Ripoff

by St. James, Morgan

  He put his hand on the dressmaker dummy, turned it to face the table and pulled it closer. He pulled the cover off, revealing a cream-colored silk blouse clearly designed to show off cleavage. I realized everyone but me had plenty of that. The blouse topped a burgundy miniskirt—hardly more than a patch of fabric. He pulled a form-fitting jacket from his briefcase, the left breast pocket adorned with an embroidered Federal Seal highlighted by the letters FACR in an arc above the seal and put it on the dummy with a flourish. All I could think of was a soft core porno movie where the sexy salesperson would soon do her pitch as naked as a jay bird.

  ~8~

  Matt took a few self-assured strides to the front of the table and stood next to Julia. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lena heading toward the wall across from the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. She leaned back and crossed her arms over her flat chest, her expression as sour as someone who had just sucked on a lemon.

  “It’s your show, Matt.” Julia fixed him with a mysterious smile. Then she turned back toward us, pointed a finger at the skimpy outfit and said, “Take a good look, ladies. This is FACR’s secret weapon. That’s why my whole team is female.”

  Lena cleared her throat with such force, all heads turned in her direction. The expression in her eyes was as frigid as an iceberg.

  Secret weapon? I locked eyes with Tucker, she shrugged, and we waited to find out what this was all about.

  Matt grabbed the dummy and swung it around with a dramatic flair so we could see every angle of this stylistic farce. His voice matched his appearance—deep and smooth. Something about the twinkle in his eyes said, “Hey, it’s just something we have to do. Grin and bear it.”

  He cleared his throat, and made eye-contact with me. “Some of you might look at this outfit and ask yourselves what you’re doing here.”

  A nervous twitter circulated around the room.

  “Hey, no problem. If I were one of you that’s what I’d be thinking. I know about manipulating people.” His casual attitude was obviously intended to get everyone to drop their guard. He flashed another congenial smile, giving it time to rest a moment on each hostile face. I had to hand it to him. He was good.

  “One of our divisions makes clothing for the military, so we figured it would be a snap to have them whip these out for you.” He graced each of us with that magnetic smile. “Look around the room, ladies. Every one of you is a complete knockout. If you’re dressed in this new official sales uniform, what male contracting officer will be able to resist giving you the business?”

  A redhead at the opposite end of the table had an angry edge to her voice. “Yeah, but what kind of business? Monkey business? That’s not in my job description!”

  Emboldened by her protest, a blond named Nora spoke up. “Look, I’m sure you mean well, Matt, but I must say this smacks of gender harassment to me.”

  All eyes focused intently on Julia and Matt, waiting for a reaction to this show of rebellion against their brilliant idea. It didn’t take long. Julia’s voice dripped icicles. “Nora, does your attitude mean I’ll be looking for another representative for your territory? This uniform is part of the job, take it or leave it.” She glared at quaking woman. “If you’re thinking about filing a harassment suit, good luck my dear, unless you’re prepared to be out of work for a long time. We do what we have to do in this dog-eat-dog world, and you’ll find it’s not all that easy to sue the government. So,” she locked her hands together and cracked her knuckles, challenging everyone around the table with her emerald glare, “what do you say?”

  Nora backed down so fast, she could have won a 40-yard dash. Julia had drawn the line in the sand. To use a cliché, her attitude made it clear that it was “my way or the highway”—nothing in-between. Nora squeaked, “Well, I just thought it looks a little revealing, that’s all. No, Julia, you won’t have to replace me. I’ll wear it.” Julia had won without a battle. We were a group of kitty cats and she was a lion. Whoever said we were protected by harassment laws obviously hadn’t met Julia Harris.

  Looking a bit sheepish, Matt continued. “Okay, that’s settled.” He took a deep breath, then another. I watched his broad chest rise and fall. “Anyway, you’ll all get to know me over the next few months and realize that sometimes my methods are a bit, um, unorthodox. Here’s the bottom line. This is a chance to use the great equipment God gave you to make a very good living.”

  I thought the room was going to explode. From gasps to harrumphs, the effect of his statement was immediate.

  “Wait. Wait. Before you go nuts on me, that probably wasn’t a great choice of words. Please, ladies. I wasn’t suggesting anything like prostitution, if that’s what you were thinking. Wipe that out of your minds. Relax. I simply meant men like to look at pretty women. And if the woman happens to wrap up an order with said guy, that means she will be visiting him on a regular basis because now he’s a valued customer. Strictly professional, you understand. After all, there’s nothing illegal or prosecutable about letting a guy wish. Hell, they’ll want to give you as many orders as they can, so you’ll keep coming back.”

  Everything after that bombshell was anti-climatic. The shock from the unveiling of the official uniform was a tough act to follow. The next speaker was an engineer, who spoke in a monotone about technical aspects of electrical wiring in cubicles. We were really trying to stay alert. Not one head hit the table.

  A hyperactive designer from Studio Innovation Partners, the contracted space-planning company for FACR, demon-strated the ergonomic features of a chair that had enough bells and whistles to fly to the moon. The thumping rock music in her slick Power Point presentation helped keep me awake. The closest I came to a faux pas was when I had to stifle a giggle because she couldn’t figure out which lever or button did what, and almost got stuck in the chair.

  However, I must admit, before I saw the chairs put into so many positions, I had no idea what the word ergonomic meant. The instruction manual for this chair was like the Kama Sutra of seating.

  By the end of the day, twenty pairs of bored eyeballs swung toward the clock every few minutes. Mercifully the day was finally over and we piled back on the bus to return to civilization. Even though, as Julia had so aptly pointed out, I could actually say I’d been to prison, at least I’d been on the right side of the bars!

  When we got back to the office, Kate said, “Kimberly, Cameron, whatever happens next, we have to keep our friendship going. I’ve really felt good about myself since I met both of you.”

  We did a three-way hug. Cameron said, “Yeah, meeting you two is probably the best thing to come out of this whole weekend. At least until I see the first big check.”

  I cleared my throat, and said in sarcastic teasing, “Oh, so once you’re back in the bucks we’re expendable? What a friend!”

  She shook her head vigorously, then raised her petite hands in protest. “No, no, the three of us are going to be like the Three Musketeers. That’s what we said, right? All for one and one for all.”

  We joined hands and squeezed, almost like kids in a secret club. I was really sorry to see them take off for the airport. I would be on my own, but at least I wouldn’t be out there at some remote military base, wearing scraps of cloth designed solely to lead a guy on. Thank goodness I wouldn’t be waiting for a contracting officer to tuck his eyeballs back in his head so he could write an order.

  Instead, I’d be safe in my office, keeping track of all the sales and expenses. I could almost feel the crisp new greenbacks raining down in the form of huge bonuses, whispering, “Spend me.”

  Matt broke into my thoughts. “Hey, Kim—okay if I call you that —welcome to the rat race. My office is right down from yours, so if you need anything, just yell, but don’t let Julia hear you.

  “Look, Matt, I’m not being snarky. I swear. But from the time I was a little kid I’ve hated people to call me Kim. I really do prefer Kimberly. Thanks for offering to help. I appreciate it.”

  I must add that at t
hat time I didn’t have a clue about what I’d actually gotten into.

  ~9~

  A few days after I returned to Seattle my friend from the bank called with a report which I immediately submitted to the Seattle police. Although I was embarrassed, I figured they might be able to get him for something.

  The detective assigned to the case listened to everything I told him and gave the appearance of being very interested in Ryan. However, from watching TV shows, I figured they’d do a little investigation to make me feel like they were trying to pin something on him, then blow me off.

  Instead Detective Warner called the next day and asked if I could come to his office. He said he compared my complaint to some others he had worked the year before, and there was a common thread. He had run Ryan’s identity through the system to see if anything turned up.

  • • • • •

  Warner leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “Got a little bonus for you. You’re gonna love this. Your darling ex-lover has a record of frauds a mile long. It dates back to the time he was a juvenile. Of course, most of the underage records are sealed, but we’ve got enough reports of women being ripped off to possibly put together a case that will fly.

  He held out a sheet of paper. “Look, this is way against protocol, but take this list of his other victims. Just don’t tell anyone where you got these names. I’ll deny it. I guess most women don’t want to admit in court that they’ve been played, and we haven’t been able to get any of these women to agree to do more than file a complaint. You might want to touch base with some of them.

  I stared at the list. So I wasn’t the only one. Well, maybe I was the only one with a vendetta strong enough to want to see him behind bars and suffering. I said, “I’ll testify. I want to cook his ass.”

  Warner said, “Maybe if you’re able to get some of the others together, you could convince them to testify. If you could pull that off, we’d be able to build a strong fraud case. We tried our best, but we finally had to let it go. I’d love to nail that guy.”

  I tapped my finger against my chin while I thought. It made sense. “Okay, I’m in. Maybe hearing each other’s stories will do it.”

  “Well, the more of you who testify, the stronger the case. My guess is he’d be sent away for a long time, and he wouldn’t be a pretty boy for very long.”

  While I was digesting what he’d just suggested, Warner added, “By the way, he doesn’t waste any time. We found out Lover Boy has already hooked up with a very wealthy divorcee in the Lake Washington area. Here’s her name and address. You might want to contact her, too.”

  • • • • •

  Revenge is a fantastic motivator. I contacted as many of the other women as I could. Four of the six replied and agreed to meet for a drink at The Westin Hotel in downtown Seattle. The other two said they had no desire to parade their vulnerability in public.

  As each of the four arrived it was like looking into a mirror, and all of us noticed the similarity in our appearances. Apparently, dear Ryan always hit on one type of woman. And, we’d all adored him.

  It was an interesting group, our little gathering of scorned, bamboozled women. The five of us certainly looked like sisters. In fact, if you didn’t look too close, we even could have been quintuplets. Well, outside of being conned by Ryan, we were also all cunning and smart. Ryan was going down! Hard.

  And so began a new sisterhood. You may have heard about the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants? We were the Sisterhood of the Conned Cougars, and we were out for blood.

  • • • • •

  I hated to admit it, but Bruce Payton had been so right about the women being able to stack up sales. I found myself working overtime as orders poured in. Our new team left last year’s figures in the dust, just as Bruce said we could. Whenever Julia actually was in Seattle, and not stuck out in Paradise, she strutted around like a proud peacock, constantly reminding everyone the stunning success of CRS was due to the clever idea she and Matt dreamed up. I guess she was entitled to those few moments of glory, considering she had to spend two to three weeks a month cooped up in the prison offices way out in the boonies of Paradise Hills with a mean, cold fish like Lena.

  From the little I’d seen of her, I had begun to realize Julia had two personalities. Most of us saw the semi-nice, engaging one that was generally visible, but occasionally the cutting, nasty one she kept beneath the surface broke out. I think I would have quit before subjecting myself to spending all that time with Lena, but like she said, it was her job to keep things moving smoothly. Maybe that was the source of the nasty Julia. I suspected if it ever came down to a real power struggle between them, Julia would prevail. She could be a barracuda.

  Now and then Bruce dropped into town unannounced, and Matt joked that Mr. Perfect always called first to make sure Julia would be out at Paradise Prison. One evening, over a bottle of superb chardonnay at Portofino, I filled Tree in about Bruce’s strange visits.

  She did an exaggerated eye roll. “Sometimes you’re so dense, Kimberly. You really don’t see it, do you?”

  “See what?”

  “The thing that’s as plain as the nose on your face, and by the way, speaking of noses, you should thank your good genes for that great one.” She put a finger at both sides of her slightly broad nose. “I’ve been thinking about getting mine done. What do you think?”

  “I’ll let you in on a secret. Instead of thanking good genes, I really owe thanks to Dr. Brenan. Want his number?”

  She laughed, held up her hand and began to tick off conclusions on her fingers. Index finger—“From what you said, it’s pretty certain Bruce and Julia had a thing once upon a time;” middle finger—“they’re tied at the hip in business, but he obviously doesn’t want to be around her.”

  I nodded. So far it seemed right on.

  Ring finger—“You say your sleazy boss is married to a society woman, but appears to be a player.”

  “Absolutely. So what are you getting at?”

  She wiggled her pinky. “Easy. I think Mr. Hot Pants has a girlfriend in Seattle. He needs to make sure Julia’s operation stays on track, so he pops into town on the government’s dollar when he’s certain she isn’t here, grabs a little piece on the side and zips back to his trophy society wife. The dude is having his cake and eating it, too as the saying goes.”

  It seemed so simple the way Tree put it. Why I hadn’t figured it out as easily as she had?

  She said, “Now that we’ve solved the riddle of Bruce’s visits, let’s talk about Matt. I hope you’re not getting involved with him. You need this job. Use your head and don’t jeopardize it.”

  I smiled back at her while visions of Matt, flexing those luscious muscles, danced around in my head. “Oh, it’s strictly friendship and business. Nothing more. He’s told me quite a bit about Julia and how he maneuvered himself into the position he has. The guy is really clever. Talk about using what God gave him. I’m pretty sure she has the hots for him, although she’s almost old enough to be his mother.”

  A playful smile lit her face.

  “By the way, he plays up his sexuality to the hilt. Even if he hasn’t slept with her, I think just having him around makes her feel good about herself. In either case, the bottom line is their idea of hiring sexy women and designing outrageous official uniforms did what it was supposed to. Orders are up by more than a third.

  She nodded. “From what you said, it sure sounds like business is humming along.”

  I tapped my finger against my forehead as though I hadn’t heard what she said. “You know, Matt really acts like he has lots of money. I’m not sure how he affords the Brioni suits and Hermes ties he’s so fond of. He’s such a clothes horse, he could put us to shame. And, he does drive an expensive car. I guess there are a few possibilities. Maybe a wealthy relative left him a bundle, or he has another source of income. I hardly think the answer is that the man really knows how to stretch a dollar.”

  A guarded look
crept into her eyes. “You can never be too sure—never be too trusting. Maybe you should try to wheedle a little more information out of him.”

  I remember pooh-poohing her doubts. “I’m sure there’s an explanation. Just because I got ripped off once, I can’t spend the rest of my life looking for the boogey man under my bed. Anyway, I confess, I’m attracted to the guy. Both his personality and his looks, so under any other circumstances, the place I’d be looking for Matt would be stretched out in my bed, not as the boogey man under it. But don’t worry. I’m not going to make another foolish mistake. Getting taken by Ryan was enough for me. Friendship. That’s all it is. Just friendship.”

  She patted my arm. “Keep it that way. Now tell me what’s happening with tracking down that rat Ryan. Did your friend at the bank come up with anything?’

  “You bet she did! I proceeded to tell her about my meeting with Detective Warner and with the other women he had conned.

  She high-fived me and said, “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help just let me know. He sure figured none of you would risk looking like you’d been naïve. Goes to show he doesn’t know shit about the power of a pissed-off woman.”

  ~10~

  The next evening the Conned Cougars met again to plot Ryan’s downfall. One of us had to approach his latest conquest, warn her and try to get her on board. As the one with the freshest wound, I volunteered to be that person.

  It was still early, so I drove by her home after we said our goodbyes. It was an elegant mansion and I remember thinking my condo probably would have fit into her living room. Ryan had obviously aimed for a big hit this time. As fate would have it, while I sat there parked across the street, Ryan came out and got into a Cadillac Escalade parked in the driveway. Oh yeah. He was definitely going first class.