Saying Yes To The Boss

“There’s no way Winchester’s offer stands a chance with the seller after that.” Brooks held up his cell phone. “Two of the stations aired this live, and there have already been over two hundred tweets under our hashtag. When this re-airs during the evening news, it will explode.”

Georgia gave a heavy sigh of relief. She hoped this worked. If the owners were more interested in money, Winchester could still win them over.

After the press cleared out, they headed back upstairs to the executive floor. Brooks followed Carson into his office, where they poured a celebratory glass of scotch.

“Would you care for a drink, Georgia?” Brooks asked. “You certainly earned it.”

“Actually, I think I’ll pass,” she said. The adrenaline that had gotten her though the press conference was fading, and she was ready to crash. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’d like to catch an early train home and watch our segment on the news on the couch with some takeout.”

She dismissed the flicker of disappointment on Carson’s face. “Understandable,” he said. “Keep the phone nearby, though. If the seller accepts our offer, you’ll be the first person I call.”

Georgia gave them a wave and slipped down the hallway to her office. She quickly gathered her things. If she could get to the “L” platform in the next ten minutes, she’d catch the express train.

She found herself at her building about a half hour later. Once she reached her apartment door, she gave a heavy sigh of relief. Georgia loved her loft. It was the first thing she’d bought when she secured her first real executive position with a major company. She could barely afford it at the time but she had been desperate to be able finally to have a home of her own.

She hadn’t had the easiest time growing up. Her mother had been a teenage runaway when she was born. Georgia didn’t remember much about those early years, but her caseworker, Sheila, had told her when she was older that her mother had developed a heroin addiction and was working as a prostitute for drugs. Georgia had been taken away and placed in foster care when she was only three.

From there, she’d become a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing from place to place. She never lived anywhere longer than a year, and none of those places ever felt like home. She tried not to let her mind dwell too much on her childhood in Detroit, but she’d let enough of the dirty homes, strict or even abusive foster parents and secondhand everything through to let her appreciate what she had now.

This loft, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and modern, industrial elements, was everything she’d ever wanted. The walls were painted in warm, inviting colors and the plush furniture was overflowing with pillows. The kitchen was state-of-the-art despite the fact that she never cooked. She could swim in her master bathtub and have a party in the shower. She had a service come in to clean once a week, so the place was always spotless.

It was wonderful. The perfect escape from the world. Even the longest, hardest day at the office couldn’t keep the smile from her face when she walked in the door each evening.

Tonight she went through her nightly ritual. She set down her purse and disappeared into the bedroom to change. She reemerged ten minutes later with her blond hair in a knot on the top of her head, her face scrubbed free of makeup and her favorite pair of pajamas on. She poured herself a glass of pinot grigio and grabbed her favorite Chinese delivery menu before she collapsed on her suede sofa.

The delivery man arrived with her dinner with just minutes to spare before the evening newscast. The segment on the Newport Corporation was in the second news block when she was about halfway through her kung pao chicken. She didn’t like watching herself on camera, but she forced herself to do it anyway. Her speech professor had made all the students do it. It was the only way to truly see the nervous ticks and language crutches she used when she spoke in public.

All in all, not bad. Her voice was sultry, like a phone sex operator, but there was nothing she could do about it. She’d tried a million times to alter it, but it sounded fake. On the upside, she used the word “uh” only twice and she didn’t use “like” at all. Professor Kline would be very proud of her.

At the end of the segment, the news station flashed the campaign hashtag on the screen and encouraged viewers to use it to show their support. Georgia reached for her phone to check on the response. There were thousands of posts on Twitter with even more on other platforms. They were even trending.

Georgia chewed nervously at her thumbnail as she watched the posts scroll down the screen. This might actually work. She really, truly hoped so. The idea of Winchester taking that land and building condos on it made her stomach turn. She knew from experience that things weren’t always fair or just in life, but she certainly hoped she was about to outsmart the system.

The rest of the newscast dragged on. She sat in front of the TV, idly chewing her dinner and not listening to anything. She was waiting for that phone to ring. It just had to ring.

She was on her second glass of wine when the news ended, and still no call. Georgia paced anxiously across the concrete floor, gazing out at her view of the city. The sun was just setting, making the Chicago skyline a stark silhouette against the golden glow of the sky. Lights were starting to turn on around town, slowly transforming the hard, industrial shapes of downtown into a sparkling constellation.

Georgia was so lost in her thoughts that when the phone rang, she jumped nearly six inches off the ground. Turning on her heel, she ran back to the kitchen and snatched her phone off the countertop. It was Carson.

She held her breath in anticipation as she picked up. “Yes?” she answered.

“Our offer has been accepted!” he announced triumphantly. “They said it was the highest and in the end, they decided to accept it and not start a bidding war because of the newscast. We got it, Georgia, and it’s all because of your hard work.”

“Thanks,” she said, dismissing his compliment. “It’s not hard to get behind a project like this when the lives of sick children are at stake. It made my work pretty easy, I have to say. I’m very happy our project can go forward.”

“It will. Once the paperwork is signed, I want to have a grand groundbreaking ceremony. Your group will be heading up that effort. But first, we’re going to kick off the project with a cocktail party on Friday night to celebrate. Rebecca is putting it together as we speak. Wear your dancing shoes.”

Four (#ulink_bd8d4cd9-54b0-5e6c-96da-b51eb0392c24)

The sale was really happening. The lawyers were handling the details and it was off Georgia’s plate. At least for now. Once the land was officially the property of the Newport Corporation, she would start the groundbreaking-ceremony preparation. After that, she had no doubt there would be charity fund-raiser events and a million other tasks on her plate to handle.

But tonight was for celebration, not work.

Carson’s assistant had rented out a chic little bistro on the Magnificent Mile for the party. Wine was flowing like water, a jazz band was playing at a tasteful level in the corner and everyone was mingling and laughing. Every employee, from the janitor to the executives, had loved Cynthia. They knew how important this was to the brothers and were excited about this being the next new project on the agenda.

Folks had put on their fanciest cocktail attire for the night. At least, the women had. There was a rainbow of slinky and sparkly dresses in the room. Georgia herself had opted for a muted gold snakeskin cocktail dress by Tom Ford. It was a little showy, but with a high, scooped neck and long sleeves, it was also very modest, which she liked. The gold complemented her skin tone and brought out the darker tones of her platinum hair. The dress also didn’t really need any jewelry to enhance it, so she’d been able to wear a simple pair of diamond stud earrings.

As usual, the men fell back on their arsenal of suits, although Georgia didn’t mind a bit. She enjoyed the look of a man in a nice suit, especially the Newport brothers. Theirs were custom fitted to their broad shoulders and narrow hips. All three of them were milling around the room, drinks in hand. They were a ridiculously handsome trio, and every single woman in the room was eyeing the bachelors with interest. Except Georgia.

She turned away from them and glanced self-consciously around the room. She knew she should have been socializing, but she was happy to loiter at her cocktail table in the corner, watching the action. She loved working at the Newport Corporation. The people here were the family she’d never had. But at the same time, she wasn’t really great with this kind of social setting. Perhaps it was a handicap of her childhood. She’d moved too much to make friends and never had family she could count on. She watched the world go by from the fringe.

“Good evening, Georgia.”

At the sound of a man’s voice, Georgia turned to her left, startled. She was shocked to find Sutton Winchester standing so near her that they nearly brushed shoulders.

Biting down her irritation with him from earlier in the week, she smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Winchester.” After all, she’d won the battle. She should have been happy to see him and gloat about her victory.

He held up a glass of white wine. “I got you a refill,” he said.

Georgia looked down and noticed she had only half a sip left in her own glass. She set it on the table and accepted the fresh drink. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“I’m not a complete bastard,” he said with a wry smile as he turned to look at the crowd she’d been eyeing a moment before.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

Sutton chuckled heartily before it disintegrated into a string of harsh coughs. “Pardon me,” he said, clearing his throat.

“So, what brings you to our little celebration tonight, Mr. Winchester? You don’t have any pig’s blood stashed in the rafters or anything, do you?”

“Not at all. I was actually invited,” Sutton said with emphasis. “I’m sure the Newport boys want to rub their victory in my face. I’m happy to drink wine on their tab while they do it. Besides that, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?” Georgia turned to him with her brow lifted in surprise.

“Yes. I saw your press conference the other day. I wanted to tell you what a good job you did with it. You worked the press and the social media outlets beautifully. The owner had no real choice but to sell to Newport after that. I underestimated your talent, Georgia. You’re much more than just a pretty face. Knowing that makes me want you on my team even more. Come work for me. I’ll bump that bonus up to 1.2 million dollars if you’ll consider it.”

Georgia couldn’t believe the nerve of him to come into their celebration and proposition her again. “That’s very generous of you, but I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. The answer is still no.” She glanced around the crowd, looking for an escape, but everyone seemed involved in other conversations.

He nodded, sipping his drink and pursing his lips in thought. “I understand you feel a sense of loyalty to the Newports, but this offer doesn’t have to be a package deal. What about the other position we discussed?”