Fem Dom

by Tony Cane-Honeysett

  Tara listened as Clem finally opened up about everything that had been going on at work and it became very obvious to her why he’d been so detached. She felt useless. Her fate was tied to his. Tara’s allegations regarding Clem’s faithfulness seemed trivial by comparison. While her fears had all been imaginary, his fears were now very real.

  That night, Tara Drew felt an intimate closeness to her husband that she hadn’t experienced for a very long time. Ironically, it seemed their adversity had brought them closer together, both emotionally and physically, than they had been for a very long time. Tara made a Greek salad for dinner and they sat out on their deck with some Chianti and warm bread. It was a calm and peaceful summer’s evening and the perfect way to chill out at the end of what had been the strangest of days in their long relationship. It’d been both an antagonistic and reconciliatory day. Clem was now in a philosophical mood. Opening up about everything had made both of them feel so much lighter inside, even if the news was not all good.

  “What are we bitching about? We’ve been living in this big house and living the life many people still dream of enjoying. And let’s be honest, we’ve been no happier here than when we were both broke living in that crummy apartment in North Hollywood all those years back.”

  Tara frowned. “True. So just how much money did we lose in that hedge fund?”

  “Hell, it’s only money!”

  “Jesus, Clem. That was over two hundred thousand dollars – just gone?”

  “I know, I know. No use crying over spilt milk.”

  “That’s a few drops more than spilt milk! That’s the whole dairy and the cows.”

  It was a beautiful evening and the sun glowed orange as it sunk below the tree line. Clem put his feet up on a small ottoman.

  “So we can wait and see what fate has in store for us or we can dictate our own destiny.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, rather than just wait around and let outside forces impact our future, we can decide for ourselves where we go and what we do next.”

  “And what do we do next?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  The two them stared out at the sunset. When it came to having control, neither of them seemed to have much of it now. As evening turned to night, they stayed out on the deck in the warm air and reminisced about the past and how they’d always seemed to get by. When they’d met, neither of them had much money and now here they were worrying about losing a lifestyle they never dreamed they’d ever have anyway. They both saw the irony in that and couldn’t help but chuckle about it.

  That night, Tara and Clem had sex for the first time in months - gentle, passionate, loving sex. It was something they were both in dire need of. Tara couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an orgasm that wasn’t a solo effort. The events of the day had changed both of them and for the better it seemed, so maybe it wasn’t all so bad after all.

  The two of them slept in the same bed that night and so soundly that it was almost Sunday afternoon before they started to stir. Both of them were nursing wicked hangovers when they finally awoke. It was Tara’s second thumping headache in two days.

  “Holy moly. How much did I drink last night?”

  Clem felt his pounding forehead as Tara rolled over towards him and hugged his warm naked body.

  “I don’t remember…. but let’s do it again tonight.”

  Over a very late breakfast, they both seemed like different people compared to the crazed versions of themselves they had been just yesterday morning and over the previous weeks. Clem’s usual get-up-and-go appeared to have finally got-up-and-gone while Tara was relieved that her marriage was not the train wreck she thought it was. That was more important to her than the money.

  Clem gulped down two pills with his OJ and stared out of the kitchen window at some neighbor’s kids cycling down the sidewalk towards Caribou Lake. Tara chewed on a bagel as she walked over to be beside him.

  “That’s Brian and Heidi’s kids, isn’t it?” Clem asked his sleepy wife. “Heck, they’ve grown up fast. Haven’t seen those two in a long while.”

  “They’re always playing outside. Even in winter.”

  “Where does the time go?” Clem sighed. Tara wrapped her arms around him.

  “Y’know, I still can’t figure how that woman’s card got into your jacket pocket,” Tara mumbled. Clem turned away from the window and grabbed his half-finished juice.

  “Yeah, that’s a mystery.” Tara looked at Clem for any sign that he could be lying to her. “I’m going to talk to Justine about it,” Clem continued.

  “Why Justine?” Tara frowned.

  “Because I always put my jacket on the back of my chair when I get to work. Who else goes in my office all the time?”

  “Justine wouldn’t do something like that. Why would she? If it was meant to be a gag it really wasn’t funny. Especially not with your handwriting.”

  “That wasn’t my handwriting,” Clem insisted.

  “Why copy it then?” Tara asked, suddenly wondering if Clem knew more than he was letting on. But what Tara did know, was that she’d tried to catch her husband in a lie on more than one occasion and had failed with flying colors. Her female intuition appeared to be malfunctioning, so going on her gut instincts was a definite no-no.

  “Amazing how destructive something like that can be.”

  “Who would do something that could create such havoc in a marriage? I mean, that’s just plain vindictive.”

  “That’s the kind of crap Fitz would pull but he’d need to be alone in my office with my jacket to do it. I’ll talk to Justine about it when I get to work on Monday.” Clem smiled and kissed Tara’s head.

  They spent the rest of their lazy Sunday afternoon sitting around reading the newspaper and talking about what the future might hold if and when Clem parted ways with the agency. Tara read through the jobs in the business section. It just felt so good to have the old Clem back.

  Late afternoon their hangovers had subsided. Tara was starting to feel human again.

  “Come on! Let’s get out of here and get some fresh air.”

  Moments later they were strolling through the park towards the lake. Tara reminded Clem that it was his birthday on Monday and that they should go out and celebrate in some manner though the thought of more alcohol really didn’t appeal to either of them.

  “Why don’t you come up to Bergensons? We can go out for dinner afterwards.”

  “Okay, sounds good.” Tara smiled, looking forward to actually going on a date again with her husband.

  CHAPTER 17

  Heading to the office along Interstate 62 on Monday morning felt strange for Clem. It was his birthday but he felt ten years older than his forty-four years. His usual motivation to bust a gut to get into the agency was no longer in him but he still had a job and a paycheck. At the end of the day he was still a professional who took pride in his work but he really wasn’t in the mood for all the bright pink and yellow balloons waiting for him when he arrived.

  “Happy birthday, boss!” Justine squealed as she greeted him with his usual morning cappuccino but today he got a slice of banana and walnut cake with a blue sparkler stuck in it. It made Clem smile at least. “Remember, you have an internal photo shoot at one o’clock for the big Rebakor press release we’re doing,” Justine reminded him.

  “Is Molinaire coming in?” Clem sipped his caffeinated brew.

  “Apparently,” said Justine, pecking her boss on the cheek with a birthday kiss.

  Clem spent the morning calling old connections on both coasts. He needed an exit strategy and knew he couldn’t depend on Daniel Ellerby to find him anything other than the dubious Alabama gig at Wardle & Ward. Seemed Ellerby wasn’t kidding about the state of affairs in recruitment. Everyone was more concerned about hanging on to the jobs they had. No one was about to help Golden Balls take another step up the ladder that they were barely clinging to. But then that was the ad biz; a dog eat dog world.
/>
  As desperate times call for desperate measures, so Clem started surfing the web. After exhausting Linkedin for any leads, he turned to the murky postings on Craigslist. Sure, there were hundreds of ads for ‘marketing positions’ but they were barely more than internships.

  Clem’s calendar was looking auspiciously empty for July and August with only a few internal meetings on his schedule. He’d delegated the handling of his other accounts to fellow account execs as clients were all cutting their budgets so there was no need for him to get back involved. Those accounts were ticking over just fine without him. But it seemed word had got out that Clem Drew was not going to be the chosen one as everyone had been expected. His rivalry with Fitz was common knowledge and everyone was very aware that whoever became the new broom would sweep the agency clean. Word had gotten out about the Rebakor debacle and it’d shot around the agency gossip grapevine very swiftly. Frank Bergenson’s imminent retirement was becoming something of a lightning rod. Employees had to make sure they didn’t get on the wrong side of the next king. There was no doubt that Clem was far more popular than Fitz within the agency rank and file but as Clem knew only too well, people jump ship when it starts sinking.

  One o’clock came around quickly. Clem skipped lunch and headed down to the photography studio on the forty-second floor. All the main players were in attendance -- Frank Bergenson, Earl Chambliss, James Molinaire, Kurt Fitzgerald and Fitz’s creative guys, Gerard and Patrick.

  Chuck Svensen was a notable senior management absentee and understandably so, considering that no one gave a flying fuck about consulting him to approve the campaign they were all gushing about. At least he could piss off Frank by being a no-show.

  Molinaire and Fitz were chatting away like bosom buddies. Clem ignored the agency staffers and made a beeline for the two of them.

  “Hello, James.” Clem smiled warmly, though not attempting to shake anyone’s hand.

  “Hi, Clem.”

  Molinaire’s response was cordial but somewhat aloof. The last time the two had spoken was when he’d chastised Clem over the phone. Fitz stood his ground next to Molinaire saying nothing. He seemed more laid back than usual, probably comfortable in the knowledge that his future was now looking distinctly rosy. Clem knew Molinaire probably felt dissed so he knew he had to handle him carefully. After all, Clem was still very much a loyal agency man.

  “So you made it to the shoot, Clem. Congratulations.”

  Molinaire’s sarcasm was duly noted and ignored by Clem though Fitz had a smile sneak across his face. Clem wanted to tell Molinaire to stop acting like the pious prat he was but thought better of it. He’d missed one meeting and canceled a second with Rebakor and so now Molinaire was acting like a dumped girlfriend, such was the ego of the man.

  Clem acted as if all was fine and dandy and left Fitz to kiss up to his new buddy. He did the customary glad-handing with the rest of the Rebakor marketing executives in the studio but to him, Fitz was now invisible. As for Frank his feelings of betrayal towards him were immense.

  The agency photographer arranged the assembled executives around a giant Rebakor logo.

  “I need Mr. Molinaire in the center with Mr. Bergenson on one side and Mr. Fitzgerald on the other.”

  If Clem needed another clue that Fitz was being lined up for the CEO gig that was it. The three men duly obliged the photographer and smiled weakly for the camera.

  Click.

  “One more, please.”

  Click.

  “Okay, now I need the rest of you to take positions either side of them. Try to balance each end.”

  Clem felt miffed being stuck on the end of the group.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “Thanks. That’s a wrap,” said the photographer and walked off to load the images into his computer. The group relaxed and started chatting amongst themselves again.

  “Clem,” called out Frank Bergenson, walking over wearing a smile that defied its insincerity. “Hope you and Tara will be coming to my retirement party this week.”

  “You can count on me,” Clem smirked, aware of the irony.

  “Sorry I can’t make your birthday party this afternoon though.” Frank smiled that famous fake smile again.

  “What birthday party?”

  “Apparently it’s your birthday today.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that. I didn’t know there was going to be a party to celebrate it.”

  “Maybe it was meant to be a surprise.”

  “Well, I don’t like surprises.”

  “Life’s full of them, my friend. Meet me in my office in ten minutes.” Frank walked back over to the Rebakor clan.

  Maybe the Rebakor guys didn’t know the political landscape at Bergensons. Maybe they did. It really didn’t matter; the dye had been cast. Fitz continued his chumminess with James Molinaire, hogging the man so Clem couldn’t get in on their conversation even if he’d wanted to. Not that Molinaire seemed too interested in conversing with him, so Clem headed for the exit.

  He knew damn well what Frank wanted to see him about. He was going to give some bullshit speech about why he appointing Fitz CEO and not him. Maybe he’d get some answers though and some rational Frank Bergenson reasons why he was doing this.

  “No calls till we’re done, Rosanne,” said Frank Bergenson as he led Clem into his office and closed the door behind them.

  “Sit down, Clem.”

  Clem sat on the white mohair sofa. Frank sat on the end of his desk. Clem knew what was coming and he was ready for it.

  “Molinaire loves the new campaign,” Frank said, making a point that really didn’t need to be made.

  “Yeah, I know Frank. Thanks for rubbing it in. I guess it appeals to his God-fearing sensibilities.” Clem rolled his eyes.

  “Look, Clem. I know you’re still pissed about the way this whole thing with the presentation went down.”

  “You think? You mean the creative strategy that my team spent four months developing, which everybody approved internally, then got mysteriously ignored when it came to executing? That campaign, Frank?”

  “Here’s the deal, Clem -- without the Rebakor account, this agency would be in some serious trouble financially. Our other accounts are tightening their budgets and they’ve all cut back on their media spend for the foreseeable future. It’s the same across the nation and I know you know that.”

  “Then why are you telling me what I already know?”

  “Because….”

  “Frank, please spare me the lecture on the world recession. I’m not an idiot, I know what’s going on.”

  “Let me finish, Clem.”

  “Fine. Knock yourself out.”

  “I’m appointing Kurt Fitzgerald CEO and I’ll announce it at my retirement party next week.”

  Clem stared back at Frank and let his words hang in the air. Hearing it straight from the horse’s mouth meant for sure that he was officially the big loser in all this. But now it was Clem’s turn.

  “Why, Frank? What fucked up thinking brought you to chose Fitz and not me?” Clem shot back. “Just give me one reason why you think that’s a smart move for this agency?”

  “It’s business, Clem. Just business,” Frank answered without a hint of emotion.

  “Well, it’s bad fucking business. He has totally schmoozed you, Frank. Good and proper. He’s successfully bullshitted the bullshitter. I don’t know what kinda crap he had on you but it’s fucked up your thinking.” Clem was incensed.

  “Here’s why, Clem. Kurt Fitzgerald pretty much ran this agency for the four months you were embroiled in the Rebakor pitch.”

  “It ran itself, Frank. No one was spending any ad dollars,” Clem pointed out.

  “You wanna spend the next five years kissing Molinaire’s butt cheeks?”

  “If it’s for the good of the agency, Hell yeah.”

  “You’re better than that, Clem. Let Fitz run Rebakor and you can run everything else.”

  “What are you smoking, Frank
? The second you appoint Fitz CEO, he’ll fire my sorry ass.”

  “No he won’t. I won’t let him,” Frank scowled.

  Clem stood up angrily. “How, Frank? How you gonna stop him? You won’t be here. You’re retiring, remember? And no one’s gonna give a damn about you or what you want anymore. The second you vacate this office, you’re ancient history!”

  Frank looked at Clem as if his protégé had just stabbed him in the gut and not the other way around. But Clem wasn’t finished.

  “You should’ve retired years ago.”

  “Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ll be gone next week.”

  “And not a moment too soon as far as I’m concerned you egotistical, manipulative old fuck!”

  Clem stormed out, smashing the door behind him. He thought about turning back around and kicking it down and giving Frank Bergenson a real piece of his mind. But what he really wanted to do was punch Fitz all the way back to New York City.

  “Happy birthday, handsome!” said Rosanne as Clem walked past her desk but he was too angry to hear her. As he walked down the corridor towards the elevators, the agency photographer passed him carrying photographs from the Rebakor PR shoot.

  “Here ya go, Clem.”

  The photographer handed him an 8” x 10” of one of the newly printed pictures. Clem took it and ripped it up without even glancing at it.

  Justine had decorated Clem’s office with more colorful balloons and a good gathering of Clem’s favorite employees were waiting with party poppers and Champagne on ice to greet him. Tara arrived early much to Justine’s delight.

  “So glad you’re here, Tara! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “I know. You’ve probably seen more of Clem than I have these past months.”

  “So you know about everything?” Justine winced.

  “Yup. Clem told me. Unbelievable.”

  “Oh – don’t get me started. Clem has done so much for this company. It makes me so mad, I can’t tell you.”

  “You’re preaching to the converted, Justine. Our marriage has been a distant second.”