The House of Fabulous

"Relax," DeVour was saying when two women walked into the room. "Hot damn! What a piece of ass."

Raptor looked up and stared as Ginger and Terry walked over to the bar. "Yowza. The brunette's not bad either. Look at those legs," he said as Terry slid onto a barstool and tugged at his short dress. They watched as the girls ordered kir royales.

"She's yours. I want the blonde," DeVour said. He got up from the table and made a beeline for Ginger. "Hello angel," he said. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Ginger looked up from his drink. "Hurt myself?"

"You know, when you fell out of heaven."

The years of acting experience paid off. "If I'm an angel, you must be the devil," Ginger said.

"So they say in the newspapers."

"You must be somebody important!"

Meanwhile, Terry was parrying lame pickup lines from Lance Raptor and trying not to stare at his bad toupee. "I love that accent of yours," he was saying. "Where are you staying in San Francisco?"

"We're in the Presidential Suite at this hotel," Raptor replied.

"The Presidential Suite! Ginger, they're staying in the Presidential Suite! I'd love to see that!" Terry gushed.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" DeVour asked. "Come on, girls." Raptor paid for their drinks, and they followed the men into the lobby and onto a waiting elevator. A few seconds letter, it stopped at the floor below and DeVour led the way to pair of double doors at the end of the short hallway.

"It really says 'The Presidential Suite,' Ginger said as he admired the brass plaque on the door. Once they were inside, the girls raced around the parlor, oohing and aahing over the size of the room, the luxurious furniture, and the spectacular view. "Now I feel like an angel," Ginger said. "This must be what it's like in heaven."

Terry kicked off his heels and plopped down onto a cream leather sofa, crossing his legs provocatively. "What do they drink in heaven?" he asked.

"Anything you want, little lady," DeVour replied. "Anything you want." Raptor went to the stocked bar and poured himself a Jack Daniels. "Bring me a Dewar's and some champagne for the girls," DeVour told him. "Unless you'd prefer something else," he said to Ginger, who was perched on the arm of the sofa next to Terry.

"Champagne sounds great," Ginger said. Raptor found a bottle in the refrigerator under the bar, and while he was opening it, Terry wandered into the dining room, where he spied a stack of binders on the dining room table. They were obviously intended for the Tyrex board meeting the next day. A pile of manila folders and a notebook computer occupied another corner of the table.

Terry returned to the parlor and sat down in a wing chair, allowing DeVour to sit next to Ginger on the sofa. He draped a fat arm around Ginger's back and pulled him down next to him while Raptor was filling his glass with champagne. Ginger cried out as he spilled champagne on his dress, and DeVour and Raptor made a show of mopping off Ginger's lap and legs with napkins. While everyone was preoccupied with Ginger's wet dress, Terry pulled a miniature digital camera out of his purse and shot a quick picture of Ginger and DeVour laughing while they embraced each other.

He had the camera back in his purse before Raptor came over to his chair. "I thought you might be lonely over here," Raptor said.

Terry got up and walked over to the coffee table in front of the couch. "Could I change my mind and have something stronger?" he asked.

"Sure. What'll it be?"

"Straight vodka," Terry said. When Raptor when back to the bar, Terry reached into his purse again and pulled out a case full of little white pills. Ginger pulled DeVour's face toward his, allowing Terry to drop one of the pills into DeVour's drink. After a swift glance to make sure that Raptor was still preoccupied at the bar, he dropped another pill into Raptor's glass. By the time Raptor was back with his vodka, Terry had seated himself in the wing chair again. He took a long pull on his vodka and settled back to watch the show.

It took several minutes before the Rohypnol worked its way through the men's systems. Because Raptor was skinnier, he started to go first. When it was obvious that he was feeling dizzy, Terry pulled him down on the wing chair and sat on his lap, pretending to come on to him in case DeVour happened to look their way. By the time Raptor was unconscious, DeVour knew that something was wrong, and he took a few labored steps towards the powder room before he keeled over and passed out on the plush carpet.

Terry and Ginger stepped over them and walked into the dining room, where they opened up two of the binders and began to pour over Great White's board presentation. While Terry scoured it for legal deficiencies, Ginger flipped through the financials behind the executive summary. "It's obvious that they intend some major divestitures," he said.

"Why do you say that?"

"They're going to have to sell off some major assets to reduce the debt they're taking on to finance their bid."

"Well, they don't identify anything that's going to be sold in the executive summary," Terry said.

"That must mean they don't want the board to know," Ginger said. He saw the files stacked up across the table and started looking through them. "Well, well," he said after a few minutes. "It's all here. Once Great White gets control of Tyrex Industries, they intend to sell off all the California assets and close the San Francisco headquarters."

"That's not going to sit very well with the board," Terry said. Most of them were third or fourth generation San Franciscans, and Tyrex Industries was deeply entrenched in civic affairs and local charities.

"I think the board has a right to know this, don't you? I'm off to the business center to make some copies," Ginger said.

Terry was busy with the notebook computer that lay open on the table. "Before you go, there's something else I want you to do first. Lift up your dress and pull down your panties."

* * *

Doyle Rogers entered the boardroom shortly before nine o'clock the following morning. Dressed in a gray flannel suit, the acting CEO of Tyrex Industries bore no resemblance to Ginger Rogers. His wig and fingernails were stashed in a bag in Terry's office, along with the dress and other feminine paraphernalia from the House of Fabulous. He was greeted with grim hellos by the members of the board, who were still reeling from the news of Charles Bigelow's latest setback and the impending hostile takeover by Great White, LLC.

"What's the latest on Charles," the Vice Chairman of the Board asked Rogers.

"He's back in intensive care after a second heart attack last night. Obviously he tried to come back too fast, so they've got him under heavy sedation. It looks like he's going to make it, but there's no way the doctors will let him meet with anyone regarding business, or let him get anywhere near a phone, for quite some time."

"Understandable. We certainly appreciate the way you've stepped up to the plate."

"Thank you. While we're waiting for the people from Great White, I would like to request some guidance from the board concerning a matter which is not on our agenda."

"Go ahead," the Vice Chairman said.

"One of our employees, an attorney named Terrence Poindexter, is threatening to sue the company for wrongful termination."

"Did you say an attorney?" one of the directors asked.

"That's right. Evidently Mr. Bigelow fired him for wearing women's clothing. Under a new California law, that was a clear-cut violation of his civil rights."

"We had a similar situation at my company," one of the outside directors said. "A female employee was fired because she was a lesbian. She took us to the cleaners."

"How could Bigelow do that to a lawyer, in this town no less?" the Vice Chairman asked. "If he gets in front of a jury, it could cost us millions."

"I think you should work out a settlement," another director chimed in. "Maybe if the company offers to contribute to an outreach program for gays, he'll settle for less."

"Settle it," the Vice Chairman pronounced. "Pay him whatever you have to. Just make it go away."

"Thank you, I'll take care of it right after the meeting," Doyle said.

"I wonder where the Great White people are?" the Vice Chairman said with a trace of annoyance. Just then Darwin DeVour walked into the board room, followed by two assistants carrying heavy bags full of presentation materials. The Chief Executive Officer of Great White, LLC looked absolutely dreadful.

After DeVour and Raptor failed to show up for a breakfast meeting two hours earlier, their underlings had eventually gained entry to the Presidential Suite. There they had found both men passed out on the carpet, DeVour looking like a beached whale, and Raptor with his hairpiece slanting off his head like the half-open top on a Mustang convertible. After many cups of coffee and two cold showers, the frantic assistants had finally gotten DeVour shaved and dressed. Raptor, still too drugged to function, had been abandoned in the suite. After hurriedly gathering up the board materials and notebook computer, DeVour and his entourage had piled into a stretch limousine for the mad dash to Tyrex headquarters.

Darwin DeVour's survival instincts didn't fail him. "Good morning," he said with surprising smoothness while his flunkies passed around the binders and set up the notebook computer for a power point presentation. Although he had a splitting headache in his left temple, he appeared calm and collected. "I am pleased to have this opportunity to discuss our proposal to maximize shareholder value for Tyrex Industries. Great White has a history of increasing the efficiency and performance of the companies we invest in, while remaining sensitive to their corporate cultures."

"Then why are you proposing to close our San Francisco office?" asked one of the directors, who had been flipping through her binder. She tore out a page and handed it to him. When he saw it, his face blanched, and his left temple began to throb while the other directors opened their binders. They found the following document inserted in the middle of their executive summaries:

MEMORANDUM

To: Darwin DeVour

From: Lance Raptor

Re: Tyrex Industries/Disposal Strategy

The following action is to take place immediately following the tender offer:

1. Close San Francisco office. Savings: $10,000,000

2. Eliminate all Bay Area charities and civic affairs. Savings: $5,000,000

The memorandum went on to list the California assets of Tyrex Industries which were destined for the chopping block. Doyle Rogers, who had inserted it into the binders the night before, watched the directors fume as they read it through.

Darwin DeVour did not get to the top of the business world by being slow on his feet. "I don't know how this got in here," he said. "This is nothing more than a list of proposed alternatives, prepared by one of our investment bankers. I was so outraged by it that I told him not to attend this meeting." Then, to one of his startled assistants, he said, "Please begin the slide presentation." The notebook computer had been rigged to a slide projector on one side of the long conference table, and the directors swiveled in their chairs to face the screen.

The first slide depicted a scene of domestic tranquility, featuring Darwin DeVour with an attractive woman, two small children, and a golden retriever. "Great White prides itself in supporting family values and traditional virtues," DeVour intoned while the directors studied the screen. "Next slide, please," he said.

When the slide went up, it was greeted with gasps from around the table. DeVour turned around to see a picture of himself and Ginger in the Presidential Suite. He appeared to be lifting the hem of her short dress while she sat next to him on a sofa. The pain in his temple intensified. "Next slide," he said in a strained voice to the bewildered assistant working the computer. More gasps from around the table as the girl who had just been seen embracing Darwin DeVour stood facing the board of directors, her dress and panties pulled away to reveal a well-hung penis and balls.

"Why are you showing us pictures of yourself with a transvestite?" one of the directors asked as they stared at the screen. The room started to spin, and the throb in DeVour's temple became a shooting star. While the stunned board of directors of Tyrex Industries looked on, his legs gave way and he tumbled onto the floor.

For the third consecutive day, Doyle Rogers witnessed the collapse of a business chieftain. "This one looks like a stroke," he said as he reached for the phone to call 911. "Maybe he'll get the room next to Mr. Bigelow."

* * *

Three months later, a very tan Terrence Poindexter sang "No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems" as he pulled his jeep into the gravel driveway of his beachside villa in Maui. Gail Chestnut, equally tanned and wearing only a Forty-Niners jersey that barely covered her ass, was waiting for him on their upstairs balcony overlooking the blue Pacific. A carafe of guava nectar and a steaming pot of Kona coffee sat next to a plate of mangos on a glass-topped table.

He sat down across from her and plopped a newspaper on the table. "Where were you, baby?" Gail asked with a yawn.

" I woke up early, and I've been feeling a little stir-crazy, so I drove into Lahaina to pick up a two-day-old Chronicle. The clerk at the store still can't figure out whether I'm a guy or a girl," he added with a laugh.

She unfastened the rubber band in his hair, which was bleached almost blonde from the sun, and watched as it fell down around his shoulders. "It's only important that I know. Are you homesick?" she asked as she reached for the entertainment section.

"God no, I was just wondering whatever happened to Tyrex." He flipped through the business section and ran his eye over the share prices while Gail perused the headlines. "Great White stock is in the toilet," Terrence said as he poured them each a cup of coffee, "but Tyrex is up five bucks. I wonder if Doyle's still at the helm."

"I seriously doubt it," Gail said. Before he could ask her why, she handed him the article she'd just finished:

NORTH BEACH LANDMARK REOPENS

San Francisco – Lines snaked down Broadway once again as Finnochio's, where beautiful women are not what they seem, reopened to delirious audiences at its old location in North Beach. Backed by the House of Fabulous with a grant from Tyrex Industries, the venerable cabaret featured some old favorites, including a juggling unicyclist and original members of the chorus line, but the night belonged to a blonde bombshell named Ginger Rogers. In her show-stopping debut, she brought down the house with a spectacular rendition of "I Enjoy Being a Girl".