Tom stepped off the stage and shook a few hands. There were a few people I recognized in the crowd, but I didn’t presume they’d want to sit around and talk. I had no time for reminiscing anyway.
I sent Brent a message to start the car and joined up with Tom once again. He had finally managed to clear himself from the crowd of people.
He took a novelty shovel from another fellow and walked to the middle of the parking lot where a patch of dirt had already been cleared. He dug the shovel into the loose dirt and paused, waiting for all the photos to be taken before ripping the dirt from its rest.
After more handshaking, we made for the nearby waiting car. Brent held the door as the two of us entered.
“I find it odd, Tom. You could probably take a helicopter instead of waiting in downtown traffic.”
“I like being driven,” he replied before taking a moment to think. “Flying makes me feel like I’m looking down on people; driving makes me feel like one of the people.”
I enjoyed that sentiment: feeling like a normal person and not looking down your nose at everyone else. I felt attracted to his honesty and tried to push back any romantic feelings I had. It was easier to do this morning, as I knew what his previous night had been like.
It wasn’t long before we reached his corporate headquarters in the heart of the city. The massive glass structure loomed over most of downtown and housed nearly all of his employees.
It was quite intimidating to look at every time we came.
Exiting the car, I was greeted by a courier holding a small stack of papers. The lawyers had already redrawn the agreement, and I briefly checked the changes, which appeared to be in order.
“Here you are, sir. The new agreement, as requested,” I said, handing him the stack of papers.
He glanced over them as we walked through the lobby, where we were joined by many finely dressed men ready to petition Tom for business approvals.
As we entered the elevator, I shooed the incoming crowd away and was met with harsh stares of disappointment. It honestly made me feel a little important.
We zoomed to the top of the tower. I had to break the silence. “Your private box is being readied for the game later today, sir. Any special requests?”
He pondered briefly before replying. “It would be nice if my assistant could come as well.” A coy smile crossed his lips.
I stifled a laugh and continued. “It’s supposed to be a private event with your brother and his family.”
“What’s the name of his youngest son?” he asked.
“Jonathan, sir. He’ll be two years old in March. Their oldest is a girl named Isabel. She just turned five last month. His wife, if you can’t remember her name, is Lydia.”
“Oh, I remember her name. I was just testing you, is all. Send my brother an e-mail and let him know I’m excited to see him and his family again. And request to have some toys brought there as well. I don’t know what kids like anymore.”
I couldn’t picture him around kids, and what I could imagine made me fear for his future wife.
“I’ll send a runner to make a selection.” The elevator shimmied open, and he went on ahead while I fussed about sending more messages here and there.
I tried my best to look professional, but in a world full of old men, it was hard being a young woman.
Tom entered a glass-walled meeting room and sat at the head, as he always did. I got a lot of rough looks from one of the elder statesman in the room; it was easy to see he didn’t like me at all. I didn’t have the heart to ask whether it was my sex or my race that angered him the most. Racial diversity nearly seemed an afterthought in the office building.
I plucked the water carafe from the stand and poured Tom some water while he finished looking over all the papers.
“Tom, why the devil did you bring that sales mark up 3 percent? You’re making them nervous; it’s going to blow the whole thing!” said the elder statesman suddenly.
“George, I did it because the deal they offered wasn’t solid enough. On the will of my personal assistant I increased the price, and I trust her judgement.”
“You trust her judgement,” he restated. “I wouldn’t trust her with a serving tray, let alone a multimillion-dollar deal. You should’ve left this one where you found her.”
My anger was tugging at me and draining what little patience I had.
“If I cared for your point of view, I’d ask for it, Mr. Dibney. But your opinion is worth about as much as the dirt I stepped in on the way over.”