Til Debt Do Us Part

Chapter 2

"Seven hundred and twenty goddam dollars for this rig and the best it can do is four out of ten!" Percy Rudman hurled his new club behind his brand new, state-of-the-art putting carpet, taking a chunk out of the ornate plaster cornice part way up the office wall.

"Mr. Rudman, a call on your private line." The desk machine announced.

"Who is it?"

" . . . It's your private line, sir."

"Oh for Christ's sake!" He walked across to the desk and snatched up the receiver. "Yes, hello! Ah- hi, I know . . . I told you it would take strong actions and I took them . . . Well that's to be expected I suppose . . . that's right, yes . . . well I can't rewrite company policy . . . I know, but there are contractual legalities. Look you don't . . . yes I know, I said. . . . Give things a couple of days and see how they pan out. . . . Yes. Yes that's still the plan. . . . Right, yes. Yes! For heaven's sake let things settle a bit . . . no not a good idea . . . I understand but we knew that going in. . . . Okay, I knew. What do you want me to do?. . . Okay, good-- yes, goodbye."

"Jesus! Is it ever easy on this goddam planet?" Percy moaned loudly.

"Did you call, sir?"

"No-- Janet . . . no, I didn't"

*****

Percy sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head and frowning at the gouge in the office wall where his golf club had struck. Mathew's actions couldn't be predicted and he wasn't taking any chances with possible failure; he knew firing him would put the fuel in the fire but he wasn't about to waste his time on pussy-footing around the problem.

His Blue Shoals investment was gold but Percy wanted diamond and to that end he needed the last remaining, privately owned villa that stood in the way of a major expansion. That he had initially orchestrated its purchase by the man he just fired was a frustrating piece of irony. Still, not only had his own investment appreciated at that time, he had discovered the impressionable and malleable Lillian.

Now his plan was to get that property back without expending a dime of his own money. He lifted the receiver on his private line and dialed a number. Percy hunched over the phone, his voice low so as not to be overheard by any chance. The discussion lasted fifteen minutes, enough time to confirm his plan had gone into motion, the potential timetable and annoyingly, a reassurance of the price.

Next he called Lillian back. Prudence dictated keeping her calm and happy until the plan was concluded. He tilted forward and pressed the intercom button. "Janet, get me a table at Cicero's for eight tomorrow night."

"Having a party, sir?"

"Party? No-- for me. A table for me!"

"Very good, sir. Table for one, Cicero's tomorrow. What time, sir?"

"I didn't say for one, Janet and I said eight."

"Oh, sorry, sir. How many should I say?"

"Huh-- no what I meant was I didn't say I'd be alone."

"Very good, sir -- a table for eight. What time, sir?"

"Me, just a table for me -- at eight!"

"You could have just said that in the first place . . . oh, here's your private line."

"Just get me a table-- what? Who is it now?"

"Uhm- sir . . . it's your pri--"

"Oh for God's sake! Hello!"

"Sir, I'm still on the intercom."

"Well get the hell off, Janet. I'm on my private line."

"Lillian, Percy. I called back to confirm dinner." What the hell? She called to confirm? He slammed the phone down.