The Brass Statuettes Ch. 20

Tyler shrugged. "It could be trouble," he said, "but I don't think so. Their case is weak. Worst case is a misdemeanor and a year's suspension. I doubt it will come to that. They can't prove intent—and they'd have to come down here to a Texas jury."

"What are they up to, then," Frank asked.

"I think it's like you said. It's personal with this 'Persky' person. As of right now, it's just a threat. Let's see if they serve you."

"What do mean, 'a year's suspension'?"

"You could be barred from acting as a corporate officer for a year—but I wouldn't start worrying about that yet. You might want to think about hiring a lawyer, though. I can't represent you; it'd be a conflict. I think it'll be the same for Crossman. He'll probably recommend someone."

"I better tell Alvin. First I'll call Murray."

"I'd hold off on talking to Murray," Tyler said. "Let's see if he gets served. Then, we'll know they're serious. Knowing Murray, he'll be on the horn to you about two seconds after he reads the first sentence."

"He should know he's got a mole in his organization," Frank said.

"That mole is another good reason not to call him. Whatever you two talk about could end up with this Nadine person."

Jeannette buzzed Frank on the intercom. "Mr. Warner wants to see you and Mr. Smith in his office right away."

"It looks like Alvin already knows," Frank said.

"I guess we'd better go down there," Tyler said.

When they arrived at Alvin's office they found Al Crossman sitting at the conference table.

"News travels fast," Frank said.

"Miss Persky told me what she planned to do at the courthouse," Crossman told them.

"She likes to be called 'Ms.' Persky," Franks reported with a sneer.

"Whatever, it's a damn shame," Alvin lamented.

"I don't think it's time to play 'Taps' for Frank yet," Tyler said. "All we have right now is a verbal threat. Frank hasn't even been served.

"It's a matter of time," Crossman said. "We should start thinking about some kind of offer."

"Offer?" Frank asked. "I've done nothing wrong. The hell with 'em."

"It might be the best way to go," Crossman said. "What we don't need is more trouble."

"I'd recommend going over Persky's head," Tyler said. "See if her boss thinks this is a good idea, or if this Nadine-person's gone off the reservation. The way Frank told me, it sounds like she has a personal grudge—and I'd bet a local judge and jury would see it the same way, too."

"I like Tyler's approach," Frank said.

"But, it's true—you gave the 10-Q to Murray."

"He was just careless and left it out," Tyler said. "He got called away and Murray made the mistake of thinking that Frank wanted him to have it."

"We all know what that story is," Crossman countered. "It sounds pretty thin to me."

"Whose side are you on?" Frank demanded.

"I have to be on the corporation's side," Crossman explained. "It's nothing personal, but you know who my client is. If your interests conflict with my client's, I have only one way to go."

"We're all on the same team at this point," Alvin said. "It's in the corporate interest to protect Frank. He's our CFO. Why wouldn't it be in our interest to protect him?"

"Just stating the facts," Crossman pleaded.

"I say we sit tight until Frank gets served," Tyler said. "When that happens, someone has to make the call to Persky's boss. I can do it. Maybe it should be Al."

"I'm not convinced of that," Crossman said. "Going higher-up has risks. The higher you go, the bigger the charges can get. We should deal with Nadine Persky. If we just make a deal to..."

"I think Tyler's on the button," Frank declared. "If necessary, I'll make the call."

Crossman sat back in his chair shaking his head.

"For the moment," Tyler reminded them, "it's nothing but a verbal threat."

****************

Alvin stayed away from Frank's mini-celebration. The others each stopped in and it didn't take long to polish off one of Frank's bottles of vintage scotch. Even Jeannette had one.

As Tyler had so advised, Frank put the worry about Nadine Persky's threat aside for the time being. He decided during the afternoon to tell Trudy about it when he got home that night. There was already a nagging voice in his ear that scolded him about hiding Gloria's attempted run at him. "Lesser of two evils." One little voice was enough; he got the hint.

People filed in, had a drink and filed out and went home. It was true for nearly all. Jason Lowell was the lone holdout. He'd taken a shot glass of scotch to the alcove and sat in an upholstered chair and nursed the short dram. As Frank shook hands and was patted on the back he watched Jason out of the corner of his eye.

In a short time everyone had left. Frank had opened a second bottle for the last few people. He was about to put it away, but walked over to Jason instead. He set his own glass on the coffee table and poured in a small amount of whisky. Jason looked up at him. Frank topped off Jason, too.

"I'll have one with you," Frank said. "Then we gotta go. It'll be that, or we'll have to call a cab to carry us home."

"I'm not used to drinking scotch,' Jason said. "I was just nursing this."

"Just leave it if it's not something you like," Frank told him. "I'll pour it down the sink."

"Oh, I like it well enough," Jason protested. "I'm just not used to it. I was drinking it slow."

Frank shrugged and they sipped their whiskies without speaking for several minutes. Frank noticed that very little of Jason's scotch was gone.

"It doesn't age in the glass, Jason."

"Huh," Jason grunted, as if Frank had awakened him.

"I said that the whiskey doesn't age in the glass. It's my way of asking, 'what's up'. I can see you've got something on your mind."

"I just wish I knew,' Jason said. "Do you ever wonder what you're doing here?"

"I dunno," Frank answered. "I'm usually too busy to wonder about things like that." He took a sip of whiskey. He could see that Jason wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"I will tell you a story, though," Frank continued. "It's a true one." He poured a little more scotch into his glass. He loosened his tie and put his feet on the coffee table.

"You know, here in Texas, it rankles some people that I drink scotch instead of bourbon. I never touch tequila. Truth is, I didn't grow up here. I'm originally from New Jersey, and there, everyone drinks scotch like they drink bourbon down here."

"Then how did you come to live here?" Jason asked.

"Just by chance," Frank answered. "I was hired by a national accounting firm out of college. I started in the New York City office. One night I was in a bar after work with some of the other young staffers. One of the partners was there and he mentioned that they might need people to relocate to Houston. I thought he was kidding, and I'd had a couple of drinks. I said 'sure, what the hell...' Next thing I know, I'm working down here rooting for the Astros instead of the Yankees."

"Good story," Jason laughed.

"Like I said, it's a true one."

"Did Trudy mind it when you decided to move here."

"She seemed okay with it," Frank laughed. "She was already here when I got here. She had a job at the local office where I was assigned. The rest, you might say, is history." Frank tossed down the rest of what was left in his glass. "What I'm trying to tell you is this, Jason. You can't waste time worrying about things like that. We all get to some place one way or another. What matters is that you do the best wherever you find yourself. It doesn't matter how you got there. Keep your mind on what you're about—not what you used to be about, or might be. Otherwise, you'll drive yourself nuts."

"That's how you see it?" Jason asked. "It's that easy for you?"

"Sure, why not?"

TO BE CONTINUED...