Perfect Match, page 6
She smiled. “I’m Madison Winston, CEO of Fallington Enterprises, and it’ a pleasure to finally meet you in person. We have a big week ahead of us and a tremendous year before us to do some important things. I encourage you to fill your coffee cup often, keep your eyes and mind wide open because I’ve got lots to share with you.
“Each one of you has a phone. Take it out, turn it OFF, and place it face-down on the table. We have three personnel in the office who will take phone messages that you might receive during our sessions.” Madison picked up her phone and demonstrated with a couple of hand motions. “See, mine’s off also.” She placed it back on the table.
Hollis was feasting on Madison’s blue blouse that shimmied every time she moved. He couldn’t take his eyes off her breast, imagining them rocking unseen beneath the blouse. Her pant suit fit her hips perfectly and showed her lean curves. He’d laughed when D.R. referred to Madison by phone as ‘taco lady.’ Hollis had no idea she was such an attractive woman. He’d have a piece of that ass before the week ended, he thought. He grunted a low, “Uh huh.” Phil squirmed and cut him a look. Nancy’s eyes shot daggers at him.
“So how was the Shiloh? Everybody get plenty of sleep last night?” Madison asked.
Nancy nodded affirmatively.
Phil squirmed. “I loved it. Best coffee and breakfast I’ve ever had. I’d like to bring my wife sometime.”
Hollis looked sour.
Madison gave him a nod. “How about you, Hollis?”
“Well, it’s not California.”
Madison smiled slightly. “Brilliant deduction. I hope your deductive brilliance shines when we get to the serious stuff this week.”
Nancy and Phil chuckled. Hollis cleared his tight throat, as his face deepened in color. He thought, I’ll show her brilliance when I get her ass in bed.
Madison said, “Let’s get started.”
As Janice passed out folders, with the week’s agenda and training materials, Madison continued, “We’ll be spending about 10% of our time describing Fallington’s current business status and 90% on how to fix it, so get yourselves into the problem solving mode.
“As you know, Fallington buys bulk quantities of goods and products, and then sells them wholesale to retail businesses. Our suppliers are in several different countries. Our Hong Kong office has primarily coordinated that part of our operations, at least to this point. We’re going to be taking a close look at that process very soon.
“We’re going to be looking at company-wide data so we get a big picture, and also an in depth analysis of each branch office.” Madison clicked her wireless remote and a PowerPoint graph hit the screen. “A look at this graph shows that the L.A. operation is in the negative, New York is barely breaking even, and Atlanta is showing positive, however a single branch can’t carry the whole load.”
She watched the group. Nancy sat, pleased. Phil squirmed and looked at everything but the graph. “Don’t get alarmed, the intent is not to make a glaring comparison, or put anyone on the spot. We’re in this together and we’ll get where we need to go by working together. This week’s meeting is not about placing blame, but finding solutions.”
Hollis blurted out, “I’d like to remind everyone that the west coast is unique. These numbers and…and…colorful little graphs don’t mean anything.” His hand gesture was dismissive.
“Oh, really?”
“Look, Madison, with all due respect, you’re new…what, a few weeks as CEO. L.A. and the west coast tend to bump along. It has its own personality. You can’t fit a graph around a dynamic area like California.”
Madison took a deep breath, calming herself. “Hollis, the graph was shaped by the unique figures you submitted on your reports. The graph came from performance…or the lack.” The air got heavy.
Hollis sulked.
Madison said, “Let’s think about this ‘unique’ factor that Hollis mentioned for a moment. We’re all unique, different. No shortage of diversity in the world, but we have many more things in common that often times help define broad consumer markets. We want to be certain we are finding the markets and fulfilling them.”
Nancy and Phil were busy taking notes. Hollis was leaning back with both hands clasped behind his head glaring at the ceiling thinking he couldn’t wait to get in Madison’s hot little pants before the week was over. He almost chuckled out loud thinking how ‘unique’ that would be.
The morning session moved briskly and after lunch Madison raced them through more stark details of the business. The details eventually got the attention of Hollis, and his tacky comments faded into silence. By 5:30 the three had hoot-owl eyes, zoned out.
“One other thing, before Janice takes you back to the Shiloh, Rodney will be coordinating on-site training and assistance for your offices.” Madison gestured to Rodney. “He—”
Hollis cut her off. “Rodney? Why D.R. never let him—”
Madison jumped in. “Stop. Hold it right there. I don’t know what your history is with D.R. or Rodney and I don’t care, since I’m all about moving forward. I’ve met extensively with Rodney. He knows my thinking on Fallington’s future, and you will too by the end of the week.
“I’m giving Rodney expanded responsibilities because I have complete confidence that he will fulfill them. If at any time you feel Rodney is not challenging you or your staff to extraordinary limits, you let me know. Anything else?” She paused. “Don’t forget that I’ll have afternoon individual sessions with each of you, separately on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.”
Janice followed Madison to her office. After closing the door she said, with a bow, “Great session, Madame CEO Winston.”
“Oh, Janice, you’re a hoot, but thank you for all your help. Quite a threesome isn’t it?”
Janice laughed, “Oh, yes, especially Hollis.”
“What do you make of him?”
“I only know him by phone and of course one couldn’t help but hear D.R.’s conversations with him, when sharing his sexual escapades. Sometimes he had the speaker phone on. I gathered Hollis is a skirt-chaser just like D.R. What a pair.” Janice sighed. “Well, let me take them to the inn.” She closed the door.
Madison sat at her desk glancing over the phone messages that Roxy had taken for her. She mentally ticked off how she would answer a few at home and some in the morning before their staff meeting.
There was a timid knock on her door.
“Yes?”
Rodney poked his head in. “Do…do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure, come in, sit, and relax. What’s on your mind?”
Rodney hurried to one of the chairs facing Madison’s desk. His right knee began to bounce up and down.
He said, “I have some things I need to tell you. First of all, thank you for defending me in front of the staff today, and second I thought you did a splendid job with the meeting. It’s the first real staff meeting I’ve ever attended. You really know your stuff, Madison.” He smiled, but his right knee kept bouncing.
“Thanks for your compliment. We’re going to give Fallington our best shot.” She thought a moment. “I really didn’t think of it as defending you; just setting the record straight. I needed to nudge Hollis into the future. Anyway, as we’ve worked together, I’m confident you’ll handle anything that comes your way.”
He said, “I hope you still feel the same after what I’m about to tell you.”
Madison remained poker-faced, waiting, wondering.
“Wilma and I are splitting up, getting a divorce.”
She paused only a moment, before saying, “I wish you both the best with your decision. I only met Wilma once, at the Christmas party. Both of you are very nice people, Rodney. Do you anticipate any special problems to develop?”
“Oh, no. We both feel it’s best for both of us.” He paused, chewing on his bottom lip, right knee bouncing like a jack-hammer. “I’m gay, Madison.” His face spelled anguish.
“Okay.”
He stared. “Well…”
Madison leaned into her desk. “Well…am I supposed to say something else?” She smiled.
“Well I thought you might be…upset or something.”
“Should I be?”
“Well most people are.”
Madison took a long breath. “Did you come in here to tell me bad news or good news? So far I’ve only heard good news. Of course I’m always a little sad when a relationship doesn’t work out. My marriage ended in divorce, but I’m happier now, and I guess my ex is also. You deciding to embrace honestly who you are is good news whether your gay, straight, or whatever. Honesty begins on our own doorstep.”
His knee had stopped bouncing. He shook his head a couple of times. “What makes you so understanding? This company really needs you, Madison. We all need you.” His excitement began to show. “I can’t believe how you’ve worked with D.R.’s bed buddies and turned them into workaholics.”
They both laughed.
Madison got up and rounded her desk. “Unless you’ve got more good or bad news, let me give you a hug, Rodney.”
As he hugged her, Rodney thought what a good woman she was and how thankful he was that she was their CEO. As he got ready to close the door he said, “I just want you to know that my brother is the biggest blind fool on the planet.”
The door closed quietly, and Madison stood there in the silence thinking, was that bad news or good news.
Chapter Eleven
Tuesday
Rachel Johnson was looking over some notes when she landed herself at the foot of D.R.’s bed. “Alright Fallington, time for a new day. I just spoke with your doctor and he said you’re to continue with physical therapy as is, and you can get out of bed, use a wheelchair with a special leg prop that will keep that right leg elevated.” Hands on her hips, “How’s that sound?”
He sighed, “I’m not sure.”
She gave him a hard look. “Not sure? Not sure? Well then maybe you need to stay in bed another month. I’ll get you a fresh blankie and pacifier and you can sulk some more.” She turned and headed for the door, taking with her the wheelchair that had been delivered to his room earlier.
“Wait. Wait. Let me start over, please.” He paused, mentally working on his attitude. “What you suggested sounds really great. Everything. I’ll try anything you suggest from now on. Really.” He was mentally gritting his teeth. Cooperation? Not something I’m familiar with, he thought.
Rachel came around the bed chuckling. “We make a great team, Fallington, you and me. Maybe we could get our own TV show one of these days.”
He laughed the first time in he didn’t know when. “Rachel, you’re a riot. You’d be the star of the show.”
After Rachel showed him a few maneuvers and operational features of the wheelchair, D.R. was settled in, but he could feel his emotional level sinking just from being in a wheelchair. How disgusting, he thought. But I’ll deal with it. I’ll deal with it, he kept telling himself. He practiced in his room a little, backwards, forwards, turning, braking, raising and lowering the right leg adjustment.
Rachel watched, nodding her head in praise. “Why don’t you test drive this beauty out in the hall, and then go exploring around this wing of the building? There’re a couple of sunrooms you might want to check out as rest stops.”
“Sounds good to me.” But he was dreading other people seeing him sitting cramped in the damn wheelchair.
“One warning,” Rachel said, “you can think of this speed mobile as your new Corvette; just don’t wreck it like you did the last one.” She chuckled.
He looked up at her, shaking his head. “Never again Rachel, never again.” He’d had his share of nightmares of the wreck, each time waking up in a sweat.
She patted his left shoulder and went to check on other patients.
He slowly touched his right hand to his left shoulder. It’d been a long time since anyone had patted him on the shoulder or back.
After a few moments he wheeled off down the hall, staying close along the bank of windows, overlooking the hospital grounds, parking decks, and flag poles with flags whipping in the May breeze. Damn, I wish I wasn’t in here, he thought. I’ve got to get better so I can get out of here. He went the full length of the U-shaped wing. He located elevators, drink machines, nurses’ station, and a few staring visitors. Damn, he hated being in here.
He paused in the hall across from room 400. The hall was empty of people, so he thought he’d try a couple of maneuvers with the wheelchair. Back and forth, a little to the right, a little to the left. I’m getting pretty good with this damn chair, he thought.
A shiny pan slipped from the overloaded cart rounding the corner, clanging as it bounced and slid to a stop. D.R.’s jangled nerves sent cross signals to his right hand causing him to jerk the chair the wrong way, slamming his right leg against the wall. Throbbing pain reminded him of his helplessness. Curses came through clenched teeth, as he waited for the awakened pain to subside.
The patient propped in bed in room 400 watched the NASCAR drama unfold, through her cracked door. She chuckled to herself thinking that he can’t drive a wheelchair any better than his Corvette. She recognized the glistening perspiration on his forehead, borne of raw pain. She knew that experience well. She watched him muster enough courage to slowly push off down the hall.
The patient tapped her pen a few times on her notebook and began stringing words and sentences down the pages. Her thoughts were racing faster than her pen. She’d stop in mid-sentence and jot abbreviated notes in a separate pad, and then back to the spiral notebook.
After completing two pages, she bagged her notebooks and pen, braced herself, and eased into her wheelchair parked near her bed. She arranged her nine-patch quilt on her lap that her mom had made her, and rolled from her room and down the hall.
D.R. had found the corner sunroom, braked his wheelchair and was taking in the outside world, wishing he was out there and not in the antiseptic-smelling hospital. His back was to the hall entrance. The sunroom had three banks of windows. He was facing the end wall when he picked up the barely audible wheelchair sound. The sound that is the movement of air, accented by the padded wheels rolling on hard floor, a couple creaks and clicks, and then stillness.
He caught the faint fragrance of something fresh, floral, pleasant, so he figured some damn female had arrived. What now, he thought. Hide out in my room? He was aware from his left that the unknown chair was creeping closer but about three feet from him. He was feeling uncomfortable by the second.
His curiosity and peripheral vision revealed a female with shoulder-length brown hair, a soft teenage face, but eyes that told a different story. He quickly looked away, but he heard the rustle of turning pages, and the tap, tap, tap.
The young female said, “How’re you feeling today?” Her voice was soft, but confident.
He gave a slight shrug. Maybe that’s all he’d need to say to some strange teenager.
More tapping, rustling paper.
A few long minutes passed. He felt trapped in a damn chamber with some idiot tap, tap, tapping.
“What are you in here for?” Her question broke into his private thoughts.
He sighed and lifted a finger toward his wrecked right foot. Can’t the dummy see that my damn foot is bandaged, he thought.
She persisted. “How long you going to be here?”
Too damn long, if I have to be questioned by some stupid teenager, he thought. Maybe she’ll settle for another shrug, so he shrugged.
Didn’t work.
“So…is your foot the only thing wrong with you, or is your voice box broken also?”
Enough of this nonsense. His hands jerked both wheels. Didn’t budge. He tried again; nothing moved, except boiling frustration.
“You have to release the brake first, and then you can travel around the world.”
Great, just what I need a smart ass comedian to cheer me back to good health. He sat still, with arms resting on the supports in surrender to being captive to a chatty little twerp.
“My name’s Selena, what’s yours?”
He thought a moment before giving in and deciding to answer, “D.R.”
“Like in doctor, are you a doctor?” She toyed with him.
He shook his head?
“So…what do the alphabets D and R stand for?”
He slowly un-braked and turned the chair slightly in her direction, as he decided to do something he’d not done since junior high school…use his real names. He gave her a quick glance. “Doak Roscoe.” Regretted it immediately.
Her eyes twinkled beneath her dark lashes. “Doak must be a joke, but Roscoe I like. You look like a Roscoe.” She giggled a little, as she scribbled on the margin of her notebook page. She looked up and off in the distance at the mountains. Her expression was farther away than the horizon.
Roscoe felt uncomfortable with her sudden change of mood. He ventured, “Why are you in the hospital?”
It took her a few seconds to return to the present moment. “I’m dying,” said flatly.
He huffed in disbelief. “That’s not funny and nothing to joke about. You’re too healthy and young. You’re not dying.” He wouldn’t just leave it at that. “Is that the latest teenage trend…talking about dying?” He huffed again.
She eyed him, easing her chair a little closer, leaning forward, “Yes, I’m dying, but something worse than dying is being a despicable jerk. You’re a jerk, Roscoe.”
Before he could muster his thoughts, Selena reversed her wheelchair and shot down the hall like a rocket, rich brown hair flowing, her profile in full view. His mind was searching, searching for something not clear.
Chapter Twelve
Wednesday Evening
Roscoe had eaten all of his tasteless meals dutifully and had been watching a baseball game on TV, but his thoughts were of Selena, the teenage patient in room 400. Every time he’d wheeled up and down the hall her door had been shut.
