Just My Luck!

1
I’m Gonna Die!

I get killed on page 40, but the author says not to worry because I’m alive again in the next chapter.

So, how is that supposed to work? Wouldn’t it be easier if I didn’t get killed in the first place? I mean, that’s a hell of a thing to look forward to. I just discover I’m in a short drama fiction by a no-name author and get murdered before it really gets started. What’s with the author even talking to a character? I looked up his other books. He’s never done that before. One of us is seriously sick.

Just my luck.

I’ve never had much luck. Unless we’re talking about bad luck. That’s been great. I looked forward to my first scouting campout when I was ten for weeks. The night before the big trip, I got a sore throat. In the morning, it was so swollen I could hardly breathe. While all my friends were enjoying an epic campout and roasting marshmallows over the fire, I was eating ice cream after having my tonsils removed. Rotten lousy luck.

I should have known. My health has never been great. Evacuated from a cruise for an emergency appendectomy when I was fifteen. High blood sugar when I was twenty. And wisdom teeth that crowded out others and left me with gaps where the dentist pulled teeth to make room.

Then an incident that made everything else seem like a walk in the park. It was a week before college graduation and all I needed was some good grades on my finals. I was pretty certain I’d get them, but I was staying up late reviewing everything, including the business plan I’d written with my friend and roommate Vince Gordon. We intended to work on it together part time while we went to commercial jobs. I had a job lined up with a top financial firm and Vince was moving straight into management for a retail chain.

Then the world started going in circles. I opened the door of my room and fell into the hall. Everything went dark.

The diagnosis, according to the author, was diabetic ketoacidosis. I was in a diabetic coma.

I can’t see the page numbers, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t where I died. It’s just where my life went to hell in a handbasket. Would it have been so difficult to write a character who was charming and brilliant and successful? After six months in the hospital, I spent another three months recovering at home. Then the rest of my life pricking a finger to test my blood every time I ate. Just my luck.

I was back in my hometown for recovery, so my thoughts turned to my high school sweetheart. We’d kind of broken up when we went different directions to college. I still really liked her, though. I decided to give her a call and see about getting together again.

She’d gotten married. Worse than that, she’d married the high school bully who had always had a special hatred for me. Just my luck. Damned author.

I was pretty broken by that point. I looked decent enough. Black hair that curled around my ears and a thick black beard that I kept trimmed and neat. My black rimmed glasses were a complement to my features. But I just didn’t have much motivation other than to find a job and move far away from where I might meet my former girlfriend and her bully husband. I found a job at an accounting franchise in Cedar Park, a couple hundred miles from my hometown. And that’s where I determined to stay.

I canceled all my social media accounts, changed my email, and registered a DBA as Cal Levin.

I tried to date a little with no luck. Then I met a girl through one of my clients and on our first date, I got lucky. Of course, one night getting lucky and she reported she was pregnant. Just my luck. We rushed a wedding. Her uncle was delighted. I think he was hoping he could make someone else responsible for his niece. A month later she miscarried. If she was ever really pregnant at all.

It was just my luck to have a nagging shrew of a wife who managed to outspend our income for ten years. Getting lucky after we married was linked to things she wanted that I could buy. It was a chore instead of a joy. It was just my luck.

That fucking author.

I’ve been nearly broke for ten years. Just buying insulin will do that to you. Dora did the rest. I put in a lot of overtime and established my 401k and an ‘untouchable’ savings account. I told Dora the account was to provide for her if I died or if we faced an emergency. I mean, I knew I was going to die on page 40. Whenever that came. And Dora had a job. She was a hostess at a decent restaurant and bar downtown. I don’t really know what she did with her income.

I guess that’s all back story. Apparently, the author never took a writing class to teach him about not starting with a bunch of back story, but there you have it. I only know what he knows.

There are others in this short drama. Dora’s Uncle Bernie Davis, despite saddling me with his niece, was a decent guy and steadily turned more and more of the financial side of his construction company over to me at Acme Accounting Associates—Triple-A for your money. He didn’t have much of an office. He was often in a trailer at some jobsite or another.

I handled taxes, payroll, and accounting. And he wasn’t the only client. I’d once met his business partner, Miranda Kendall, one of the major developers in Cedar Park. She asked me to put together a proposal for a shopping mall because Bernie had recommended me. Sadly, not long after the proposal was approved and construction had begun—Bernie Davis Construction happened to be her primary subcontractor—Miranda passed away. That was sad. I didn’t hear any more from Miranda K Development after that.

I handled other real estate proposals as well. The office I worked in benefited from them because there was definitely too much work for me to handle alone. And all the billing was done through AAA. As we approached April, we piped ‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida’ at max volume into the office every morning as everyone stoked up on caffeine to handle the tax season pressure.

Of course, I didn’t indulge in coffee and donuts to get that caffeine and sugar rush in the morning. Diabetes, remember? Just my luck.

“I want a divorce, Cal,” Dora declared as I ate my microwaved dinner about eight at night.

Oh, thanks, author. Couldn’t this have waited until things slowed down at the office a little? It was the absolute peak of tax season. We were working twelve hour days.

It’s not that I didn’t expect Dora to want a divorce eventually. She hadn’t seemed to want any luxury badly enough to sleep with me in months. Still, she seemed to have plenty of new clothes and shoes. I didn’t think she was making that much as a hostess.

If I’d cared enough, I’d have hired an investigator to find out what was up, but I really didn’t care. Getting a divorce would be a relief.

“I’ll call a lawyer in the morning,” I said.

“That’s it? You don’t even care? You are the most worthless lazy bum I’ve ever met. I don’t know how I ever got stuck with the likes of you. You’re a pitiful loser!” she screamed.

I just shook my head. Not interested in a fight.

“Well, don’t bother with the lawyer. I saw one today,” she continued. “The papers will be drawn up in the morning, and he’ll send them around to you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to deal with it, so I just took care of it. Just like I do everything in this marriage. If it needs to be done, I do it. You probably don’t even know a lawyer. You’re just a worthless bean counter!”

She stormed off.

I’ve got bad luck, but I’m not stupid. Thanks for that, author. I knew Dora well enough to assume she’d do what every divorcee in a romance novel does. She’d empty all our bank accounts and run up as much on credit as she could, intending to stick me with all the debt and no resources. She would head for the bank first thing in the morning, assuming I was too busy to pay attention.

What Dora didn’t know is that an accountant pays attention to accounts. Dora only saw that as counting beans. In reality, I started every day counting my own beans online. Dora had never been logged in to our bank online. I knew to the penny how much there was in every account.

After I cleaned up my limited dinner dishes, I retired to my den—a room that was supposed to be a second bedroom if we ever had a child. Thank heavens that never happened. There wasn’t much in the room. A comfortable chair and a television—not that I ever got a chance to watch it. Mostly, I’d been sleeping in that chair for the past several months.

I opened my laptop and a can of sparkling water and went to work. I’m also acquainted with the divorce laws because plenty of people had come to my office seeking to hide assets. Don’t try it. It doesn’t work. People aren’t nearly as clever as they think they are. A quick subpoena to the accountant and all their records are bare. So, I created a spreadsheet and downloaded balances for all our accounts. Then I paid off all the credit cards and canceled them. The money in our checking and savings accounts didn’t cover it all, so I dipped into the emergency fund to clear the rest of the balances. Then I deposited half the remainder into the checking account and removed my name from it.

I had an account list that showed how much we paid each month for various subscriptions and when they were due, as well as the user name and password for each. I canceled them all. The health club, Netflix, half a dozen other streaming television services, our internet provider, my phone from the cellular service, and the rent. I set the rent to pay half from the checking account in Dora’s name and half from my new checking account. I didn’t attempt to open any additional credit accounts. I shredded my cards.

I changed the beneficiary on my 401k, life insurance, and will to my parents up north. After all, I was going to die on page 40. Of course, I included the balance on my 401k in my accounting because that would have to be split with Dora as well. I assumed she had a bank account she’d never told me about. She gave me her W2 when it arrived so I could pay the taxes. I didn’t think she was spending everything reported on it, but I could be wrong.

I was up at five, as usual, and printed the new will I’d filled out online. I’d take it to our company notary to have it stamped when I got there. I packed all my clothes in suitcases with my toiletries and medication. I grabbed the few personal items that were meaningful to me and loaded everything in my car. I took the title to my car, my birth certificate and passport, a copy of our marriage license, and our lease agreement.

About seven o’clock, I left for work. Dora never got up before nine and more likely ten. I was as protected as I thought I could be.

Iron Butterfly was playing our wakeup anthem when I walked into the office. I hoisted a sparkling water to my office mates, and we all headed to our workstations to get things rolling. We all had tax clients, and I had the mid-month payroll for Davis Construction to process as well as the company’s quarterly report.

It was nearly noon when Dora came storming through the door trailed by her lawyer and another guy who looked like a weightlifter.

“You son of a bitch!” she started in. “You emptied the bank accounts and canceled my credit cards. I’ll kill you for this. I can’t even tune in the television!”

“I just separated our accounts. You know you have money from the emergency account in your checking. That’s half of what was left after all our joint bills—like the credit cards—were paid,” I said.

“I’m serving you with divorce papers,” the guy who was obviously Dora’s lawyer said. “As well as demanding that your accounts be frozen until half of everything is transferred to Dora.”

“Done and done,” I said, handing him a copy of the spreadsheet I’d prepared. “All the balances are verifiable with the bank, and I canceled all credit accounts so new charges cannot be rung up on them. Further, I want an accounting of any and all assets and cash that Dora has. She’s always had an account I didn’t have access to.”

“I do not!”

“Your paycheck from the restaurant gets deposited to an account at First. I have to assume you have other personal accounts,” I said.

The lawyer looked at the spreadsheet and then back at me. I could see him doing a quick tally and identifying that I worked in an accounting firm.

“We will uncover any additional money you have and will require it to be split, plus penalties,” he said, stuffing the sheet into his briefcase.

“Likewise,” I said, smiling at him. “I’d suggest you check your client’s assets to be sure she can pay your fees. She’s your client. I am not.”

His brow furrowed as he scowled at me.

“Now, see here…”

“You people! You’re interrupting a place of business where you have no business. Leave at once!” Derek Lee, our manager, yelled. “Go! Get out!”

“I’ll get you for this!” Dora screamed at me as her lawyer and the body builder started dragging her toward the door. “I’ll kill you! You’re nothing!”

“Everybody, get back to work!” our manager called out. “Levin, that includes you. Those accounts aren’t being handled by magic!”

Hmm. I silently queried the author, but he just laughed at me. I guess no magic.

Derek looked at me kind of funny when I left work at five, but I still had to find a place to live and get a new driver’s license. I didn’t intend to sleep in my car. He’d been promoted over me years ago and refused to retire. Just my luck.

I checked on a furnished efficiency in a not-so-good part of town, paid the deposit and moved in. It was really just one big room and a three-quarter bath. That’s one with a shower but no tub. I’d have to wait until the DOL opened on Saturday to stand in line for a license that had my new address on it.

I went to a cell phone store and got a new phone and number, then used that to connect to the internet. I read the divorce filing and typed out my response indicating I had no desire to contest the divorce, but the equal distribution of assets as of the date of filing was a requirement. I signed it digitally and sent it to the lawyer. As I looked over the papers, I had to correct the name on the paper. I’ve done business as Cal Levin CPA for so long that apparently Dora had forgotten my real name. It’s Neil Calvin Levinson. That was what was on our marriage license, my driver’s license, and my passport.

Nearly everything else said Cal Levin CPA, including my business cards and bank accounts. Of course, the real name was on file, but no one ever looked at that.

The new apartment didn’t have a nice reclining easy chair so, for the first time in a long time, I actually stretched out on a bed for a decent night’s sleep.

The next day, I’d put everything behind me and just focus on my work.

2
A Different Viewpoint

This is where the story gets tricky. I’m supposed to show you what’s happening in the lives of other characters without knowing anything myself. The author says not to worry. I won’t remember anything I tell you. Like that anesthesia midazolam that makes you forget you were in pain.

I’m beginning to doubt the author’s reliability. I guess I’ll start with Bernie Davis. You remember him? Dora’s uncle who owns a construction company and I do his books and payroll. Well, he’s sick in hospice and has a couple of visitors.

“Bernie, you old dog! Are you in this much need of a vacation? You have to check in hospice so you can have cute nurses giving you massages and sponge baths?” Leon joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere in Bernie’s bedroom.

“Watch what you’re suggesting in front of the child,” Bernie chided, looking at Leon’s daughter and holding out his arms. Anya rushed to him and hugged the bedridden man.

“Bernie, I’m thirty-six years old,” Anya said. “If you want a nurse to massage you and give you a sponge bath, I’ll hire one for you myself.”

“You’re too kind, baby girl. I’m afraid I’m past the point of needing pretty girls fawning over me. I just need an angel to guide me the rest of the way home.”

“I know that feeling,” Leon said. “When I had that heart attack two years ago, I was sure I was on my way to meet Miranda. But the doctors did a bypass and installed a pacemaker. Now Anya will be nagging me about diet and exercise for the next decade or more, and my heart will keep beating for years after I die. Join us, won’t you?”

“They bypassed my intestines a year ago. It’s too late for anything else. It’s metastasized in the liver, kidneys, and stomach. I’ve got a terrible itching in my scalp, and the doctor says that’s probably a sign of a spot on my brain. I forget things. It’s okay. I’m in hospice now. I’m ready and I’m just thankful to get to see you two again.”

“Oh, Bernie, I’d do anything to help you,” Anya cried.

“Well, win that Global Warehouse and Distribution development bid and keep my guys working. You know they consider you one of the crew ever since you spent a year working with them. You haven’t been out to visit the site lately and they’re beginning to think you don’t love them,” Bernie rasped.

“I’m sorry. I’ll plan a site inspection. We’re nearing completion. I’ve been so busy since I took over for Dad in the company,” Anya said. “With this development proposal, I’ve been in over my head.”

“Get help,” Bernie said.

“Marcus is running numbers for me and his son is working overtime on the design,” Anya said.

“You could do worse than marrying JR,” Leon said. “The boy has talent.”

“I’m not going to marry for talent, Dad. JR’s nice, but we don’t click that way,” Anya said.

“I mean outside help,” Bernie continued. “Davis Construction will continue after I’m gone thanks to a guy I hired years ago at AAA.”

“Isn’t that just a tax-prep franchise?” Anya asked.

“That and more. Cal Levin does all my corporate and personal accounting, including payroll. He’s great at business proposals. He helped your mother and me prepare the proposal for the Starlight Mall,” Bernie said. “Cruel that Miranda was taken so soon, but Leon and I followed the proposal plan and now that project is almost finished. Cal will do a complete external audit, too. Global will require that as part of their due diligence before they award the contract.”

“I’ll have Romy schedule some time with him,” Anya said. “But now you need to rest and recover. I don’t want to work on this next development with a stranger.”

“You might think Cal is a stranger now, but he’ll grow on you.”

“Don’t take Bernie too seriously,” Leon said when they got home. “Your mother put the Starlight proposal together with Marcus. When she died and I had to step into the CEO position, I depended on Marcus for everything. He managed all our finances, and I was able to focus on getting the development underway. You can depend on him.”

“Marcus isn’t happy that I’m CEO instead of him,” Anya said.

“That’s up to you,” Leon said. “Your mother set it up so Marcus, Bernie, and I each had 24% of the company. She retained 28%. That way, she could control the company with any one of us as her partner. Specifically, me. All her shares went to you, so if you decided to team up with Marcus, the other two of us couldn’t override you. Not that we’d try. All three of us have always sided with Miranda’s will.”

“I wish you were still presiding,” Anya sighed. “How did Bernie become the other partner and not come to work for the company?”

“He’s your mother’s cousin and put up a lot of the capital for our startup. He always wanted to stay a silent partner so he could focus on just his construction crew, like I focused on being the general contractor. Davis Construction was already well-established when we started the company. Marcus is the CFO. Your mother was the planner and promoter. She kept a pretty tight rein on both Marcus and me. That’s why you need to be in step with managing the company. All the management reports directly to you. I’m afraid there’s a big hole in general contracting at the moment. Sam’s not really up to the challenge. Bernie has always functioned pretty independently, which is why the Starlight project stayed on schedule when I went down.”

“Well, it won’t hurt anything to have an independent audit of our books ready when I go forward with the Global proposal. I’ll talk to this Cal Levin fellow and see if he’s someone I think I’ll trust.”

“We’re proposing a combination residential and commercial project,” JR said. “Global is expected to employ about 3,000 people at this location. Housing within twenty miles is scarce and somewhat congested. Proposing the village concept will encourage employees to relocate nearer to work at a price point within the salary expectations at Global. That means a balance between high density and single-family dwellings. The commercial area will support the residents and be a destination shopping area as well.”

There was applause at the board room table where senior management was meeting to review the progress on the Global proposal. It was a good design, blending an appealing village feel with the efficiency of a high-traffic shopping area. JR—short for Marcus Reynolds Junior—was a talented young architect and leader of the design team at Miranda K Development.

“Ruth, how does the marketing plan look for this?” Anya asked her marketing V.P.

“Based on research in other markets where Global has opened warehouse outlets, we believe we can fill the right retail spaces fairly easily. We’ve already seen feelers from several fast food franchises to acquire space near the warehouse. Global locked up all the accessible acreage between the freeway and the river. They’re holding decisions on all the bids until the proposal deadline. We can expect smaller developers bidding on sections of the overall development. There is some question regarding filling the residential space. No comparable data is available. We are attempting a survey regarding the quality of life of Global employees. It seems they have a fairly high standard which would indicate a preference for single family dwellings over apartments.”

“That’s absurd,” Marcus Sr. snorted. “They’re warehouse workers. We should focus on low income high density housing and let independent contractors take the risk on any single family development. We’re going to end up with a slum surrounding the warehouse and won’t be able to attract any of the high end retail outlets. What does Bruce think of this market research?”

Bruce was a well-known yes-man for Marcus in the company. He headed the sales group.

“I’d say the data is optimistic,” Bruce answered. “We can sell anything, but the higher the price range, the longer the sales cycle. At least don’t look at any luxury housing. Minimal lot footprint and cheap construction is all we’ll be able to sell here.”

“We don’t do cheap construction,” Anya spat. “Use the market data and develop a sales plan from that. Remember we need to show a profit, but it doesn’t need to be more than fifteen percent. Marcus, provide Bruce with the numbers for overhead so he can get the price point right. Melody, how’s legal doing on preparing a pro forma contract?”

“We can move ahead with these numbers and project plan, but we’ll need to revise everything when the final numbers come in. From a legal perspective, it looks good, though I’m concerned about overextending the company on a project this size. I’m sure Marcus has ideas on funding,” the corporate attorney said, looking at the CFO.

She didn’t give him an opportunity to respond to her like he had to Ruth. He was a misogynist pig, and she still couldn’t understand how Miranda had ever been able to stand working with him. It had become worse since she died.

“We need a major source of funding to even play in this game. We can get about forty percent from banks, but we really need to partner with a bigger company, like Regal Associates. They’ve got more resources than we have and could probably leverage the whole project,” Marcus said.

“Keep looking,” Anya said. “Regal doesn’t have a great reputation and is out of market. I have nothing against a partnership, but I’m not willing to play second fiddle to anyone else unless it’s the only way we can play. Sam, what does production have to report?”

“Yeah. Well. I mean. There’s not a lot to report yet. When I see the completed plan, I can put together a CPM and get a pretty good idea how long it will take and what resources we need,” the new production manager said. Leon had promoted him when he took over as CEO, but he’d been over his head ever since Leon’s heart attack had taken him out of the loop. Fortunately, the Starlight job was far enough along that all Sam had to do was monitor and report the progress. “I… I think this is probably too big a job for Davis Construction to take on more than a part of it. We’ll need some other construction resources.”

“All the more reason to partner with Regal,” Marcus interjected. “Bernie Davis is on his deathbed. There won’t be a Davis Construction past the end of the Starlight development. Regal has the crews they can move in and finish the job in a year.”

“Marcus! Read my lips. No partnership with Regal,” Anya said. “Everyone, get back to your jobs and show me some progress before our meeting next week.” She stood and left the meeting, followed closely by Romy.

“That man infuriates me,” Anya said as she paced her office in front of her trusted assistant, Romy.

“He challenges any woman with responsibility as if he knows her job better than she does. What was with him asking Bruce to contradict Ruth’s market research? As if Bruce has ever researched anything in his life,” Romy responded.

“Here he comes,” Anya said. “I’m going to start an external audit. See if you can get me an appointment with this Cal Levin sometime soon. He’s at AAA, the accounting firm.”

“Will do.” She passed Marcus on her way out of Anya’s office.

“Anya, financially, we’re looking at a disaster if you proceed without a major player as a partner. If not Regal, there’s probably a firm from the capital we could draw in,” Marcus said as he entered the office. It was apparent he was still hot about the meeting.

“I didn’t call you to talk about that. I want you to put together a full set of our financials for an external audit. It’s required in the RFP.”

“We can do that internally,” Marcus said. “We’ve done an audit every year. There’s no requirement that it be external.”

“I’ve decided to use an external auditor. I don’t want there to be a trace of anything that could cause even a suspicion on the part of Global,” Anya responded. “I want to give everything to the auditor in the next week.”

“We’ll never get an auditor in that amount of time. I’ve got a couple of contacts. I’ll arrange one to come into the office.”

“I already have one. He’ll go over the project plan as well,” Anya said.

“Is that really necessary?”

Anya rounded on Marcus.

“Marcus, your job as CFO is on the line right now. I’ve given you direct instructions and all you’ve done is contradict everything I’ve said. Further, you decided it was a good idea to argue with me in our management meeting. Let me tell you right now: If you ever do that again, I’ll fire you on the spot. Am I clear?”

“Your mother would never do something like that. She was reasonable and listened to good advice. You’re running wild. I’m just trying to keep you from ruining the company Miranda built,” Marcus said.

The truth was that Miranda had kept him on a short leash and it wasn’t until her death that he started to really sink his claws into the company. This girl had no business sitting in the chair that should be his. He was the senior partner now that Miranda was dead and Leon retired. And Bernie would be dead soon enough. He’d acquire the old man’s shares pretty quickly. He’d already set that machine in motion.

“Get out of my office, Marcus. Have all the materials for the audit on my desk in one week. I don’t particularly want to see you again before then.”

“You’re a nice guy, JR, and you did a good presentation this morning,” Anya said as she sat at dinner with JR.

He’d asked her out, which took some courage, but he couched the date as an opportunity for feedback on his design for the Global development.

“I hear a ‘but’ in that statement,” the younger man said.

“Not really. I’m attempting to keep your work separate from what I see from your father. You need to be clear on where your loyalty lies,” Anya said. “You’re still a fairly new architect, but we’ve got experienced people in your department. Mom hired you right out of college because she saw potential in you. You got promoted during the time Dad was hospitalized and I hadn’t taken over. There were others more qualified, but I’ve been pleased with what you’re putting out. Just please lean on the others in your department and on Ruth’s market research as you continue to develop the plan. This isn’t something any one of us can do alone.”

“I depend a lot on Robert,” JR said. “He’s been a mentor to me ever since I joined the company.”

“He’s a good man. I’m glad he’s helping you.”

“How are you doing, Anya? You seem really stressed lately. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Your job,” Anya laughed. “Really, the things I need help with are beyond you. But don’t worry. I’m getting help, too. It’s sweet of you to ask but just stay focused.”

“I like you, Anya. I mean… Like having dinner with you and stuff. We don’t always need to be focused on the company when we’re together,” JR managed. He’d had a crush on Anya since he was twelve and she was seventeen. This was more than just a business relationship.

“JR, I like to think we’re friends. But please don’t think there’s anything else between us,” Anya said. “I know your father is also pushing you to have a relationship with me and that is one reason I will always hold you away. We’re good in the business, but don’t anticipate anything but cordial friendship outside the business. Is that clear.”

“I’ll do what you say, Anya. Anything you say. Whatever you need, inside or outside the company, I’ll be there.”

3
Where Was I?

Let’s see now. Where was I? I know there was something important, but I seem to have gotten distracted for a bit. Does anyone know what page we’re on?

Oh, yes. I was about to get divorced. I was surprised at how quickly things could progress in getting an ‘amicable’ divorce. Dora’s attorney initially thought Dora was ripe for picking and planned to run up the bills. As soon as he checked all the balances in our accounts to arrive at an equitable distribution of assets, he discovered she really didn’t have anything left to pay him. He advised her to agree to the split that was offered and he wouldn’t pursue looking for any other assets she might have.

The divorce was final in a record time, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least that chapter of my life was over. And I wasn’t dead yet.

I got the quarterly taxes done for Davis Construction and talked to Bernie’s construction manager, Jeff Bardsley.

“Everything is good with the payroll and taxes,” I said on our call. “How is Bernie doing?”

“Not good, Cal,” he answered. “Of course, we’ve been running without him for a year now. Between you handling the accounts and me managing the schedules and crews, we’re stable, but no one knows what will happen when Bernie dies. He’s been on hospice for two months now and I visit him every week so he knows we’re surviving.”

“I need to get over to see him,” I said. “It’s been too long. The tax deadlines had us all in a crunch the past few weeks.”

“We don’t know what the disposition of the company will be after his death, but he’s made it clear that you will keep us financially up-to-speed and I’ll manage the business and crews. The problem is we’re running out of jobs. Bernie has always been the one getting new business. I handled a call from a potential partner a few days ago, but it was clear he wanted an acquisition and not a contract.”

“Things will come clear soon. I know he’s always had a good relationship with Miranda K Development. I’ll put out some feelers to see if they have a new project lined up for after the Starlight Mall and office building are finished. That looks to only be a couple of months or so away. Just keep the quality up and something will come together soon.”

Jeff was a good guy, and Bernie was right to trust him with efficiently keeping the operation on track. He was still working out of the job trailer at Starlight Mall. Bernie’s business address was a little-used office where a secretary answered the phone and did the filing. The real work of the company was done by the crews he sent out on jobs. Those guys needed to keep working.

I would need to do some research on contracts that were upcoming.

“You aren’t who I have an appointment with,” Anya said, staring Derek in the eye.

“When we saw who the client was, Miss Kendall, we decided to give you a higher level of service. I’m Derek Lee, the manager of AAA. I’ll be happy to be sure all your auditing needs and project planning are handled by our top-level staff.”

I wondered why my appointment this morning had disappeared off my calendar. I leaned back in my chair to watch what was going to happen.

“My appointment is with Cal Levin,” Anya stubbornly insisted.

“Cal is just a basic level accountant,” Derek said, ignoring my management of the company’s most lucrative clients.

He was determined to get the commission from this new client. Bringing in a major account always involved a bonus and commission fee. Derek usually met with all clients first, then assigned them to one of us workers. That way his name was always on the commission check.

“Are you telling me that I can’t choose to meet with Cal Levin?” Anya asked. “There’s no reason for this appointment then. Good day.” She turned to leave.

“Wait, wait! Of course, you can meet with any of our staff. We simply want to make sure you have our highest level of service,” Derek said.

“You’re doing a pretty poor job of it,” Anya spat. I liked this lady’s spirit. “Am I meeting with Mr. Levin or not?”

“Certainly, certainly. We’ll just handle the intake paperwork and then call Cal in to meet with you.”

“There’s no need for intake paperwork. Just get me to my meeting with Mr. Levin.”

“Is there something I can help with, Derek?” I asked, finally leaving my desk and joining the discussion.

“Cal, Miss Kendall is a VIP client,” Derek said. “She doesn’t deserve having to wait for you to show up for her meeting. I’ve been covering for you long enough. Please go to the conference room and let’s get this started.”

So, Derek planned to sit in on the meeting as well. That way he could still claim the commission.

“We won’t need your supervision, Mr. Lee. My business is highly confidential, and I don’t wish to expose it to anyone but Mr. Levin.”

We walked into the conference room and she pointedly closed the door with Derek on the outside.

“I apologize for the confusion out there, Miss Kendall” I sighed. “Every office has its politics, I guess.”

“Don’t I know it,” Anya agreed. “Mr. Levin, I’m Anya Kendall, CEO of Miranda K Development. I was referred to you by Bernie Davis of Davis Construction, a company we partner with frequently. I hope we can drop the formalities now and start fresh.” She held out her hand. “Anya,” she said simply.

I shook the offered hand.