47

“I CAN’T STAY LONG,” Pat Hanley told him when Fiore entered the Ocean State suite at the Biltmore just before seven o’clock. “Brad will probably be home by nine. This is one of his on-time nights. He’d be there now except he has a meeting with Paul what’s his name.”

“Paul Castillo,” he said.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“Just a little white wine,” he answered.

Pat found the bottle in the armoire and poured the drink for him. “It’s a Chablis,” she told him, handing him the glass and moving toward the sofa. Doug followed her.

“Brad’s not too happy with Castillo, I can tell you that,” Pat said. “He swore up and down at you for taking Ryder away at this point in the negotiations. He thinks your law firm considers Ocean State a second-class client. I gather you told him that Ryder was swamped with other work and wouldn’t be able to devote all the time he’d need if the Company has a strike. Brad figures that was a bridge they could cross if they came to it. Now, from what he tells me, it sounds like Castillo’s saying he’s wrong about everything.”

Fiore was sitting at the other end of the sofa. He got up and brought over one of the chairs to rest his feet on.

“Let me make this short and sweet, Pat,” he began. “No, wait a second. That sounded kind of rough, and I didn’t mean it that way. But you don’t want to see the employees walk out of that plant, and I sure as hell don’t either. The thing is that you’re right about what you said before. The Platts are absolutely opposed to any labor trouble. They won’t let a war start. Maybe they’re negotiating to sell the Company and want a peaceful settlement to make sure the deal goes through. If that’s the case, they’re not letting me in on it. It’s certainly a possibility, but I don’t think that’s the reason. From everything that’s been said, they just feel that better times are on the way. They don’t want to risk losing customers to all the vulture wire companies out there who’d go after them with fantastic deals and sale prices as soon as word got out that Ocean State was on strike. It’s not worth it to them.

“What I’m telling you is that Brad better negotiate a deal in the three meetings that are left with the Union. If he doesn’t, he’s going to get a phone call telling him exactly what to put on the table in the Company’s final offer. And if that happens, he’ll come out feeling about as low to the ground as he did three years ago when the Union called his bluff.”

“But what if …” Pat started to ask a question.

Fiore didn’t give her a chance to continue. “Hold on. Let me get it all out. The Platts had a conversation with Castillo about what they’re willing to do for a new agreement, and he’s trying like hell to steer your husband in that direction. I’m not worried about wages at this point. Both sides are coming together there. But Brad is being a stubborn prick on the medical. He wants the employees to contribute five percent more of the cost, and the Union isn’t going to let it happen, not unless hell freezes over.

“That’s the thing you’ve got to help us with. Get him to talk to you about it and tell him you think he’s wrong. He is wrong, so you won’t be saying anything you’d have a reason to regret. The cost of the medical plan will be going up every year. The ten percent they pay now is going to cost his guys a bigger piece of their wages each year of the contract. The owners are prepared to keep putting up ninety percent of the total cost, whatever it is. They’ll live with it, and they’ve made it perfectly clear to us that it’s more palatable to them than a strike.”

Fiore stared at her in silence for several seconds. “That’s it in a nutshell.” He reached over for his glass of wine. “Any questions from the audience?” he asked.

Pat looked overwhelmed, and had nothing to say on Brad’s behalf. “I understand,” she whispered. “I’ll do what I can. I don’t want to see him get hurt again.” She was silent a few moments before asking, “Do you think there’s any concession he can get from the Union that will make him feel better about it if he does what you say?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Doug answered. He realized that Pat raised a good point, one he hadn’t thought of. “Brad may be able to get Morelli to agree to a little less money in the last year of the contract, even if it was just half a percent, in return for dropping his demand for a hike in the medical payments. It would be a good tradeoff, and hopefully leave him with his manhood intact. I’ll talk to Castillo and see what we can come up with.”

Pat stood up. She smiled, and walked around the coffee table to Doug’s end of the sofa. “Well, we got the business over within fifteen minutes. That leaves us an hour for pleasure. I was excited to read about you in the Herald, Doug. I hope you decide to run. I think you’d make a wonderful governor.”

Fiore sat where he was. He knew she wanted to go to bed. He’d have loved to accommodate her, and was in the mood. But speaking of stubborn pricks, that’s what he had in his pants. He met with his urologist about it on Monday, after being just partially successful in making love that weekend.

It was all related to stress, the doctor told him, after discussing the things happening in Doug’s life. “What you’re going through in trying to make the right decision about running for office is what’s giving you so much anxiety. As soon as you figure out whether or not to cross that Rubicon, you’ll straighten out, Doug, if you’ll forgive the pun.” They both laughed at that, a good locker room laugh.

“Thanks for the compliment, Pat,” he said. “If I throw my hat in the ring, your job will be to get Brad to vote for me too.” He got off the couch. “But that’s probably a mission impossible after these negotiations.” He moved closer and embraced her. “Listen, I hate to be a killjoy, but there’s a PTA meeting at the high school and I promised Grace I’d go with her. It’s a fatherly duty, one of the things I’ve got to show up for while I’ve still got the time. Maybe we can find a night next week.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“Okay,” she answered softly, as they pressed against each other.

Doug didn’t want her to think that politics would put an end to their liaisons. “You know,” he said, “if I jump into this thing, there are going to be nights when I’ll just be hanging around, waiting to go make a speech or put in an appearance at some affair in the Providence area. We could meet here and have dinner in the room … or whatever the time allows. How does that sound?” He released his embrace so he could look at her.

“I’ll come whenever I can,” she said. She smiled, recognizing the double entendre in her words, not knowing whether it registered with him. “But there may be times I can’t get here, so why don’t I give you a key to the room. That way, at least you’ll have a place to relax before you have to go out and make them love you.”

She went over to the table by the door where she left her pocketbook. The key lay beside it. “Here, take this one, I’ve got a spare at home. I won’t need it when I leave tonight. Anytime you stay here, just tell the front desk to have the maid straighten up the room the next day. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” he said, “this is really great.” He squeezed her hand. “Work Brad over good tonight.”

“I promise, Doug. And if there’s time,” she said with a wink, “I’ll speak to him about the negotiations, too.”

They smiled at each other and he left.