After Hours (4 page)

Curtis sighed then walked to his father’s side.

Bishop Senior grabbed the front of his son’s shirt, pulled him down with surprising strength and slapped him hard across the face. “Do I need to remind you about the rise of Western dominance?” he said yanking Curtis’ face close to his and slapping him again. “How in the fifteenth century India and China ruled the markets until the Europeans accidentally discovered the riches of America and improved their maritime power?”

“Father,” Curtis said in a whisper.

He slapped him once more. “How industrialization helped them to destroy other nations? How the Dutch, the Portuguese, the Spanish talked about carving up the African continent and did so with brutal mastery?” He tightened his grip, his eyes blazing with rage. “Dominance is always about destruction. Don’t you ever forget that.” He shoved his son away.

Curtis stumbled back, but quickly regained his footing, being careful not to touch his stinging face.

“Come here.”

Curtis steeled himself and again, moved in close.

Bishop Senior reached out and straightened his son’s tie then smoothed it down. To an outsider it looked like an affectionate gesture, but both men knew it wasn’t. “Did you talk to the people at Valdan?”

“Yes.”

“I should never have listened to you and brought one of our factories to a town with a whole bunch of whiny babies. We could have made a lot more abroad with a cheaper labor force and higher quality. But you thought this town was perfect.”

“We got the building cheap and it’s making us money.”

“Not enough, and they’ve gotten soft. I heard you’re giving them bonuses. Why? You trying to be their friend? They don’t care. People like to have someone to fear.” He pointed at him. “That’s your biggest problem. You’ll never be as good as me. Until you fully understand that....” He took several moments to catch his breath. “You’re just pathetic. Cut the costs on the holiday party and the bonuses.”

Curtis bit his cheek and silently counted to ten. Even though he never attended the holiday party, he knew that was one event many of the employees at headquarters looked forward to. “It helps morale.” Curtis knew that news of Valdan closing at the end of the month would affect people at headquarters and he wanted to show them that business was still good.

“I don't care.”

“We’ve got a good team.”

“And you’re afraid of losing them?” He shook his head. “Rats will feed on whatever you give them. Let them quit, if they want to. If you worry about them, then they own you. If you care, they can manipulate you. Do I have to remind you of this every year? I don’t care what they do. People can quit. But where will they go in this economy? With what we’re paying? I’d like to see them try. You’re job is to do what
I
say. You're just my puppet, don't start getting strange ideas that you matter around here. No one would miss you.
I'll
be missed. My blood is on every item, every brick. Bishop Enterprises bears my name. You’re only standing there because of me. I gave you life and I gave you a purpose. You owe me.”

“It costs more money to retrain key people. In the long run, the party keeps our profits high by reminding people who to be loyal to.”

Bishop Senior narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you’re determined to give the rats their little piece of cheese?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “Fine. You win this round. Have you spoken to your mother?”

Curtis hesitated, startled by the change of topic. “No.”

“Do you plan to?”

“No.”

“Her son is married with a kid. You know I don’t like to be outdone. You’re getting rid of your assistant and getting a wife. I want an heir. Make it happen.”

***

He wasn’t getting rid of Amera,
Curtis silently vowed as he left his father’s bedroom and walked down the stairs of the elaborate mansion he’d grown up in. If his father wanted him to have a wife, he’d get one, but his work life was his. He shoved his hands in his pockets, not fully understanding why his father’s demand made him so angry. It shouldn’t. He’d gotten rid of assistants before. But
he’d
done the firing. The sight of the pink slip in Amera’s hand infuriated him. It made the action feel personal. He should have told him first. It was the principle of the thing. But that conclusion still didn’t satisfy him. There was something else that bothered him, he just didn’t know what.

Curtis silently swore, passing by the household staff who went out of their way to shift their gaze away from him when he walked past. Only his footsteps could be heard on the marble tile, they’d learned to move about like ghosts, being as unobtrusive as possible. He didn’t know their names or faces and didn’t care to. The dark paneled walls had the same solemn sheen of a house that absorbed sunlight, casting everything in shadow, no matter how bright the day. Curtis walked out the front door, briefly shielding his eyes against the sun. The cold, crisp day swept a blanket of blue across the sky. It probably wouldn’t snow until the New Year.

“Where to?” his driver asked, holding the door open.

Curtis got into the backseat, for a moment wishing he had Em to plan his schedule. Had he become too dependent on her? He touched his sore jaw. Maybe it was good for his father to slap some sense into him. He had to remain focused. It was time for him to marry and start a family to continue the bloodline.

“Sir?”

He glanced up at the driver annoyed. “What?”

“Where to?”

He sighed and let his hand fall. “Just drive, I don’t care,” he said feeling lost.

***

Amera sat at her desk and drummed her fingers, trying to formulate the best way to get back at Curtis. Closing the factory was bad enough, then dismissing her proposal, but nothing had prepared her for being fired – not after all her dedication over the past five years. Fortunately, two weeks was plenty of time to come up with a plan. She wouldn’t let him get rid of her so easily, without at least feeling the sting of her wrath.

She looked at her watch and increased her drumming. She hadn’t heard from him in nearly two hours. That was rare. He always had her doing something. He’d blindsided her twice, first with the factory and then the pink slip, was he preparing for another blow? Or could something be wrong? No, he was probably trying to show her how much she’d already lost her usefulness. Maybe he really wanted to make her angry enough so that she would quit before the end of two weeks. She flattened her hand on the desk. He’d be disappointed. But then again, maybe she’d accepted his bad behavior for too long. Maybe she should just pack her things and disappear. She was about to reach for her box when her phone rang.

“I need to buy a ring,” Curtis said, without preamble. “Make an appointment.”

“A ring?” Amera repeated just to make sure. She’d never seen him wear jewelry before.
“Yes, an engagement ring. I want the jeweler in my office by tomorrow.”

“An engagement ring?”

“Yes, my little parrot. Isn’t that what I just said?”

A ring? He was going to get married? Really? She shook her head. That was none of her business, even though most of his life had been. She knew a lot about him, although he didn't have much of a life outside of work. She guessed it was instructions from ‘on high’. He was at the right age and the old man would want to see him settled before he died. Curtis hadn’t shown any interest in any particular woman, but had casually being seeing Crystal Montrose the daughter of a prominent senator. She seemed the best likely candidate.

“Tomorrow is too soon,” Amera said, automatically thinking over all the details and tasks she would need to get done in order for his proposal of marriage to work. He was not a romantic and if he wanted to have a fiancée by the end of the week, Amera knew she would have to make sure everything was flawless.

“Why?”

“Do you want her to say yes?”

“That’s the plan,” he said in a dry tone.

“Then give me two days and I’ll prepare everything.”

“Two days?”

“Yes, my little parrot,” she said in a cool tone. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

Silence greeted her from the other end, but she knew he didn’t mind when she threw his words back at him. Besides, in two weeks she’d be gone anyway. She switched the phone to her other ear and waited for him to argue.

“Good,” he said then hung up.

Amera set her phone down and leaned back in her chair. Bishop wanted a bride. She already felt sorry for the woman, but at least it would keep her busy. Keeping busy had always been the best way for her to get through the holidays since it was usually a lonely experience for her.

Amera dove into her assigned task with ruthless efficiency, briefly forgetting about her plan for revenge. She contacted an established florist, a renowned chef and local jeweler, and made a reservation at an exclusive hotel. The following day, she took off some time and went to a local specialty store looking to find something extra special for the occasion. That’s when she spotted an angel figurine sitting in one of the displays. She knew Crystal loved angels. It would add a nice touch.

“How much is that?” she asked the clerk, a middle aged man with jowls that reminded her of a bloodhound.

The clerk looked up and sent her a bored look. “Sorry, it’s not for sale.”

“I’ll pay--”

“I said it’s not for sale. Sorry, those are the boss’s orders.”

She wished he’d stop saying he was ‘sorry’, when he clearly didn’t mean it. Amera looked around for something else when an attractive black woman, who smelled of expensive perfume and looked as if she’d just stepped off of a runaway, brushed past her and gazed at the angel. “Oh that’s beautiful. I could just see it on my mantle. How much is it?”

“It's not for--” He started to say, before he looked up and his bored tone and expression vanished.

“Are you sure I couldn’t talk to someone?” the woman said displaying a flirtatious grin.

The clerk leaned against the counter, as if he were a gambler ready to get a hot tip. “How much are you willing to offer?”

The woman looked up at the ceiling and tapped her chin then said, “A hundred.”

“That sounds like the right price to me. It’s yours.”

Amera walked up to them. “I thought you said it wasn’t for sale.”

The man turned his back and opened up the curio. “You didn’t give me a price.”

Amera looked at the other woman without malice. Clearly the price of entry was a gorgeous face and a great body. She knew that getting Crystal to say yes to Curtis’ proposal would take a little more persuasion and this angel could be the ticket. “Three hundred,” she said.

“Sorry,” the clerk said, again giving the word little meaning. He reached down and took out several sheets of white tissue paper from beneath the counter and began to wrap the figurine. “I already accepted her offer .”

“Of course,” Amera said acknowledging defeat. She turned.

The woman grabbed Amera’s coat sleeve before she could leave. “Wait. Do you really want it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Amera said, embarrassed by the woman’s look of pity.

“I don't want to take what isn't mine.”

Amera looked at the woman’s fashionable, high-end clothes and exquisite face. The clerk couldn’t help it. He’d wanted to impress her. Most men would. “It was yours the moment you walked in. Excuse me.” She left, but in her haste forgot the step that led up to the door and tumbled forward, falling flat on her face. She quickly jumped to her feet, hoping nobody noticed and wiped her coat.

“Are you okay?” the woman asked rushing up to her, with the sales clerk close behind.

“I’m fine.”
“But your--”
“I’m really busy. Excuse me,” she said and hurried past her, feeling a mixture of anger and humiliation.

***

The next day Amera arrived at the hotel, an hour earlier, to organize the lavish suite, removing the one wilted bloom she saw in one of the four bouquets she had ordered--Curtis would have noticed. She dimmed the lights and arranged the candles, keenly aware of the touches of the season that decorated the room. A warm fire blazed, casting an amber glow throughout the main sitting area, accentuating the light scent of cinnamon. The room was set for a romantic holiday engagement, and the exact replica of a scene she’d read in a book.

She didn’t like Curtis--nobody did--but for a moment she envied Crystal. She wished that one day someone would treat her like a princess. Like she mattered to them, and she didn’t care if he hired someone else, like Curtis had, to make that impression. One day she wanted to dress up in elegant clothes and go out on the town and dine at the finest restaurants and live a life of glamour.

But Amera knew she’d have no romance this holiday season. There would be no gathering of family and friends. She had a couple of friends, but never wanted to be a bother and she didn’t have any family. It would be the same as last year and the year before that. She’d pretend that Christmas was just another ordinary day. She’d lock herself away, do a reading marathon and then start the New Year. Amera pulled herself out of her slight melancholy and snapped back into the present. Although she’d never experience such a moment, she would make the evening perfect for Crystal and live vicariously.