Michael Crichton - Disclosure

Christ.

How was he going to keep Susan from seeing this?

He dampened paper towels and scrubbed away the lipstick. He patted down his hair, and buttoned his sport coat, hiding most of his shirt. Then he went back outside, sat down at a booth by the window, and stared into space.

"Hey, Tom."

He looked up and saw John Perry, his neighbor on Bainbridge. Perry was a lawyer with Marlin, Howard, one of the oldest firms in Seattle. He was one of those irrepressibly enthusiastic people, and Sanders didn't much feel like talking to him. But Perry slipped into the seat opposite him.

"How's it going?" Perry asked cheerfully.

"Pretty good," Sanders said.

"I had a great day."

"Glad to hear it."

`Just great," Perry said. "We tried a case, and I tell you, we kicked ass.

"Great," Sanders said. He stared fixedly out the window, hoping Perry would take the hint and go away.

Perry didn't. "Yeah, and it was a damned tough case, too. Uphill all the way for us," he said. "Title VII, Federal Court. Client's a woman who worked at MicroTech, claimed she wasn't promoted because she was a female. Not a very strong case, to tell the truth. Because she drank, and so on. There were problems. But we have a gal in our firm, Louise Fernandez, a Hispanic gal, and she is just lethal on these discrimination cases. Lethal. Got the jury to award our client nearly half a million. That Fernandez can work the case law like nothing you've ever seen. She's won fourteen of her last sixteen cases. She acts so sweet and demure, and inside, she's just ice. I tell you, sometimes women scare the hell out of me."

Sanders said nothing.

He came home to a silent house, the kids already asleep. Susan always put the kids to bed early. He went upstairs. His wife was sitting up in bed, reading, with legal files and papers scattered across the bedcovers. When she saw him, she got out of bed and came over to hug him. Involuntarily, his body tensed.

"I'm really sorry, Tom," she said. "I'm sorry about this morning. And I'm sorry about what happened at work." She turned her face up and kissed him lightly on the lips. Awkwardly, he turned away. He was afraid she would smell Meredith's perfume, or

"You mad about this morning?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Really, I'm not. It was just a long day."

"Lot of meetings on the merger?"

"Yes," he said. "And more tomorrow. It's pretty crazy."

Susan nodded. "It must be. You just got a call from the office. From a Meredith Johnson."

He tried to keep his voice casual. "Oh yes?"

"Uh-huh. About ten minutes ago." She got back in bed. "Who is she, anyway?" Susan was always suspicious when women from the office called.

Sanders said, "She's the new veep. They just brought her up from Cupertino."

"I wondered… She acted like she knew me."

"I don't think you've ever met." He waited, hoping he wouldn't have to say more.

"Well," she said, "she sounded very friendly. She said to tell you everything is fine for the due diligence meeting tomorrow morning at eight-thirty, and she'll see you then."

"Okay. Fine."

He kicked off his shoes, and started to unbutton his shirt, then stopped. He bent over and picked his shoes up.

"How old is she?" Susan asked.

"Meredith? I don't know. Thirty-five, something like that. Why?"

"Just wondered." "I'm going to take a shower," he said.

"Okay." She picked up her legal briefs, and settled back in bed, adjusting the reading light.

He started to leave.

"Do you know her?" Susan asked.

"I've met her before. In Cupertino."

"What's she doing up here?"

"She's my new boss."

"She'sthe one."

"Yeah," he said. "She's the one."

"She's the woman that's close to Garvin?"

"Yeah. Who told you? Adele?" Adele Lewyn, Mark's wife, was one of Susan's best friends.

She nodded. "Mary Anne called, too. The phone never stopped ringing."

"I'll bet."

"So is Garvin fucking her or what?"

"Nobody knows," he said. "The general belief is that he's not."

"Why'd he bring her in, instead of giving the job to you?"

"I don't know, Sue."

"You didn't talk to Garvin?"

"He came around to see me in the morning, but I wasn't there."

She nodded. "You must be pissed. Or are you being your usual understanding self?"

"Well." He shrugged. "What can I do?"

"You can quit," she said.

"Not a chance."

"They passed over you. Don't you have to quit?"

"This isn't the best economy to find another job. And I'm forty-one. I don't feel like starting over. Besides, Phil insists they're going to spin off the technical division and take it public in a year. Even if I'm not running it, I'd still be a principal in that new company."

"And did he have details?" He nodded. "They'll vest us each twenty thousand shares, and options for fifty thousand more. Then options for another fifty thousand shares each additional year."

“At?”

"Usually it's twenty-five cents a share."

"And the stock will be offered at what? Five dollars?"

"At least. The IPO market is getting stronger. Then, say it goes to ten. Maybe twenty, if we're hot."

There was a brief silence. He knew she was good with figures. "No," she said finally. "You can't possibly quit."

He had done the calculations many times. At a minimum, Sanders would realize enough on his stock options to pay off his mortgage in a single payment. But if the stock went through the roof, it could be truly fantastic-somewhere between five and fourteen million dollars. That was why going public was the dream of anyone who worked in a technical company.

He said, "As far as I'm concerned, they can bring in Godzilla to manage that division, and I'll still stay at least two more years."

"And is that what they've done? Brought in Goodwill?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you get along with her?"

He hesitated. "I'm not sure. I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay," she said. He glanced back at her: she was reading her notes again.

After his shower, he plugged his phone into the charger unit onthe sink, and put on a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He looked at himself in the mirror; the shirt covered his scratches. But he was still worried about the smell of Meredith's perfume. He splashed after-shave on his cheeks.

Then he went into his son's room to check on him. Matthew was snoring loudly, his thumb in his mouth. He had kicked down the covers. Sanders pulled them back up gently and kissed his forehead.

Then he went into Eliza's room. At first he could not see her; his daughter had lately taken to burrowing under a barricade of covers and pillows when she slept. He tiptoed in, and saw a small hand reach up, and wave to him. He came forward.

"Why aren't you asleep, Laze?'' he whispered.

"I was having a dream," she said. But she didn't seem frightened.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and stroked her hair. "What kind of a dream?"

"About the beast."

"Uh-huh…"

"The beast was really a prince, but he was placed under a powerful spell by a 'chantress."

"That's right…" He stroked her hair.

"Who turned him into a hideous beast."

She was quoting the movie almost verbatim.

"That's right," he said.

"Why?"

"I don't know, Lize. That's the story."

"Because he didn't give her shelter from the bitter cold?" She was quoting again. "Why didn't he, Dad?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Because he had no love in his heart," she said.

"Live, it's time for sleep."

"Give me a dream first, Dad."

"Okay. There's a beautiful silver cloud hanging over your bed, and-"

"That dream's no good, Dad." She was frowning at him.

"Okay. What kind of dream do you want?"