MONDAY CON'T
CONFERENCE ROOM
"Thank you gentlemen," Haley stood, dismissing the senior partners from the meeting. Thomas remained sitting at the opposite head on the table, fiddling with his pen. Haley began walking over to him, but didn't sit down until the door had closed behind the last partner. "I understand Stensland is throwing a large amount of legal work our way with the McKernon Motors factory sale."
Thomas chuckled. "How'd you know that?"
"I hear things. You taking care of him?"
"I am," Thomas nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone vibrated in the interior breast pocket of his suit jacket. "Excuse me."
Haley waved him off as he stood to stand by the window. He looked down at the caller I.D., slightly surprised. "Carson."
"Mr. Reagan. I'm sorry to have bothered you on your private line, Julia said you were out of your office."
"Go ahead. Haley and I were just finishing up the Senior Partner's breakfast."
"Ms. Reese's last exam is this Friday."
Damn, Thomas thought. He didn't have long. "Thank you, Carson. Although you could have had one of your many lackeys do this for you."
"No, sir. It's my job to know your business." Although Carson's tone was formal and professional, Thomas knew him well to hear and undercurrent of amusement.
As he returned to the conference table, he sent a text out to Julia, 'Blank notecards for a personal message. Thank you.'
OFFICE OF THOMAS REAGAN
"Nice of you to finally make it." Thomas raised his voice as he walking into his own office. Marcus was sitting on the leather sofa, tossing one of Thomas's prized signed baseballs in the air and catching it inches from his face.
Marcus sat up immediately, placing the ball on the coffee table. "Nice of you to finally show up in your office. And why does everybody keep saying that to me?"
"Because you're supposed to be here when you're supposed to be here."
"Doesn't seem to apply to you."
"I'm not the topic of this conversation." Thomas unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down at his desk. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his right ankle onto his left knee, his hands resting on his abdomen. "Now what'd you find me on McKernon Motors?"
"The board can't vote for at least 24 hours after the CEO presents a deal involving the sale of company land."
"But Stensland already presented it to the board."
"Right, but Stensland isn't CEO."
Thomas paused, fixing Marcus with a cool stare. "I wrote those bylaws myself. He's CEO."
"Hmm." Marcus casually flipped open one of the blue folders he'd been carrying around all morning and loudly tapped his finger on the page. "Page 238, clause 137 states if the CEO dies, an interim CEO will be appointed until the board convenes an election vote, which can't be called till the next fiscal quarter." He shut the folder and looked up at Thomas. "In this case next Thursday."
"So they can't vote him in until Thursday?"
"Thursday."
"Okay. Well, prepare the due diligence for me to take to Stensland," he pointed a cautionary finger at Marcus. "But I don't want anything ready to sign."
"Where are you going?" Marcus looked around, confused.
"Out. I have until Thursday to find a new CEO."
"Huh." Marcus frowned, shuffling his folders together and standing.
"What?" Thomas rolled his eyes.
"Oh, nothing. Uh, you know, just six hours, 1,500 pages, and I, uh, I found your mistake." Marcus picked up the baseball off the coffee table and tossed it at Thomas, who caught it easily with one hand.
"Yeah," Thomas sighed, placing the baseball back on its stand. "You found the one mistake I made while drafting those bylaws a dozen years ago when I was two years younger than you. A mistake, by the way, that's gonna help me get rid of Stensland."
"Mistake," Marcus stage whispered loud enough for Thomas to hear him as he walked to the door, grinning like an idiot. As he walked out, Julia walked in with three different white cards, all different sizes and shades of white, with corresponding envelopes. She placed them on Thomas's desk.
"Thank you," he nodded and reached out to take the cards, but she kept her hand on them. He looked up at her with a curious expression. "Yes?"
"This isn't your normal…deal." Julia mussed. "This one's different?"
"This one is a favor to Bedelia. I'm to be her lab monkey for a while."
"You? A lab monkey?" She scoffed. "She must have a magical vagina. I thought you were the one who used them to get what you needed, not the other way around."
Thomas gave her a dark glare, but the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. "We're both getting something that we need – me, sex; her, research. The more she's kept happy, the more Bedelia is kept happy. And need I remind you just what Bedelia can do if she's found in a favorable mood?"
"Just…" She tapped the cards softly while she thought of what to say. "Just be careful, okay? Research is public, one way or another. Make sure your ass covered."
Thomas gave her a sincere nod. "If not, you will."
"Always," she smiled on her way out the door. Thomas waited till she was back at her desk before reaching for his pen. He's chosen a quote; a warning. He knew he had made the right choice, walking away from her before something they'd both regret happened. Not before they laid some necessary ground work.
His warning was meant to be a reminder – that not all 'menfolk' were heroes, romantic or otherwise. She would need to understand that for their research together.
Why didn't you tell me there was danger?
Why didn't you warn me?
Ladies know what to guard against,
Because they read novels that tell them of these tricks
He slipped the card into its envelope, writing Eleanor's address on the cover. He didn't have to look it up to know; he had memorized it since his initial meeting with her. Without needing to buzz the intercom, Thomas calmly said,
"Julia." Outside the glass office walls, he watched her head pick up from her desk to look at him. "Come in here, please."
She stood in the doorway a moment later, leaning into the office while holding herself against the frame and propping the heavy door open with her foot behind her. "Yes?"
"Have these packaged and sent by courier to the address on the envelope." Thomas stood and walked the collection of books to Julia. He delicately placed them in her awaiting hands. "They're to arrive by Friday. Not later than that evening."
"Yes, sir," she lifted her eyebrow but said nothing else about it. "I'll find you replacements. First editions?"
"Yes," Thomas nodded with a smile. She knew him too well.
ASSOCIATES POOL
As Thomas strolled through the pool on the way to Marcus's desk, an eager, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed associate hurried over to walk alongside Thomas. "Excuse me, Mr. Reagan? I was wondering if you might need a hand sometime with one of your matters. Uh, any one."
"Well, Allen—"
"It's Aaron," The associate interrupted, receiving a cool glare from Thomas and hushed, concerned looks from surrounding associates.
"I think that says it all, don't you?" Thomas left the associate behind and continued on the Marcus's desk. There, Marcus had his ear phones in and was searching for restaurants on his computer. "What are you doing?"
Marcus quickly ripped his earphones out of his ears and rolled them up. "Uh, I'm looking for a restaurant. Where did you go for your rookie dinner?"
"I came into the league a sophomore. You better not be prioritizing that over McKernon Motors. I still need something to stall Stensland."
"It's right here." Marcus picked up a black, heavy file and put it back down. "What are you so irritated about?"
"I spent a day with a top headhunter I know who couldn't produce one legitimate CEO candidate by Thursday."
"What about that Dominic Barone guy who runs production? You said he was responsible for the engines, and he clearly cares about the workers."
"No," Thomas shook his head. "He's not the guy."
"Oh, I get it," Marcus nodded, leaning back in his chair. "You're scared you can't convince him because he hates you."
"Nice try." Thomas pointed to the computer screen. "You know you can't host your dinner there. That's a Wachtell, Lipton, Klein restaurant."
"Okay. Fine." Marcus clicked on a new tab. "What about this place?"
"Yeah. That'd be great if it was 2004."
Marcus sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. "Oh, my God. Why does any of this matter?"
"You see that guy over there by the fax?" Thomas asked after a brief pause, nodding to the kid who approached him when he entered. "Take a good look. He's never gonna make partner."
"Okay. Let me guess. Because he threw a lousy rookie dinner or because you don't know his name?"
"No, because he doesn't get it."
"Get what?"
"He doesn't get that doing good work isn't the whole job. Part of getting it is that things like the dinner actually matter, even when you don't think they do." Thomas softened his tone, but kept a serious stare. "Look, you were giving me shit this morning because I come and go when I want to. You know why I can do that? Not because I own this place, but because when I got here, I dominated. They thought I worked 100 hours a day. Now? No matter what time I get in, nobody questions my ability to get the job done."
"That and they're all terrified of you."
He tapped on the wall of the cubicle to make his point. "Get it through your head. First impressions last. You start behind the eight ball, you'll never get in front."
OFFICE OF DELPHINE LAURENT – 7pm
Marc tapped his knuckles on her window while he poked his head through Delphine's open door. "Hey, you busy?"
"It is 7:00 o'clock. I am not 'ere because I like ze view." Marc checked his watched while he walked in and took a seat in an arm chair in front of her desk. "And do not misunderstand me. When I zay 'ze view,' I am referring to your face."
Marc faked laughter. "That's funny, because I'm hideous."
"What is up?" Delphine shuffled her papers and put them aside on her desk.
"You're a foodie, right?"
"Why do you zay that? Because I am French?"
"Because you're the only person I've ever seen order a shrimp, red pepper, and goat cheese pizza."
"Oui, but wizout ze peppa, what connects ze goat cheese and ze shrimp?"
"Okay, so I need your help finding a restaurant for the rookie dinner."
"That is unfortunate, Marcus, but I am…comment dites-vous? Swampy." She picked up a folder from her desk and stood. "And I do not 'ave time to teach you about cuisine."
"Well, no," Marc swiveled his neck around to follow her progression to the door. "Don't make me remind you that you owe me one."
"'Ow is zat?"
"You told Louis I was working on Harvey's case before his."
"Because you told me to."
"Well, now I'm telling you to help me with my dinner."
"Mm. You—" She patted him on the shoulder as she walked out. "D'accord. Good luck wiz zat."
Night – FANCY REST.
When Thomas walked in, he knew exactly where to go. The Maître d' greeted him at the door, took his over coat, and even offered to walk him back to where his 'associate' was waiting. Thomas politely refused, telling him that he was just dropping in for a quick word.
Louis was sitting at a round table with Robert Stensland near the back of the restaurant. When Louis glanced up, he had to do a double take to make sure it was Thomas walking towards them. Louis made an excuse to Robert and quickly got out of his chair to meet Thomas halfway.
"Louis," Thomas greeted with a fake smile oozing contempt. He held out his hand for Louis to take. When the rat-faced man did, mimicking Thomas's fake smile, Thomas pulled him in, snapping quietly in his ear, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Uh, Stensland called." Louis said through clenched teeth, trying not to gasp at the pressure Thomas was putting into his hand. "And apparently the diligence wasn't proceeding apace."
"He called you?"
"Yeah, he called me, I called him, what's the difference?" Louis rushed. Thomas let go of his hand when the table nearest them was beginning to look over. Louis smiled at them as he discreetly shook the blood back into his hand. "The paperwork was taking too long, and I got it done."
Thomas adjusted his suit jackets, and turned to face Robert, who was curiously staring at them from the table. Thomas smiled, nodded, and said to Louis out of the corner of his mouth, "I suggest you stay the hell away from my client."
"Reagan," Robert stood as Thomas approached, extending his hand. "Glad you could make it. We were about to sign the papers."
"I got word back at the office. I just came to see how Louis was getting around the bylaws."
"I..." Robert, appropriately stunned, looked over Thomas's shoulder to where Louis was standing. "Don't know. Louis?"
"Ah..." Louis stammered, taking a step forward. "I'm at somewhat of a loss."
Thomas sighed for effect, pinching the bridge of his nose in mock frustration. "Robert, I'm sorry. This is what was holding up your due diligence. Technically, you're still interim CEO until the board votes you in on Thursday. If protocol isn't followed, it leaves you with huge litigation exposure."
"That's right," Louis chimed in.
"Well," Robert nodded slowly, looking from Louis to Thomas. "I imagine we should…hold off, then."
"Please don't blame Louis. It's my fault." Thomas shook his head and made the self-deprecating gesture of touching his chest. "We usually have senior partners and above oversee transactions like this because junior partners, they tend to miss things." Thomas held out his hand to shake Robert's again. "See you Thursday?"
He turned his back on Robert to give Louis a meaningful look. His cherry tone indicated otherwise, "Okay. Take it easy."
OFFICE OF THOMAS REAGAN
Thomas carefully walked into his own office, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did. Haley was leaning back in his desk chair, swiveling lightly back and forth, holding one of his prized baseballs. He question sounded innocent enough, but the deeper meaning did not escape Thomas.
"What's going on with Robert Stensland?"
Thomas chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. "What did Wormtail tell you?"
"You're not dealing with Louis. You're dealing with me." She stopped swiveling. "What are you hiding?"
"Nothing." Thomas shook his head, pouting his bottom lip slightly, in an effort to be nonchalant. "I looked through the bylaws and precluded potential litigation."
"Bullshit. You looked at the bylaws for a tactical reason, Thomas, and I want to know what it is."
Thomas held her gaze for a long moment as he walked around the desk to sit on the edge beside her crossed legs. He gently brushed his knuckles over her knee before placing his hands in his lap. "I want him out, Haley."
"That is not your call." She pointed her finger at him, the ball still in her palm. "You are an attorney. This is the internal business of McKernon Motors."
"McKernon had a plan, and I did not spend a decade shaping it to let this fool throw it away."
"McKernon is dead, Thomas. I don't think he cares."
"So what? Doesn't mean the plan's no good."
"You fail, we'll get fired."
"He moves overseas, our billables will be gone in five years, anyway."
"Better five years than nothing."
"You know what? That's Stensland's attitude, and it's a losing one."
"Tommy," Haley uncrossed her legs and reached over to place the ball back onto its stand. "I don't think you have any business telling that man how to run his company-"
"Just as I don't have any business running mine?" Thomas knew the moment he raised his voice to her, he was making a mistake.
"Our company, you arrogant asshole!" She stood up, towering over him. "Ours, yours and mine! You are not a gunslinger anymore, Thomas. Back off Stensland and close the damn deal."