Ripoff

by St. James, Morgan

  Liar!

  She laughed. “Believe it or not, all of our plants are fully-equipped facilities. They don’t look much different than any other factory on the inside. It will be a real experience.”

  Yeah. I can’t wait to be inside a federal prison. Whoo hoo. I simply answered, “Really?”

  She continued. “Oh yes. Prepare for a surprise. Once you’re through the security, you won’t believe you’re on prison grounds. Except, of course, when the day is over, the inmates go back to their cells. Our workers don’t spend their nights in a comfortable little house in suburbia with their kids and dogs.” She punctuated that with a terse laugh.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  “If you don’t mind my asking, couldn’t some of the tools they work with become weapons? I mean, isn’t it a bit dangerous?”

  “We have very tight security. Believe me, armed guards watch the inmates like hawks. They can’t sneak anything sharp or potentially lethal back to their cells. I swear, if they didn’t wear different uniforms, it would be hard to tell the inmates from the guards. Between you and me, sometimes I think the guards are the ones who should be locked up at night.” She chuckled at her own joke.

  I placed the receiver back in the cradle and marched into the kitchen. No more need to wallow in self-pity. I was employed. As long as I allowed Ryan’s note to remain on the fridge, I knew I’d feel sorry for myself every time I passed it.

  So, I snatched it off the refrigerator, crumpled it into a little ball and dumped it in the trash under the sink.

  That will show you, Shithead.

  ~4~

  Now that I had the job, I could figure out how to find Ryan and get even. Although he was gorgeous, I must admit he was not the brightest bulb on the tree. I was sure I’d be able to uncover his trail. He was going to be sorry, alright.

  My first move was to lay a trap with the help of the president of my bank branch. She was a woman around my age and through the years we’d become fast friends. I happened to know that she’d had an affair with a younger fellow a few years before that didn’t end well, so I called her and asked if we could meet during her coffee break. She was delighted and listened with sympathy while I told her my sad story over some overpriced cappuccinos.

  In a way it was good that Ryan also charged up my credit cards to the max before I’d been able to alert the credit card companies. It created a trail that could be followed. The bad news was I hadn’t been able to report the funds as stolen because his name was on the accounts. After learning what he’d done, I guess she thought about her own experience with her double-dealing young guy and said she would be happy to implement a search to locate any checking or savings accounts he had in his own name.

  You can run, but you can’t hide. Not in this electronic age.

  • • • • •

  At six o’clock the next morning, I tentatively placed one foot, then the other on the wood floor, then recoiled from the cold spot that should have been warm. I really wanted my area rug, but Ryan swiped it along with everything else. One look at the empty bedroom told me I’d done the right thing by taking the job. Ever since he disappeared with my money and whatever had value, although I’d tried to find Ryan all I found were dead ends. Now I had faith that my banker friend would be able to change that.

  I dressed, threw a few things into a small rolling case and prepared for what I frivolously called my journey to Paradise.

  With the suitcase in the trunk of the Mercedes, during the drive I tried to convince myself that it would be wonderful to become part of the American dream. Short hours, long benefits. That is, if I managed to stick it out. Why, I’d even be able to look forward to a full pension when it came time to retire. How many people could say that?

  Knock it off, Kimberly. This isn’t the way you pictured your life. Working for the prison system until you’re old and gray? Good try!

  At eight o’clock sharp I joined the others making their way into a conference room so lush I was sure it would have triggered an audit if the Inspector General ever saw it. Picture this: an immense marble-topped table with an inlaid “FACR” logo, surrounded by 24 fabulous forest green leather high-back executive chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall afforded a spectacular view of the bay. Pads of paper, pens with the FACR logo, pitchers of water and glasses were neatly arranged around the table.

  All of the twenty new salespeople were women. I wondered if Julia was a man-hater or the female applicants were just better qualified.

  As I checked out each of them, my eyes flitted from a stunning thirty-something Asian lady with cheekbones to die for and a body to match to a younger woman with a short, spiky hairdo, full lips and enormous long-lashed light brown eyes. Every woman at the table was extremely attractive in her own way. Then I spotted the two I’d seen after my interview. They were sitting together near the end of the table. I slid into the empty seat next to the cute blonde. She really did look like Goldie Hawn up close. I gave them both a nod.

  Before I could introduce myself, Julia made her grand entrance, accompanied by a handsome man who clearly thought he was hot stuff. He walked with that swagger only very confident people seem to master. His exquisitely tailored gray suit was obviously not off-the-rack and the Rolex on his wrist looked too good to be a copy. I was sure it was the real thing. He ran his fingers through thick black hair accented by silver temples and wiggled a neatly-trimmed salt and pepper mustache. I guessed him to be somewhere around fifty. He hesitated, turned to flash a half smile and briefly locked eyes with every woman in the room. Then he joined Julia at the head of the conference table.

  I looked at Julia, blinked and looked again. My God, she was looking sexy for a big woman. Gone was the mousy brown hair I’d noticed during our interview. Shining waves highlighted by natural looking blonde streaks fell to her shoulders. Her soft crepe dress molded itself around her Rubenesque curves. Was it my imagination, or was she standing awfully close to the man I assumed to be our head honcho?

  With a toss of her multi-colored hair, Julia said, “Good morning, ladies, and welcome to CRS.”

  We all clapped as though she’d just said something brilliant. She continued, “Now, please open the packet of forms on the table in front of you.”

  Julia was still talking while we leafed through what seemed to be pretty standard stuff. “You have to complete everything by the time we board the bus for Paradise tomorrow, girls. Government regulations, you know. No papers, no jobs.”

  Did she really call us girls? I thought there were laws against that.

  The man shrugged his shoulders and gave a hollow chuckle. A pinkish blush worked its way up Julia’s neck and swelled across her plump cheeks. She cleared her throat and continued in a voice that was all business. “We have a lot to cover today, ladies, so let’s get going.”

  A hum of agreement filled the room.

  “First, I want you to introduce yourselves and share a bit of your background.” She oozed charm when she said, “But before that, I am proud to introduce Bruce Payton, CEO of Federal Association of Correctional Reform, the parent division of our sales organization. He’s your main boss. We conceived the idea of CRS back when Bruce was FACR’s Deputy Assistant Director and I was head of the Federal Advisory Council.”

  Bruce elbowed his way past Julia to give his canned “Welcome to a division of Federal Association of Correctional Reform” speech. Polite applause rippled through the room when he smiled a too-white smile, while casting a lecherous eye at his new employees.

  Probably bleaches his teeth to go with that pricey haircut. Ah, for the finer things in life.

  Looking at Mr. Perfect, I couldn’t help wondering what kind of “big bucks” he was making working for the government.

  A raven-haired woman, who reminded me of a young Elizabeth Taylor right down to her violet eyes, spoke first. “My name is Tucker Holloway.” Her voice lifted in a sexy southern drawl. “Guess my daddy named me Tucker because he wanted a boy.” Wit
h a little girl titter, she raised her hands palms up, and flashed a Southern Belle smile that Scarlett O’Hara would have been proud of.

  “Anyway, I’m from Charlotte, North Carolina where I owned a commercial design firm until recently.” A momentary look of sadness flashed across her lovely face, and then she perked up. “I’m used to handling big projects, and I’m happy to be part of the FACR team.”

  A light flurry of applause followed her introduction. Tucker passed the wireless microphone to the next person at the table. When it reached the perky blonde, she said, “I’m Cameron Holiday from Santa Monica, California. My background is in advertising. I was formerly with a large Century City firm, but, uh, they downsized.” I don’t think Cameron realized it, but she wrinkled her nose when she said the word downsized.

  Next, the auburn-haired beauty made eye contact with everyone as she said, “I’m Katherine Steele, former Director of Sales at a well-known communications firm in San Francisco. Just call me Kate. I’ll be your Regional Sales Manager for the western states, and I’ll also cover Northern California, Oregon and Washington.” She appeared to be so in charge of herself, I wondered if she was also a professional speaker. I did take note that she didn’t give the name of her former company.

  Kate passed the microphone to me.

  What should I say? That I’m a destitute controller with a master’s in finance, a former deadbeat boyfriend and a mountain of debt?

  For some reason, Bruce’s piercing eyes made me nervous. One look at his grin made it clear his team of beauties delighted him. I cleared my throat. “Hi, I’m Kimberly Martin. I live right here in Seattle.” I shrugged my shoulders and feigned anxiety. “Actually, I don’t know zip about closing sales.”

  A wave of polite laughter spread through the room. I paused for a few seconds to let it settle down. “But I’m a whiz with numbers. I’m your new controller and look forward to working with each of you.”

  After seeing the quality of these women, I’d have bet money that most of us wouldn’t have given the jobs a second look in a prosperous economy. I sank back into my chair, secure in the knowledge that I wasn’t the only over-qualified person venturing into the government arena.

  I glanced at Julia who was looking at Bruce like she was about to spread chocolate on him and lick it off. With the introductions over, she rambled through her laundry list covering all of the mind-numbing details you hear in most orientations. In fact, it was so dull I said a silent prayer that none of our heads would hit the table. It would be awful for someone to be fired on their first day.

  I could tell from her expression she was about to bore us with more details, but there was excitement in her voice. “Ladies, I’ll bet you had no idea that the mandate for Federal Association of Correctional Reform dates way back to the Roosevelt administration.”

  My first thought was “big deal, so it started a long time ago.” A quick glance around the table told me many of the others probably shared my lack of enthusiasm. But Julia flashed a self-satisfied smile as she picked up speed, dropping some very interesting facts.

  So interesting, in fact, that I stopped visualizing her spreading the chocolate on Bruce. Her enthusiasm about the company was contagious, and jolted us out of our lethargy. I listened avidly as she said, “Ladies, FACR is a government corporation that teaches inmates new job skills. They earn a small amount of money they use for things like cigarettes and personal items, but in many cases part of their earnings are deducted to pay back victims of their crimes.”

  A new FACRette said, “Who would have thought—” and someone else murmured “Wow!”

  Julia’s mouth was still in motion when Bruce cut her off right in the middle of a sentence. He stood at the head of the table, and made a rude motion for her to sit down. Sit down and shut up? I have to hand it to her. She was the picture of grace. I probably would have made some smart-ass remark and regretted it later.

  With a glint in his eyes, he said, “Kimberly, it is Kimberly, isn’t it?” His smile was so wide, rays from the recessed lighting seemed to bounce off his white, white teeth.

  Why had he singled me out? I decided maybe because I wasn’t in sales.

  “You seem to be quite interested in this.”

  I choked out a weak, “Yes, I had no idea—”

  I thought if he kept smiling like he was, I might need to put on my sunglasses to cut the glare. Sincerity dripped from his every word to the point of being theatrical. “Before we wrap up for the morning, I want to add another exciting fact. We make these cons into guys who can get jobs on the outside.”

  Julia made a disapproving face and poked him in the ribs. Bruce cleared his throat, straightened his posture and said, “I mean it’s all about rehabilitation.” He gave Julia a look that shot daggers.”

  She fixed him with one emerald green eye, and a vision of chocolate kisses danced right before my eyes. “Bruce and I worked very closely with each other,” she purred. “It took years to put this together, but everything is finally in place.” She swept the table with upraised hands, in the manner of an evangelical minister acknowledging the flock. “Ladies, you are our vision, and this is ‘The Cause’.” She seemed so reverent, I could almost hear angels singing in the background.

  His halogen smile ablaze, Bruce patted Julia on the back. “Couldn’t have done it without this lady. Last year FACR had the biggest volume in its history. Almost a billion dollars.”

  Bruce sounded like Patton addressing the generals. “Until now we were forced to use corrections officers in guard’s uniforms for sales.” He opened his arms wide. “If those corrections officers were able to sell $800,000,000 worth of merchandise last year, just think what you charming ladies will be able to do. Anything over $800,000,000 will earn all of you a big bonus.”

  It was starting to sound very good. Instead of the ho-hum job I thought I’d settled for, I’d be administering the financial affairs of a division of a government-owned corporation that boasted a volume of close to a billion dollars a year.

  Bruce grinned, flashing those pearly whites again. “Julia will spend about seventy percent of her time at our main factory.” Once again he zeroed in on me. “So, Kimberly, as Controller, you’ll be one of the go-to people here in the Seattle office when Julia is in Paradise.”

  Ah, yes. In Paradise. Did I see a grimace flash across her face?

  Julia gave a weak smile and finished with, “Okay, let’s prove to Bruce we can kick butt.”

  ~5~

  After the morning session wrapped, I sprinted for the overcrowded elevator and managed to slip between Kate and Cameron just before the doors snapped shut.

  Kate shifted a little to make room and called past me, “Hey, Cameron, what are you doing for lunch?” The elevator was so crowded, Kate’s elbows dug into my ribs which made it hard to sound cheery, but hey— I'm a regular ‘Little Mary Sunshine.’

  Before Cameron could answer, I did. “You know, I’m the local one here. If you’re up for it, I could show you a great little bistro.”

  Years of experience in the corporate circus taught me the importance of building friendships within the company. As Bruce so aptly pointed out, I was going be the controller, one of the “go-to people,” and there is a caveat that managers are supposed to remember. Something about the employee isn’t your friends, but Kate and Cameron seemed like two women I would like to get to know. Damn the caveat.

  “It’s just a short walk, only four blocks or so. I guarantee the food and atmosphere are definitely the best around. What do you say?”

  Kate, who seemed to be the more aggressive of the two, answered for both of them. “Sure Kimberly, we’d love to, wouldn’t we Cameron?”

  And that’s how it all began.

  We grabbed a corner table at the Palomino Euro Bistro on 5th. After drooling over the upscale menu, I decided to have a chicken salad with warm crusted pecan bleu cheese. They each ordered a Seafood Louie. Sometimes friendship is instant. We chattered like a trio of magpies,
and it felt like we had known each other for years.

  I’m usually not very open about my personal life. In fact I’m typically quite guarded, even with Tree sometimes. But after so much disaster rained down on me, I guess things changed. I really felt comfortable with these two, so it didn't take much prompting for me to pour out my sad story about Ryan being the devil incarnate. They shook their heads in sympathy, commiserating about trusting the wrong people. Cameron clicked her tongue and said, “I guess sometimes intelligent people make very bad choices.”

  I hadn't intended to tell them everything, but somehow the words took on a life of their own, flowing out as though a faucet had been turned on full strength. Me and my big mouth. Well, it was done and I couldn't take it back, so I said, “Kate, how did someone with your background wind up selling furniture for FACR?”

  At first I didn’t think she would answer. “Look, Kate, please don’t think I’m putting you down by asking. I guess what I meant is, thanks to my big mouth you know what a mess I'm in. I took a big cut in what I was making at STC and it’s safe to guess both of you took a cut, too. Let’s face it. Their idea of big bucks is probably a whole lot different than ours. Correct me if I’m wrong.” I patted my designer handbag.

  Kate rubbed her eyes. Was she blinking back tears? Her voice held such deep resentment, I knew I’d pressed a hot button. “You bet it’s less. A lot less. But, that was a good question, Kimberly. A very good question.”

  I noticed she had a habit of sometimes repeating the same thing two different ways. Oh well, we all have our flaws.

  Cameron and I leaned forward, waiting for Kate to spill the gory details. She took a deep breath, planted her elbows on the table as though she planned to share a secret, and said, “I’m really not sure why I’m telling you this, but as Director of Sales at Fiber Optics Communications Inc., I became the first and only woman in upper management. A real door-buster in a male-dominated hierarchy. But in a way I did the same thing you did, Kimberly. I trusted the wrong person.”