Stephanie Feagan - Show Her The Money

While I got the nickel tour with Gert, a client came to see Mom, so I was told to wait in one of the empty cubicles in the bull pen until she was available. Gert looked happy to be rid of me and left me there without another word.

Very tired and thirsty after a six-hour drive and a run through the rack line with Gert, I went to the break room for a Coke. On the way back to the cube, I noticed the light was on in what I’d thought to be an empty office. I walked past and glanced inside and saw a tall, meaty guy who was a dead ringer for Sammy Hagar.

He had to be a senior, or a manager, since he was in a real office with real walls, but he was dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. Not standard Midland CPA issue slacks, dress shirt and tie. He was tan and his blond hair was long and wavy, in a ponytail. I’m serious when I say he looked like Sammy Hagar.

I went to the break room a couple more times during the next hour and always shot a look at Sammy, but I couldn’t ever get a good enough look to decide if he was hot, or just interesting because of the Sammy Hagar thing.

Finally, Mom’s client left and she waved me into her office. I shoved some files aside and took a seat on her small sofa. “Who’s the guy in the Hawaiian shirt?”

“That’s Sam. Didn’t Gert introduce you?”

“She said he was in court this afternoon.”

Mom frowned. “She must be mixed up. He’s due in court tomorrow.” She reached for the phone, punched in some numbers and said into the receiver, “Sam, can you spare a minute? I’ve got your new hire in my office.” When she hung up, she glanced at me and narrowed her eyes suspiciously, like she always does when she thinks I’m up to something. Mom Radar is more finely honed than anything the defense department can put out. “I’m sure you think he’s cute, but don’t get any ideas. I have a very strict policy about inter-office dating.”

“The very last thing I’m interested in right now is a date. I only wanted to know who he is, and why he looks like he just got off the bus from Laguna Beach.”

“Sam’s a little…different. But the guy’s so smart, and detail oriented, I try and overlook his odd choices in clothing. He does wear a suit to court.”

I was still bemused with Mom’s laid-back attitude toward Sam’s professionalism when the man himself walked into her office. As I stood to shake his hand, I realized he was even bigger than I’d thought. I also noticed his eyes, unlike the dark brown of Sammy Hagar’s, were as blue as the Pacific. “How do you do?”

“You’re my new hire?” he asked in maybe the sexiest male voice I’d ever heard. He dropped my hand, gave me the once-over, then dismissed me as inconsequential. He looked to Mom. “I told you I wanted a man.”

Before Mom could respond, I said, “In spite of my lack of a penis, I can actually count to twenty-one.”

He frowned at me. “It’s got nothing to do with how smart you are. I need a man for this job.”

“Why? Are you threatened by females?”

“Only when they whine, which you’re bound to do, a lot. This job entails getting out in the field, maybe getting your hands dirty, and most of all, dealing with men in the oil business. Your mother told me you grew up here, so you know exactly why it’s a major handicap to be a woman, looking for information from guys in the oil business.”

“Hmm, yeah, I did forget this is the land before time.”

“Jane, I understand sticking by family, but this has disaster written all over it.”

Mom looked disappointed and it dawned on me, she was going to go with Sam. She was going to make me do taxes! No way could I let that happen. “Sam, you can look at this like I’m bound to be ineffectual, or you can look at it like I’m a CPA with eight years of audit experience. The fact that I grew up here is a point in my favor. I know a lot of people, and I can open a lot of the same doors a guy could. At least give me a chance. Isn’t that fair?”

“I’d consider it a big favor,” Mom said, looking hopeful.

What was up with Mom? She’s a barracuda when it comes to business and her pansy attitude was blowing my mind.

Sam stared at me for a long time, and I had the feeling he expected me to look away, or squirm, or otherwise cave under his direct eye contact. I therefore stared back. Finally, he said with a hint of a growl in his deep voice, “Aw hell, I know damn well I’m gonna regret it, but okay. One chance. Screw this up and you’re gone. Understand?”

I didn’t like his patronizing tone, but I admired his honesty. I decided to overlook the tone. “Understand.”

He glanced at my clothes and shook his head. “Do you always dress like that?”

“Only when I’m moving out of my house, then driving for six hours in one-hundred-degree temperatures.”

His blue eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled at me. “You’re a real smart-ass, aren’t you?”

“Usually.”

“Good. You’re gonna need a smart mouth.” He headed for the door. “Follow me, and pay attention.”

I glanced at Mom and noticed she looked a little smug, as if she knew all along it would turn out this way. Knowing Mom, she probably did.

In Sam’s office, I watched his arm stretch when he spread some document copies across his desk, and noticed a tattoo of an anchor on his forearm, above his skin diver watch. “Nice tattoo,” I said. “Did you get it in the Navy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When were you in the Navy?”

“Pink, I like to keep business and personal separated. Understand?”

“Got it.”

He pointed to the documents lining the top edge of his desk. “These are bills of lading for Domino Pipe Company. They’re a primo pipe supplier and our client buys from them on a regular basis. His name is Ollie Shanks and his partner is his cousin, Bert. Ollie and Bert are each fifty percent partners in Shanks Resources, a small oil company they started back in the eighties. Ollie thinks Bert is switching the primo pipe for some crap pipe, selling the good stuff and pocketing the difference.”

“Why does he think that?”

“Because every well they’ve drilled and completed in the last six months has sprouted casing leaks and they’re losing a lot of barrels back to the hole.”

Looking over the division order, I asked, “Is Bert a moron? He has to pay half the cost of the new pipe, which he can’t sell for what they paid for it if he’s doing it on the sly. And he’d probably make twice the money off the oil he’s losing to the hole.”

“He’s dumb like a fox. He has to split the oil with Ollie, but by selling the pipe he only had to pay for half of, pocketing one hundred percent of the profit, and buying crap pipe on the cheap, he comes out ahead.”

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“Prove that Bert is switching the pipe. Ollie needs solid evidence that his cousin is cheating him because he wants Bert out of the company.”

“Because he’s a crook?”

“Among other reasons.” Sam gathered up the documents and the bank statements and handed them to me. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

I walked toward his door. “No problem, but if you ever call me tiger again, I’ll hurt you. Understand?”

“Got it.”

I spent some time getting acclimated to the Shankses’ information, but had barely begun to work out a plan before five o’clock came. Almost as though a silent alarm sounded, the bull pen became a hive of busy activity, the staff tidying up desks, closing files, gathering up purses and briefcases. I joined the frenzy, anxious to get to Mom’s and float in the pool, a cold Corona in hand.

Faster than a herd of crazed cattle, we all stampeded down the hall, but as we got closer to the reception area, I caught a whiff of something so vile, so nasty, I covered my nose and mouth to keep from gagging.