American Beauty

If the stress on his group was high, it was painfully obvious to me that Peter was nearing the breaking point. The combination of a critical deadline, his rivalry with Scott and the revelations about Callie were almost unbearable - I was afraid something was going to give.

I was so worried about him that two days before the start of Expo I went to Peter's office. Even though it was well after normal work hours, I felt certain I would find him there, and I wasn't disappointed. He was surrounded by a small group of his key people staring at something on his computer screen.

I didn't want to interrupt him so I paused at his door to watch him carefully. I knew he was tired from the long hours he'd been keeping, but the lines and dark shadows I saw on his face revealed an additional burden, one only I knew about. It disturbed me, yet I could think of nothing I could do to help.

Just then, he looked up and spotted me. "Hey, Jess," he said, "come in and have a look at this," indicating what was on his monitor. When I went around and looked over his shoulder, all I saw was what appeared to be a view of an empty room hung with curtains around the walls.

"Um, that's nice," I said uncertainly. "What am I looking at?"

"This is a new set-up we're testing. What you're seeing is a live feed from our hospitality suite at the MGM Grand in Vegas!" Peter said proudly. "Now watch this," he went on, pecking at the keyboard. The view switched to a large hall. As Peter zoomed in, the view narrowed to a major exhibit that was under construction. "That's the Magnatadyne booth at Expo, or it will be as soon as the display people get everything set up," he said.

I looked at him in confusion. "Why exactly do you need a live feed from Expo?" I asked.

Instead of answering, Peter motioned to a woman in the group. "Debby, you came up with the idea, tell Jess what you've got in mind."

Immediately she began babbling like an excited kid at show-and-tell. "It'll be great," she enthused. "It'll give us a chance to watch the booth set-up in real time and make adjustments if needed. Once a show starts, it could give us a feel for what our customers react to, positive or negative. It could also give employees here at headquarters a chance to see for themselves what goes on at a show like this, to see how their efforts make a difference."

While she was talking, several other team members began pointing out additional applications and possible refinements. As they continued to talk animatedly, Peter turned to me. "We've never done anything like this before, Jess. We'll test it out for Expo; then, if it works the way we hope, it will give us a new way to make our marketing efforts at the next big show."

"That's really something," I said sincerely. "I'll bet Mr. Moffatt will be impressed when he sees it."

At the mention of Mr. Moffatt's name, Debby jerked her head up with a sour look on her face. "I wish he'd be impressed enough to recommend Peter, not Scott Benson!" she blurted out. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment when she remembered that I worked for Mr. Moffatt. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she said defensively, but it was clear to me that she had meant every word. And while I didn't say anything, I wholeheartedly agreed with her.

But Debby's comment seemed to set off a storm of emotions, and others began to chip in with their own thoughts. Peter quickly spoke up in an effort to diffuse the situation. "We're all a little tense about what may happen, but it's out of our control. Let's just concentrate on the things that are our responsibility and let senior management do whatever it's going to do."

One of the others piped up, "Yeah, but if Scott winds up with the VP job, life here is going to be a living hell!"

"That's right," another said. "Why can't they see what a terrible leader Scott would make?"

I was watching Peter and I saw his head snap up at that last comment. "What if they could see?" he said. "What if they had a chance to see the real Peter in action?"

"That would be perfect," someone said, "but how could we make that happen?"

Peter explained his idea and the office became a Babel of excited voices asking questions and tossing out ideas. I leaned back against a wall and watched the interplay. After a while the objections coalesced into a plan and their excitement transformed into purpose. When the hubbub had pretty well subsided, Peter held up his hand to get everyone's attention. "Listen, people, there's something all of us need to understand. What we're talking about here might open some eyes in the executive suite, but it might also backfire horribly. So let's agree right now that if anything happens, I'm the one who'll take the fall. We need to set this up so no one else's role in this is visible."

Immediately there was a storm of protest, but Peter held firm and finally the rest grudgingly agreed. I think that while they were loyal to Peter and wanted to back him, at heart none of them could afford to lose their jobs if their little ploy went sour. But from my perspective, I thought it was admirable that Peter wanted to protect his team, even at the risk of putting his own job on the line.

Shortly after that Peter ended the meeting and sent everyone home, but he asked me to stay behind. When everyone else had gone, he looked at me carefully. "Jess, if this crazy scheme has any real chance of working, you're going to have a critical role. We can try to hide your involvement, but there's a good chance that someone could figure it out. Are you sure you want to take that risk?"

I thought about it, asking myself how I really felt. I knew that Scott would make a terrible VP and that working as his executive assistant would be intolerable. I also hated what Scott had done to Peter, and it made it even worse that Scott had used me to deliver his message. Those thoughts mixed with memories of my own failed marriage, and they only increased my sympathy for Peter and my determination to help him.

"Count me in,' I told Peter firmly. "I want to help you any way I can."

"Thanks, Jess," he said. "That really means a lot to me."

The day before Expo officially opened, Peter and others of his team flew out to Vegas to make the final preparations. Once the show officially opened, it would be non-stop demonstrations, customer meetings and a never-ending flow of visitors milling through Magnetadyne's massive exhibit.

After Expo launched, whenever I had a lull in my work I'd wander down to the control room of the trial Peter's team had set up at headquarters to get an update on what was happening. I could sit in front of an extra-large monitor and watch a live feed from the Expo floor. I frequently spotted Peter working with our product demonstrators or consulting with some of the display people. The only time I saw Scott was when the monitor was switched to the hospitality suite. There you could often catch him schmoozing with a purchasing executive or senior researcher from one of our customers. From what I could see, I had to admit that Scott seemed to be doing a good job.

Peter's plan wasn't scheduled to go into motion until the evening of the last day of Expo. He wanted to make sure that nothing would interfere with the company's sales efforts; he also wanted to catch Scott when the pressure was off and his guard might be down.

But for the small group of us aware of the scheme, the tension kept mounting as the deadline approached. Everything had been carefully scripted and timed to the minute. It was nerve-wracking to wait, but there was nothing more we could do.

On the last day of Expo I had stayed at my desk, not wanting to get in the way. When my phone finally rang late that afternoon, I almost jumped out of my seat. When I answered, no one was on the line, and I knew that was my signal to start. I quickly entered Mr. Moffatt's office to retrieve his smartphone. My boss had many strengths but communications technology wasn't one of them. He seldom used his smartphone and usually left it at the office when he went out of town. I had already checked to be sure he'd done so this time; now I picked it up and quickly thumbed in a text message. Once I had everything keyed in, I hurried down to the control center Peter's team had established. There were still several steps before I did my thing.

The big monitor was displaying the view from the hospitality suite. Scott and the people from his team were milling around, most with a drink in their hands, enjoying the successful completion of another major show. Peter was there too, but only a few of his team members were present.

We could see Peter check his watch; then he looked up to where he knew the cameras were located and gave a small nod. The game was afoot!

Debby, the woman I'd met earlier in Peter's office, bent over the microphone in front of the monitor and responded, "Roger that, we are go for launch." It was obvious that Peter had heard her through the small microphone in his ear because he nodded again. She flipped a switch and spoke quietly, "Commence stage one." One of Peter's people in the room responded with a surreptitious nod, then went over to one of Scott's salesman. He stuck out his hand to the salesman and began offering his congratulations. Even at a distance we could see the smile break out on the salesman's face.

Debby toggled the speaker switch to a different setting and repeated the same instructions. As we watched, one of Peter's product demonstrators strolled over to another of Scott's people and began talking to him. The man's face took on a look of surprise, and although we couldn't hear anything, it appeared obvious that he was asking for confirmation.

Several other members' of Peter's team repeated the process, and we could see the excitement starting to build among Scott's team.

Debby glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth taut. "The word is starting to spread," she said. "Get ready."

As I watched the screen closely, Peter made a slight adjustment to something under his jacket and suddenly we could hear the rustle of material as he walked over to his adversary. "Well, Scott," he said, extending his hand, "it looks like you've won. Congratulations."

"What are you talking about, Peter?" Scott snarled suspiciously, refusing to take the proffered hand.

"I just heard that Mr. Moffatt announced his retirement at the Executive Committee meeting this afternoon. I also heard that the Committee elected you to be his successor," Peter said.

On the screen, we could see Scott looking at Peter warily. "I haven't heard any such thing. What kind of game are you trying to play, Hammill?"

Just then, one of Scott's people came over and began clapping him on the back. "Way to go, boss! We just heard the news."

"What news? What are you talking about?"

The salesman was undaunted. "It's all over the show, Scott. You're going to be the new VP of Sales and Marketing!"

As Scott looked at him uncertainly, another one of his people came up to offer congratulations. Debby zoomed the camera in on Scott's face, and we could clearly see exultation warring with hesitation. Scott gave a little hand gesture.

Debby looked back at me. "That's your cue," she said. I held up Mr. Moffatt's smartphone and clicked SEND on the text message I'd prepared. I noticed that my hands were slightly sweaty.

It was easy to tell when the text went through because Scott jumped as though he'd been shocked. Quickly he grabbed the smartphone out of his pocket and checked the text he'd just received. I knew what he was reading because Peter and I had carefully composed it:

Congrats, Scott. At Exec Comm today, I announced my retirement. You will succeed me in the VP role. Will talk tomorrow in my office. Moffatt.

"Yes!" Scott yelled, pumping his fist in the air. "I knew it, I knew it!" He shoved his phone at Scott and said, "Read it and weep, Hammill."

Immediately, more of his people began crowding around Scott. People eager to show their loyalty maneuvered to shake his hand and make obsequious compliments. Someone brought over a bottle of champagne and glasses for a toast, while another went to the sound board and switched the music to a raucous pop tune.

As the alcohol flowed and the impromptu party began to swing into motion, Peter forced his way back to Scott's side and returned his smartphone. "Well, Scott," he asked, "do you have any big changes in mind, or will you be continuing the course that Mr. Moffatt set?"

Scott gulped down his glass of champagne and then leaned toward Peter, his face taking on an ugly expression. "You better believe there are going to be changes. Moffatt was a fat old windbag who couldn't sell pussy to the French Foreign Legion. I'm going to shake things up big time, starting with the Marketing group. Moffatt tolerated mediocrity way too long; now I'm going to start clearing out the dead wood. And in case you haven't already guessed it, Peter, my philosophy is that the first place to look for rot in a department is at the top. So you might want to polish up your resume, understand?"

With that, he poked his finger into Peter's chest, and for one heart-stopping moment I thought Peter was going to punch him out and ruin everything. But Peter kept his cool and merely said, "We'll see, Scott, we'll see."

The group milling around Scott now drew him away from the confrontation, and we could clearly hear Scott's voice over the noise: "Come on, everybody, it's time to party. Drinks are on me!"

Peter turned and looked up to face the cameras he knew were hidden there. "Okay," he said quietly, "I think we got exactly what we were hoping for. Tell all our people to get out of the hospitality suite now; I don't want any confrontations." Then he fiddled with the microphone and the sound shut off.

At the control desk Debby gave a few quick instructions, and we could see Peter's people quietly exiting the suite. When the last of them were gone, she turned and gave me a fierce, triumphal look. "We did it!" she exclaimed. "When Moffatt and the other executives see that little outburst they'll get a picture of the real Scott Benson, and I don't think they're going to like what they see!"

I felt like dancing; it seemed too good to be true. Yes, there might be some questions about how Scott came to believe he'd been promoted, but I felt that Mr. Moffatt and others would forget them in light of the terrible things Scott had just blurted out. Not only had he insulted Mr. Moffatt directly, but his attack on the Marketing function was an indirect insult as well. I knew for a fact that Mr. Moffatt thought highly of Peter's team's work and had given him favorable marks on his annual review. No, I felt sure those comments would seal Scott's fate.

Despite or perhaps because of the tension we'd all felt, I couldn't sleep well that night, and I wound up going into work early the next morning. Mr. Moffatt always held a post mortem after every big show, and I couldn't wait to see how this one went.

There was no one around in the executive suite when I got to the office, so I decided to run down to Peter's area to see if any of his team was there. But when I got to the control room, I was shocked to find Debby bent over her keyboard, crying her eyes out.

"Debby, Debby," I asked urgently, "what is it? What's wrong?"

She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and cried, "It's gone, it's all gone!"

"What's gone?" I asked apprehensively.

"All the footage from the hospitality suite last night," she said. "I had it all stored on a server, and during the night the server went down. Now it's all gone and we don't have a back-up. Everything's ruined!"

I heard a sound behind me and looked up to see Peter come in. He'd obviously overheard Debby's words because his face had turned pale. "What are we going to do, Peter?" I asked.

He slowly shook his head from side to side. "I don't know what we can do. This could turn out bad, very bad."

Then, to my amazement, he straightened up, went over to Debby and began to console her. "It's alright, Deb," he said gently. "It wasn't your fault. You system worked perfectly and you did a wonderful job keeping everything on plan. Sometimes bad things just happen."

"I should have made a back-up," she sobbed.

"Those servers never give us any trouble," he said soothingly. "No one could have expected a system crash."

He looked up at me. "You better get up to your office. If there's any way you can stall Mr. Moffatt, that would be great. I'll try to think of something."

I nodded and headed back to the elevator, fighting to hold back my own tears. Not only did we not have Scott's incriminating show of arrogance and disrespect, but now Peter would have to try to explain why he had misled his fellow director. Everything that seemed so perfect only a short while ago now seemed to have turned to ashes.

When I got off the elevator I hurried to my desk and tried to fix my appearance so Mr. Moffatt wouldn't see how upset I was. But I needn't have worried: no sooner had I gotten settled than he came striding in, and it was immediately obvious that he was extremely angry.

"Ms. Martin, call Scott Benson's office and get him up here immediately," he barked.

With trembling fingers I dialed Scott's office and got Karen. After I hung up, I poked my head in Mr. Moffatt's office. "His secretary said he isn't in yet," I told him. "She said he was late getting back from Las Vegas last night and hasn't made it in to the office."

"Well, tell her I want to see him the instant he arrives," he said angrily. "And then get Peter Hammill up here."

"Yessir," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

I called Peter's office and he answered the phone. "Oh, Peter, Mr. Moffatt wants you and Scott up here ASAP," I said. Then I lowered my voice. "And he's madder than a hornet's nest," I added.

I heard Peter sigh, and then he said in a resigned tone, "Alright, Jess, I'll be right there."

When Peter got up to the office, his face had the look of a condemned man. He gave me a weak smile and walked in to meet his fate. "It'll probably be my fate too," I thought, "when Mr. Moffatt finds out what I did."

The door to Mr. Moffatt's office was open so Scott could join the meeting, and I don't mind admitting that I was eavesdropping. But it still wasn't easy hearing what was being said because of the loud beating of my heart.

Normally Mr. Moffatt was a real gentleman, but today there were no formalities. "What do you know about the shenanigans that went on at the Magnetadyne hospitality suite yesterday evening?" he demanded of Peter.

"Well," Peter began, "after Expo formally ended, we all congregated back in the hospitality suite to unwind before going back to our rooms to pack. Then . . ."

Before Peter could continue, Scott Benson burst into the office, looking a little rough around the edges but wearing a smug smile on his face. I saw him give Peter a sneer before turning to Mr. Moffatt. "Sorry I'm late, boss, but the celebration last night got a little wild."

Mr. Moffatt stared at him angrily. "And just what were you celebrating?" he demanded.

Scott looked at him oddly. "My team wanted to celebrate my promotion to VP to succeed you after you retire," he said as though Mr. Moffatt was a school boy.

"What are you talking about, Benson? I haven't announced any plans to retire."

"Sure you did," Scott replied cockily, "you announced it at the Executive Committee meeting yesterday."

"I most certainly did not," Mr. Moffatt burst out, "nor was there any discussion of any successor."

I stole a glance at Peter. He wasn't enjoying Scott's discomfort because he knew where this conversation would inevitably lead.

But Scott was not to be dissuaded. "Of course you did," he declared, and, pulling out his smartphone, he held it up and stated smugly, "I have your text message right here."