Built for Pleasure

by Sarah J. Brooks

  And I turned back to my meal on the stove. This was going to be perfect. Not just this day, but everything that lay ahead of it, too. I could hardly wait to see how it turned out.

  THE END

  Mine to Protect

  Chapter 1

  Coulter

  I listened as Mason Derry, my attorney, read the accusations contained in the complaint filed against me and my company, Stillman Enterprises. I was twirling the platinum and onyx ring on my right hand; a habit when I was concentrating on something important. “So, what does all that mean?” I asked him.

  “Well, in simplest terms, you’re being sued for negligence. It is your legal responsibility, as employer, to protect your employees from an unreasonable risk of harm.”

  “I wasn’t even aware anyone had been hurt. Who are we talking about here?”

  “His name is James Winkler. He listed his job title as general worker and his duties included sourcing and transferring needed materials from the ground storage up the structure as ordered.”

  “What went wrong?” I would be the first to admit that building construction on high-rises was dangerous work and I wanted to take immediate measures to be sure no one else would be hurt.

  “He claims to have fallen out of a job site elevator because the gate didn’t lock.”

  “How far did he fall?”

  Mason scanned the document and looked at me over his reading glasses. “Four feet.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I felt the anger rising inside. The guy was clearly out to ruin my reputation or get a big pay-off because he knew I would protect myself with my money.

  “I am not. He sustained a broken ankle.”

  “Mason, you know what the guy is trying to do…”

  “I know. I’ll answer the complaint and delay it as long as possible.”

  “No! No delays. Push it through. Get some people on it on our end and bring in everyone on the site that day. I want depositions from everyone.”

  “It won’t be cheap.”

  “My reputation isn’t either,” I growled and swiveled the chair so my back was to him. I was done with that conversation.

  Mason spoke from the doorway. “You got someone to handle the PR on this?”

  “I’ll take care of it myself.”

  I gave Mason five minutes to clear the building and then I got out of my chair and walked to the parking garage where my Mercedes was waiting. Shortly thereafter, I was wearing a hard hat on the job site in question. The foreman on shift showed me where the supposed negligence took place. “I want this inspected immediately and if there’s anything wrong, have it fixed. Before you do anything, contact Mason so it doesn’t look like we’re trying to cover anything up. No one uses this elevator until that’s been resolved, got that?” I pointed to it and looked at him hard. “You know anything about this? Were you on shift that day?”

  The foreman, Pete Timmer, flushed and I could see he didn’t want to tell me something.

  “What is it?” I demanded.

  He shook his head. “Nothing, sir, nothing. I’ll take care of it.”

  I cocked my head. “Timmer, if I find out that you’ve held something from me, connected to this or not, you’re history, you got that? You’re either a member of my team or not.”

  He scuffed one foot into the gravel and wiped his brow. Guilt was written all over him. He looked over his shoulder. I finally caught on.

  “Timmer, I’ll be back in my office in fifteen minutes. I want to see you there in thirty. Send everyone home early but don’t dock their pay.” Without another word, I turned and left, tossing my hardhat into the back seat of the Mercedes.

  Liz had just brought me a fresh cup of coffee when Timmer was in the outer office, waiting. I motioned through the glass wall for him to come in. “Sit down.”

  He was highly uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with his concrete-caked boots and my Persian carpets. “Mr. Stillman, I got no proof. Just a suspicion. I can’t get fired over this—the wife is about to have our fourth and…”

  “You won’t be fired unless you’ve done something worth being fired over. Concealing problems from me could be counted as one of those, by the way.”

  He was pale and shuffling his feet beneath the chair.

  “Damnit! What is it?”

  “Okay, okay,” he held out his hand to calm me down. “See… there are delays on the site every so often. Someone doesn’t count inventory and we have to wait on some material, or they run into a problem on one thing that slows down everything behind it…”

  “Go on…” My voice was intentionally stern. This was a union town and I didn’t need their shit on top of everything else.

  “Well, the guys get bored and sometimes they sneak off between some piles and shoot dice and pass the bottle. Especially on cold days, you know?”

  I sat forward in my chair. “Are you telling me that the workmen are gambling and drinking on the job?”

  He winced. “It sounds worse than it is.”

  “Oh, really?” I was losing my calm and felt the heat rising into my brain. “Was this guy, this Winkler—was he drinking that day?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I wasn’t on until later in the day. McNamara was covering for me; I had a root canal. So, I can’t say that I saw him drinking.”

  “Where are they getting the booze?” This was a major OSHA offense and they could shut down my building sites over this kind of thing.

  “You know…they bring it with them. A flask, the back pocket inside their overalls.”

  “Timmer, are you drinking or gambling on the site?”

  “Me? Hell, no. Even if I wanted to, it would be suicide. There’s guys who don’t like me, you know? They’d be the first to rat on me and my job would be done, or I could wind up taking a tumble off a girder. No, I do my drinking on my own time, at home.”

  I believed him. It made sense. I had to be careful how I handled this information. With inspectors and lawyers sniffing around, if I made it obvious I was confiscating booze, they’d hang me even higher.

  “Now look, Timmer. You get the other supervisors together and I want it circulated, word of mouth to every single person who sets foot on that site in my employ… There will be no more drinking, no more gambling and no drugs or guns. Got that? I want it as clean as a nunnery on that site. Anyone caught will answer to me, and that won’t be pretty.”

  I didn’t need to be specific. Most of the guys had heard of my reputation as a hardass and that would be enough. Timmer leapt up from his chair. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

  “You’re back in that chair in one week with a progress report, you hear me?” He nodded, and I waved him out.

  My private cell buzzed. It was Mason. “What is it?” I answered brusquely.

  “Sorry, but the word got out. All your construction permits have been suspended pending an outcome of the hearing.”

  “What? All of them? Other sites?”

  “I’m on it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m re-organizing you under one holding company. That separates your other assets. You may have to find some CEOs to sit in your place for a while, but we’ll keep the show running.”

  “Just do it.”

  I hated getting stabbed in the back. I absolutely hated it.

  Chapter 2

  Gwen

  "Oh, Gwen, you look absolutely awesome in that shade of blouse beneath that suit." Bitsy was sitting on the flowered slipper chair, bouncing Carrie on her lap.

  "Honestly? You really think so?"

  Bitsy nodded with an exaggerated motion. "Absolutely. Of course, I couldn't pull off that look. I don't have enough meat on my bones. But you? I’d kill for your body."

  "Oh, don't be silly. You have your own sweet shape. It's just a matter of learning to dress so that you accentuate your positives and play down the negatives."

  "Yeah, but you don't have any negatives as far as I can see," Bitsy pointed out, kissing
the top of Carrie's head.

  "You think the color is right for me?"

  "Oh, don't be silly. It matches your eyes exactly. You chose it on purpose, I know you did." Bitsy's voice was becoming a little strident. She was better at single word responses. When you asked her opinion, it seemed to make her nervous and everything went downhill from there.

  "Well, okay, if you say so. This job is really important to me, you know?"

  "Of course. It's like your dream job, right? Who wouldn't want to work for Blaze House? It's like the nicest dress shop in town and only caters to women with a ton of money, let me tell you." Bitsy’s envy was obvious in her face.

  "Well, you would know better than I. You've lived here longer. Listen, I'm grateful for you asking your friend to get me an interview. Those modeling classes I took only take you so far, you know? At some point, you have to know someone who knows someone to make use of them." I was trying to make her feel better.

  Bitsy bounced Carrie harder, almost to the point for the little one was ready to cry. I could tell Bitsy was worked up. I took Carrie from her and made the pretense of cuddling her, just to get Bitsy to calm down. "Don't mention it. She owed me a couple favors, anyway."

  "Will you be okay here with Carrie alone?" I was having second thoughts. This could all fall apart if Bitsy wasn’t up to taking care of my baby.

  "Well, I'd better be. If you get this job, no, let me change that—when you get this job. I'm looking after her during the day, so she and I had better get used to one another really quickly." Bitsy took her back from me. Carrie’s little finger when into her mouth and then she reached up and touched the tip of Bitsy's nose.

  * * *

  Her name was Metallica, obviously the result of poor judgment on her mother’s behalf. I felt awkward even asking for her when I arrived for my interview. I was shown to an ultra-modern office on the second floor of the building. I climbed the crimson carpeted staircase, looking down at the displays and racks of beautiful clothing and equally beautiful women. It was as if I was walking in my own dream. The girl who showed me to Metallica’s office tapped on the door and then stood back and gave me a solemn look. It was as if she were showing me into the den of a lion. The woman at the desk looked up, and I instantly understood.

  “Thank you for being prompt,” she said as she stood, towering over me by at least foot. I imagined that her ancestors were those solemn, majestic people who ran for days without stopping across the Serengeti. Her cheekbones were to die for and her slender, aquiline nose gave her one of the most beautiful profiles I thought I’d ever seen. “I am Metallica, and I assume you are Gwen?”

  I nodded and held out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said softly, thoroughly intimidated.

  “Please, sit down.” I obliged and took a few brief seconds to breathe in the atmosphere of her office. It suited her perfectly, which made me believe she had probably designed it herself. It was flawless good taste, original concept and could have only existed in a magazine like Architectural Digest. She cleared her throat and had my full attention immediately.

  “I am sorry, but it doesn’t appear as though you have had much experience.” Her elegant eyes were studying my reaction.

  “You’re right, but it is proportionate to my age. I’ve done some homework regarding Blaze and I know that your employees tend to be younger than twenty-five. As you can see on my resume, I have taken some fashion merchandising and modeling classes and I’ve been lucky enough to get a few modeling assignments. I believe your customers come because you offer a fantasy world. Your clothing is without equal and when a woman is looking for a fantasy, I believe she wants to be treated like a queen. You’re right, I am very young, but that also means that I don’t offer them any competition. Let them see me as their handmaiden, if you will.”

  “An interesting perspective, and very creative.” She looked at my resume once more and then pushed her chair back from the desk, crossing unbelievably long legs that only reaffirmed my suspicions of her ancestry. I’d often been told I had beautiful legs, but mine were stunted compared to her length. “Assuming you were to come to work here at Blaze, how do you picture your future?”

  “There are things about me that really don’t belong on a resumé,” I told her. “If you knew me, you would know that I’m ambitious and focused. Some people might even say a little too focused, but I question whether that’s even possible. Although it will sound quite juvenile, I’ll tell you honestly, I come from a small town and I’ve seen everything it has to offer. I want more excitement in my life. I want to speak with intelligent people about intelligent subjects; I want to see and experience a way of life that I never could have found in my hometown. If that means that I begin here, with you, at Blaze, I would consider that part of the dream already realized. Your customers are successful people, by nature. That’s where I belong. So, to answer your question, Blaze could be the beginning of my life, or it could be the focus of my life. I preferred the latter, to be honest.”

  Metallica laughed, a deep throaty sound that was half mocking and half knowing. “You remind me very much of myself at your age,” she said. “Which is not to say I’m that much older than you are,” she pointed out quickly, her eyebrows rising defiantly. I did the wisest thing I could think of and kept my mouth shut.

  “I think I have seen enough. I believe you will need a wardrobe that showcases your body style. I will expect you to report next Monday morning and you will have training on your first day, followed by four days of shadowing my top salesgirl. Be invisible but learn, if you understand me.”

  I nodded, my heart pounding that it had been this easy.

  “You may go now. I will call downstairs and have an account opened in your name. Please choose some basic items as foundations, and then throw your own personal flair. You must look like you belong at Blaze. We will deduct a small amount each week from your salary to pay for the clothing, although you will receive a 60% discount.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. I had just landed a job at one of the most exclusive and admired dress shops in the entire city and was getting not only a healthy discount, but the opportunity to enter a world I could have only dreamed of back in Brookfield. As I practically stumbled back down the staircase, it suddenly occurred to me that we had never negotiated my wage. It was the first of many things I learned when dealing with people of money. The first most important was that you never discussed it. It was simply understood that integrity and fairness were involved. In other words, should it become public knowledge that Blaze paid their clerks a substandard wage, the store would lose credibility and therefore, customers. They also included in their message to their customers that you got what you paid for. That was how they justified their outrageous prices. Likewise, if they paid a substandard wage, their employees would reflect that. This gave me a certain sense of pride and as I arrived at the foot of the stairs, a woman came up to me and introduced herself as Christine.

  “Metallica asked me to show you around and get you set up,” she said in a kind, but neutral voice.

  “Thank you,” I told her, my knee shaking slightly at the realization of what was going to be my future. Christine took me on a brief, but thorough walk-through of the store. She pointed out the general concept of the store’s layout, pairing displays with products in various sizes nearby. It was quite ingenious, actually. Much of that I had learned in merchandising classes, but each store had their own methods. They tracked customer movement throughout the store, noting what caught someone’s eye and what entice them to pick up the merchandise for a firsthand touch. There was a science as well as the psychology behind it. They moved the customer through the store, propelling them by their own desire to investigate the newest object of fascination in their path.

  When we completed the tour, Christine asked me to follow her into a small employee room behind the red curtain. There she gave me forms to complete and a store credit card. “You have carte blanche, obviously, since you will ultima
tely be paying for everything you pick out today. The 60% discount is a one-time opportunity, so I would make most of it. After today, you get the standard 20% discount on employee purchases, and you can only use those for yourself, not as gifts for others. So, here you go. I’m sure there were few things that caught your eye as we walked around. When you’re done, catch my attention and I’ll run you through the checkout personally. Welcome to Blaze and now it’s time to go have fun.” She smiled broadly and swept her arm outward to indicate that I should get started. I felt an exhilaration that I could only compare to completing a flawless cheerleading routine and hearing the fans applauding in appreciation. This was my chance to strut my stuff and I couldn’t wait to get started.

  I was like a kid in a candy store. I knew that I had decent taste, and I had learned more while I was in school. That said, even da Vinci would have been challenged to paint the Mona Lisa with only four colors of paint. I tried to keep it very low-key, although everything inside me screamed to become a Walmart shopper dragging three or four cars behind me as I piled in clothes.

  I took Metallica's advice and began with the basics. I chose foundation garments such as pencil skirts and tailored slacks in several different dark colors. There were vests and jackets to match and I added these onto my pile. Then I wandered into the tops with sweaters and blouses and finally into dresses where I chose my first little black basic dress ever. I struck out for lingerie and then casual clothing, although I kept this to a minimum because I couldn't wear that to work. Lucky for me, they had shelves and shelves filled with beautiful shoes, very expensive shoes. I avoided the traditional brands and went for elegant, but more practical styles. After all, I knew I had to pay for this eventually, but I did need it to start and I would never get a discount like this again. I think it was an hour and a half later before I finally wound up at the counter and caught Christine's eye. She was grinning as she walked toward me. "Everyone does the same thing," she laughed. "Don't worry, they have special sales for us from time to time even though they don't tell you about it. And sometimes, when you do a really good job, I’ll give you a bonus discount as a reward."