Chapter 8

 

Alex led me downstairs and to a long, black limo waiting on the street. He helped me inside and we drove to the restaurant. To say I was nervous wasn't quite the right description. I was so petrified I thought they'd have to carry me, stiff as a board, into the fancy restaurant. Fortunately my body decided to turn into jello instead, so when we arrived I stumbled out of the car, and my nose nearly made the close acquaintance of the sidewalk.

Alex caught me before I was on first-name basis with the ground. "Careful there," Alex scolded me with a mischievous smile on his face. "Not much experience with high-heels?"

"What do you think?" I mumbled. I could barely see anything through the bright, blinding blush on my cheeks. People passed by us and stared at my clumsiness.

Alex guided me through the double doors of the eating joint and up to a tall podium. Beyond that lay the floor where sat two dozen small square tables, most of which were occupied by the upper crust of the crusty elite. Behind the podium was a penguin-suited, dark-haired man with a mustache that was so curled at the ends that it defied gravity. The penguin man looked down his pointed nose at me, but had to look up at Alex. "Name, please?" he requested.

"Brenton," Alex replied.

The name broke the ice, or, rather, the bank. The man's personality changed from stuffy to lapdog in under five seconds. "Mr. Brenton, so glad to see you again. Is this your fiance?" he asked, gesturing to me.

"Yes," Alex mischievously replied. I scowled and utilized my high heels by stomping one of them into his foot. He cringed and his eyes whipped down at me. "None of that now, darling," he whispered beneath his breath.

I sweetly smiled at him. "Oh honey, don't be so fuddy," I returned.

The penguin man clapped his gloved hands and a waiter materialized out of nowhere. "Walter, would you take Mr. Brenton and his fiance to their room?"

"Room?" I repeated in confusion.

"This way, dearest," Alex instructed. We followed the waiter through the maze of moneyed patrons and to a wall along the left side of the room. The waiter opened the door to the room, and inside was a long rectangular table with eight places set and six of those already taken. At the head was a regal older man of seventy with a thick, white mustache and bushy eyebrows to match. At the other end of the table was a woman about the same age with white, permed hair and a thin smile on her lips. She was as husky as me, but hid her figure well behind a stiff posture.

At the far side sat three young man of varying ages from thirty-five to twenty five with various heights and builds, and judging from their auburn eyes and dirty-blond hair I could see they were Alex's brothers. The oldest looked very serious, the second one had red cheeks that told me he liked his bottle, and the next didn't make eye contact when I looked at him. Close to the door was another brother who looked a little older then twenty, and who's eyes were a nice shade of light blue. His smile had a hint of naivety and hero worship toward Alex. I imagined their absent sister must look a lot like her brothers and mother. The men all wore suits like Alex, and the woman had on a beautiful silver gown with a modest neckline and a diamond necklace around her pale throat.

When we entered they all turned their attention to the door, and I felt the full weight of their approval settle on my shoulders. Suddenly the suffocating corset didn't suffocate enough, and my heavy chin stuck out like a whale. I wanted to shrink behind Alex and make my getaway, but he held me against his side and dragged me into the room. Contestant number one was the mother who sat at the end closest to the door. "Mother, I would like to introduce you to Georgina Trammel. George, this is my mother, Mrs. Elizabeth Brenton."

"Do you usually go by George?" Mrs. Brenton wondered in surprise.

"Um, yeah. It's easier to say," I explained to her.

"Well, it's pleasure to meet you, George," she greeted me.

"Um, hi," I replied. I was in hell, and Alex dragged me to the next circle in the form of his dad who had stood and walked over to us.

"George, this is my father, Mr. Charles Brenton."

"You're a very fine-looking young woman," he complimented. I blushed and mumbled a thank-you.

Alex swept his hand over the young men. "And these are my brothers. I see Mother's been kind enough to put them in chronological order for you." The company laughed and I managed a twitter. "There's Charles, named after my father, Albert, Fred, and Will." They bowed their heads at me when their names were called, and I filed them away for future reference. I only hoped I wouldn't accidentally shred that file and forget their names.

"We were just about to order without you," Charles spoke up.

"I'm sorry we're late. A little problem with our schedules," Alex excused us. He guided me to the two unoccupied seats and helped me into mine before he sat down beside me. He sat beside his youngest brother, Will, and I was stuck close to his mom.

"Don't get the most expensive item on the list," their mother scolded them.

"Always, Mother," Albert teased.

I looked around for a menu and panicked when I didn't see any. Alex must have noticed my face changed from blushing to pale, and he leaned toward me. "Something wrong?" he whispered to me.

"Where are the menus?" I asked him.

He smiled. "There aren't any. You ask the waiter for the cheapest meal and he haggles for the most expensive until you meet somewhere in the middle."

I scowled at him. "Very funny, now how do I order some food?" I hissed back.

The door opened and a waiter slipped inside. He had a bright smile on his face and hopes for a very large tip in his eyes. "Are you ready to order?" he asked us.

"We are," Mrs. Brenton replied. I cringed and glanced at Alex, who winked at me. It didn't make me feel any better. "We'll all have the steak with a side of salad, and for hors d'oeuvre we'll have some garlic bread and soup." She was ordering for all of us. I was saved!

"What sort of soup?" the waiter asked her.

"What's the house special?"

"Tomato basil."

"We'll take that." The waiter bowed and left. Unfortunately, without the distraction of food I was the main attraction. Mrs. Brenton glanced over to me and smiled, but I wasn't sure that smile went all the way to her eyes. "Alex tells us you work for a company we're about to acquire."

"Um, yeah."

"Which one?"

"Which department?" I returned.

"Which store," she corrected me.

I glanced at Alex in disbelief, and he merely shrugged. These people were so loaded they made Scrooge McDuck look like a broke duck. "Um, the Stacy's Department store," I told her.

Her face lit up. "A very good one. I remember going there in my youth and shopping for dresses. Do you work in clothing?"

I wondered if Alex had told his family anything about me other than my name and gender. "Um, no. I actually work in inventory."

Mrs. Brenton raised an eyebrow. "Inventory? I'm not sure I've heard of that department."

I sighed and dove head-first into the mucky world of explaining my dirty and mundane occupation. "It's not really a department. I work in the back room on a forklift delivering all the merchandise to the departments."

"Forklift?" the youngest brother spoke up in an interested voice.

I shrank down in my chair and wished it would swallow me. "Yeah, forklift."

"Could you teach me how to run one of those?" I blinked. He sounded serious.

The other brothers burst out laughing, and Alex slapped Will on the back. "That would be a sight to see you driving one of those things in your fancy suits," he teased his sibling.

Will rubbed his back and scowled at his brothers. "Why is that so unbelievable?"

"Because of the way you drive a car. We thought we'd have to fix things with the licensing department to get you your license," Albert teased.

I felt like the odd man out in their familial bickering. Mrs. Brenton noticed and leaned over to me. She set one of her jeweled hands atop mine and smiled at me. "I think it's wonderful that you can handle the job of a man. In my day people frowned about those things and-"

"-and don't you go reminiscing about those days," Mr. Brenton scolded his wife.

She shot him a playful scowl. "You behave yourself, Charles. I can certainly speak about my wilder days to this young woman." I was saved from any more of their peculiarities by the arrival of the bread and soup. Conversation was replaced with eating interspersed with a few random questions directed at me. "Are your fellow employees looking forward to the merger?" Mrs. Brenton asked me.

I choked on my soup, and glanced up at her with a mixture of shock and confusion. "No, they're not," I croaked out through my coughing.

Now it was her turn to look surprised. "Really? I thought they'd be very happy."

"Happy?" I returned. I felt a hand settle on my arm and turned to Alex. He shakily smiled at me and shook my head. I saw the warning in his eyes, but I didn't care. Now was the time to see if his family's intentions were pure. I glanced around at their interested faces. "My coworkers and I aren't very happy at all. We heard a lot of us might be laid off."

Mr. Brenton chuckled and tossed down his napkin on the table. "Not a lot, but a few might have to lose their jobs. We can't have repetition in the business. That leads to waste."

"We're bare-bones as it is," I protested. "If you fire any of us than the departments will suffer."

"There's always waste and repetition, young lady," Mr. Brenton countered. "It's just a matter of looking at it with a keen, unbiased eye and rooting it out."

"We need to watch the bottom-line," Charles spoke up. "The Stacy store is in a terrible financial state, and any waste will sink the ship."

Mr. Brenton leaned back in his chair and smiled at his eldest. "A very smart business move, Charlie."

"Bottom-line?" I shrieked. I stood up and ignored Alex as he pulled at the side of my dress. "What about the people who work there? What about their livelihoods? Their families? Their futures?"

The family was taken aback, and Alex pulled me back into my seat. "That's enough," he whispered to me.

I whipped my head around to him and gave him a glare that would have melted his head if it had been made of steel. "Enough? ENOUGH? I haven't even gotten started!" I tore his hand off my arm, again stood, and glared at the stunned family. "You think you've found the perfect way to make a profit and only crack a few eggs, huh? Well, I'll have you know those eggs are my friends and they're a lot better people than you guys! All you guys care about is taking the easy way out and making a quick buck! Well, you know what? If you put any names on that pink-slip list then you'd better make mine one of them because I don't want to work under a bunch of people who don't care a lick about those people they're going to get rid of!"

"Come on, George. It's not that bad," Alex argued.

I stiffened, slowly rotated my head back to him, and my eye twitched. "Not that bad? How's this for not that bad?" I picked up my soup bowl and deposited it on his head, much to the horror and shock of his family. "And I hate tomato soup!" I shouted before I marched out of the room.

The dining area was eerily silent when I stepped out, and I realized through their shocked faces that they'd heard my shouting through the thin walls. I hid my face and raced out of the restaurant. I blew a high-heel outside, and tore them both off so I could race away from that awful place with that awful family. My stupid, overly-romantic mind couldn't help noticing that Alex didn't run after me and try to stop me.

I found no solace in standing outside the restaurant doors, holding my shoes and without a dime to call a taxi. In my rush to dress I'd also forgotten my cellphone, so I couldn't call anybody, either. The weather looked as gloomy as my mood, and to complete my evening rain appeared imminent. In such a terrible, depressing, no-good situation as this there was only one thing for a girl to do. She had to go talk to a girlfriend.