Chapter Nine --

 

I woke up in Bosco’s bed the next morning, a little after seven. As I gazed around his bedroom, I took in all the details. The walls were a platinum grey, the trim white. There was a dresser in wenge wood, with very clean lines, with shiny nickel hardware. The bedside chests were simple open boxes in a warmer wood tone, but with similar lines. A pair of matching lamps that had rectangular lime green shades above textured nickel bases sat on top. Covering the window was a set of wide-slat white wood blinds that seemed to blend into the woodwork. Bosco had a large landscape print of the Hudson River framed above the dresser in an aluminum gallery frame, even though the artist was of a much earlier era. There was another small print of a summer day on a lake, framed in black, on the wall leading to the master bath. The only mirror in the room was hung above a narrow chest of drawers that echoed the style of the dresser. As I got up to head out to the kitchen, I realized just how different Bosco’s style was from what we had chosen for our home over the years of our marriage. This was not a traditional place. Everything was clean, unfettered, uncomplicated, easy on the eye. And yet, there was also warmth, in the art prints – the woodsy scenes, the colors of the water. It was all spare and yet rich. It was comfortable, but strong. And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand how the man I had been married to all those years did it. I had expected to miss our house. I had thought moving in with Bosco was going to make me miserable. But when I looked around this bedroom, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to change. Oh, I might add things, including more color, but I wouldn’t have taken anything away. It was like I was seeing him with new, fresh eyes.

“Morning, sunshine.” He patted me on the fanny as he passed by, turning to look at me. “Something wrong?”

“I just realized there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“In what way?” He toweled off and pulled on a pair of blue boxers.

“Did you do all this yourself?” I waved my hand around the room.

“Yes. Why? Did you want to change it? I’m afraid there’s no money for new furniture, at least for a while.”

“Actually,” I smiled, “I like it the way it is.”

“You do?” Bosco had a look of utter surprise on his face.

“I do. I approve. I just didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Funny. Neither did I. It took me six months to pick everything out.” I heard pride in his voice as he surveyed the room. “It was a matter of figuring out what I wanted, and that took some time. Hey, you’d better get a move on if you don’t want to be late for work.”

“I’m going to work today? I thought we were going to investigate Ralph,” I replied.

“No, babe. I’m going to do that. You’re going to convince Ralph you have no idea what a bastard he really is by showing up for work. And while you’re there, you’re going to give a performance worthy of Meryl Streep, as the dedicated, hard-working assistant producer. Do you know why you’re going to do that?” He took my face in his hands and tilted my head back, so that I had to look him in the eye. “Because after we take care of Ralph, you’re still going to be at Dynamic Productions. You will have a business to run and employees to manage, so don’t blow it. Think of the future.”

“Right,” I nodded. It was true. We owned nearly half of that company, and I couldn’t afford to screw it up.

“Don’t forget,” he pointed out as he kissed my forehead, “that Ralph and Gloria still think their relationship is a secret. That’s probably a real thrill for the pair of them.”

As I headed for the shower, I stopped and looked back. Bosco pulled on his tee shirt, and as his head emerged, he met my gaze.

“What?”

“Dumb question, Bosco. Do a lot of guys have mistresses?” He threw his head back and laughed.

“Babe, most embezzlers have some kind of vice or love interest that drives them to bad behavior. Whether it’s the bookkeeper with the penchant for betting on the horses or the family man who cleans out his company because he’s got a woman on the side, a lot of people do dumb things. Do they do it for the thrill of it, for the money, or for their own selfish needs? It all depends. And just for the record, I’ve seen female executives, lawyers, doctors, and even educators have their little flings. It’s not just guys who screw around on their loved ones.”

“Hmm...I must sound like Pollyanna, thinking that everyone has goodness inside, and it’s only a matter of bringing out the best in people.” I shook my head, disappointed in myself.

“Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, Dori. There are still people worthy of believing in. You just have to learn to tell the difference.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged, padding down the hall to the bathroom

“Don’t stop believing in people,” he called after me. “It’s better than having no faith at all. The world still needs optimists. I’ll get the coffee started.”

By twenty after eight, I was in my office at Dynamic Productions. Dom was working in his cubicle in the open production area. When the phone rang, I picked up, knowing Gloria would want me to take a message.

“Dori, what’s the deal?” It was Thad Macklehenny, the advertising director for Platinum Health. “You’ve had our account for more than a decade. Why have you increased your fees by twenty percent?

“Excuse me?” I was stunned. Ralph never said anything to me about a price change.”

“I just got the bill for the last commercial. It’s the same number of hours, but you’ve upped your rates. In this economy? It’s a recipe for disaster, Dori. After all the business we’ve sent your way, I expect better than that from Dynamic Productions!”

“Thad, there must be some kind of clerical error on that bill. We haven’t changed our fees. Let me find out what went wrong and get back to you.”

As soon as I hung up the desk phone, I pulled out my cell and dialed Bosco’s. In a quiet voice, I filled him in. Standing in the doorway of my office, I had a view through the front window. I could see Gloria pull into the parking lot. She lingered in the car, running a brush through her long hair, before pulling it back in a ponytail. The office phone rang again as she dawdled over her makeup.

“Bosco, let me get that. I’ll call you right back.” I picked up the receiver. It was Mary Lemanski, the advertising manager at Good Fruit, a gourmet foods company that had a national distribution delivery service. We had just finished three thirty-second commercials and an infomercial for their website.

“Hey, Dori,” she said in a friendly tone. “How’s everything?”

“Same old, same old. How’s everything with you?”

“Not so good, I’m afraid. My boss took a chunk out of me this morning, after she saw the bill for Dynamic Productions.”

“What do you mean?”

“You people quoted us $45,000 for those spots, but the bill is for $63,000.”

“That’s a mistake. I sent you the quote myself, and I know there were no overages. Is it itemized?”

“It is. There’s even a new fee for production quality assurance, which is $4,300. What the hell is production quality assurance?”

“I’ve never heard of it. Listen, Mary. How long have you known me?” I walked over to the door and shut it quietly. Gloria was now in the office, starting a pot of coffee. Kendall was coming through the front door, carrying camera equipment.

“A long, long time.”

“Can I ask you to do me a huge favor? You’re the second call today about the fee increase. I’m a part-owner in this business and no one informed me that we were changing prices. I’d like to find out what’s going on. But just to be on the safe side, I’d like to keep it quiet. Any chance you could email me a copy of the bill you got, so I can check it against what’s showing in our books?”

“You think someone is ripping the company off?” Mary sounded intrigued.

“I don’t know, but I want to have a chance to get to the bottom of this. If we do have a problem, I’d like to handle it right away. You know that we’ve worked hard for you, so I’m asking you to help me out on this. Let me find out what’s really going on. In the meantime, tell your boss that I said you’ll pay the same rate you paid last year. Just give me a day or two to straighten this mess out.”

“Sure. Why not? We loved the commercials.”

As soon as I got off the phone with her, I called Thad back. He answered on the third ring.

“Tell me something. That bill you got today, did it have something listed as production quality assurance?” I asked. I waited as he got out the invoice.

“Yes, it does. What the hell is production quality assurance?”

“I have no bloody idea, Thad, but I assure you I’m going to find out, and when I find out, I’m going to do a little ass-kicking!”

“You go, girl!” he cheered. “There are also fees for video play-by-play synchronization and audio resonance control.”

“How much?” My fingers were itching to dial Bosco with the news.

“Let’s see -- $3,200 and $670.”

“Thad, if you take out the production quality assurance, the video play-by-play synchronization, and the audio resonance, does your bill come back down to normal?”

“It pretty much does, Dori. Why?”

“I want to thank you, Thad. I think you just saved my company. Can you email me a copy of the invoice you received?”

“You’ve got it.”

Fifteen minutes later, I forwarded the emails to Bosco, who was all fired up and ready to do battle. I had a meeting at nine-thirty with a client, but it was curtly canceled in an email, without explanation. I began to think I knew the reason why, since I had given Gloria my estimate for the job last week.

By ten o’clock, the phone had been ringing almost non-stop, all the calls fielded by Gloria. I could see her trying to smooth over the ruffled feathers at her desk. Ralph was in briefly before heading out with Dom and a couple of interns. They were shooting two commercials for a regional shopping service.

I made a point of stepping out into the main office, to grab a cup of coffee, when I saw her in an animated discussion over the phone. Hoping to hear something valuable, I lingered at the coffee machine, fiddling with a couple of packets of sweetener and some creamers. She hung up the phone and pulled open her desk drawer. She was frowning.

“Everything okay?” I asked. She blew her nose on a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

“Yes, yes. Everything is fine.” Gloria waved me away.

“I wanted to ask you about something. A client called me today, wanting to know about a new fee on her bill. Production quality assurance. What exactly is the purpose of that fee?”

“You’ll have to talk to Ralph about that, Dori. I’m only his assistant. He’s the boss.”

“I’m asking you because I have stock in this company and that makes me part-owner.” I moved up to her desk and gazed down at her with unwavering interest. “What is the fee for? My clients have the right to know.”

Gloria’s gaze faltered and she glanced away, unable to maintain eye contact. She pulled some papers off her desk and began to tidy them.

“It used to be bundled under related charges, but Ralph decided to separate everything out with his new system. That’s all I know. You’ll have to talk to him when he comes in. And now,” she insisted,” you’ll have to excuse me. I have work to do.”

That didn’t sound at all like a woman who was addressing an employer, and it struck a sour note with me.