The Fury

The management board was fairly typical, mostly corporate drones, a lawyer, and Alan Daniels, the director of the new division, and the son of the CEO. His father was preparing him to take over the whole thing. I got the impression he felt he was out of his depth, that maybe he felt like he wasn't up to the task of being his father's heir. He had an air of desperate desire to be something, anything. Still, he seemed like a nice guy, and he spent a couple minutes greeting me and talking about his fiancée, a woman named Karen whom he'd met at a horse show.

The board quickly welcomed me and handed me off to Human Resources. The head of Human Resources was Bethany, who reminded me of my ninth grade English teacher, a graying, but sharp woman with a wry sense of humor. She handed me my personnel paperwork and led me to my new office, a bit smaller and more cookie cutter than I'd dreamed, but better than a cubicle.

I wasn't there ten minutes before the phone rang.

"Hey, this is Jessie with IT. Bethany says we gotta set you up with an account on the system. Like, today. You got a minute?"

"Sure. Where are you?"

"Bring your in-processing papers. Go out of your office, turn right. Take the green corridor to the light blue, go left and walk until you reach lemon yellow. My office is the first on the right."

"Sounds colorful."

"Welcome to Crayola Land!"

Three colors and a near miss on dark yellow and I walked into her office. A pixie-ish woman with bright green hair and matching lipstick peered at me through green-framed glasses past her computer screen. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she smiled broadly. "Hey! You made it."

"How do colorblind people get around here?"

"I sneak out and leave cookie crumb trails. You'd be taking snickerdoodles to chocolate chip to peanut butter." She grinned mischievously, then launched into a horrible parody of a German accent, sticking her hand out. "Your papers! Ve must haf your papers!" I handed them over and watched her hands blaze over the keyboard.

She glanced down at the papers. "Not married... you got a girlfriend?"

"No time, just got here. Moved into my apartment a week ago"

She wrinkled her nose like a bunny for a second. "Steak then."

"What?"

"I was going to flirt with you until you asked me out, but that could take half an hour, and I have a lot to get done. It would work, though. Once you asked me out, we'd have to go out for coffee, then a casual date of some kind. After that you'd want to take me to a good restaurant, and you'd want to make a good impression, so you'd ask me what kind of place I'd want to go. I figured we could fast forward through that stuff. So, steak." She flashed an impish smile.

I held my hands up in surrender. "Okay, you figured out my plan. What time?"

"Six thirty. We'll walk, there's a new place that just opened up about three blocks from your apartment."

This felt distinctly like a set-up. "Where do I pick you up?"

"Three floors down, apartment six. I watched you move in."

I squinted at her. "The girl by the pool. In the blue bikini."

Her suppressed giggle managed to burst out. "The bikini you found so interesting that you didn't remember my face."

"Hey, you had on huge sunglasses and that big hat." There hadn't really been very much to the bikini, which was why it was so interesting, to be honest.

"Yeah, yeah, I saw what you were looking at, and it wasn't my hat." She gave me a sideways smile to let me know she wasn't offended.

That was the start of a lot of good times. Jessie was a Dallas native and knew every fun place to go. She'd lived in Austin for a while, which explained the hair. It didn't stay green, it changed often, and her lipstick and glasses changed with it. Stay weird, Austin, stay weird. She wasn't shy, and she didn't have any problems letting me know when she was interested in spending the night. She was honest and made it clear that she wasn't interested in a real relationship right from the start. She even admitted she was more into women than men, and that I was something of a break from "all the drama."

Conventional relationships just weren't her thing at all, but she only dated one guy or one girl at a time; while the logic didn't seem quite straight-forward to me, it suited her quirky personality, and frankly, I was just having a good time anyway.

I didn't really have time for a full-time relationship, anyway. I'd only been at Qantic six weeks before I was called down to the CEO's main office in the heart of Dallas.

After waiting an extra half hour, I was shown in to meet him.

He was an older man in a five-thousand-dollar suit with a perfect tan, perfect teeth and a snow white perfect head of hair. He looked like he belonged in a movie or on a golf course. He got up and walked around the desk to meet me as a I walked in, taking my hand in a perfect handshake, gripping just hard enough to show no sign of weakness, just light enough not to be overly aggressive. "Calvin. Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Sir. Glad to be here."

"Good to hear. How are you settling in?"

"I'm doing well, the office is good, and my co-workers are friendly." In Jessie's case, extremely friendly.

"That's good. Have a seat." He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sat in one opposite it.

He made small talk for a few more minutes before getting to the point. "I need you go to Kinshasa and make arrangements for meetings. We'll get you a contact list. This is just to lay the groundwork with businessmen and a few government officials. There's a lot of potential there; untapped resources, and we really need to set up contacts and get in on the ground floor."

I kept a polite smile on my face. "That's what they say."

It was what "they" had been saying for decades. There was a running joke among a lot of "Africa hands" that Africa was the wealth of the future "and always would be." Africa might have wealth, but it was far harder to exploit than all the businessmen ever dreamed. Safety, corruption, dysfunctional economics, and crime all created an atmosphere that always seemed to conspire to prevent the promise of Africa from paying off, especially in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the Central African Republic aka the DROC and the CAR. Hell, some kind of industrial chemical spill had killed nearly three hundred people along the Bangui River in the CAR just a few months before I'd left the Army; all that anyone had done was shrug and say, "It's Africa, that's the way it goes."

Still, it was going to pay the bills, so I smiled, and decided to go along, making arrangements for mid-level executive meetings. Some of the businessmen were almost certain to be con men, but that wasn't my end, everybody seemed happy, and it all seemed pretty small scale, so Qantic could easily absorb any financial losses.

As I was getting ready to leave, a tall stone-faced man came in unannounced.

Daniels nodded to him. "Calvin, this is Philips. He's my Chief of Security and he represents me when things go wrong."

I extended my hand, but he just stood there and didn't respond.

"Philips is a bit of a germaphobe. He really doesn't like to be touched."

I nodded to him. "Nice meeting you."

He only responded with a curt nod and I left thinking he was one of the creepiest men I'd ever met.

The trips broke up the monotony of security programs and paperwork, so between Jessie and the coordinating trips, I certainly wasn't bored. Jessie always had me bring back mementos of the trips from Africa.

*****

Along with employment came social obligations. Mr. Daniels was adamant that everyone from the janitors on up make it to at least four of the eight "corporate mixers" that he had every year; it was written into the employee handbook and reinforced frequently. They actually sent out RSVP cards and secretaries and office managers chased down answers. Bethany hinted, and Jessie confirmed, that more was better. If you were out of town on business, that was fine, just make a note of it in your "Regrets" response, but if you had any chance of making it to the mixers at all, you should take it. Mr. Daniels was at every one of them and he remembered every employee who showed up, and that reflected in the end of year bonuses. Since four of the gatherings were barbeques, two were semi-formal and only two formal, most people could find four they could tolerate.

I figured I'd better attend all I could, and decided to drag Jessie along if possible, at least that way it wouldn't be boring. I brought it up while we ate at a new Thai place Jessie had discovered.

"I'm going to the Fourth of July Barbeque, are you interested?"

She shrugged, her fluorescent purple hair bouncing. "I could be. It's more a family event, but they rent out the whole resort, the rooms are free, and the food is always amazing. The only problem is that you have to participate in some of the events to go."

"I really need to hit as many of these mixers as I can, and I can't think of a better game partner than you."

She flashed me a smile. "I already looked up the events. I think we can place in the rock wall race, because only one couple has signed up. I'm pretty good at trivia, so if I con Bethany and her husband into teaming up with us, we have a shot at not looking like idiots there. He's a history professor and wicked smart at trivia."

"We need one more event, right?"

"Not the thirty second hot dog eating contest. I got talked into that last year. I won, but I not only got sick, I got propositioned by every jackass with a dick for six months."

"Well that explains why you are so good..."

"Shut up." She glowered at me in mock fury.

"Okay. Got it. So how about the Mud Run obstacle course race? It's the big event, it's on a Sunday and the rock wall race is Saturday morning, so we'll have time to recover."

"I'm too short for the walls."

"I've done a lot of obstacle courses; it's practically an art form in the Army. I know some tricks for walls."

She shrugged. "It's messy, but it might be fun. You sure you will be there? I don't want to be left hanging."

"I should be back at least three weeks before, I'm only going for two weeks this time. This whole thing is probably a waste of money on their part, but I'm doing my best and I'm getting paid."

"Did you tell them it seems pointless?"

I finished my bite of Pad Thai noodles. "I did, I thought I was pretty circumspect, and I sent a nice polite note up the chain. The only one that responded was Philips. He basically told me to shut up and do what I'm told."

"I've only met him a couple times. He makes my skin crawl. Never says anything, just stares and looks at me like I'm an insect. I don't even know what he really does; none of the security people report to him."

"I know some of the meetings I've set up in the CAR and DROC are for him, but that's all."

Jessie spooned some Jungle Curry onto her rice. "I know he reports only to Mr. Daniels."

"I just don't trust him. All the stuff I've gotten from him seems... I don't know, 'condescending,' maybe."

"Probably just an asshole. You're the new guy who's done that cool Special Forces stuff, maybe he's just jealous."

I watched our mangos and sticky rice arrive. "Just doesn't feel right."

Our conversation turned back towards the Fourth of July mixer.

*****

I did get back in time. Jessie and I came in second on the rock wall race out of five couples, but, honestly, two of them were doing it because everything else was full. Jessie turned out to be right about the Trivia contest. It wasn't even close. I managed to answer two whole questions, and Bethany about five, but Jessie and Howie, Bethany's husband, pretty much ran away with the competition, while we all drank too much and ate dry-aged steaks that must have cost fifty bucks apiece.

Despite her serious demeanor at work, after a couple drinks, Bethany turned out to be hilarious. I asked her if she and Howie intended to run the Mud Race, Bethany rolled her eyes, snickering. "I can't believe you're asking me that! Have you looked at the obstacles?"

"The walls aren't all that bad."

"Screw the walls. It's the crawl-through pipes. There's no way in hell I'm getting this forty-two-inch ass through a thirty-six-inch pipe!"

Jessie, a little more than half lit, began giggling uncontrollably. "Howie could get behind you and push."

"Oh yeah, I know how that would go. If I get stuck in a pipe and he gets a hand on each of my hips, helping me get loose will be the last thing on his mind."

"Ride 'em Cowboy!" Jessie spun an invisible lasso over her head, grinning from ear to ear.

Bethany choked on her drink for a second. "That'd be the last year we're allowed to attend!" Her eyes widened. "Hey, maybe we'll do it the year I retire."

"Go out with a bang!" Jessie howled. Howie nodded agreeably and both women worked their way up to breathless laughter.

I shook my head. "Sorry I asked."

Howie gave a half smile. "I keep forgetting to keep the two of them apart when they get to drinking. They feed off each other."

"I can see that."

He smiled fondly over at his wife for a second, then turned towards me. "Bethany tells me you're the Africa Expert as well as the Security Manager. Said Daniels himself chose you."

"Alan's a pretty good guy, but I think the board probably identified me."

He pursed his lips, puzzled. "No, I'm sure she said it was the old man, not Alan."

I started to ask, but Jessie fell back against me laughing wildly at something Bethany had said. Howie held his hand up. "Sorry, Cal, but I think we need to rope these two in and get them to bed before they go overboard."

Bethany grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's go practice that pushing technique." He shrugged helplessly as she dragged him away.

I half carried Jessie up, and put her on the bed while I brushed my teeth. I was just thinking about Howie's confusion when I heard a noise behind me. Jessie stalked towards me, dropping her dress to the ground. "Let's see if we can put some of that red meat you ate to good use."

The victory, sex, and grilled steak induced coma that we fell into later that night was well earned, and it was a damn good thing the Mud Race started late because we barely made it to the start line at eight o'clock. Not too many of the other runners looked all that much less bleary than Jessie and me.

Mr. Daniels made a few opening comments about the race symbolizing perseverance and a lot of other stuff that I was frankly too tired to listen to, then he fired the starting pistol.

It was absolute chaos, at least a hundred and fifty runners pouring into a three-mile-long mud course that had been heavily watered for over a week. It was a sort-of "choose your own destiny race." It had about six different routes with different challenges.

I half-dragged Jessie for a ways since the start of the course was really deep mud. Less than fifty feet into it, not one runner was anything but a mud colored blob. It was easy to see we weren't going to finish in the top five. Some of the couples obviously took it really seriously and must have trained on how to run mud courses. Still, we struggled along, laughing mostly at each other, though when one of the bustier secretaries had her tube top pulled down to her waist by the mud I cracked up.

"Who wears a tube top to a mud race?"

Jessie gasped for air. "Tiffany always does. I think this is the third year running she's lost her top that way."

"Not really an accident then?"

"I think it is her version of sitting on the copier to make 'Christmas Cards'."

"Can't really see anything with all the mud."

"I think that's the idea -- blatant exhibitionism without the actual risk. Daniels turns a blind eye to it."

Laughing our way along we managed to get two miles into the course before we saw somebody in real trouble. Shielded from nearly everyone by a clump of bushes, a woman had slipped and had her foot trapped under a short wall. Her partner was frantically digging as quickly as possible to keep her from slipping under in the three feet of near liquid mud. They must have been way ahead of us, because he was obviously exhausted and starting to lose the fight to keep her from going under.

We stumbled over to them. "You need a hand?"

The guy nodded, choking in air, unable to answer while the woman looked at us with more than a bit of panic.

Jessie immediately joined in keeping her face clear of mud while I pushed down and worked an arm in to get her foot free. It didn't take long, with the three of us working together, though she lost her shoe for good. I found a chunk of rock and jammed it in the gap under the wall to save the next person to come along. We stumbled along in a little group, him and me helping the girls up over the walls, then pulling ourselves over. It was just a matter of height.

The guy looked at me. "I couldn't pull her out."

"You have to break the suction; the mud's like quicksand. I'll send an email up the ladder and make sure they put people along the course for safety next year."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I've got it covered." Once they scraped enough mud off their faces, it turned out our new friends were Alan and his fiancée, Karen.

When we finally reached the end, they insisted we cross the line before them because we'd stopped to help them. As we headed over to the wash-up station to clean up, Alan laughed as he washed the last of the mud out of his hair and off his face. "I was really hoping to place higher this year."

Karen laughed. "We did okay, I survived and for a while it looked like that wasn't going to happen."

Jessie pulled her waistband out and peered down into her shorts pensively. "I have mud in places a lady should never have mud. Good thing I'm no lady."

"Yeah, I'm really glad I don't have a gynecologist appointment this week. Scare the hell out of her."

Jessie grinned back at her. "Unless she's really into gardening. She'd need a garden trowel to find anything."

They both laughed cheerfully together, while Alan and I traded wry looks. Alan finally grinned. "My Father paid for a very expensive brunch, and I think we need to make a serious dent in the champagne. Meet you there after we clean up a bit?"

I nodded. "At least it'd wash the taste of mud out of my mouth."

We cleaned up and were back down in less than a half hour. Jessie paid tribute to the Mud Run with mud brown hair, nail polish and lipstick.

Alan and Karen had grabbed a table and already heaped it with food and a chilled bottle of Moët & Chandon.

"What did you do? Order four of everything?"

Karen nodded and held up a chocolate filled croissant and pointed to a plate with three more. "Better catch up you two, I'm about to drown my memories of endless mud in chocolate and champagne."

Jessie and I dug in, laughing and joking with Alan and Karen. Karen seemed to have all the self-confidence and assuredness that I sensed lacking in Alan.

She'd gotten her undergraduate degree at Wellesley, then moved on to an MBA at Harvard Business School. She seemed more comfortable with the idea of running a multinational company than Alan did. They really complemented each other.

By the time we left, Alan and Karen had promised us an invitation to their wedding.

***

The next few months were a blizzard of work and trips. I did trade emails with Alan, and we even managed several games of racquetball where we were pretty much evenly matched. We also downed a few beers together on occasion, until the tempo of my trips to Africa picked up.

I was gone for the next two mixers, which was very disappointing, partially because Jessie managed to go to the Halloween party and said that Tiffany dressed up as Elvira with "a bit more bare skin." She did take pictures, though, and it was truly impressive. I asked about Alan and Karen, but she hadn't seen them there, which was odd.