs.
The walls of the hallway were lined with plaques and photographs of the company’s history and achievements. There was the traditional first dollar bill earned, framed in gold and silver, set below a picture of a younger Cain standing under a sign of his first company, smiling at the camera. There were more photographs of him at numerous groundbreaking ceremonies from his factories throughout the world. Interspersed amongst these were various pictures of Cain with a variety of famous people.
In the center of the hall, in a section all to itself, was a series of black and white photographs. They showed the life of a young man in the early 1920’s and ‘30’s. Mallory knew they were pictures of Cain’s grandfather but she knew very little of his early family history. There was one photograph that seemed extra special to Cain and he always slowed a step to look at it as he walked by. Today was different though.
Cain paused and took the photograph off the wall and held it almost reverently. It was a small, tattered picture of a young man in a uniform sitting on the deck of ship with a blanket wrapped around him.
“Do you know who this is?” Cain asked.
“I assume it’s your grandfather.” Mallory replied.
Cain nodded his head. “Yes, it’s my grandfather from my mother’s side.”
Mallory had never paid that much attention to the photograph before but now she stared at it intently. “You have his eyes.” She said.
Cain smiled at the thought. “He’s the reason for everything.”
“I know, he laid the groundwork for the company in the early ‘20’s.”
Cain shook his head. “No, it’s much more than that.” He studied the picture for a moment longer, then gently hung it back on the wall. “I’ve never told the whole story about him have I?”
Mallory tipped her head to one side. “The whole story, Nigel?”
“Yes, well soon…” Cain’s voice tapered off as his mind began switching gears, exiting from memory lane and quickly moving into the express lane as he started walking again. “I noticed that seat number thirty-seven was empty.”
“Yes sir,” Mallory replied as she began to open her leather binder. But before she could reply, he continued.
“Gabriel Pike, I believe.”
“Yes sir,” she confirmed, looking at the guest roster. “He’s from...”
“…from the Talbot engineering firm, out of Seattle. They were the firm contracted for the final safety inspection. Frosty mug of root beer for his beverage of choice if memory serves.”
They reached the end of the corridor and Cain pushed the elevator button.
Mallory looked up at him, waiting for the door to open. “Nigel, if you already know all this information why do you pay me to be your assistant?”
Cain smiled. “That’s Executive Assistant…” The elevator chimed as it reached their floor and the door opened with a swift whoosh. Cain sidestepped and motioned with his hand for her to go first and then he followed. He pushed the lobby button and continued, … “and besides, you’re kind of cute and make a good cup of coffee.”
Anger and indignation shot out of her eyes. Her professional mantle was about to erupt with a 9.0 quake on the Wrath scale. She had a verbal broadside locked and loaded and ready to fire when Cain raised both hands, not in surrender but in exclamation.
“That’s the fire I’m looking for. I haven’t seen that passion in your eyes for a while...”
Mallory was caught completely off guard. First, because she couldn’t believe the comment about the coffee, degrading her skills and worth as if making coffee was all she could do, but his follow-up remark was just as much a curve ball as the first.
Cain continued, “…that drive and self-confidence that used to be in your eyes that said that if I didn’t hire you as my executive assistant, that I would be making the biggest mistake of my career, not to mention my life. For the past two months that flame of determination and excellence has been smoldering instead of burning brightly. Why?”
“I’m sorry Nigel.” Mallory said slowly, her shoulders slumping as if the emotional burdens she had been carrying had suddenly turned real, gaining a physical weight that pushed her down. “Tom is going through a difficult time right now. He’s having trouble passing the bar exam and it still bothers him that I make more money than he does, though he will never admit that, and that in itself is a problem for me: his unwil
lingness to share his thoughts. I feel that we’re drifting apart.”
“Tom’s a good guy, men are programmed to be the provider in the family and it doesn’t sit well with him that he can’t do that right now. Just give him a little time; as soon as he passes the bar and becomes a junior partner somewhere and starts raking in a six-figure income, he’ll be fine. But if it would help, I can fire you so he’ll be the top bread winner.”
She hugged her day planner to her chest, giving a sarcastic smile. “Very funny…and thanks.”
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors whooshed open again, flooding the car with light. The first five floors of the front of the Cain Building were plate glass, allowing light to fill the cavernous lobby. The lobby itself was teeming with lush, exotic greenery that thrived on the sunlight. A two-story waterfall provided a soothing background noise as people hurried in and out of the building.
Cain nodded as they stepped out. “You’re welcome, and where were we? Ah yes, the Talbot engineering firm. Did they call and say why Mr. Pike was not at the press conference?”
“No sir, but…”
“All right then, I think we’re going to have to replace them. I know that things happen but in this day and age, there is no reason they couldn’t have called. I did want to go with the smaller firm, it gave more of a personal touch to the project, a bit more authenticity that the public would accept over a big city, high power firm, don’t you agree?”
“Yes sir, but…”
“When we get back to the office go through my files and pick out the most pretentious firm we can find. You know, that one that has twenty-seven names in the title and each one sounds like they can walk on water.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, sir.”
Now it was Cain’s turn to stop in his tracks.”
“Really? And can you tell me why not?”
Mallory looked around and spotted the security office. “I’ll do better than that sir, follow me.” Cain was a little surprised but dutifully followed Mallory as she led them into the main security office. The man behind the reception desk was in his late twenties, square jaw, a short haircut, wearing a white shirt and tie with a black sports jacket, looking every bit the part of a corporate security person. His automatic reaction when someone came in the door was to stand and begin with the words “May I help…” But no further words managed to escape his lips when he saw who was walking through the door.