Storm Surge

by Melissa Good

  "Ms. Hauderthorn's coming right at you," Angie whispered. "What a witch! She hated me!"

  Kerry plastered a determined grin on her face. "Remind me to tell you later why." She gave herself a little shake, and squared her shoulders. "But not until we've both had a beer."

  Chapter Six

  "DAR?"

  Dar opened her eyes, to see Alastair standing in front of her chair, holding out a glass. "What is that?" she asked, eyeing the dark liquid with some suspicion.

  "Irish coffee," he said. "I figured you could use it."

  Coffee. Dar took the offered mug without further preamble, and sipped gingerly from it. "Thanks. Time lag's still kicking my ass."

  Alastair took a seat next to her. They were in a quiet lounge off the main meeting space, the soft buzz of conversation trickling in through the adjoining door. "Well, lady, it's late in anyone's time zone." He glanced at the door. "But I think we're close."

  Dar checked her watch, and winced. "1:00 a.m. I sure as hell hope so." She stretched her legs out and crossed them. "Is he done asking me questions?"

  Her boss brought one foot up onto its opposite knee and rested his hands on his ankle. "I think so. Actually I think he's more tired of getting your answers so I think he's decided to beat me over the head with the terms again."

  "He's tough."

  Alastair chuckled. "They all are. No one in there wants to give money to anyone, least of all a bunch of smartass Yanks. I think our boys here are starting to piddle."

  Dar snorted.

  "McLean!"

  "Ah," Alastair sighed. "Hey, they're bringing in some dinner. C'mon, maybe if we go in there together he'll settle down some." He patted Dar on the arm.

  "Sure." Dar obligingly got up. "I was out here because I was bored listening to all the sales crap," she said, as she followed the older man toward the double doors. She kept her coffee with her, though, sipping it as they entered the big conference room where Sir Melthon and his team, and their sales reps were going at it.

  At this point, she figured, it was a chest beating contest. She had no intention of bruising her own infrastructure, so she'd been sitting around merely waiting for a technical question to come up since she'd already gone over their plan four times and had no intention of doing it a fifth.

  "Right." Sir Melthon looked up as they entered. "Ah, there you are, and your little girl too."

  Alastair stopped in his tracks, turned, and looked Dar up and down. He then turned back to the magnate. "Sir Melthon? I know this lady's father, and let me tell you neither you, nor I want to make that statement even in jest."

  "None of that now, just get over here." Melthon waved a hand at them. "I want--"

  "I mean that!" Alastair suddenly raised his voice in a loud bark, cutting off all other conversation and making himself the sudden, startling center of attention. After a moment of silence, "I expect my staff to be treated with the same respect we show to yours."

  Sir Melthon leaned back in his chair and studied him. "You do say?"

  Alastair stared back at him. "Damned right I do say."

  Dar stood quietly, sipping her coffee, not wanting to do anything to either escalate or downplay the moment. It went against her instincts to allow anyone to take her part the way her boss was doing, but she was smart enough to know there were dynamics here her usual bull-in-a-china shop style would not mesh with.

  Sir Melthon pondered a moment. "Well, then all right." He shrugged. "Sorry about that. Didn't think you were the sensitive type." He directed the last comment at Dar.

  "I'm not." Dar put her cup down and settled into a soft leather seat across from him. "But Alastair is right. I'm the Chief Information Officer of the company. If you sign on, I hold your family jewels right here." She held up her hand and crooked the fingers. "If you don't respect me, how can you trust me not to send your business to hell, or get bored someday and reroute your data stream to Iran?"

  Melthon and his team stared at her, as Alastair took a seat next to Dar. "Is that a threat?" the magnate asked, in a splutter. "McLean, what is this?"

  "Now, I am sure," Francois started to break in hurriedly, stopping when Alastair held his hand up.

  "This is who we are." Alastair folded his hands on the table. "So let me tell you now, if you can't deal with my people being anything other than white bread old men like me tell me now, and we'll just cut the deck and go home. I'm not making us both miserable signing a contract with you." He gazed steadily across at the magnate, his blue eyes open and guileless. "I do mean that."

  Melthon actually gaped at him.

  "You are one fish, in my very, very big ocean," Alastair went on placidly.

  Even Dar was hard pressed not to react, keeping her eyebrows in their customary places and concentrating on not letting her eyes widen. She leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers together instead, appreciating for, perhaps, the first time how hardball her boss was willing to be when he felt he needed to.

  Hans was watching both men, with a fascinated expression as he tapped his fingers on the table, everyone else in the room was seemingly frozen in place.

  Finally Melthon turned and looked at Dar. "I don't like women in business!" He thumped his fist on the table.

  Dar cocked her head, looking down at herself before she looked back up at him. "Too bad," she said. "I'm not going to change into a man anytime soon. Sorry."

  "Hah!" Melthon turned back to Alastair. "She'll get married on you. See if she doesn't, McLean! Then what?"

  Alastair smiled. "Dar's already married," he said. "Hasn't been an issue."

  "And have brats! You know how they are!" Melthon shot right back.

  Alastair turned and looked at Dar, one brow edging up a trifle.

  "We have a dog," Dar could see the twinkle in his eyes. "The mainframe will have kids before I will." She leaned forward and picked up her cup. "Besides, can you imagine there being two of me?"

  "No," her boss replied instantly. "I can't afford two of you. My heart would give out." He turned back to Sir Melthon. "So what's it to be? It's late, you know. We can call it off now and I can get my people some rest before we move on to the next opportunity."

  Melthon eyed him shrewdly. "You've got brass ones," he said. "This is not a small contract."

  "It isn't," Alastair agreed. "It's got huge potential for us, and I think we can do a good job for you. But I'm not interested if it exposes my people, especially one of our single most valuable resources to being treated like an afterthought. It's not worth it to me."

  "Indeed."

  "Yup."

  The magnate leaned back, most of his irascible attitude fading. "Valuing people is very old fashioned, you know. In this day and age, we are all expendable, or so they say."

  "People who say that are the only expendable ones," Alastair replied quietly. "I've lived long enough in this business to have learned that the hard way."

  After a moment's silence, Melthon nodded. "All right then. Fair enough," he said. "I have long been accused by many--" he turned and deliberately looked at Hans, who smiled, "of being old fashioned myself. I didn't think I'd find an American who had any interest in anything but the dollar. You surprise me, McLean."

  "The missus says that on occasion to me too," Alastair replied. "But that usually involves tacky Mexican jewelry and never comes with good brandy like this." He held up his glass, tipping it slightly in Sir Melthon's direction.

  The magnate burst into laughter. He lifted his own cup and inclined it. "We will do business, McLean. I like a man who knows how to stand up for himself." He glanced aside. "And for a woman!"

  The sales execs relaxed and so did Sir Methon's minions, as nicely tuxedoed servers entered from the far door with mahogany serving trays. The first one of them paused and looked at the table, timidly eyeing the magnate before moving any further.

  "Bring that in." Their host waved a hand. "Bring that, and bring me a couple bottles of that rotgut my godson forced on me the other week. Might as wel
l get rid of it with this lot."

  Dar eased back into her chair and drank her cooling coffee, the rich taste of the liquor in it burning her stomach as it settled. She watched the servers bustle around putting out plates and dishes and only after the noise in the room dispelled some of the tension did she glance over at Alastair.

  Solemnly, he winked at her.

  Dar lifted her mug up and behind it, poked the tip of her tongue out at him. She then glanced at her watch, and unclipped her PDA, opening it and tapping on the screen with the stylus.

  Hey Ker.

  You missed an eyeball busting moment here. It's possible I might not leave this place tonight without kissing Alastair.

  Hope your speech is knocking them dead. Buy your family a beer for me when it's all over with and make sure someone took pictures.

  DD

  "So."

  Dar closed the Palm and turned to find Sir Melthon now sitting in the seat right next to her. "So," she repeated.

  "My godson there," the magnate spoke conversationally, as though the preceding standoff with Alastair had never happened. "Tells me you can do some very tricky stuff. Is that on the up and up?"

  Dar peered over at Hans, who studiously avoided her gaze. "Maybe. We have some very proprietary technology that I developed, to help us provide the best services to our customers. If that's what he meant, then yes. "

  Her PDA beeped. Dar resisted the urge to look at it while she waited for the magnate to continue, aware of someone putting a plate down in front of her on the table.

  "You own it then, eh?" Melthon asked.

  "He owns it." Dar indicated Alastair, who was sitting by quietly watching and listening. "Or, more to the point, ILS owns it because I developed it on their time and their gear."

  "Ah hah." Melthon got up and went back around the table. "All right, let's get a bite to eat, and then we'll carry on," he said. "Hope none of you enlightened Americans are vegetarians." He looked around the table, his bushy eyebrows hiking.

  Dar studied the slab of beef in front of her. "Looks good to me." She put the PDA down on the table and casually flipped it open. "Got any catsup?"

  The men across the table stopped, and stared at her.

  "Just kidding." Dar smiled. She waited for them to start working on their plates again before she looked down at the Palm.

  Get pictures. What the heck, give him a kiss for me too. I am about to go on stage and I've already had two confrontations with women older than my mother, and just about kept my brother from kicking one of them in the shins. If I end up in jail, will you come home and bail me out?

  Wish you were here. I have a headache.

  K.

  "Excuse me." Dar got up and tucked the PDA into her hand. "I need to make a phone call." She ducked past the chair next to her and headed for the small antechamber, pulling her cell phone out as she cleared the door and keying the speed dial without looking.

  It rang twice, then picked up. "Hey."

  "Hey." Kerry's voice sounded stressed, but also wry. "Was the whining that loud?"

  "Tell me some old witch gave you a hard time. What's her name? I'll hack into her pension and send it to the ASPCA," Dar said. "I knew I should have coopted you out of this."

  After a brief pause, Kerry chuckled. "Nah, it's not that bad really," she demurred. "I ran into a few of my old teachers, that's all." She paused. "And..."

  Ah.

  "I don't know. I just want to get out of here," Kerry admitted, in a quieter voice. "It's weirding me out. Too many memories."

  Dar exhaled, sensing the turmoil. "Hang in there," she said. "One more day, Ker. Just blow through this and go have a plate of wings and a beer. I'll be there with you in spirit."

  There was a brief pause on the other end. "Know something?" Kerry finally said. "When I get to Europe, I'm going to buy you a tiara."

  Dar's nostrils flared and her eyes widened. "Huh?"

  "You rule my world. Gotta go, sweetie. Love you." Kerry hung up, leaving a faint echo behind her.

  Dar tapped her cell phone against her jaw before she turned to head back into the meeting room. "I'd look stupid as hell in one of those," she sighed. "But I'd love to see her try it."

  "WAS THAT DAR?" Angie asked, leaning against an unused podium as they waited behind the small stage.

  "Yeah." Kerry tucked her cell phone away. "How'd you know?" She glanced up in question.

  "You're smiling," her sister replied. "I haven't seen you do that all night." She put a sympathetic hand on Kerry's back. "Listen, I'm really sorry I got you into this," she added, softly. "I didn't think it would be such a big deal."

  "Neither did I, but I probably should have." Kerry admitted. "Anyway, we're here now. I just want to get it done."

  Angie patted her shoulder. "Just think about the brewpub. If it gets too obnoxious out there, I'll call Mike and have him moon the crowd and we can escape out the back."

  The thought was startlingly appealing. Kerry smothered a grin, and ran her fingers through her hair again, feeling the dryness in the back of her mouth and wishing she had a tall glass of ice tea. "We're a family full of scandal, huh?"

  "Hey, it beats reading about the flower show in tomorrow's paper."

  "Yeah, well." Kerry sighed, as she spotted one of the event organizers heading her way through the small backstage area. She straightened up and twitched her sleeves out a little, taking a deep breath and exhaling it as she'd often seen Dar do before she presented. "Are we ready?"

  The woman hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. "I think we are. Everyone's seated."

  Kerry felt her nerves settle, as the waiting was over and now, at least, she could do it and get it over with. "Okay, let's go then," she said. "Hope I don't cause a riot."

  The organizer's face twitched. "Let me go introduce you and--oh."

  Kerry brushed by her. "You don't need to. I'll take it from here." She unabashedly stole a page from Dar's 'do the unexpected' book and slipped past the curtains, emerging into a pool of typically wishywashy school auditorium lighting.

  She crossed to the small podium, mahogany wood and long worn with the forearms of decades of speakers before her, and rested her hands on it, simply standing there and waiting to be noticed.

  It gave her a long few seconds to look out over the room. She'd last been in it for graduation, and her mind flashed back to long hours spent there listening to religious instruction and lectures on morality and her place in the world.

  The sudden absurdity of the contrast made her smile, and she felt her shoulders relax as she let her eyes scan the crowd as they began to realize she was standing there. It was a full house, a mixture of current students, her old classmates, and teachers, and she allowed herself a moment of surprised gratification that at least someone wanted to hear whatever it was she had to say.

  The buzz settled down quickly, as all eyes turned to her. Unlike Dar, however, Kerry didn't find this intimidating. "Good evening." She injected her voice into the room, making sure to project a quiet confidence she almost actually felt.

  "My name is Kerrison Stuart." She hadn't consciously intended to use her real name, but as it came off her tongue, it sounded right. "Some of you know me. Some of you only know of me, and some of you wish you'd never heard of me, but since you asked me to speak here, you get what you get so let's get started."

  She paused, and after a long moment of startled silence, the crowd applauded. "Mph," she muttered under her breath. "Can't be worse than that women in business seminar last year, now could it?"

  Kerry waited for the noise to die down, and studied the crowd for a few beats. Then she removed the microphone from the podium and came around from behind it. "Putting aside what's mostly public knowledge about me, I'm going to take a minute to briefly introduce myself for the benefit of those of you who are wondering who the heck I am."

  Angie watched from behind the curtain, bemused at the confident figure that had so recently been nervous and withdrawn back stage with her. Sh
e could see Kerry's profile, and her sister had seemingly transformed herself now that the moment was on her.

  Kerry had always been funny that way. Shy and reserved, Angie remembered her keeping her own council when they were teenagers. Part of that had been their parents, of course. By then Kerry had gone through the early stages of questioning their father and suffered the consequences.

  Part of it hadn't been though. Kerry had once told her that it was too bad she understood as much as she did. That she'd have been a happier person if she'd been dumber. At the time Angie had thought she was being dissed, but now, knowing her sister a little better, she'd come to realize that it was just the truth.

  Just the truth, that Kerry was smart, and though she didn't want to see or admit it, she had their father's calculating shrewdness and a certain toughness that she could hear echoing in Kerry's voice when she probably wasn't even aware of it.

  Angie sighed. She and Michael had been 'the children', but Kerry had always been something special to their father. Aside from being smart, and good looking, girl or not, she'd been his firstborn and no matter how rough he'd made it on her, and no matter how awful things had gotten at the end, there were parts of him that had been proud of her.

  Seeing her here, now-in front of this crowd--Angie knew he'd be proud of her again.

  "So now that we're past the fact that I went to school here, and lived in town most of my life, let me tell you what it is I do now." Kerry paused and considered, aware of all the eyes on her. "The company I work for is ILS. We're the largest IT services company in the world."

  Angie blinked a little. She hadn't known that, though she knew Kerry's company was large and she'd spent a few minutes reading about it on ILS's website when she'd hunted down their public filings. Seeing Kerry's name in them had seemed very weird, almost like she was reading about a stranger.

  With a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to the stage.