Two Brief Encounters

XXX

Ward Garron tapped his heel impatiently on the floor of his limousine. Malice Garron sat beside him, eyes trained on the compact mirror balanced precariously on her left palm. With her right hand, she was applying lipcolor carefully. "Don't do that," she murmured, when she finished, and tucked her makeup away in a Prada handbag. He shrugged.

"I'm just nervous. LeBeau told me on the phone that, even if he liked the idea of a merger with Xavier's, it's not in his hands."

"What did you expect, Ward?" she rolled her eyes. "Neither of them looked very professional. They're probably two of Xavier's best spooks. Which one is LeBeau?"

"The redheaded one, who always wears the glasses."

"Oh. Him I didn't like the look of, even though he WAS as handsome as the devil himself."

"Yeah. Wisdom seemed nervous, but that might have been owing to the fact that he's a chainsmoker."

"Oh? Where did you hear that?"

"I watched the video monitor for the main doors. As soon as he got out, he lit up a cigarette. It was like watching a shipwrecked man find water."

"So do you think they'll grant you an interview with Xavier?"

"It's possible. I don't know. Wisdom didn't seem to like me."

"Not a lot of people do, because you're so young, and just out of University. But look, sweetie," she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I don't want you to be worried. The Ward Law Firm is a very desirable company, and it isn't as though you're suggesting a buy-out."

"I know. But even though this merge is going to be on equal ground, with equal stocks and control, Xavier's got to wonder whether I'll really care about the mutants in his school after I've found my biological family."

"You're a mutant, honey, your best interests are in supporting a movement that protects mutant rights." She absently fixed his tie, smoothed his hair. He swatted her hands away.

"Stop that, mom. But seriously, I mean, we've talked about what it's going to be like when I find my family. . .the family that put me up for adoption. I don't know it'll be like, or how I'll feel. I don't know whether I'll love or hate them for not loving me as much as you do! Maybe this entire thing is just unnecessary."

"It's too late to turn back now, Ward," she reprimanded him gently. "Stop being so infantile. You're a lawyer and the heir to half of the Garron fortune."

"But I didn't think about how fair it is to Shields to put half of the company up for grabs."

"You're not putting Garron International on the line. Ward Law is your own company. You EARNED it, built it from the ground up!"

"On my allowance from Garron International."

"You worked for it. It's THE Law Firm on the entire East Coast, from Florida to Maine!"

"Yeah, I know that. But Shields. . ."

"Forget Shields. You've got to think business now." She muttered briskly, as the limo came to a halt outside the Garron Building. "Come on, I've got a meeting with Lel, and you've gotta pound these Xavier meatheads into chopped liver."

"Thanks for the pep talk, mum." He rolled his eyes as they stepped out of the car and into their building. They parted ways at the twenty-third floor, which was his stop, and she went up to the fortieth. He stepped into his office, glanced over the few folders on his desk, signed a few petitions, and made some phone calls before Wisdom and LeBeau were shown in. "Good morning, gentlemen," he smiled. "Can I offer you lunch?"

"Bit early f'r that, an' we'd like ter get ter th' point." Wisdom replied.

"All right," Ward's stomach muscles tightened at the ominous tones of the older man's voice.

"Look, mon ami," LeBeau cut in, his smooth whiskey and cream voice not quite soothing. "We've looked over de proposal, and I'm sure Professor Xavier'll consider it."

"Great! So you'll bring it to him?"

"Oui, an' once 'e gives us a definitive answer, 'e'll arrange a meetin' between de two o' y'."

"That sounds great. Just what I needed to hear. Thanks so much, gentlemen."

"Yer welcome," Wisdom stood up, shook Ward's hand, as did Gambit. "Well, we'd best be gettin' back ter New York. We've gorra bit'v a drive ahead of us yet, 'aven't we?" he glanced at his partner. "'Ave a good one, Mr. Garron."

"Please, call me Ward."

"Au revoir, Ward," Remy grinned, ushering Wisdom out the door before his tone could get any more sarcastic or cracked a lawyer joke.

As they left the office, Ward grabbed his telephone and dialed the eighteenth floor. "Yes, Aster, could I speak with Shields, please? This is Ward Garron. Thanks." He paused. "Hey, Shields, we're going out tonight. They're taking my proposal back to New York!"

XXX

Warren studied his nails carefully as he sat across from the CEO of his UK-based cosmetics company. "So what are you telling me?"

"Nothing yet, Mr. Worthington. Basically, our revenue is spiraling downward, and we've begun to take preventative measures."

"If revenue is spiraling, Dean, you've taken preventative measures too slowly. I'm closing Golden Beauty down."

"You can't do that to us! We'll all be out of jobs, and. . ."



"Don't have a damn cow, Dean. Have all our workers repositioned to Young Beauty. Teenagers buy more makeup than seniors, anyhow. They'll be paid higher wages and everyone will be happy."

"But sir, Young Beauty is barely off the ground."

"Exactly. And since we're putting the old cow of Golden Beauty down, we don't have to hire for Young Beauty. That kills two birds with one stone."

"But what about. . ."

"What about you?" Warren laughed. "I'll get you a job in a spacious office with a great view of London for your trouble. How's that?"

"What will I be doing?"

"Something easy. You're definitely never going to be a corporate manager with Worthington Enterprises again. But this'll pay better with less work."

"Thanks, Mr. Worthington. Thank you so much."

"Don't bow and scrape, you're not off the hook yet." Warren snarled. "You performed terribly with this company, a company my grandmother started. Do you have any idea how well this particular enterprise has profited over the years?"

"N. . .no, sir."

"Then you should have been looking at ledgers more. You were so uninvolved with the process of running this company that it's crumbled into nothing. Tell me, is THAt behaviour befitting a professional businessman?"

"No, Mr. Worthington."

"I told you not to bow and scrape. Look at me, Dean." Warren reached across the table and tipped the other man's chin up so their eyes were level. "I admire you, Dean. Your persistence and passion. I noticed that whenever you begin a new project, you're always on top of things, when you're happy with the way things are going. But then, a year or two into any job, you sort of tucker out. You no longer like your work, you become tired of it easily. You come in late in the morning, glance over a few papers, take long coffee breaks, and leave for the day at lunch-hour. Have you ever thought about what kind of example that sets for our employees? When I gave you the job as head CEO of Golden Beauty, I expected you to show the kind of enthusiasm you displayed at the interview for as long as you held the position, not for one year, or even two or three. You can't bounce around with jobs, ruin one company, then the next, and so on as you tire of your job! Have some responsibility!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Worthington. You have every excuse in the book to fire me."

"I'm not going to fire you. I've already offered you a job as a floor manager as soon as a position opens up. For now, I'll put down a six-month lease on an apartment and arrange a limited expense account for you. During that time, you're going to be reassigning the employees from Golden Beauty to same-level jobs at Young Beauty. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. I expect this job to be done well. If you live up to my expectations, I'll try to fit you into sub-management somewhere. Is that all right?"

"Yes, sir, it's very generous."

"Good. Glad you're happy. All right, I've got to run now, Dean. I'll be monitoring your progress over the next few months."

"Yes, sir. Good afternoon, then."

"Afternoon, Dean." Warren leaned back in his office chair as Dean Breckin scurried out of the room, then stretched and sighed. He picked up the phone, dialed 1 for his secretary. "Hey, Martha, I'm going out to get some air. Things are under control around here, aren't they?"

"They are indeed, Mr. Worthington."

"All right. Great. I'll be back in a half-hour or so." He hung up the phone, and walked into the full-sized bathroom behind his office, and opened the giant window there. Shrugging out of the jacket he wore, he detached the brace that held his wings in check and stretched them to their full sixteen-foot span and leapt out of the skyscraper.

The wind rushed up to greet him, and he sighed in pleasure, let himself fall fifty feet before flapping his wings and soaring up into the sky again. The London air was thick—city air, Warren noted, always was, less easy to cut through until a certain altitude. He climbed the air currents, using his natural lift and startling some unfortunate pigeons. It wasn't long before he came abreast of Captain Britain, who was making his daily rounds over the city. They hailed one another with their eyes and met on the helicopter pad of a nearby building.

"What're you doing here, Worthington?" the emblematic superhero demanded. Warren grinned.

"Just closing down shop."

"Oh, yes. I hear your mascara company crashed and burned."

"It was my GRANDMOTHER'S mascara company, Braddock."

"Of course." The two men glared at one another for a few moments. "So, how's your new girlfriend?"

"I haven't got one."

"That's odd, Meggan assured me you and Devoneaux were still together. But then again, you've such erratic emotions, it must be difficult to put controls on your raging hormones."

"If you MUST know, Braddock, Chase and I were never dating, she was facilitating my emotional state in the wake of Betsy's death."

"Ah, yes. Of course she was."

"In fact, half of what I'm doing here has something to do with. . .well, closure."

"My sister wasn't even dating you when she died. What DO you need closure for?"

"I loved her, Brian. You never understood that, but I DID. Now I'm just here to apologize for anything you might still hold against me."

"I don't hold anything against you, Warren," muttered Captain Britain, then, after a few moments of silence, he held out his hand to Warren, who shook it solidly.

"So. . .how's Meggan?"

"She's pregnant."

"Again?!" Warren's eyes widened. "That'd make, what. . .number four?"

"Numbers four and five. We're having twins."

"Wow. That's. . .a lot of kids."

"Well, we have the room." Brian grinned, referring to the giant estate on Muir Island. "They're all growing up beautifully. One of them has purple hair. Like his aunt."

"Oh." Warren nodded. "Well, I should go. I. . .just thought we should catch up. Or something."

"How's Xavier's doing?"

"The school's. . .never been better."

"Great. Maybe in a few years we'll have some ankle-biters to send across the ocean."

"Maybe." The two men shook hands again, and Captain Britain resumed his patrol. Warren sat on the heli-pad, covered his eyes, and wept.

XXX