A/N: So, I learned a fun fact from Thyra today. Apparently Inge and Sten (Hegeler, not Northman) are the names of two well known sexologists from Denmark. My characters' naming was pure coincidence! (Though perhaps it's why neither really batted an eyelash when they came upon Eric with a strange woman in tow!)
So, this is it, y'all. There will be a shorter epilogue, and the Eric outtake. :)
Amelia arrived at my house at eight fifteen on Thursday morning, dressed to impress in a silvery-grey jacket and pants with a fuchsia blouse and matching pumps. It might have been a little bold, but she looked chic and stylish. Just for good measure, she was carrying a ridiculously expensive purse. I felt a little plain Jane beside her in my navy suit and navy pumps with a white button shirt underneath. I had swept my hair off my neck into an elegant French twist and wore some nice sapphire stud earrings that had been a gift from Lafayette at graduation.
We sipped coffee and nibbled at the muffins I'd made for breakfast for twenty minutes until Eric turned up at the door. He had outdone himself. Or Pam had outdone herself. He wore a three piece suit in navy blue with a grey shirt and a navy and grey striped tie, with a pocket square in silk that matched his tie, rather than his usual cotton.
"Wow," I blink, taking him in. Say what you like about the beards, but ZZ Top had really known what they were talking about. This girl was no exception. I was crazy for this sharp dressed man.
"Do you like it? It has a waistcoat," he says proudly, indicating the vest.
"It's deliberate, right? This is a conscious decision on your part looking like this?" I grin.
"I always try to look my best at these things, yes."
"Mission accomplished," I say.
"You look good too. Very naughty secretary," he leers.
"Uh huh," I reply, disbelievingly. "Well, I guess we better go before I offer to take dictation, or something. I doubt there's any time in Pam's itinerary for that."
Amelia comes up behind me and I felt like a jerk for a moment because I really had forgotten she was here for a second, completely distracted by Eric as I was.
"Good morning," she says brightly.
I make their introductions quickly and grab my purse from where it hung on the coat rack as they shake hands and exchange pleased-to-meet-you's. I lock up then follow them out to the black limousine, which I know has been hired both for its spaciousness and for the sake of appearances. Pam is busy in the back with her Blackberry and I wait for her to look up once we were settled in and driving before introducing her to Amelia.
"Pam, this is Amelia Broadway, Amelia, this is Pamela Ravenscroft," I say. Normally I would have offered more. This is my best friend Amelia, she's in real estate. This is Eric's assistant Pam, she's just moving back to New Orleans. They already knew that information about each other though, along with plenty of other stuff, just from talking to me.
"Cute shoes," Pam offers after she'd given Amelia the once over and leaned across the seat to shake her hand.
"Thanks. I like your suit," Amelia replies.
Pam is also dressed to the nines in the promised cream-coloured suit accented with black piping. It is understated but very sleek and fashionable. I listen briefly as they start to exchange the designers of their respective outfits and accessories, then sneak my hand under Eric's where it rested on his leg. He'd been staring out the window but looks down at me for a moment and gives my hand a squeeze in return.
"Nervous?" I ask him.
"Not really. I've done everything I can."
"But you are still pensive," I observe.
"Well, this is my last day, I suppose. I'm just letting that settle in."
"Think they will get you a cake?" I ask, thinking of all the 'last days' of anyone I've ever worked with. There's always cake, and usually a group card. Sometimes there's a gift that everyone chips in for.
He chuckles. "I don't know. Pam, did you get me a cake?" he asks.
Pam looks up from Amelia, stopping midstream in their conversation to acknowledge Eric. "Was I supposed to?"
"No," he smirks, waving her off as he enjoys his private joke. Pam merely raises her eyebrows then goes back to small talk with Amelia. It'll be Pam's last day too, then. I guess he wasn't expecting much of a fuss from the people at Area Five for his send off. That kinda stinks.
We pull up in front of the hotel where the meeting is to take place. It's not Eric's hotel, but a different one, with a large function room to accommodate this sort of event. Eric exits the car followed by Pam, and then Amelia and I. This is not a kissing and hand-holding sort of atmosphere, so we trail along behind them inside. The best I get is Eric's hand resting for a moment at the small of my back as he gestures Amelia and I toward Pam so that she can get us to our seats while he goes off to meet with the other executives.
She walks us in past the little registration area, grabbing up one of the little information packets for each of us. At the main doors to the ballroom, men are positioned like ushers at a theatre, greeting Pam and nodding to us as we pass. Evidently they are security guards, though they were dressed in suits and didn't seem to be particularly looming. I suppose that kind of thing is a requirement at events like this. Area Five is a pretty high-profile company on the national scale, so I guess there is always some danger of protestors or other interruptions. I wasn't aware of any particularly unsavoury business practices by them, not the ones that get people storming meetings and screaming politics anyway, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. That's not to say I object to protesting when it comes to things that ought to be protested. It's just not the case here, and I was glad for that. There would be more than enough fracas without any additional sources.
Entering the hotel ballroom you hardly recognized it for what it was. There are rows of chairs in three sections filling the space and at the front stands a long raised dais. There is a centre podium flanked on either side by long tables laid out with bottles of water and various placards showing names and titles. Behind this stage, a lit up projection of the company logo is splashed across a presentation screen that presumably would be used later. It is framed with tall blinders that also featured the Area Five logo, filling in the rest of the space behind the dais. It appears like any auditorium until you look a little beyond the obvious setup to see that the ceiling is quite ornate, with recessed sections housing very fancy lighting. There are lit sconces glowing dimly along the walls at frequent intervals, and the elaborate parquet flooring is polished to a glossy shine. Seeing it like this, it was hard to envision the space filled instead with dozens of decorated round tables set with flowers and dinner plates, with space left clear for dancing, as it might be at some gala or wedding reception. I figure that sort of event is probably closer to the room's general use.
Pam plunks us down in the far left section, towards the front. I can see the little sign labelled, "E. Northman, Senior Vice President," up on the stage and realize she's positioned us near to Eric, but still out of the way. We are far enough to the side here that it puts us in the periphery of outward focus from the dais. Pam really didn't miss a trick. No chance of shooting Eric little smiles or trying to catch his eye once he comes in. No chance of distraction for him. It's not like I'd have done that intentionally or anything, but Pam wasn't leaving the opportunity regardless.
The room is only about one third full when we enter, and so we sit and watch everyone else arrive. There are a few people from Area Five that I recognize, but not very many. I don't think any of them notice me, or recognize me if they do. These are more of the higher-ups, who'd I'd met only briefly when I'd still been with Bill. I am a far cry from my Arm Candy persona in this mousy suit. Most of them are finding seats front and centre, well away from us. The first person who does notice me is Peter Threadgill. I'd been watching him like a hawk from the second he entered the room. He gives me a polite nod before turning away. David and Tara are also with him, as are Jade, Jennifer Cater, and a number of other people I don't know, but who are clearly part of his contingent. I scanned them all looking for signs of Bill or Lorena, but they were nowhere in evidence. Good for now, I guess, but from what Bill had said last night, I did expect her at least to be in attendance.
Amelia gives me a nudge when she notices Tara and I elbow her when I see her move to lift her hand to wave. Tara must have seen us too, or Amelia wouldn't have done that, but when I look up, Tara is facing the opposite direction again. Theatre indeed. The acting had already begun. After my nonverbal rebuff, my friend busies herself going through her little packet, murmuring out the details of the enclosed schedule, and explaining the voting cards to me. Obviously it would be impractical for people to get up and cast ballots on everything, so when there would be calls to vote, everyone was to hold up this card to indicate an affirmative vote. They would be counted and compared to the number of cards which had been handed out, and if there was a majority showing it would be considered a resolution passed. It seems like an alright way to do things.
When the room is more or less full, a woman I do not know comes to the centre podium and invites the ladies and gentlemen to please take their seats as the meeting is about to start. It becomes impossible for me to keep track of where anyone is after that. It was all just a sea of heads. The lights dim slightly everywhere except on the stage and very shortly after, Eric and the other executives and Board Members file in from a door in the front of the room, a different one than the one from which we had entered. He looks directly at me and I am pretty sure he gives me a quick wink before smoothing his face to indifference and focusing on the job at hand, which most immediately consists of nodding formally in his turn as his name is announced and then sitting down. It seems like there ought to be polite applause or something as everyone comes out, but there is nothing like that. An odd quiet settles over the room.
Sophie Ann Leclerq is introduced a second time, and she stands and crosses to the centre podium, replacing the initial speaker who retreats off the dais. She begins by discussing the format of the meeting itself. She goes over the voting procedure, which to my anxious self is an unnecessary redundancy and waste of time considering everyone in the room already has that information in hand. She then outlines some additional rules of order, including who was allowed to speak and when. As she gets to this bit, some people come out and position microphones on stands at the base of each aisle. She says that only those with pink or yellow voting cards would be permitted to speak. Amelia and I have blue ones, which is fine as we will not have anything to say anyway. There would be a chance for questions on each resolution. Then she proceeds to talk for twenty minutes straight about what a great year it has been for Area Five, throwing out lots of numbers that were plainly designed to impress. They are paired with terms like 'back end revenue' and 'core earnings structure.' She seems very pleased about it all. Once she is finally through, she defers to Mr. Andre, the Chief Financial Officer. He also talks numbers. Excessively. He has a lot less personality to add to the mix than Ms. Leclerq.
The first few resolutions involve reaffirming the board members and while it is interesting to see this process, it is not particularly exciting. There is no contention, it is just, "Should this person stay put?" There are a few questions about past actions and decisions in here which the members respond to but ultimately everyone is reaffirmed without incident.
There are a couple of other more general resolutions that involve the specifics of company management that I'll freely admit I don't follow very well, despite reading over the explanatory notes in the agenda. I guess they are doing something with consolidating the number of shares in existence. Amelia's two shares that she had purchased for twenty dollars each, would become one share worth forty dollars, I think. The point of this was to decrease the raw number of shares in existence. Since I understood that Tara's job throughout the planned takeover had basically been to pursue Area Five's shareholders and get them to sell to Arkansas, having less shares all around seemed like a good move for the future in the sense that it left less to keep track of. It wasn't going to be implemented until right before the end of the year anyway. Amelia held up her voting card when it was time. We'd decided that she would vote yes for everything, and I wouldn't vote for anything, effectively cancelling each other out.
The next item on the agenda is the merger. The freshly re-appointed Board was asking for permission to merge the company with Arkansas Confederate and the whole thing is detailed to the bottom line for shareholders, making good use of the big projection screen. Their stocks would become stocks of the new, merged company and given a higher valuation. A twenty dollar Area Five share would become a twenty-five dollar Area Five-Arkansas share. This pleases everyone of course, but there are still a number of questions to be posed and answered. Different members on the panel answer the questions depending on the sphere they pertain to. I try to be smiling and listening attentively whenever it is Eric's turn to speak, but truthfully I was waiting on tenterhooks. I figure if Peter is going to make his move, now is going to be the time. I am not disappointed.
I hadn't seen him stand up and approach the microphone as he was on the opposite side from me, but I recognize his voice immediately and then of course he promptly introduces himself, as Sophie Ann had prescribed in the rules earlier. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen of the Board, I am Peter Threadgill, Chairman and CEO of Arkansas Confederate Holdings."
My hand shoots out to find Amelia's and she squeezes mine right back just as tightly. Circulation in the extremities - who needs it?
"Though we have been impressed with the presentation thus far, I wish to announce at this time that Arkansas Confederate is formally withdrawing from the proposed merger with Area Five. As you are aware from our filings, in preparation for the merger we have acquired no insignificant amount of Area Five stock, as we are aware Area Five has done in its turn. As of the close of business yesterday," he says, taking the microphone in hand, and turning away from the dais and to the general audience, "Arkansas Confederate and its Board Members retain a combined total of forty-eight percent of Area Five stock. Effective as of ten a.m. this morning (Minutes ago, I realize, grabbing Amelia's watch to check it. That must have been what he was waiting for.), and until we amass a simple majority of fifty-one percent of Area Five shares, we issue a tender offer of fifty dollars per share..." Gasps. Literal gasps, throughout the room, and then, pandemonium. Peter finishes his statement but even mic'd, his voice was drowned out and I can barely hear him over the raucous noise of a couple hundred voices all going at once.
I glance around us. Everyone is talking to their neighbours. From what I quickly gather, an offer of more than double the current stock value was obscenely high. People take their phones out and start making calls. This goes on for almost three minutes before I see Eric stand up and cross to Sophie Ann at the podium. He whispers something to her and then stands back. Actually, he could have been speaking at full volume for all I knew, it's not like anyone would have heard him either way. She starts calling for order and is ignored. Her assistant, the woman who had initially made the introductions, was suddenly scurrying back to the podium carrying with her a gavel and a little wooden block to bang it on, items which obviously were held ready in reserve but which had not been anticipated as necessary.
Sophie Ann takes them and begins banging the gavel repeatedly and mercilessly, calling, "Order, come to order!" It takes another couple of minutes of this but finally the volume in the room drops to a dull roar and she is able to be heard. "I call on the Board to vote in an immediate action to match the tender offer in an excess of fifteen percent! Members of the Board, what say you?"
"Madam Chairman, Area Five does not have the ready capital to match, let alone exceed my offer," Threadgill hollers, all decorum slipping away.
"Mister Threadgill, do not presume that you have caught us by surprise," she scolds, with bile in her voice. "Members of the Board, what say you?" she repeats.
Right down the line they spoke in turn, each leaning forward to speak into the smaller microphones positioned behind their name cards. Quiet comes over the room again.
"Aye."
"Nay."
"Aye."
"Nay."
"Nay."
"Nay."
"Nay."
"Aye."
"Nay."
"Nay."
"And there you have it, Madam," Threadgill's voice comes again, triumphant. My heart sinks. Obviously his plan to gain support among Area Five's Board had worked to great effect. Had they not been able to determine with whom he'd been meeting? Why would they not have put forward different candidates for the Board? Ones who could be trusted! My eyes shoot to Eric, still standing impassively behind Sophie Ann on the dais. She is glancing up and down the table at her Board Members, some of who seem to be avoiding her eyes. I don't think it is possible that all of the naysayers could be in Peter's sway. If that were the case, he could have gone about this all in a very different way, simply pushing the Board to sell him Area Five outright. However some are clearly in his pocket. Certainly enough to ensure this action is defeated.
Peter Threadgill takes a moment to enjoy the stunned silence that fills the room before the clamour starts up again in his wake. "Madam Chairman, I suggest you conclude this general meeting and allow your shareholders to attend to their very pressing business," he gloats.
"Pardon me, I am a shareholder of Area Five and wish to speak on this matter before this general meeting is adjourned," comes a voice.
It is David, speaking from the microphone nearer to us. I recognize him from the side, but his voice is deep and calm, and utterly lacking in the smarmy disdainful tone that I'd characterized him with on previous occasions. I can still see Peter standing, and that he is now turned toward David, but he is too far from me to make out the expression on his face.
I watch as Eric retreats to his seat. He glances back at Sophie Ann who gives him a nod. "David Threadgill, you have the floor."
"Thank you Mister Northman, members of the Board," David acknowledges.
"I have made a slight misrepresentation a moment ago. I should have said I was a shareholder. As my father Peter has noted, Arkansas Confederate and its Board Members have collectively amassed forty-eight percent of all Area Five stock. This total erroneously accounts for five percent of total shares previously part of my personal portfolio, but which were sold back to Area Five at thirty percent above current market value yesterday." Wow. Profitable day for David.
The murmur starts up again, punctuated by more surprised eruptions, but David presses through it, raising his own volume.
"Further, at this time I yield my own holdings of Arkansas Confederate stock, amounting to eight percent of the total company shares to Area Five."
"David!" That must be Peter shouting. It is ignored.
And now it is Sophie Ann who is triumphant. "Mr. Andre, as of this morning, what percent of Arkansas Confederate do we hold?"
"Forty-five percent," the man answers.
"And with Mr. Threadgill's generous gift?"
"Fifty-three percent, Madam Chairman." Ah. This must be why he makes the big bucks.
"Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, I formally withdraw resolution six, the merger of Area Five and Arkansas Confederate, from this meeting's agenda. I declare an immediate recess of this meeting. We will reconvene in twenty minutes' time to conclude the day's business."
She bangs her gavel again. Just for show, I think. Suddenly the noise spikes again and all around us people are standing or heading for the exits, or just getting back on their telephones. David is quickly spirited away through the side door by the security team. He is followed by everyone who had been on the dais and the doors were body-blocked by the suited men who have now managed to find and project their inner menace. We have front row seats to Peter Threadgill demanding, and being refused, admittance.
"Well damn," Amelia says, dumbfounded. I hear someone nearby chuckle.
"Yeah," I nod, still reeling, myself.
All around us people are talking, and the general gist of the commentary seems to be that this has been the most exciting general meeting that anyone has ever attended. Or heard of.
"So Eric convinced this guy to sell out his own father?" Amelia asks.
"Looks like it," I say.
"Damn," she says again.
"He's pretty persuasive really," I acknowledge.
"You think?" she asks.
"I think it helps when people are ready to be persuaded," I say distractedly, thinking of my own dealings with Eric as much as David Threadgill's.
Tara appears at my side, and Amelia turns to her immediately to say hello.
"Hey Sookie," Tara says tentatively.
"Hey Tara," I say. "Guess you've been pretty busy lately, huh?" I smirk.
"Oh yes, it's been so crazy lately. I'm looking forward to the calm, now," Tara says.
"I'll bet," I agree.
"So are you going to work for Area Five now?" Amelia asks.
"Well, technically as of five minutes ago I already do, since they now own Arkansas... but yes, I've been promised an AVP position in their financial department once the transition is underway."
"Tara! Congratulations!" Amelia says. It's a huge promotion for her. I know that. I want to be happy for her, except for the fact that I also know she got it through no kind of merit. She's assured this new position as a result of the mere coincidence of having been dating David, when under any circumstances she would have been dismissed for the reasons she even came to anyone's attention. It's not that I wanted bad things to happen to her, but I was still put off by the reality of the situation. There's no practical justice in this sphere, it's just favours and manoeuvring and trying to be the last man or woman left standing. I do my best to put all of it aside for later consideration and force a smile onto my face.
"Congratulations, Tara," I say, trying, perhaps in vain, to sound sincere.
"Thanks," she says, looking from Amelia to me. "Sookie, can we have lunch next week?"
"Sure, Tara. Can I email you tonight? I have Peterson meetings all week so I need to go through my schedule."
"Sure, of course. And you guys need to come over and see our new place, soon," she continues, just as if all is right with the world. From her point of view, it is.
We both nod our agreement that we'd like that, and we chat for a few more minutes. Not long later, the lights in the room flip on and off several times, as a warning that the recess is nearly up. Tara says her goodbyes to us before bustling back to her seat. The woman who opened the meeting once again requests that everyone take their seats, and as I glance around I realize that somehow the crowd in here has grown larger. The area against the back wall has become a standing-room-only section.
I realize as the Board members and other members of the panel file back in that at some point while we were talking an additional seat had been placed for David Threadgill, who is now among their number. Sophie Ann resumes her place at the centre podium declaring the meeting officially back in progress. Such formalities are probably necessary for the recording of minutes and possibly a transcript of the proceedings.
"You may notice the addition to our number here on the dais," she smiles winningly. "After the revelations of the last hour, we are pleased to announce that David Threadgill will be joining our executive team as our new Senior Vice President of Corporate Development." This time, there was brief applause.
"We at Area Five are sad to be losing Eric Northman, who resigns this position effective at the end of today in pursuit of other business interests. Eric, allow me this opportunity to thank you for your service. You leave big shoes to fill, and of course, not just literally," she gives a faux little titter here. Eric's tall, y'all. He's got large feet. "But we are excited to see how David will fill them. In addition, at this time I would like to call for the appointment of David Threadgill as a Junior Member of the Area Five Board of Directors."
That was all. Eric had basically saved her company from being snatched out underneath her and handed her Arkansas in the process, and she gave him a thank you and a bad joke. Eric had nodded graciously through her thanks and sat stoicly as the vote was called. Eric had not been on the Board, not even as a Junior Member. He had told me once that he enjoyed being more hands on, but I couldn't help feeling a little bit slighted on his behalf. I give a huff that was apparently louder than I intended. I realize this only when Amelia jabs me in the side with her elbow.
The vote to confirm David proceeds almost unanimously in favour, by the look of the number of cards in the air. It is only at this point that Peter Threadgill, along with Jennifer Cater and some, but not all, of the party with whom he had arrived, get up and storm out of the meeting room.
There are only a handful of additional items to discuss and I listen to Sophie Ann assure her shareholders that they would soon be receiving information about Area Five's newest acquisition and that the company would be issuing statements forthwith regarding stock information for both companies. Finally she thanks everyone in attendance and invites those of us who held blue or yellow cards to join the reception that was taking place down the hall, where a catered lunch and coffee would be served. With that, she declares the meeting over.
Amelia and I are unsure of where we are meant to go now, so we wait in our place for Pam to come and find us. When she appears she is wearing a broad, satisfied grin.
"Nice work, Pam," I congratulate.
"Thank you, Sookie."
"Business Barbie," I tease.
She brightens her grin. "Eric is talking to the press. He will join us in the reception room, or I can take you to him if you wish. You," she says, turning to Amelia, "Will come with me."
"I'd like to see him," I say. "I figure he could use a hug. All that work you guys did, and all he gets is some dismissive 'thanks buddy,'" I frown.
Pam laughs. "Sookie, you know that's not all he is getting."
"Do I know that?"
"Eric will be well compensated in his departure as a result of this little coup, do not worry about that."
"He gets a golden parachute?" Amelia blurts out.
Pam lifts an eyebrow briefly at Amelia before inclining her head. "I suppose so. He sold his stock in the company over-value in the push to make numbers at the last minute. And of course there is a significant severance package. Fear not, Eric's contributions to the day's events will be well rewarded. Even I am getting a very nice package, in addition to the bonuses that Eric is giving for my signing on with him at Northman Group."
"But you would stay with him anyway, right?" I ask.
Pam chuckles again. "Sookie, you are so amusing at times," she says.
This only makes me frown.
"One of the reasons I like working for Eric is because he rewards hard work and loyalty. Would I have stayed with him if Area Five had simply tried to screw us? Yes, probably that too, because I believe he would have righted that wrong. It's a silly question you asked. I stay with him because he is Eric, and things happen because he ensures that they do," she finishes with a shrug. "Now come along, my little sorority girls, I believe there is some champagne to be had somewhere close by."
She links arms with either of us and leads us through the throng at the back doors. I spot Eric easily, surrounded by a small cluster of reporters. I pull away from Pam and point in his direction to indicate that's where I'm heading and she and Amelia continue off in search of refreshment. I stand back a bit from the group. Now that I'm closer I see that Eric is standing beside David Threadgill. I catch his eye and smile and he holds up a hand to indicate he'll just be another minute. On the opposite side of the lobby a similar cluster surrounds Peter Threadgill and his entourage. He obviously had not left the premises, simply the meeting room, earlier. Out of sheer curiosity I move closer to try to hear what he could possibly be saying about the events that have just transpired.
"...And of course, there is great profit in such a broad reaching corporation, no one would deny the opportunity when chance presented itself. However events which might appear unfortunate actually open a new door. We have long been focused on the software side of things, that is where my true passion has always lain. My team of developers, you'll find, are loyal to a fault, and will remain with me in future endeavours. This grants us the unique opportunity to create a truly free environment where jobs and creativity can flourish here in the Gulf Region rivalling that of the West Coast..." he says.
I just roll my eyes at the astonishing ability of these men to switch into public relations mode. He had face to save. Peter had dealt from what he thought had been a stacked deck but still managed to lose. He wanted to make darn sure that anyone who would listen knew he wasn't broken. I scan his entourage and my eyes settle on Lorena, who is unmistakably staring daggers back at me. Just then I feel a hand against my back and look up to see Eric leaning down to give me a quick peck on the lips. I smile against his mouth as he pulls away.
"You did good, Northman," I tell him.
"Thank you. I am nearly done," he grins, then points my attention back to Peter.
"...Yes, of course, all the work that has been completed is exclusively the property of Area Five, but naturally they do not hold the patents on future ideas! No, my team of management and engineers will bring their own intellectual property with them in our new venture."
"Peter Threadgill?" a man asks.
"Yes sir, and your name?" Threadgill asks with a thousand watt smile.
"My name is Tom Lattesta representing the United States Department of Justice, and this," he says, handing over an envelope, "Is a subpoena pursuant to the ongoing case against Arkansas Confederate employees Lorena Ball and William Compton, who currently stand accused of violating the Interstate Transportation of Stolen Property Act as well as the Economic Espionage Act. Your testimony will be required, sir."
There is about five seconds of shocked silence in the little ring before the reporters explode into questions with renewed vigour.
"Mister Threadgill, what will this mean for your software team?"
"Did you intend to steal proprietary software from Area Five?"
"Do you wish to clarify your statements about your future endeavours?"
"Peter, do you expect to be personally prosecuted?"
"Mister Threadgill, what will this mean for your investors?"
"Do you still anticipate being able to hit release goals as early as next year?"
Eric links his arm around my waist and begins to pull me away from a now flustered Peter Threadgill who is emphasizing repeatedly that he has no additional comments to make. I spot Lorena again, her attention now completely preoccupied with her tablet. I'm a little surprised when Eric actually steers us towards her.
"I wouldn't bother, Ms. Ball," he says smoothly.
"What do you want, Northman? I've seen this trash on display before, showing it off is wasted on me," she spits, shooting an ugly look at me. Eric simply gives my hip a squeeze, his way of telling me not to be bothered by her words, I think.
"I merely wanted to tell you not to bother. I presume what you're attempting to do there is pull files from the Arkansas servers. Having a little bit of connection trouble, are you?"
She simply glares, so he must be right.
"You'll find your login has been disabled. Jade Chou was kind enough to inform the Arkansas data security team immediately following David's transfer of assets to Area Five. You taught us a lesson once, about how you respond when you are cornered. We weren't going to let it happen a second time."
"What the fuck do you even care?" she hisses, outraged. "You've quit!"
"Officially I am still a Senior Vice President of Area Five, and its new acquisition, Arkansas Confederate until the end of business today."
In her rage at the device's failure to function as she wished, Lorena hurls her tablet at the ground. It must have been very unsatisfying, the way it didn't shatter or break apart or anything. It just clattered down and bounced with a tiny thud and the screen flickered off. It is Eric's turn to smile.
"Oh, and Ms. Ball?"
"What."
"You're fired."
Then very quickly Eric is leading me away from her in his tight grasp, pausing only briefly to signal to two security guards who swiftly move in the direction from which we had just come. I don't know what he is expecting her to do. Maybe he's just ensuring she doesn't have a chance to do anything.
"You're really on a roll," I tell him.
"Thanks, I think. Can I take that to mean that you're not completely put off by cutthroat nature of the day?"
"I think I felt for Peter a little bit," I admit.
"He'll bounce back. They won't actually be able to prove he had anything to do with what Bill and Lorena took. He'll say they did that of their own volition, and that's pretty hard to refute based on hearsay. And he'll make a ton of money, as I said he would. The stock prices are spiking as we speak."
"Anyone left on your hit list?"
"No, I think I'm done. Now I just need to be charming for an hour or so."
Eric entered the reception hall to a round of applause, and I let him go ahead and mingle and make my way over to Pam and Amelia.
"Your friend is adorable, Sookie," Pam comments with a wicked little grin.
"Oh dear. Are you two ladies having fun?" I ask.
"Certainly," Pam answers. "Amelia was just telling me about some of your misadventures at school."
"I'm almost afraid to ask," I hedge.
"Nothing too damning," Amelia says with a smirk.
They seem to be hitting it off very well. I think that's nice. I'm not sure it'll be a happily ever after, but maybe they'll have fun for now. Or not. I feel compelled to leave them be, but aside from them, I don't actually have anyone to talk to here. My other choice was being Eric's arm candy, and I just wasn't up for that. I told Amelia and Pam I'd be back in a little while in case Eric came looking for me, and I head outside and catch a cab back over to the Garden District. I have the driver wait while I complete my errand.
When I return, I'm pleased to see that most of the hullabaloo has dissipated from the front lobby. Peter and Lorena and their set are nowhere in sight, and everyone else has either left or gone back for coffee or the catered lunch. I'm walking back to find everyone again when I see Eric come bolting out of the hall.
"There you are," he says, sounding relieved.
"Here I am," I say.
"Where were you? I looked up and you were nowhere to be seen and Pam said you just went off."
"I had an errand to run, and Pam and Amelia seem to be getting on famously."
"I noticed that," he agrees.
"Pretty interesting." I observe.
"Yes. What was your errand?"
I fish into the little brown bag I'm carrying and pull out a plastic container housing a painstakingly decorated cupcake.
"It's your last day," I explain. "There should be cake. I'm sorry I didn't think to get you a card."
He studies the cupcake carefully turning the clear flimsy box around.
"Thank you. Am I to eat this now?"
"If you'd like."
"Perhaps I should give it to Pam, no one has gotten her a cake either."
I hold up the bag and give it a little shake indicating its contents, a second cupcake for Pam. We walk in and find Amelia and Pam still chatting exclusively with each other. They seem to be on their second or possibly third flutes of champagne at this point. It's the middle of the afternoon. I know Pam, at least, has earned this. Amelia, well, I guess she deserves a good time, too. I give Pam her cake and unlike Eric, she opens it immediately and devours it in about three unladylike bites.
"Hungry, Pam?" Eric asks.
"Not anymore, no," she says. "Thank you Sookie."
"I'm about ready for an lunch," Eric says. "Pam, what time is your flight?"
"Ten."
Amelia and I speak nearly simultaneously, me to Eric, and she to Pam.
"Aww, where are you going?"
"You're making her go back to Seattle this weekend?"
"I'm going to Anguilla," Pam clarifies.
"That'll be nice, just to relax after all this?" I ask, waving a hand toward the room at large.
"Yes and no. It is in part a working vacation," Pam says.
"I told you I wanted to start doing comparisons between our hotels and others in their vicinity. So we have one in Anguilla and Pam will stay four nights there, and four nights with a competitor," Eric explains.
"Sounds like a tough job you've got," Amelia smirks, glancing at Pam.
"My work is very important," Pam retorts.
"Are you starting next week?" I ask Eric.
"Yes, since I won't be in the office the first or last weeks in July. Speaking of, I need to go up to Rhode Island that last week, will you come? It's right in between your two sessions."
"What's in Rhode Island?" I ask.
"One of our properties. I've never been there."
"Is it cold up there?" I ask.
He chuckles, "Not this time of year."
Sophie Ann wanders over to our little group then, coming up between Eric and Pam and laying a hand on each of their arms. She commends the 'dream team,' and says once again that she was sorry to lose them. Area Five would be keeping the contract with Eric's hotel down here of course. She is so glad that she doesn't have to trudge upstairs to one of the 'shabby little cubby holes,' here at this hotel. Pam lets Eric handle the polite acknowledgements and proceeds to drain her champagne flute. Eric takes the opportunity then to tell her that we are heading out, and she says that she'll be in touch. Though Eric had resigned his SVP position, he would technically remain an employee of Area Five for the next few weeks. After Pam's hint, I knew that they had money matters to discuss.
As a group, we depart the reception and reach the front lobby where our limousine would have to be brought around. It's a bit of a wait before our car arrives. There had been many similar cars here today, I knew, and I wondered how they didn't mix them up. I'm envisioning a long row of identical long stretch limousines with hapless drivers all in similar looking black and white outfits going back and forth between them testing keys until they find the matching pairs. I hear Pam talking to Amelia again.
"Amelia," Pam says, "Sookie tells me you are in the process of renovating a new set of apartments."
"Oh, yes. Actually I sold another unit this week, so that makes half of them," she beams.
"Perhaps you will show me them. I have a bit of time to kill this afternoon."
"We can do that."
Eric was plainly listening in. "Let's have them drop Sookie and I off at the hotel then, and you two can keep the car and the driver for a few more hours."
"Works for me," Pam says breezily.
"Sure," Amelia smiles.
I figure the odds that they'll be having limo-sex this afternoon are about fifty/fifty. Eric and I arrive back at his hotel and I was grateful I had left a couple of outfits here so that I too have something to change into. Eric slips off his suit jacket and changes his trousers for a pair of jeans, and his glossy dress shoes for a pair of soft loafers, but he keeps the vest on. At my suggestion he packs a little bag with some weekend clothes. We grab a light lunch on our way back to my house with the intention of having a peaceful evening in.
I've got a little work to do for school in the next couple of days, but have resolved to finally getting around to replacing my television tomorrow. Eric has promised to continue his boyfriendy ways by helping me choose a good one and then helping me get it set up. I choose to interpret the latter part of that as he is going to do it. Between that, and then watching it, I figure he'll have enough to keep him occupied while I'm putting the finishing touches on my summer curriculum. The Batiments are leaving tomorrow night so we might even enjoy just laying out by the pool on Saturday. The goal was pretty simple really, a quiet weekend at home. He has a couple of trips to Seattle coming up as he still needs to close out his apartment there and tend to some things that Pam cannot do for him. I know as well that he'll be throwing himself into running the Northman Group with vigour starting Monday morning. Eric doesn't half-ass it when it comes to work, whatever the work. It's not like everything is just going to settle down into some leisurely life now, so either of us were kind of determined to just take a couple of days to just relax.
Back at my house, Eric stretches out on my bed with the same novel he's been trying to find time to finish for the last three weeks. It is quite a picture seeing him stretched out there in the afternoon sun coming down through the window, looking in every way content. That is how I leave him as I go across the hall to work. About an hour later I hear his snores start up. I go in towards the evening and tuck his book out of the way and go downstairs to make dinner. I don't really have the heart to wake him up, but I cook anyway in case he's hungry later.
Pam calls before I go to bed to let me know she's about to board her flight and we'll hear from her tomorrow. She's coyly evasive about whatever may or may not have happened with her and Amelia, so I'll have to get the story from the other source later. Eric ends up sleeping for fifteen hours straight. I'd left a note on the bathroom mirror directing him to the food downstairs in case he got up in the middle of the night, but when I wake on Friday morning I realize that the only indication he has moved at all while we slept is in the way he's half-draped across me. He's still in yesterday's clothes. When it had become clear that he was down for the count, I just left him that way. I couldn't really undress him myself without shuffling him around quite a bit and I know from experience that getting his sleep interrupted when he's super tired does not make for a pleasant Eric to deal with.
I shimmy sideways across the bed and out of his clutches and take a quick shower and dress. I start the coffee downstairs and replace my bathroom mirror note from last night with one pointing him toward the coffee and saying I'll be back soon. I don't have enough breakfast things in the house right now to do a respectable job for both of us, so I walk down to what I'd already internally dubbed "the good bakery" for some supplemental help. Returning home with my pastry boxes and fresh juice, I find my little note and his half-full coffee cup on the kitchen counter. I can hear the shower going upstairs and I leave him alone to scrub off any residual grumpiness and start the eggs and bacon. I'd also picked up several different newspapers for him, so I lay them out on the kitchen table. When I hear his heavy feet on the stairs I toss the dregs of his cold coffee into the sink and set a fresh cup down for him at his place.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," I grin.
"Mm. 'Morning," he agrees with a stretch and a rub of his stomach. "Whatever you are making smells wonderful and I would like to eat some of it as soon as possible please."
"Sure," I say, smiling as he sinks into his chair and peers at the newspapers. I turn to hand him his plate, noticing how he really is too big for this table. Oh well. At least the bed works for him.
I take one of the newspapers and go straight to the business section. The articles were almost universally positive in favour of the events that had transpired.
Big News from the Big Easy
Wall Street rallied yesterday following the explosive annual general meeting of bicoastal tech superstar Area Five...
House of the Rising Son
David Threadgill joins the Board of Area Five following a surprise transfer from family-owned former rival Arkansas Confederate...
The South Rises Again
Shares of New Orleans Based Area Five and Arkansas Confederate stocks sold at records highs yesterday following the announcement of...
Bent Not Broken
Peter Threadgill, freshly former Chairman and CEO of Arkansas Confederate unveiled plans for his newest enterprise amidst...
There were several more, and it was all good news. The spectacle, coupled with the sheer amount of money that had been made and would be made by shareholders could not fail to please the business reporters. My favourite article, and one I actually cut out and saved, was one from the local paper here in New Orleans. The headline for that one was "The Prodigal Son Returns," and it was about Eric's departure from Area Five and return to New Orleans to run the Northman Group. It mentioned Sten and Inge and was focused on the city-based company, with its national footprint, being handed into the competent care of a local boy 'dun good. We share the articles back and forth for a while until Eric's phone starts ringing. It doesn't stop for most of the day, but eventually he just silences it and lets everything go to voicemail. I chose a respectable, but not outrageously sized television, and I also bought a blu-ray dvd player to go with it. Eric bought half a dozen movies to keep him and us entertained since it didn't occur to me until after they were retrieving my chosen flatscreen from the back storage room that I hadn't gotten the cable service activated yet.
With the exception of two separate instances, we spend most of Saturday lounging poolside blissfully doing nothing. The two instances involved us running back to my house amidst playful shrieking so we could blissfully do each other. I can't really be held accountable for how Eric looks in his swim trunks and the consequences thereof. Evidently he had the same opinion about me in a bikini.
On Saturday evening I hear from Crystal and Jason that they've decided to accept the Loudermilk place, which I'll soon be able to refer to as their place. They've got a crew coming next week to tear down our parents' house. Crystal tells me that they're still going hold the reception there in the yard next to the lake. They're going to rent a couple of port-a-johns and keep it a big outdoor barbeque, just as planned. The work on the other place is going to begin as soon as Jason gets the check from the insurance. Jason and I have some matters to discuss about the property. They'd agreed to accept the house, but they didn't want to take the whole sixty acres of land. He talks about either giving me our parents' property in exchange, or simply getting the property lines redrawn. It's something we'll work out later.
While I'm on the phone with my brother, Eric finally gets around to checking his missed calls. They include one from his father congratulating him in a very backhanded way for one-upping Peter Threadgill while simultaneously implying this was not much of an achievement. Inge's pride in Eric is far more sterling when we see her on Sunday afternoon. She had saved the same article as I, and Eric listens politely as she reads it in its entirety as though it were his first time hearing it.
With Pam's absence the following week, Eric finds he has little reason to return to his hotel, apart from stopping in once or twice to get more clothes. It's not until the following Sunday morning that we get around to discussing the idea of him staying indefinitely. It has crossed my mind repeatedly throughout the week, in part because I'd gotten a call from Lafayette to let me know that he and Rasul had decided to cohabitate (and would both be arriving in town to visit in a few weeks) and in part because I really could not help noticing how easy and natural the week had gone. He's never seemed in the way or out of place here. I haven't ever felt compelled to mind him or entertain him like I would a guest. I like to think he's also comfortable here. Pam's arriving back today and we're debating whether or not we should be there to meet her.
"I say we send your friend Amelia to meet her and just stay here," Eric suggests. "It is comfortable here," he emphasizes bodily. We're still in bed. He throws his leg over both of mine and wraps himself around me, using my breasts as his pillow. I find myself patting his head in my agreement.
"I wonder if anything will come of that," I muse. "Amelia said they didn't get much beyond the very blatant flirting."
"It would certainly be convenient if they did," Eric agrees.
"Only if they stay together forever though so we won't have this awkward what happens if they break up situation," I speculate. They're not even dating (yet?), and I'm making contingency plans for when it doesn't work out. I cringe and laugh at the senselessness of my expressed concern.
I run my fingers up and down his neck letting my nails drag lightly across his skin and it makes him shiver and cling to me all the tighter.
"I'll see her tomorrow anyway. I really could stay here, just like this, forever."
"Careful or I'll take you at your word," I warn him with a smile in my voice.
He lifts himself up then, rising so he hovers over me resting with his palms on the bed on either side of me. It's a nice moment just looking at him before he bends his elbows, leaning down to kiss me. Additional nice moment.
"We could talk about that some more," he suggests.
"About you staying here?" I ask, mostly to make certainly double-sure that we're on the same page.
"Yeah," he agrees.
"Wouldn't you miss the maids?" I tease.
"We could get one?" he grins. "Just to come a couple of times a week if you want."
I feel my eyes squint a little bit as I stare up at him, trying to determine if he's serious. "There's not a ton of extra space though," I hedge. "I mean, I don't know how much stuff you have." This is just one of about two dozen thoughts going through my head at this moment. Highlights among the others include: Seriously? He wants to move in with me? Isn't it a bit soon? Is it a bit soon? What would we do about rent and utilities? Does he really think we need a maid to come? Is he going to keep using up all the clean towels like he has been and leaving them on the floor?
"Are you being serious?" I ask.
"This has been nice, hasn't it?"
"It has," I nod.
"Pam's looking to buy a place soon, so she won't be staying any more, and as you yourself have pointed out, I cannot actually live in a hotel indefinitely."
"But don't you want your own space? I mean what if you get sick of me?" I ask, then quickly add, "Not like in a break-up kind of way, but surely I must get in your hair sometimes. This place isn't that big, if you ever wanted to be alone, or if I did." I hope I've explained that properly.
"It's not very big, no, but it has the upstairs and downstairs, and that helps. I mean practically speaking, if we continue as we have been, it might make more sense to just do it now. Rather than, say, I get a place, and then we find ourselves in two months realizing that one of us is never home. And, if anything were to happen where we did get sick of each other, I could always still go to the hotel, if that were necessary."
"Let's tone down the romanticism there, Mister Failsafe," I smirk.
"I'm not anticipating needing or wanting to utilize that option, I'm just acknowledging that it's there. I like this. This has been good. Even before with you staying at the hotel, it was good."
"Once I had things to keep me busy, while you were busy, yes," I agree.
"I like coming home to you," he says suddenly, without reserve.
"I like that too," I smile.
"Do you want to think about it a bit more?"
I take a deep breath. "I think let's do it."
"Yeah?"
I nod. "Yeah."
So simple as that, the decision is made. It's the right one, I think.