Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Margo DeLoupe stomped across the faux marble tile toward Higgman's office. The short power hungry little bastard wasn’t going to take credit for her hard work. The DeLoupe deal even had her name on it. It was a thing of beauty and he made it seem like she wasn't even a part of it.
Her father THE Taylor DeLoupe the primary financier of the DeLoupe project gave her horrific terms that through brilliant negotiation and resource juggling that bordered on genius, she worked the arrogant ass down to a reasonable deal that mutually benefitted both companies. The combined income was twice the total income than the original lopsided arrangment. She was the one who made it happen not that arrogant dwarf.
The sound of the door hitting the shatter proof glass was like thunder. “What the hell Higgman” She yelled.
“DeLoup, dear, I apologize for my appearance but normally people set an appointment or at least knock.”
Margo looked toward the regally dressed voice to see a 3 foot 10 inch man, dripping wet, and not clothed at all.
“What are you doing?”
“Showering, what does it look like? Now if you wouldn't mind turning while I become a tad more presentable.”
She turned and watched him in the reflection of the office window. “Why, can I ask, are you showering from your office bar?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I am smaller than most and it seems like it would be full of disadvantages but being able to convert an office bar into a makeshift shower is not one of them."
She tried to not look too obvious watching him dry off and dress in pants, commando style and a t-shirt.
“I’m a tad more decent now if you care to stop ogling my reflection in the window.” He folded a towel and hung it in a coat closet then used a step stool to get into his chair and then directed her to the seat across from him. “What may I do for you?”
Disarmed by the sight of her team lead showering —oddly not the unpleasant experience she would have thought it would have been— she had to look at the folder she was unconsciously creasing in her hand. _Oh, right._ She set it down and tried to smooth it out as best she could. “The DeLoupe.” She opened the folder containing the plan overview and presentation notes and turned to the credits page. “My name doesn’t appear on it at all.”
“Yes?” he genuinely looked confused.
“It was my deal.”
“It was your deal.” The “And?” was left implied.
“Why wasn’t I even mentioned. This deal means Two Hundred Million for the company.”
“Two hundred seventy six, minimum.” He folded his hands took a breath and with calm force said, “I, Ms. DeLoupe, hope you are not implying that I am taking credit for work I did not do.”
Well, yes she was, and maybe, looking at the makeshift shower out of the corner of her eye she was sure she could find some power over him. She had to be coy. “Of course not, I am merely wondering why there is no mention of my name here.” Now was not the time to be thinking of the shower. She could play this game. There was something there, something she could use, but how?
He nodded and re-laced his fingers. “I see.” He pushed himself back, the chair rolling and turning, he jumped from the chair and as he walked to the shower. He said, “If I’m not mistaken, you wanted to be mentioned in a report that proved not only that you were duly allied with both sides to your benefit and could also prove, should things go south to actually leave you in a still better financial place?"
She hadn’t thought of that. Her father the Tycoon had only heard her proposal because she manipulated thanksgiving dinner, and her mother. She had used personal relationship for her gain as a BroKlo Co. employee. She had hoped her association could bring in a new source of revenue that now that she looked at it was beneficial to her regardless. As a BroKlo employee she would gain status and most likely some sort of finical gain. As a family member and heiress of the DeLoupe Fortune she would of course gain their too. She played honestly and created a balance contract for the two companies. A contract when looked at from a specific angle made her the prime beneficiary.
“How does this deal failing benefit me more if it fails?”
“Perhaps I over estimated you.” He said. He was fiddling with the stand for the base of the shower then pushed it under the counter so it looked like a drawer. Took the shower head off a hook and replaced it so it looked like the sprayer/faucet she had on her kitchen sink.
He continued, “The deal itself will make both your father's company and BKC rich but if it fails both will fall into ruin. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t even realize that’s what was at stake. Yes they would fall into ruin but the trustees of DeLoupe will gain control of the remainder of the fortune and DeLoupe Corp’s sister companies. Something that directly puts money in your pocket. You managed to secure the DeLoupe holdings in such a way that there is no loss for you or your siblings. Weren't you aware of the split of the Hansen holdings from DeLoupe?“
Hansen was a ghost company no one should have known about. Jebadia Hansen was the majority holder of several of DeLoupe Inc.'s less lucrative companies and several other not so well known assets. Jebadia was a corporation to itself held by the more estranged children. How did this little tyrant learn of this? Even she found out only when her father saw they future as she presented it.
“I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“No? Who’s going to believe you?”
“Are _you_ planning something?”
“Accusations? Ms. DeLoupe don’t confuse me for a cretin. It is my job to look at all the angles. Do you know how many hours a week I put in here at BKC?” He paused and poured himself a beverage and proffered her a glass. She shook her head no. “112 to 130. You are here what, 60 or less?”
“I work 20 from home” it sounded desperate even to here.
“I’m sure you do." He closed his eyes and seemed to come to a conclusion. "May I call you Margo?" he didn't wait for a responce, "Margo, I’m, what they refer to as a ‘Little Person’, a demeaning phrase, little person. My size and shape put me at a huge dis-advantage for the more social aspects of life. For years I could see how people pitied me or were nice to me out of self loathing than any real care for me. Friends liked me when I was more Oompa-Loompa than human. And yes I went out on a few dates but the shame of being seen with me. Margo, can you imagine what it must be like to hold hands with someone the height of a child?"
“I’m…” She stopped when he put his hand up.
“No, I’m not asking for pity. I want you to understand that I wanted what normal people wanted but then I found BroKlo Co. BKC accepted me in a way the world wouldn’t. I learned to give it all I had. I gained respect out of Merritt not looks or height."
I don’t have a home Ms. DeLoupe , did you know that?”
She shook her head, where was this going?
“I said there were some advantages to my…” he spread his arms and ice clinked in the glass, “condition.”
She took a breath. What did he want? What should she say?
“No Ms. DeLoupe. Have a little respect, the evil genius is monologuing, this is his, my moment.” He looked at her and waited until she relaxed. “Now, where was I? Yes, benefits; I am just the right size to fit under my desk. Isn’t that a hoot? I became so involved and accepted by this thing, this evil corporation that I didn’t want to leave. There was too much to stop and too much to do. Having a home I went to once a week was stupid. I rent, “he used air quotes, “ a room for $278.23 from a nice lady who lives too far for a daily commute, but it’s an address and the amount happens to be the exact amount of my mother’s medication.”
“Monologuing, Ms. DeLoupe.” he snapped. “This company is a home, a wife. A reason for me to exist. Pathetic, maybe but when I saw a woman, an honest woman, one who was fair beyond anyone I’d ever seen come through this company. Someone who when I checked found no deceit, only a pregnancy scare at 22, and who was willing to deal so drastically and viciously to make a mutually fair deal for both my home and her’s; even risking banishment from her family. A person who is willing to put so much on the line to be fair. I had to see what was really there. I found a dirty trick.”
Margo took another breath but thought better of it.
He looked at her and continued when she didn’t speak, “This was a One Percenter’s trick. Something that only the rich could dream up, and manage. I did a full check and realized this honest woman didn’t even know. So I did the thing that if she were as honest as she presented herself wouldn’t matter. I removed her name from the deal.”
She sat there looking at him. His squat, slightly baby shaped body standing there looking strong, sure. Higgman was known for his dirty deals and evil back handed methods. Maybe he was different.
“Now, Ms DeLoupe if there is nothing else?”
“How do you know it’s not a trick.”
“A good question.” He moved to his file cabinet pulled the step ladder and dug out a folder.
Folder in hand he returned to her, “First, you Margo DeLoupe, have tensions with your father’s morals but don’t hate him. Second you are a giver, you volunteer and help manage a soupe kitchen completely without notice. Third.” he handed her the folder.
She took it and looked at the title, Lander DeLoupe surveillance. “I like playing a fair game, I bought this from one Mercer Ledwigg, hired to give info to Besdra Intl. He’d been unable to remove the taps so kept them going. I found them when I was researching you. My only copy and It’s yours. And something more powerful than telling on me that I turned my liquor cabinet into a shower.”
He escorted her to the door, two files in her hand. One bent and wrinkled the other ominous and hard to hold.
He’d actually done her a favor.
Monday, July 14, 2014
The following is the result of an exercise from my writing group.
The rules were as following:
1. Each sentence must be EXACTLY one work longer than the previous sentence (excluding the first sentence, which may be as long as you like).
2. You must tell a complete 3-act story.
- Act One: A problem appears
- Act Two: A problem is approached (a response to the problem)
- Act Three: A problem is resolved (positive or negative or inconclusive)
Doug cried Freely.
His fists Clench tightly.
He feels so freaking helpless.
There is nothing he can do
It's been years since his last prayer
He's interrupted by a knock at the door
"Excuse me," says the man in the purple fedora.
He followed the map precisely but it must be wrong. The mysterious man told him it was going to be perilous. He however, didn't mention the part where the ground crumbled to nothing. He survived the rabid squirrel, the winged anaconda and various other supernatural "Guardians". Now he's falling to his death never to find The Fountain and save Tiffany.
"I wasn't looking for me," he cries out a second prayer in as many days. Doug's lengthy fall ends with a splash, a breaking of bones and an intake of water.
He know's he looks 25 again but that is no reason for this admittance lady's agressive rudeness.
"She was in here with a tumor, they wouldn't have wheeled her out an let her go."
An older woman with the most beautiful eyes walked up, "I'm so sorry young man she's not here."
The rude woman gasped, her face falling from smug to consoling said "Oh that was Dr. Pasco's , Ahem, special patient."
The older woman dug through some papers and produced an envelope with a familiar thumb drive shaped like the Pokemon Squirtle. It drive had a video of Tiffany and a man who looked much less mysterious with out his fedora or purple suit.
"If you are watching this then our plan failed and I need to tell you I never want to see you ever again. Doug, I really do love you but I felt more like a mother than a girlfriend so much that I just couldn't handle it."
He wanted to cry but couldn't feel anything for the gold digging evil murderous bitch who gave up a love that created miracles for HIM. He gave the water from the Fountain of Youth to the kind woman with the beautiful eyes who later picked him up at a Night club.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Another moonless night. Too many. It was unnatural. When was the last time she even saw the sun? Was there a sun or had she imagined it? The view before her, an inverted nightmare. The trees glowed a ghostly white, like a night filled with a summer moon, and between them a darkness that seemed to be filled with it’s own light. A brilliance the poor ill bred wretches of flesh would never be blessed to see.
The shortest distance between two points is the line between me and you
The song with no source droned on. Magda worked her way through the forest. They were words she memorized with her childhood friend. What was her name? Lillith, Lani, Cheazra? No not Cheazra. They would sing this song. A tale about a princess searching for her beloved and he her. They giggled and sang as they acted out the parts. Sometimes she would be the prince, sometimes the princess.
always living on as the young
Now the woods whispered it to her. Again and again. The song encouraging her deeper and deeper into the dense black. She remembered the two of them putting the pine needles under their noses to make Mustaches and —Lucia, no, Lora, no, Chappy? No not Chappy— her friend would strut around making a show of being a burly man.
In our love we stay strong.
The ground began to rumble and pollen from the cotton wood started to flutter around her like Glow Bugs. Luminescent in this inverted world. Her friend gave the trees a name Populus deltoides So funny they would call them something other than Trees. Her friend said it was something the people of Landgrave did to identify things as different and in doing so keep them separate. Like how the two of them weren't supposed to play because they were different. Trees, people, what made them different? They grew and they woke and slept. Like all Living things.
There is no space between a bond so true
There, again, the warmth. It had been days, no weeks. The warmth had left. A cold befitting the eternal dark crept in filling all the places the warm should have been. And then a howl. The sound of an animal in so much pain. The pain of the soul rending asunder. She ran. Hoping to help. The noise surrounded her giving her no guide but she followed her heart followed knowing this cry was for her.
The cry chased the song away. It is now silent except for a small beat, more felt than heard.
She finds a clearing. In it, a young man. She pauses to watch. His hair is white, glowing like a moon. In his hands a small stone. Black. Evil. A massless malignant chunk of the world around her. The soul of this dark world. Tears of crystal fall from his eyes to feed the stone. It created the warmth, kept forest alive. Should she make him stop? Would set her free?
She tried to say something but she had no speech. He leaned back opened his mouth and the cry, the one she chased to find this spot, rang out coming from every tree and rock, from the starless sky itself. She needed to end this torture. Her's, his and it was becoming clear the pain of the forest itself. With caution she moves to the man and puts her hand on his shoulder. He tenses but does not move. Gaining a little more resolve she kneels to meet his eyes.
He looks up, eyes slowly focusing on her face. Marks, deep cuts and burns marred a face once soft and fair. Brilliant eyes she knew were of the deepest green shown grey in this land. He looked so much like Lulu, no Chandler…
Magda the wind speaks a name. He lookes so much like her childhood friend. He lifts the rock to her. It was a piece of time. A solid beat. She couldn’t bare the solid chunk of nothing. She put her hand on his to cover the stone. A beat. And for a moment the forest returned to life then was back. She remembered him Luchan. He was her friend. The one that played with her.
They laughed. They grew. They… Loved.
Another beat. Only one more. She knew. She knew how they were forbidden to love. She a creature of the forest. He a creature of blood, a human. Then she saw him fighting to save her. The flames surrounding her. His people attacked him held him down, made him watch.
Again, and the final beat. The stone fades to grey. Her time is up.
She looks at him. Her heart stone, the time keeper of her life. That which makes rhythm is still. His wounds have fed it and now she must go. Leave the stone, it will be the seed.
She wants to tell him that she is gone. That she must return to the flow of the forest. She no longer has voice and the forest begins to fade. The ghostly light of life fading, consumed by the dark of eternity.
Luchan She speaks the name and it's carried on the wind.
His eyes seem to focus. He looks at her, blinks back tears and buries the stone.
From the ground as the last ghost light fades a song emerges
The shortest distance between two points is the line between you and me