I’m staring at my silent phone, filled with anxiety, wondering what is going on a few blocks away downtown. Today is the day; three and half weeks after my first encounter with Nathan, they are signing the papers that officially pass the possession of P.C.N. Bank over to me…or, should I say, to a private investing fund of which I am the covert owner.
I can almost picture all the parties involved sitting in the posh meeting room on the twenty-second floor at Cheney Smythe’s offices. Vanessa’s dad barely suppressing cold fury, Nathan as much incapable of containing his triumph, and Brent sulking in the background, green with envy. He has been assigned to the project under Nathan’s direction.
My phone bleeps.
Nathan: It’s done.
I observe the two little words on the display with mixed feelings: excitement, hope, anxiety, and a bit of remorse. I look over at Vanessa; she appears preoccupied, and she is nervously nibbling one of her perfectly manicured nails while staring at her screen with a lost expression.
Ally: Good. See you at your office in a few hours.
Over the past month, I’ve been in contact with Nathan twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He has been working nonstop on the acquisition, and today we snatch our victory from the jaws of defeat. Adam Van Horn is no easy man to take down. He has fought the takeover with everything he had; at one point he tried to buy back the minority shares of the bank from other shareholders at market price, but Nathan was quicker in submitting our offer to the board. In the end, the old lion had no other choice than to surrender.
I tune on Vanessa’s channel to see what’s going on.
I wonder if he’s okay…I’ve never seen Daddy so tense, and he has never been dismissive, not with me! I hope it’s not about James again. I know he doesn’t like him, but it’s my decision.
Yep, exactly what I thought. I feel a stab of guilt. I mean, Vanessa’s dad didn’t do anything to me, and I am stripping his first company away from him. But, on the other hand, I’m showering him with money, not to mention that I’m saving his daughter from a loveless marriage…something he wants, but doesn’t have the attributes to do himself. So, everything considered, I am almost doing him a favor.
I get distracted by my inbox flashing; it’s my career test result. Wow, I had almost forgotten about that. Today it seems everything is falling into place. In fact, regardless of what the result of the test is, I think today may very well be my last day at Crispy Koob. Let’s be honest, Corporate America is not my life. It doesn’t inspire me, and the wedding is in a little over two weeks. I don’t need to spy on Vanessa anymore, and frankly, I don’t want to have to see her every day either.
Now that P.C.N. is officially mine, I plan to free James of his obligations immediately. After that, if he still wants to go through with the wedding, there’s nothing I can do and I was wrong all along. Before I can second-guess myself, I forward the unopened email to my personal account, shut my computer down, and march straight into Kyle’s office.
Forty-five minutes later I’m standing on the large curb in front of my office’s building holding a cardboard box filled with all my personal belongings, and I’m feeling both exhilarated and melancholic.
When I announced my sudden departure, my colleagues—Vanessa included—were shocked. I couldn’t tell if she was happy or not that I was going, and I didn’t bother to read her mind to find out. Instead, I decided that I was truly sorry for her because, as mean and wicked as she could be, at this point one of two fates awaits her: either she’s going to marry a man who doesn’t love her, or she’s going to be left at the altar. And I wouldn’t wish either of the two on my worst enemy.
So, just before leaving I decided to restore her figure. I shredded fifteen of the twenty pounds I gave her (after the karaoke incident I had given her another five that I’ve left on her for health reasons), and I put her hair and skin back to normal.
In a way, letting go of my anger toward her has lifted a big weight from my stomach. Arthur was right in saying that nothing of this was her fault, even if she made a pass at my boyfriend knowing he was with me and afterwards enjoyed rubbing their relationship in my face at every possible occasion. She wasn’t my friend, and she didn’t owe me anything. James did. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken it out on her, but I’m not going to admit it to Arthur. It was too much fun anyway.
Getting out of the office took me a little longer than expected, as everybody was eager to say goodbye in person, and they all kept asking me why I was quitting. I lied, saying I got a better offer in another undisclosed company. Everyone appeared legitimately sad I was going, and for a moment, I was shaken by the fact that I would no longer see many of the faces I’ve got used to looking at every morning for the past five years. They’ll not be there tomorrow. Bam…a big chunk of my life is gone in an instant. It’s a weird sensation; I am even being sentimental over my stupid cubicle.
I drop the cardboard box off in my car. Cheney Smythe’s offices are just a few blocks away, and I shake the sad thoughts away with a liberating full-body shrug. I blink away the tears that were menacing to form in my eyes and decide to concentrate on what’s ahead of me, so I start walking in that direction.
“Are you feeling all right?” Arthur asks me as we walk.
“Absolutely,” I reply sincerely. “A bit nostalgic, but great.”
“So, what shall you do now?”
“The bank is mine. I just need to ease the terms of James’s loan and—”
“I meant besides that,” he interrupts me, a little annoyed. I have a feeling he doesn’t like James very much; he gets hostile every time I talk about him. He’s just being overprotective, I think, like a big brother would. “What are you going to do with your life?” he clarifies his previous question.
“Hmm, we’re on for easy questions, huh?” I mock his seriousness. “I haven’t decided yet. We’ll see.” Abruptly realizing where we are, I halt right before turning the corner of Cheney Smythe. I grab Arthur’s jacket to stop him, too.
“I should check with Nathan before we go upstairs,” I explain, while texting simultaneously. “I don’t want to risk bumping into Mr. Van Horn by mistake.”
Nathan’s answer arrives immediately after.
Nathan: All clear.
By now the receptionist knows us well enough; she doesn’t ask anything and simply waves us toward the elevators.
On the twenty-second floor, Nathan, his boss, and the rest of team that has worked on the project meet us with jubilant applause. I have to shake countless hands before I can get to Nathan, who is smiling brightly at me; all the fatigue and apprehension of the last month have been brushed away by today’s success.
It takes me a while before I can speak to him alone, as we are the center of attention and everyone wants to congratulate us. After a bottle of Dom Pérignon is opened and a toast is made, I spot my chance. Clinking my flute of champagne into Nathan’s, I murmur in a low voice, “I need to talk to you.”
He gets the hint, and after a few minutes ushers me away to his office after exchanging a knowing nod with his boss.
“Miss Johnson,”
“Please call me Ally, you’ve earned it after today,” I say, leaning against one of his office’s cabinets. “So tell me, how was it?”
“To be honest, it was tense. Mr. Van Horn was livid. I bet this was a first for him.”
“A first?”
“Let’s say I don’t think he’s used to losing.”
“He’ll get over it. But that’s not why I asked to see you.”
“What else can I do for you?”
“Actually, it’s quite simple. You see, now that I have a bank, I will need someone to manage it. I can’t certainly expect Adam Van Horn to keep his place as CEO.”
I take a sip of champagne as an excuse to pause and check if Nathan is following my lead.
What is she getting at?
He’s not there yet, so I continue. “I would need someone with previous banking experience, someone ambitious but trustworthy at the same time.” I look him intently in the eyes.
Is she offering me the job?
“So Nathan, would you happen to know of somebody with such characteristics?”
A rapacious smile spreads on his lips.
“I have just the man for you,” he replies, enthusiastic.
“Very well,” I nod. “Take tomorrow off and celebrate. I expect you to start on Monday. When you get to the office, please send me as first thing all the files on private loans in between one and twenty million that requested a modification of conditions in the past three years and were denied it. I need to review them, and I’ll be making some adjustments. Other than that, I’ll give you carte blanche on the management strategy. Welcome aboard!” I conclude, outstretching my hand.
He shakes it with his usual vigor, giving me the sensation of having chosen the right person to administer my new business. I bet his boss wasn’t expecting this; he had probably unleashed Nathan to make me a permanent account at Cheney Smythe, not to lose one of his brightest talents.
I like being a business shark. I am curious to see what my ideal career appraisal says.
Once at home, I kick off my shoes and leave them scattered on the floor of my little entrance hall. Sugar sniffs them inquisitively before rubbing his little body on my legs and bare feet, purring loudly. I deposit the box with my personal effects on the kitchen’s peninsula while Sugar jumps on it, eager for attention.
“Dinner is coming,” I say, scratching his head affectionately, and while I’m busy filling his bowl he gets some extra cuddling from Arthur. As usual, as soon as the meal is served we are both forgotten.
While Arthur assumes his usual position on the living room chair and starts reading, I sit at the table and turn on my laptop, ready to discover what’s in my future.
I log into my email account and get a last pang of nostalgia when I see my former work email address staring back at me in bold font: Ally.Johnson@CrispyKoob.com. I push away any wistful thoughts and am about to open the career center message when Nathan’s name flashes in my inbox. I consider for a brief moment what email I’m more curious about, and decide to open Nathan’s first, as I have no idea what it could be about. I click on it and start reading.
From: nathan.murphy@gmail.com
To: ally.johnson@aol.com
Subject: Small Businesses Loans
Hi Boss,
I know you told me to take the rest of the week off, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of checking out my new offices, and since they were just a few blocks away I went right after resigning.
I hope you don’t mind, but since it seemed important to you I took the liberty of checking out the loan files you requested. Here’s a list attached; there are twenty-one in total.
See you on Monday.
Nathan
He’s a real genius! I scroll the attachment list, and even if I’m expecting it my stomach flips when I spot the name of James’s company: Avery Constructions LLC. I quickly print everything and leaf through the rejected requests.
It takes me about an hour to instinctively select six other petitions to grant. I base my decision on no financial variables, as they already projected, and it would make no sense to adjust the loan terms. I simply follow my intuition on the various businesses and whether I like them or not.
I click the reply button and write back to Nathan.
From: ally.johnson@aol.com
To: nathan.murphy@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Small Businesses Loans
Thank you, Nathan,
That was actually really helpful. Please see attached list of files. I’ll be authorizing the modification on these seven accounts.
Please convene all the interested parties for Monday afternoon at the downtown office starting at two-thirty p.m., intervals of half an hour between each appointment should be ok. I’ll be sending down two of my people to deliver the news.
Relax now, and do nothing work-related!
Ally
Of course, I plan to be the one who does the talking, only with a little disguise on, and I suppose Arthur will want to tag along as well. My plan seems to be right on track.
I stretch back in my chair; I have no excuse left not to go over the results of my job-counseling test. I think I’m delaying looking at it because I am scared it will tell me that marketing is the only thing I can do, even if I’m hoping otherwise since I marked the “radical change” tick-box.
I brace myself, literally, as I wrap both my arms around my body in a final stretching position and click on the dreaded email.
I skip read through the introductory part:
From: Ally.Johnson@CrispyKoob.com
To: ally.jhonson@aol.com
Subject: FWD: Your Future Career Awaits You
The purpose of this test is purely intended as self-discovery…blah, blah, blah…
The user assumes sole responsibility for any actions or decisions that are made as a result of undertaking this test blah, blah, blah…
Personality profile blah, blah…
Skill profile blah, blah…
Attitudes and interests’ blah, blah…
Ideal job…
“Uhh!” I inhale sharply.
“Is something bothering you?” Arthur asks from behind me.
“No, I’m just…surprised.”
“About? If I may enquire…”
“I just discovered what my ideal job should be!”
“And?”
“It says I should become a vet.”
“As in a veterinarian?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you think?”
“It’s…it’s brilliant!” I exclaim. “I could have my own pet rescue, open an animal clinic. I’d be around animals all day, it would be wonderful.”
“Meeeoww,” Sugar protests, jumping on the laptop and pressing some random keys.
“Don’t worry, baby, you’ll always be my favorite,” I reassure him, patting him gently.
“Don’t you have to study in order to be a veterinarian?”
“Yep, I should go to grad school first,” I confirm. “Here it gives me a complete list of the best programs in the country. Madison is in the top five and it’s only three hours away. I could go there, or I could move somewhere completely different, depending on how things go.” My imagination is flying miles ahead.
“Things?” Arthur asks rhetorically.
“If James marries her I don’t think I’ll want to stick around here,” I reply, as if he had asked me an actual question.
“I do not think it wise to base decisions of this magnitude on what James does or does not do.”
He sounds like my mother!
“Please don’t give me an ‘independent woman’ speech,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But if you want to be helpful, there’s something else you could do for me…”
“Whatever you require.”
“Do you think you could make me win the lottery?”
“The lottery?” he asks perplexed. “Don’t you already have all the money you need?”
“Yes, but now that I’m jobless and want to go back to school I’ll need to justify my financial stability with my friends and family.”
“I see. It would not be a problem. How much do you want to win?”
“Oh, nothing crazy. Make it in between ten and twenty million.” Ha, as if. Three months ago “between ten and twenty million” would have been crazy.
“At your orders.” He flips his fingers, and immediately a shiny golden ticket floats in front of me.
Sugar tries to catch it with an outstretched paw, but I snatch it away before he can turn it into confetti.