It’s amazing how environment can alter your perspective on things. I’ve been a little nervous about this meeting since Mr. Gotti asked me to visit Mr. Rizzoli at Tranidek last week. But so much has happened since then that I almost forgot about it.
My blasé attitude toward the meeting fades away as soon as I step inside the Midtown glass-faced high-rise. My office building has an antique charm to it, but Tranidek’s building looks top-of-the-line. With the exception of their campus in Ashland, all of their operations are out of this tower, whereas Wyatt owns several properties.
Fighting through the crowd on their way out of the office, I ask the doorman which floor Frank Rizzoli’s office is on.
“Mr. Rizzoli?” the man asks suspiciously.
I nod. “Yeah, I have a meeting with him at six.”
Glancing at the clock, I see it’s ten minutes to six.
“Just a moment.” The doorman dials a number on a phone behind the counter. Likely verifying the accuracy of my story. My bruised face doesn’t lend itself to an executive meeting. Since Tuesday’s punch in the face, my skin has turned a very unphotogenic black and blue. Luckily, my teeth are all still there and none of the blood vessels in my eyes popped. The cut on my scalp from where I hit the pavement is covered by my hair, although my head still throbs a bit.
After he gets off the phone, he smiles brightly and leads me around the corner to an elevator all on its own.
“This will take you right up to the 72nd floor. Mr. Rizzoli’s office will be on the right.”
“Thanks,” I mutter and step into the elevator. His office is on the 72nd floor? That’s gotta be close to the top.
My ears pop on the ride up, which is less than a minute long. The first thing I notice when I step out is the view of downtown along the edge of the lake. Wyatt Industries’ administration building seems so tiny from this vantage point.
Pulling myself away from the window, I turn toward the glass door and step through, telling the brunette woman at the front desk that I have an appointment. She leaves to tell Mr. Rizzoli, and I take a look around. The square footage for this floor seems to be a lot smaller than the ground level, but then, the building does come to a point at the top. I know because I can see it from my apartment. I checked.
There are two offices off this main one—likely for Mr. Rizzoli and Mr. Gotti. I wonder if the only ones working on this floor are those two and the secretary.
The brunette comes back out with a silver-haired man right behind her. He’s wearing a blue suit with a red tie. A pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses sit inside his pocket.
“Mr. Pierce, so nice to finally meet you,” he says. “Frank Rizzoli.”
I smile and shake his hand, hoping he doesn’t notice the shock that he’s likely to feel, but he doesn’t seem to flinch. Must be that my trip to Emerson Bluffs worked like Wes thought it would.
“Nice to meet you too.”
He motions to his office and puts his hand on my back. “Come on in and we can chat.”
The only walls that are solid are the ones facing the interior. The other two are glass from floor to ceiling, offering beautiful views of nearby Midtown buildings and the Olympia metro area.
He motions to the sitting area with two black leather armchairs near the corner windows. “Have a seat.”
It’s warm for October, but the changing leaves add a certain aesthetic to the view. The high-rises downtown give way to the trees in Chester Park. Even Olympia University’s campus looks like a park with the colored leaves between the old buildings. Together, it balances out the scars of the city.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” He takes the seat across from me.
“Uh, yeah.” I sit up straighter and take it in. I feel like I should be on my best behavior for the man who’s paying my medical bills. I can thank my clumsy hands on that plug for ever meeting him.
“You’re the talk of the town these days.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
He offers a smirk. “Modest. I admire that. But it takes a strong man to be able to endure what you’ve gone through. Joe tells me you are already back to work at Wyatt.”
I nod. “Yes sir.” Sir? Yup, definitely nervous.
“You’ve got a great work ethic. Most folks your age are always looking for the easy way out.”
“I don’t think this city would allow anyone to take the easy way out.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and then he points toward the Wind Tunnel cutting through the city.
“Being that you work at Wyatt, I’m sure you’re well aware of the solar roadways they’re installing throughout the city.”
“Yes sir, I think it’s a great way to go green and create jobs.” Why do I keep saying “sir”?
He smiles. “It’s expensive, though.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“You know, Tranidek was the one to initiate the solar roadway concept.”
“Uh, yeah. I heard that.” Where’s he going with this?
“After we lost my good friend Robert Moyer, Tranidek went through a rough spot. We were without a CEO to further coordinate projects, and the city decided to bid out our idea to other companies, which is when Wyatt stepped in. They were officially chosen for the project a month after I was promoted from Robert’s assistant to CEO.”
I nod. I’ve heard this before—during my first job interview with Wyatt, actually, but they painted a different picture of Tranidek and its future. Back then, they didn’t think that Tranidek would even be around today.
“What do you do at Wyatt now, Mr. Pierce?”
“IT tech support. Mostly just taking calls from people within the company, although I’ve filled in for customer support before, too.”
He looks out the window again. “As I’m sure you’ve read in my letter, I did a little research on you when you started making headlines.”
I lick my dry lips. “Oh yeah?”
He grins. “Nothing bad, I promise. No, I was quite impressed with your academic background. Actually, I’m surprised that after three years Wyatt hasn’t utilized some of your development skills a bit more. I think it was your junior year at Olympia University that you developed several apps?”
Wow, he really did look into my history. Besides an article in the school paper and an A in my class, I didn’t think a lot of people knew about it. Wyatt didn’t seem to be that impressed by it. OU has a lot of tech majors, and Wyatt scooped up a lot of them when they hired me after they won the bid for the solar roadways.
“Yeah, I did a couple of them.”
“Very impressive.”
“Thanks.”
He’s quiet, and I steal another look out the window, watching as cars pile up on the highways snaking through the city.
“Since I took Mr. Moyer’s job, I’ve been working on building up the reputation of the company, back to where it was before we lost the roadway bid.”
I nod.
“It’s unlikely that we’ll get the bid back for the whole project, but I may be able to negotiate a deal that would split the project in half.”
“But Wyatt’s installing the solar roadways.”
“For now, but I have reason to believe that they’re having financial difficulties. This is quite an expensive project, as I’ve said.”
“What makes you think they’re having trouble?”
“Stock market projections, mostly. Customers have been complaining of power outages during construction. It’s getting colder, nobody wants to lose their heat. Not to mention, having their competitor take care of their own employee better than them didn’t help matters.”
I want to ask why he paid my bills at all, but I’m more interested to see where he’s going with the point he’s trying to make.
“Tranidek is working on developing software that’s superior to Wyatt’s. I want our customers to be able to track where outages are in the grid, whether someone is responding to those outages, and when they can expect to have them fixed. The software will also be able to warn customers of changes in roadway patterns and other street closures while this new technology is rolled out.”
“That sounds very cool.”
“If you’re at all interested, I would like to offer you a position here at Tranidek. Not in IT tech support, but where you actually belong: development.”
I stare at him blankly, not full comprehending what he just said. “Is this what you were referring to in your letter?”
He smiles widely now, flashing his bright white teeth. “Yes, Mr. Pierce. I would love to have you on board at Tranidek. We definitely could use your expertise with the rest of our team. You’d jump right in, and you’d be compensated well, I promise you that. Whatever you’re making at Wyatt, we’ll pay you more.”
I struggle for words. I figured the position he was talking about in his letter was the same thing I’m doing at Wyatt. Some people work for years and still end up only designing websites in a basement office. How did I jump from working in a call center to being offered a development job at a major company?
“Sleep on it. This is a big decision.”
“Okay,” I mutter. “Um . . . thank you. This is unexpected.”
“I know. I wanted to make the offer personally to show you just how serious I am. But please, don’t mention this to anyone at Wyatt. Not until you’ve made a decision, at least. I’ve been told we’ve already had a few calls from some of their people. Make this decision for yourself.”
I nod. “Yeah, of course.”
“I’d also like to invite you to a dinner party this weekend at my condo. Just me and a couple colleagues and their wives. You can bring a friend if you’d like.”
I try not to show my surprise at the invitation. “Oh wow. Thank you! That’d be great.”
“I’ll have Joe send the details. Maybe you’ll have made a decision by then.”
“Thank you! Yes, I’ll be there.”
He stands and shakes my hand again. “Mr. Pierce, I look forward to a successful working relationship.” He walks me to the elevator. “Have a good night.”
When the elevator doors close, leaving me alone in the box, I finally let myself relax, and a big smile spreads across my face.
Wow. I wonder when I’ll wake up from this dream. But my sore eye when I smile reminds me that this is reality. Wyatt may be the biggest company in Olympia right now, but if Tranidek is going to pay me more… There’s so much to consider. I’ve only been back at Wyatt for a few days.
The dinner party makes me nervous, though. It will be nice, sure, but I’m not exactly used to rubbing elbows with people like Frank Rizzoli. Especially when I’m an ant compared to the rest of them. I’m sure not everyone there will share the same sentiment as Mr. Rizzoli about my potential at Tranidek.
When I get out onto the street, I pull out my phone and call Emma as I turn down a side street, away from the hustle and bustle of Caulkins Street.
I hear the ringing stop, but she doesn’t say anything. Pulling the phone away from my ear for a moment, I see the call hasn’t been disconnected.
“Hello? Emma?”
“Is this your girl?” a husky man’s voice asks.
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, my heart pumping faster than it did this morning on the treadmill. “Where is she?”
“She was good. A bit of a screamer.” A voice chuckles in the background.
“Let her go,” I say, knowing my words mean nothing to them. “Where is she?”
The line goes dead, and I fight everything that’s bubbling up inside me. I don’t know whether I want to throw up, cry, run, or collapse on the ground. My world is shaken and I don’t know what to do.