John Black fixed him with a beady stare. “What’s wrong is I’m annoyed we are back to the beginning with this sale. We can’t accept either offer that has been tendered, due to both companies being involved in this scurrilous business!” The stress of raising his voice made him cough and he took another sip.
“Sir, I’m worried about your health.” Rob took a deep breath then said boldly, “Do I need to call your physician?”
“You won’t receive any information from him, you young whippersnapper. Dr. Lane knows his place.”
Rob steeled his jaw. “I’m not leaving until you tell me. You don’t look well.”
“I don’t need your worry.” John Black looked away.
Rob stood and for the first time in his life, stepped behind his grandfather’s desk. “I’m your only family, sir. Please tell me what’s going on.”
The two men looked directly into each other’s eyes for the first time since Rob’s boyhood. He saw pain there but also the resolve and strength Grandfather had built over a lifetime.
“I have cancer,” John Black said after a long moment. “Though I plan to see one more Christmas, this summer is likely to be my last.”
“You’re terminal?” Rob asked, the words sticking in his throat. He leaned against the desk. Somehow Jack must have found out. His comments made sense now.
“According to the oncologist.” John Black shook his head. “I can’t worry anymore about the business, Robert. The medication has fogged up my mind a bit. For the first time.”
“You still seem sharp to me,” Rob reassured him. Too sharp to let go easily, thank God. There must be time yet, time to find other treatments, new doctors.
John Black chuckled. “Flattery will do you no good. You have already won. Keep it, sell it. But I hate to see you throw your life away on this low business. We all have our times of transition. You need to accept that.”
Rob bent his head. His grandfather had admitted his problem, that had to be enough for now. “Melanie has some new ideas. We may be able to reinvent ourselves, get out of the product lines you object to.” That was, if he would have the opportunity, if what he suspected about Jack was true.
“I’m glad.” He patted Rob’s hand.
“I’m sorry the sale won’t work out now. If we had sold the business, we’d have more time together.”
“We have as much time as I have energy.” John Black smiled ruefully. “Every day it seems a little harder to get out of bed.”
“I’ll fight with you,” Rob said fiercely. “You’re all I’ve got.”
“Don’t make that mistake, Robert. Even a loner like me got married and had a child.”
“Don’t count me out quite yet, sir.”
“There is a young lady?” his grandfather inquired. His eyes seemed to brighten.
Rob remembered watching Melanie as she lay in his bed, angel hair spread out on his pillow. “There might be.”
“Don’t take too long, son. I still might be able to see my great-grandchild if you hurry.” The old man winked.
Rob swallowed back a grin. “I’ll do my best, sir. You take care, okay? I’ve got some important business to handle at the office, but I’ll be back for dinner.”
“It’s Friday night. Shouldn’t you take the lady somewhere?”
Rob shook his head. “No, sir. But I’ll give her a call. And you’ll meet her soon.”
* * * * *
Melanie, clad in red jeans and a white mock turtleneck, stepped resolutely into Rob’s office on Monday morning. Despite his upbeat mood the last time they had met, the only word from him all weekend had been a terse message on her voice mail requesting an eight a.m. meeting on Monday morning.
Rob, seated behind his desk, looked like a successful executive in a navy suit and a white button-down shirt except for his neon palm tree tie.
“Nice tie,” she commented.
“Dagmar gave it to me,” he said after a pause in which she wondered whether he had even heard her. “She’s always had a sense of humor.”
Melanie wondered if he had worn his formal clothes for a wake or a celebration. He seemed so cool. She parked herself in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “Your message said you spent the weekend with your grandfather? Did he have any advice for us?”
Rob swallowed hard. He didn’t quite look her in the eye. “My grandfather is dying.”
Melanie leapt off her chair. No wonder he hadn’t tried to see her over the weekend. “Oh no, Rob.” She clasped her hands together, instead of grabbing him in a hug. “What can I do? I’m so sorry.”
Rob stood up and crossed in front of the desk, the remote expression still on his face. Deciding to take the risk, Melanie threw her arms around him. He gave her a brief squeeze then released her and said softly, “Please sit down.”
Melanie sat, hurting for him, wishing he wasn’t compartmentalizing the sorrow he assuredly must be feeling. “I want to help in some way, Rob. Anything.”
Rob nodded. “That’s just what I want to hear, Melanie. My grandfather wants me out of the sex toy business.” His voice lost some of its composure. “It’s his last wish regarding his business.”
“Of course.” But did they have that option right now? “We have Jack to deal with first though. You can’t possibly be thinking of letting him take over.”
“Absolutely not,” Rob said flatly. He grabbed the water bottle on his desk and drank half of it down in a jerky series of motions. “I’ve taken care of Jack.”
Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “The crisis is over? Just like that?”
Rob dropped the bottle back to his desk. It teetered for a second and Melanie held her breath, afraid it would spill onto the papers next to it, but after a few seconds it righted itself. “Jack used to have a cocaine addiction. His erratic behavior made me wonder if he had started using again. On Saturday I had his office searched.”
“And?” Melanie prompted when he paused.
Rob set his mouth into a grim line. “Cocaine was found.”
“Wow,” Melanie murmured. “That gives you grounds to fire him and it probably destroys his credibility.”
Rob didn’t quite smile, but his expression was satisfied nonetheless. “He can’t touch you. Professional Massage has egg all over their face because of the Tommy Joe situation. I’ve sent Jack to rehab, one of those long, expensive programs. He won’t be back until everyone involved has long since stop caring who did what. I’ve warned him that jail is not out of the question if I hear from him ever again.”
Melanie felt like she’d gone from being thrown into the hot water wash to being dropped into the cold.
“You solved all our problems without me,” she said, deflated. “You’re so self-sufficient.” Just like Gerald. She ought to be grateful for Rob’s competence and quick thinking, but they had just been through a shared emergency and she had done nothing to help solve their problems. Adrenaline had flown through her all weekend as she had repeatedly called Rob’s home to no answer. She had been ready to fight for herself, for Rob, for Brisa. And now this.
Rob stood. “I can’t solve everything, Melanie. You still have to save the company.”
“I do?” Melanie didn’t believe it. Even if it was true and coming from ultra-competent Rob she doubted it, saving the company would be such an anticlimax. She wanted risks, she wanted rewards. Not this tepid assignment-giving from her boss.
“Yes. Even if you can’t meet my deadline, I’m still going to shut down the lines that Grandfather doesn’t approve of.” Rob sat down in the chair next to her and leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “You’ve got ten days to come up with an alternative product line.”
“Why ten days?” Melanie said, alarmed. Maybe this was a challenge, if not the kind she sought.
“I report to the board and that’s their next meeting. You’ll need to present your plan then.”
“Wow,” she said for the second time that morning. For a moment, she had been dizzied by his
sexy scent. But in a flash, she was back to almost professional.
“I want to respect Grandfather’s wishes. I want to reinvent LeatherWorks, like he did when he took over from his father. You’re the key to that.”
She knew a management exit line when she heard one. “I’d better start creating.” Melanie rose, nearly losing her balance as she stood. There had been too many shocks for eight a.m. on a Monday. Rob grabbed her arm and righted her.
“Are you okay?” As she nodded, Rob smiled for the first time that day. “As long as you incorporate leather somehow, I don’t care what you do. I’m going to look for more wholesale opportunities too. We’ve held back a lot of raw material for our own use in the past, but I’m going to change our business model starting today. One way or another, I’m keeping everyone employed.”
“Okay.”
Rob nodded and stood. “Get to work.”
Melanie walked out, bemused.
“Melanie?” Tim said. Melanie turned, realizing Tim had already said her name once.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“What happened in there?” Tim came out from behind her desk. When he came close enough for Melanie to hear, he said in a low voice, “Is he okay?”
“Yes and no,” Melanie said. “The world is changing.”
Tim nodded. “I hear Jack’s out.”
“True enough,” Melanie said and touched Tim on the arm to reassure him. “Rob gave me a mission and I’d better get to it.”
* * * * *
At least Melanie now knew her job was important. She knew a professional break when she saw one.
She clasped her hands behind her and stretched her arms behind her back as she looked over the list she had made the night before, unable to sleep after Rob’s revelations. CD cases, backpacks, book covers, purses, bodices, hats, bikinis, pants, hair ornaments, gloves.
How would they sell these products? A catalog? The web? Melanie wrote down more questions for a focus group. She hated to tie the company too tightly to fashion trends. A product could turn unpopular and it might be thirty years before it came back into style.
She sighed, pushed away the pad of paper and laid her head on her arms. It was so much easier to focus on the job instead of the man, who had no time for her anyway. As she tilted to the side so she could breathe, she noticed the new pack of tarot cards she had picked up over the weekend while she drifted around town, wondering what Rob was doing. She sorted through them. Tarot card cases? She added the idea to her list as she sat up. They could sell the cards in the catalog too. But she needed a flagship product.
As she shuffled the cards, she started paying attention to the figures on them, men, women, children and fantastical beasts. They all wore beautiful costumes. She went through the deck more slowly. That hat could be made of leather. That bodice. That jerkin too. What if LeatherWorks became a costume company? She knew clothing.
Melanie smiled and put in a call to Ashok’s mother, who managed a large costume warehouse in Renton. Her findings were exciting. The company purchased their costumes from Europe but was always looking for local vendors to support. They provided costumes for films, television, theater and seasonal Halloween costume stores. She had a meeting with them tomorrow to discuss their needs.
Melanie moved to her drawing board. As always, she worked best under pressure. At six, having missed lunch, she called Domino’s and ordered a pizza.
“What is going on here?” said a familiar voice forty minutes later.
“Rob?” Melanie looked up, startled. She had just focused on food for the first time that day. Visions of clothing danced before her eyes as her head literally swam with product ideas and the scent of leather. She felt like she had just finished the Olympic trials for product design.
He looked askance at the table piled high with catalogs, printouts and samples. “I followed my nose down the hall. How’s it going?”
Melanie flipped open the cardboard container and pulled out a slice, wishing he had offered a more romantic greeting. She knew he was distracted by his grandfather’s illness but couldn’t help feeling dismissed. “Want some?”
Rob reached into the container and grabbed a slice then pulled an extra stool to the worktable. “Thanks.” He pushed aside a pile of notepads and put his elbows on the table. After eating, he leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “One of our best wholesale clients just doubled their order.”
“Great.”
Rob nodded. She nodded too, unable to read him.
“Any successes on your end?” he asked, looking pointedly at the mess.
“There is a sort of method to my piles. It’s only been twenty-four hours,” Melanie pointed out.
“Yes, but time is of the essence,” he said in a managerial voice.
His tone rubbed her the wrong way. “I have a meeting with a potential customer for a new product line tomorrow,” Melanie reported, feeling defensive.
“For what?”
“It’s a secret.” Revenge. Melanie took another bite of pizza. “I need more time to finalize my presentation for the meeting. I won’t be ready if you don’t leave me to work.”
“You’re dismissing me?” He sounded a bit affronted.
“No, you can stay,” she backtracked, remembering he was her boss, not just Rob.
“It’s okay, Melanie. I want you to focus right now.”
Melanie opened her mouth to protest that she was focused, but he was already walking away. She consoled herself with admiring his rear view in tight taupe pants. Shifting uneasily in her chair, she dropped her pizza slice back into the box. Her hunger had vanished.
Wiping her greasy hands on a napkin, she rolled herself over to the drawing board. Twenty minutes later she had a sketch of a woman in a black robe and black wings standing over a man in white boxer shorts. Something was wrong with the picture. She studied it for a moment then smiled and began to sketch.
Now the man had little devil faces on his undershorts. What woman wouldn’t find that appropriate? Grinning, she tucked it behind her usable sketches and refocused on costume ideas. Earlier in the day she had researched the costume warehouse’s offerings on their website. She was pretty sure LeatherWorks could charge them less for the same quality or better. Some of her wilder ideas might work for high-end costume shops as well, for the Hollywood and costume ball market. LeatherWorks was a small company. This product line ought to be enough to keep everyone employed.
* * * * *
A couple of hours later, Rob leaned back in his leather executive chair, too tired to get up and go home. He wondered idly who made his chair and who supplied the leather. He got down on his hands and knees to check the label.
His mind wandered, as it often did, to thoughts of Melanie. He could have made a meal of simply staring at her full breasts under the low-cut navy T-shirt she wore. He had touched those breasts, tasted them, suckled them. He wanted to do those things again. Soon.
He rested his cheek on the floor and thought about going back downstairs and seducing her on her worktable. But if he did, they’d end up spending the night making love and she wouldn’t be ready for her mysterious and important meeting the next day. Life sucked.
“Calm down, Mr. Rob,” he admonished the unruly part of him that wanted him to forget about Melanie’s meeting and get down to the real business at hand. “This is not the night for your care and feeding.”
He needed a plan. At first, when the company was going to be lost, he had a six-month plan. In six months he and Melanie would both be out of work and then he could have her. But now he had the company and even the woman’s presence, but not where he wanted her. It was enough to make a man crazy, but he had to let her focus.
Soon enough, against his better judgment, he dialed her extension. “I am the CEO, you know,” he said into the receiver. “I have a right to know what you’re doing with company resources.”
Melanie laughed. “You have to trust my instincts.”
“At least you’r
e happy,” he said, glad to hear her laugh.
“I’m being productive.”
He grimaced. “So I should let you go?”
“Mmm, hmm.”
“Oh all right, I’ll let you go.”
“Thank you,” Melanie said primly. “See you around.”
“Keep up the good work!” Rob hung up, picked up his briefcase and headed over to his grandfather’s house to check in. He needed something to do with himself.
* * * * *
After a few days of sketches and shopping for fabric, Melanie was ready to talk to the seamstress, Tim’s mother Dagmar.
The faint smell of mold in the dimly lit hall didn’t give her a great feeling of confidence as she walked down to the studio. She had to admit she was a bit nervous about presenting her ideas in their entirety. The heavyset, faded blonde woman of late middle years who awaited her didn’t increase her confidence either.
“We’re moving away from leather?” the seamstress asked skeptically from her seat at a sewing table. Her taste in clothing was a world away from her son’s. The neatly fitted yellow checked dress she wore showed evidence of her skill, though it couldn’t entirely disguise her figure flaws.
“No, not at all, Dagmar, we’re just trying to move away from the sex toys,” Melanie assured her.
“Well,” Dagmar said, turning off her machine and tucking a partially finished mask away, “anything that allows me to keep my job.”
Melanie moved to the worktable and spread out her sketches. The first was the one with the dark angel and man in boxers. Then she showed a colored-pencil drawing of a medieval queen in a blue gown with an intricate Celtic-patterned leather belt. A king with leather boots, vest and short black cape came next. Then a man who wore hose and a short leather jacket that skimmed the tops of his thighs. Her sexy magician in tight white leather pants, vest and a scarlet robe came next. A blonde girl sat in a purple shift with a black leather bodice. A warrior woman with hose laced up by black strips with a short gray leather dress came last. Dagmar pored over the sketches, particularly studying the ones with close-ups of shoes, belts and headgear.
She smiled broadly and clapped Melanie on the shoulder. “When do I get started?”
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