Harry's Protégé Ch. 07

Sierra asked the cab driver to wait while she packed a bag. He had no problem with the 45-mile drive as he was only an hour into his shift. She angrily threw things into a carry-bag, aware that being mad like this she wasn't in a fit state to drive her muscle car to the beach.

As she was leaving the apartment she realized she was wearing a coat with only a thong on underneath and her costume was on the back seat of the cab. She swore, returned and changed, thinking the cabbie would always be driving weirdoes so looking at the costume on the backseat would think she was normal, probably a stripper or a prostitute.

Sierra managed a weak grin; feeling comforted by the thought a vestige of humor remained with her.

"Oh just my luck," Sierra growled, walking to the isolated cabin. Her father's car was parked under the trees and the kitchen/living room lights were on.

Well her dirty grub daddy could take his slut to the bus station and return for a showdown with a hostile daughter, she thought darkly.

She made lots of noise calling out "It's only me" to give them time to get their clothes on.

Sierra walked in. Her father had files strewn over the table and was wearing his glasses - he hated wearing those and the place stank of cigar smoke and coffee cups were everywhere. Definitely no woman was around.

"Hi this is a nice surprise; heard a vehicle and thought about getting the shotgun then heard your voice. Great to see you - got a fellow outside for a dirty stay-over have you? Be with you as soon as I've finished this calculation."

Seconds later Duncan came across to his daughter, without wearing his glasses, and kissed her. Sierra's attitude to him softened immediately.

"I'm down here because I work best in a mess. You know your mother."

Sierra smiled and looked at him closely. He was aging, but looked well.

"Yes I understand, but I'll clear these cups and open some windows."

Duncan stroked her face, which made her shiver and think the snake does have a way with women. He asked, "Are you okay - your eyes are red?"

"Grab the whisky dad and let's talk."

"Right, what's upset my little girl?" he quizzed as they savored top quality Scottish malt.

"It's Harry O'Hern dad. He's a mule - I want him out. Shift him to head magazines or commercial printing."

"Babe I took a huge risk putting him into the top editor's chair at his tender age and with him being pretty thin on experience but he knows nothing about magazines and even less about commercial printing."

"How can you know less than nothing?"

Duncan slid more whisky down as did Sierra.

He waited, knowing she wouldn't be expecting a reply to her dumb question.

"Then pay him off."

That hardened his eyes. He watched her drumming fingers then said, "Justify that demand."

She outlined the problem and her feeling of betrayal. Her father listened passively.

"Well?"

Duncan said her account of his agreement with Harry was basically on track but Harry hadn't been offered anything, not even a promised favor.

"Why not?"

"Because he didn't ask; he's aware that he's in a job that usually goes to a standout with at least ten years his experience and so is extremely grateful to me. I like the guy more than most others around and as I've hinted before, I've no problem if he wants to bed you."

"That was scarcely a hint daddy. Now answer this since you seem so defensive of Harry, why do I have this suspicion that the board decision to place him in the executive editor's chair over me was because of the chairman's little speech about who should get the job. It was a unanimous vote wasn't it?"

"Babe you know I wouldn't shaft you," Duncan lied. "The voting edged you out so I had to accept a democratic decision."

"Then I'll ask mother, she's a director."

"Yes but wasn't at that meeting - she was attending an emergency meeting of the art society board."

"Very well then as executive chairman you have the authority to move him into another position or kick him out with only the amount of compensation being paid having to go to the board for approval. Do one or the other, for my sake daddy."

"Baby you know I'll do anything for you."

They eyed each other, draining their glasses. Duncan poured to three fingers level for himself, two for her.

"But you won't do this thing for me?"

The eyes harden again but the words became soothing.

"Place yourself in my situation. There was plenty of talk in the city about me placing a near kid in charge of The Sentinel. If I were to dump him now, my business reputation would take a hit and that is something I don't want, especially when I'm looking to raise eight mil from shareholders and lenders to shift our commercial printing operation out of the city to a new business park that one of my private companies is developing - but that association will be made public."

"Daddy that $8 million is chicken shit and probably most of it is for new plant as the operation will be leasing its land and buildings. Further, the area being vacated is near enough to freehold, and is worth much more than that a piddle $8 million."

"How much dear?"

"At a guess, $24 million."

"Wow very good. The latest land valuation is $22.8. You should be in this business, dear."

"I would be if you helped to escalate my advance in your company."

"I'm taking you there sweetie, although it may not be the route of your choice. Harry is staying where he is and that means you have to decide whether to stay where you are."

"Daddy!"

"Perhaps I could put you in charge of the relocation project - you could start this month as project manager, to liaise between the developer and the CEO of Sentinel Print."

"I have no wish to swing around like a yo-yo without getting a thorough grounding where I am at present thank you. Let's leave this now; I'm off to bed and you can take me fishing at dawn."

"I'd like that but I'm up to my ears with this stuff."

"Fishing daddy; I'll help you with the paperwork and teach you how to do it on that laptop you have over there, unopened I note."

"Blasted computers."

"Time to update daddy," Sierra said kissing him, knowing he was pleased she'd not made a scene.

Duncan had insisted Sierra sleep in master bedroom, he taking the guestroom. Unable to drop off she wondered how many women other than her mother he'd brought to this bed. She bounced and smiled approvingly then wondered how many other young women had similar thoughts about their fathers or their mothers.

The cabin was situated on the near-desolate northern arm of a small harbor, with the favored southern arm fringed by beaches heavily populated especially at weekends. Coming in last night Sierra had noticed the tide was out so knew she could fish on an incoming tide from the dinghy at dawn.

She favored going out in the dinghy, which saved going to the marina on the northern side and fishing in the launch offshore and after docking going through the routine of refueling, re-provisioning, and swabbing down the decks, cabin and sides of the launch - a tedious routine.

With the dinghy, they would just remove the fishing gear, chow bag and bag of fish, overturn the boat on the sand above high tide mark and lock to chain attaching the boat to a rusting stanchion.

It was easy-peasy and fun.

Sierra awoke, stretching, with the 'lost in space' feeling she got within a few hours of arrival at this retreat.

"I prefer the launch," grumbled Duncan, looking at his beautiful daughter, almost popping out of her bikini top, bathed in the gold of the rising sun. The daughter looked back the man becoming too used to the comforts of life.

"Remember when I came out reluctantly with you just like this - I think I was seventeen - saying it was such a bore catching no fish and we returned to the cabin with a bag of fish too heavy for me to carry?"

He grinned than the grin dwindled.

"Those days are gone. Everywhere has been fished out."

"I don't think the fish know that daddy and I have this feeling..."

The small 7.5 hp motor took them where he wanted to go, a deep hole in his favorite channel. They dropped their baits to the sandy bottom and waited. His reel screamed, and it was all on.

An hour later they went ashore with a bag of fish Sierra just managed to lug to the cabin where a near-empty deep-freezer was about to be replenished with the surplus fish when filleted.

"You attend to the fish daddy and I'll do the beds and cook breakfast."

Duncan came into the cabin and found his breakfast ready to be served.

"When did you learn to cook?"

"I live alone remember?"

"How did you know how long it would take me to fillet?"

"I counted the fish daddy, estimated the time and cooked accordingly. Despite what you think I do have you wife's brains,"

"I'll be damned."

They left the mess on the bench and table, as father and daughter knew that cabin life was not city house-proud life where people like their wife/mother pounce at the sight of a cotton thread and dishes would be attended to as soon as the last morsel is swallowed.

During the next five hours Sierra learned a great deal helping her father - the accountants had everything loaded on the laptop and she was able to easily power through the work as her father set the tasks.

Her patience, understanding of the complexities and the expertise of her flying fingers on the keyboard and ability to make him accept that the inbuilt calculator in the computer worked exactly the same reliability as his trusty hand-held calculator would make him wonder if this really was his daughter working with him - she was certain he was thinking that, several times catching him looking at her with pride.

He later confirmed that assumption.

They were without a printer but what she pulled up on-screen satisfied him. He told her their completed work looked exactly like what appeared on-screen when his chief accountant worked with him.

"I'm amazed."

"You shouldn't be daddy. I'm an amazing woman. Continue doodling around here, I'm off to cook lunch,"

As the repeat smell of breakfast of fresh fish fillets cooked in sunflower oil drifted through the small combined kitchen/living room, Sierra put a glass of dry white wine in front of her father.

"After that heart scare I've been advised to moderate my drinking."

"Then drink dry wine and cut out whisky."

"I like whisky."

"That's fine - we all will die of something."

"You don't sound like your mother."

"I don't, do I Mr Snake?"

"What?"

Sierra said she was serving and would join him in a minute.

Duncan wanted to avoid a heart attack and Sierra wanted to control her weight, so the lightly cooked fish was served just with parsley (picked growing wild beside the mint box outside the front door) and she added six low-cal potato chips and half a sliced tomato to each plate.

"Is this lunch?" he groaned, looking at what sat before him.

"Shut up - take a mouthful of wine, swallow slowly then chew on a piece of fish."

He obliged. "Oh baby," he drooled, eyes closed.

"Shut up, daddy, you sound obscene," she giggled, greatly pleased. Hers tasted s-o-o-o beautiful.

They finished, he said it was a memorable meal and she said, "Tell me about your women daddy?"

"Haven't we had this conversation before? If we have then once in a lifetime is once too often, in my opinion. Ask me questions that normal women ask their fathers."

She simply ignored him, knowing from her years in reporting silence can be productive. After a brief wait she rattled out a batch of three short questions to provoke him: "Do you bring them here, how many at a time, and what do you do with them in this lair?"

Duncan overfilled his wine glass, neither moving to wipe the spill.

She held out her glass. "Yes thank you."

He half-filled it. That took about the same time as counting to twenty, so that initial angry retort to her first question was safely out the way.

"Sweetie, you are stressing your daddy. If you must know the occasional business friend, female, who I've brought here to help with a project has never been accompanied. That's all."

"Then you are declining to tell me you haven't pounded one of your business consultants on this table or leaned her over the bench?"

"Why are you doing this to your daddy? This is outrageous."

"Oh, just to reveal to you what a snake you are to mommy and me. You fuck your fancy women here on mommy's bed and no doubt at home as well and..."

"That's enough - that's enough, Sierra. I'm warning you," Duncan glowered. "Yes I admit being less than gallant to my wife, your mother. But what have I ever done to wrong you?"

"First, let me say the word you should have used is treacherous, not the wimpy 'less than gallant' over-gloss. I'm telling you that many of mommy's friends, learning of your infidelity, would call for castration, but to me it's acceptable as you have a life to live and the way mommy behaves so ladylike I would suspect she never has given you a good ride for your money, so to speak."

Sierra watched her father's eyes almost pop. But she also thought she had his interest, totally.

"Secondly, you knew in my teenage years you were nurturing a headstrong daughter, but apart from a few 'bad girl' reprimands did you do anything positive to effect real change? No you left it to mommy and we both know she can't even control the dog let alone the lawn mowing contractor and the home help woman."

Duncan tried to look repentant.

"I'm sorry, Sierra."

She snapped, "Don't be, I've done fine and I'm my own woman. But you are attempting to block my progress in life, daddy, and I'm not standing for it. You need to know that as I'm desperate not to hurt you."

"But..."

"Shut up, daddy. I only want to ever tell you this once. Despite your sexual infidelity to mommy and your parental infidelity to me, and I might add, your other shortcomings, I make allowances. I trust you can remember your father allowed you to progress to where you are today and supported you all the way and he's still available to give you advice, but you rarely go near him - twice a year, he tells me."

Duncan reacted as being aware he wasn't dealing with a daughter, he was dealing with an out-of-control employee. His eyes hardened and his mouth opened but she snapped: "I'm warning you, just listened or I'll whack you with his bottle."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Duncan looked decidedly unsettled, but true character showing no sign of remorse. "God, Sierra, you're acting as if you haven't got a heart."

"Then welcome me to the club, daddy. You're sure to be president."

"Look, ease back Sierra. What's your point?"

Sierra tried not to gloat; she had him nailed.

"Despite your two-face way of living - never having real friends because they find you too heartless and unpredictable - more progress has been made with our family company under your presidency than either your father, his father and down the line we go."

"You've done it because it had to be done, and although being a renegade you've done it because you accepted responsibility when taking the mantle. You're a good boy, daddy, whether you know it or not, and a renegade, just like me, and I wonder where I got that from, daddy dear?"

Sierra stopped and filled her glass and stared at him.

"Jesus I'd hate to be on the other side if you really let fire Sierra. I feel I have been run over by a steam-roller."

"What's that?"

"Oh never mind. Let's go home and take Margo out to dinner; we haven't done that for a long time and she's still waiting to hear from you about going to the Greek Islands."

"Yes what a great idea - we both are guilty of neglecting her. I've made some enquiries and would like to suggest an alternative - Turkey."

"That's fine with me - just drop the idea on her and let it cook. She'll come up with it in a week or two as her idea."

"You are a snake."

"But dear I'll think deeply about what you have said to me. The problem we have is conditioning you for the ultimate role; I want it done through Harry, you want him out of the equation. I'll get back to you on this."

"Fine and I'll call mommy - she'll need at least two hours to get ready, if she's available to go out with us."

On Monday Sierra arrived late just to rile Harry - it worked because he didn't drop in to greet her. They first met at the afternoon news conference; she walked in late leaving the door open for someone else to close.

She then complained the air-conditioning was set too low. The meeting then droned on, Sierra taking no part.

She'd thought of dressing up as a tart to further rile Harry but dropped that idea as it would negate the progress she'd made on general staff through dressing up like a real business female executive and acting as if she knew what she was doing. Er, displaying leadership.

Sierra was barely seated back at her office when Harry walked in, closed the door, and looking down into the executive's parking lot said, "There's your father arriving - I've heard he's ordered a new Mercedes."

"Has he?"

Harry walked around to face her and thundered, "Sierra!"

She smiled knowing it was showdown time.

He avoided her eyes. "I'm sorry I upset you in bed on Friday night."

She personified innocence. "On the bed, technically I wasn't in it."

"Rubbish."

"Do you have an attitude problem?"

Harry's mouth fell open, indicating to her she'd stolen his thunder.

"No of course not; do you?"

"You think I have an attitude problem; whatever gave you that idea? You know me almost intimately and it would be intimately if you got half a chance. Remember I read that last page of notes on your file about your private thought about me."

Harry looked puzzled, and then his face creased in alarm.

He attempted to swipe his fringe back over his forehead but missed most of it.

"That wasn't meant to be read, by anyone."

"I know."

"It was a doodle, a stupid play and when written I liked seeing it and decided against deleting it."

It was time to turn the screw.

"I suppose I should feel violated?"

"Oh God, no; please don't think that of me like that."

She fluttered her lashes, not over-doing it and his eyes riveted on her face.

"Then what can I think in being sexually desired in a perverted way. Real men ask me if I'd like to do it with them, not write a private note to gloat over."

"Oh Sierra, it's not like that at all. I love you!"

The silence between them was profound and they looked dazed.

Forgetting everything that had gone between then and not thinking about them having to work together, Sierra seized the moment.

"Get out of my office, you creep!"

He balked and for the first time she'd known him saw his face harden and his chin jut forward, eyes glinting. Holding her gaze for a second, his shoulders relaxed slightly and he wheeled, leaving the room without a word.

"Oh shit," Sierra muttered. "Now I've done it. I've clubbed him instead of slapping him."

The frigidity between them lasted eight days, leaving Sierra very unhappy, mainly because she knew she'd savaged him instead of ruffling him up a bit.

They communicated mostly by email, their messages unsigned and without any display of friendliness or attempt at peace-making.

She re-engaged at conferences, challenging where necessary, adding her viewpoint, but never opposing anything he said and knew he was letting her off the hook at times by not challenging her.

The tension between them had everyone soft-footing.

She accepted it was her responsibility to break the impasse, but how to break it? Saying she was sorry wouldn't be enough for him, not now, not after that venom that came from her when uttering the word 'creep'.

That night at midnight, in deep remorse, she emailed him, the message read, "Sorry. I remain deeply ashamed of myself," signing it 'Ra-ra', the pet name her father and brother used.