“Where are you?”
“On the road. I’ve been shopping. I’ll be home in about an hour.”
“It’s damn cold out there. I’m going to put a pot of chili on, build a fire and curl up in front of it.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll join you shortly.”
Mel hung up the phone and headed for the kitchen humming jingle bells.
It was dark when Alan pulled into the garage. There was still ice around the bottom of the trees in the orange grove, and the sprinklers were already running. The temperature was falling again, but the radio was promising warmer temperatures tomorrow.
He walked into the kitchen, the smell of chili welcoming him. “Hello!” he opened the pot and picked up the wooden spoon from the counter.
“In here,” Mel called from the pool room. The fireplace was in there, and the Christmas tree. There were few lights on; just the one over the stove, the tree lights and fireplace.
“Chili smells great. Tastes better.”
Melissa joined him. She was wearing a long flannel plaid nightshirt, which wouldn’t have been as sexy if she’d actually buttoned it, but as it was, it showed a strip of flesh nearly to her navel. Her hair was a reddish blonde and cut to sweep back over her right ear.
“You look tasty too.”
“You like your women in flannel?” Mel lifted a bottle of Jack Daniels to her lips.
“I like you in anything.”
She handed him the bottle and he took a pull. “You okay?”
She leaned against the wall and stared out the window. “I miss the kids,” she sighed.
“We’ll see them in a couple of days.” He put his arms around her and looked out the window with her. The Windseeker was at the dock and outlined in tiny lights.
“And it’s cold.”
Alan chuckled. “You know, for a girl who was born and raised in Chicago, you have the oddest reaction to cold. We could go sailing.”
“But we’d freeze. I hate the cold. I’ve always hated the cold.”
“And your hobby used to be ice skating.”
“There was nothing cold about that. It was all hard work and sweating. And when I was growing up, I swore I would never live anywhere that it was cold.” She took another swallow of the whiskey. “Tonight, I want to get drunk and get screwed. Care to join me?”
“I’m glad I’m invited along. I was afraid you might have other plans.”
Melissa turned and hugged him tight. “No, none.”
He put his arms around her and hugged her back. She was too tense, he could tell; especially with as much bourbon as was missing from that bottle. “What’s really wrong?”
“Nothing,” she insisted unconvincingly.
He led her to the pool room where a fire was dancing merrily. The only lights were the fireplace and the huge Christmas tree in the corner. It was decorated in ‘early childhood’, with silver balls and various ornaments handmade by the three kids both at home and at school. Alan rather liked the macaroni chain that Robbie had made at pre-school with yarn and a box of rigatoni. A pile of pillows was stacked against the sofa and several quilts were spread out. There was plenty of wood in the basket by the fire and the screen was pulled back to allow maximum heat into the room.
“Come on, you can’t kid me. You don’t break out the straight whiskey because you’re missing the kids, or because it’s cold.”
“I added some to the chili and took a little taste.” She put the bottle to her lips again and took a swallow. “Then I just kinda kept going.”
Alan took the bottle from her and settled on the pillows, pulling her down with him. “Mel, something happened in between the time you called me and I got home. Now what is it?”
“Maybe it’s just PMS,” she said flippantly. She settled under the covers with him, curled against him with her head against his shoulder.
“Nope. I know your calendar as well as you do.”
“Dammit, Alan, will you quit being so perfect? Just shut up and pass me the bottle.”
She reached for it but he held it just beyond her grasp, holding her tightly with his other arm so she couldn’t make a move for it. “Not until you tell.”
“I’m just mad, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”
He continued to hold the bottle just beyond her fingertips. “Mad about what?”
“It’s not you.”
“I didn’t think so. You’ve never been shy about sharing your displeasure before.”
She sighed and settled back against him, no longer fighting his grip or reaching for the bottle. He kicked off his sneakers and leaned back, taking another swallow of the bourbon. “So?” he pressed.
“I got a call this afternoon from one of our employees. He strongly expressed his displeasure in not receiving a Christmas bonus.”
“A Christmas bonus? Who was it?”
“I’d rather not tell you because I don’t want it to effect your working relationship with him.” That was his boss talking, not his wife. “Alan, I really don’t want to go into this right now. I’m pissed off. Just royally pissed off.”
“I thought you were planning to give the clerical staff bonuses.”
“Little ones, a token. We pay our people a fair wage, but you can’t pay more for clerical help than other similar companies in the area. We pay our technical staff, well, and those we need to keep through the entire project, we pay extremely well. They all knew this was a privately held start-up. Any profits aren’t going to be realized until the first project is finished, and that’s when bonuses would come into play. He thinks he should get extra money because it’s Christmas. I’m not a Christmas club, damn it, I’m his employer.” She held up her hand. “Don’t say anything. You asked, and I’m venting, but it’s not your problem, it’s mine. I don’t want to lose a valuable employee over this, but I’m not just handing out cash like some kind of Santa Claus ATM!”
He considered what she’d said. The money end of things was something he’d never paid any attention to. He wanted to build things. Mel knew that, understood it better than any woman he’d ever met. She made it possible for him to use his creativity in new and challenging ways, and had created an ideal environment for his talents. She’d terrified him when she’d formed this new company. It seemed to be an awful gamble, but once he got caught up in it, and found that he could continue leading the lifestyle he had come to enjoy since returning from Alpha, and could work with his closest friend on the project too, he had begun to relax and enjoy himself. He was certain they would be successful and thought his team was happy working together. Just knowing that someone was impatient and dissatisfied was disappointing. He took another swallow of the whiskey and held the bottle within her reach.
“Can I ask a question?”
She took the bottle. “Shoot.”
“I haven’t ever asked much about how things work. You just seem to make it all happen. If we don’t have any income, how do we pay anyone?”
“That’s what the venture capital is for, to underwrite our expenses, mostly salary, but also office expenses, travel to the Rock, things like that. That’s what I have budgeted to spend until we finish the hotel. If we don’t bring the project in by the deadline, we either fold and go out of business or I have to find other funding.”
“And how much of this is our money?”
“Ours personally? Virtually nothing. Ours from the Miller Trust, about three million.”
Alan choked and took another swallow from the bottle. “Three million dollars?” He also knew little about the workings of the trust fund, other than the fact that it was funds from Mel’s grandparents set aside specifically for the children’s education and to establish them in a career.”
“Don’t worry,” Melissa assured him, patting his chest then taking the bottle from him for a swallow of her own. She stretched out beside him. “It’s all perfectly in compliance. Uncle Jack even wanted to invest some of his own money in the venture.”
“Did he?”
“No, I already had my investors lined up.” Alan glanced at her and she continued. “Reg put up ten million and Taro another ten. Both know me, trust me, and know your reputation and John’s. With them backing me and Cellini giving us the contract, everything just fell into place.”
“But still…” One of the reasons Alan never asked about these things was that the amount of money was overwhelming to him. In a government project it was one thing, but this was more personal. Reg was a friend, as was Taro Murata, someone from Melissa’s colorful past. Alan had met him after the company was formed and found him to be likeable, like all of Mel’s other former lovers. Both men were extremely rich and just a little in love with Melissa.
“We’re fine. It’s plenty of capital, and Taro has also privately offered a line of credit if we need it. We won’t. You know I’m incredibly conservative about these things.”
Using Melissa and conservative in the same sentence was in some ways completely ludicrous. But Alan understood. In business matters, she wanted everything planned and controlled and going her way. She was a fanatic about it.
“However, I did not put Christmas bonuses in the budget. I could have shaved his salary some, and given him a lump sum at Christmas, but how he spends his money is his business.”
Melissa curled against her husband again, placing her head in his lap. He stroked her hair gently. Both stared at the fire. He understood why she was mad. He sympathized. He also knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t welcome interference in her field of expertise. They both lay by the fire, simply enjoying being close and watching the play of lights. Alan wasn’t sure if he dozed or not, but somehow a thought floated up to him. He followed the train of thought and considered whether he should share it with her. She seemed calmer, but she certainly hadn’t relaxed completely.
“Can I try out an idea on you? You don’t have to use it if you don’t think it will work.” He approached the subject cautiously.
“Hmmm?” she asked, half sleepily.
“First, I need to know who’s complaining. I understand your reason for not telling me, but I think I know anyway, and I need to know it if my idea is to be useful.”
“Stephenson,” she said shortly.
“Really? He’s such a workaholic I wouldn’t have thought the money would make any difference.”
“Well, he may not really care, but his wife spends it as fast as he makes it. I expect it was her influence having him call on a Saturday evening.”
“Probably. Actually, that works well for my idea.” He took another swallow of the whiskey. “You know, we do have built in holds and delays with the hotel. We work to a point then have to wait for this or that, inspections, draws, custom parts.”
“Yeah?”
“And Cellini does have other smaller projects on his ‘to do’ list.”
Melissa sat up. Alan could almost see her mind grasping the idea and running away with it. “We would have time to fit in some of these other projects in our down time. Something short that could be completed and paid off quicker.”
“Stephenson is someone we don’t want to lose. He’s quick enough to be able to complete some of those projects on his own, if he had a support staff and found someone decent to manage the money end the way you do for us.”
Mel curled up, thinking hard. She propped her chin on one knee, hugging it to her chest. Her other leg dropped to the floor, tailor fashion. With her legs spread like that, Alan could see the red thong she was wearing underneath the nightshirt. He hoped this idea would work and she would get over this business snit and on to more important things. “And, we could include incentives into working on these other projects, to compensate for overtime. If you volunteer for one of the smaller projects, you could be eligible for profit sharing from the payoff. It wouldn’t be a Christmas bonus, but you could certainly make a nice bonus on a regular basis. Would you and John have the time to at least get the projects off the ground?”
“We can check with John, but I’d say yes. Stephenson is one of a couple of people who could handle the everyday tasks of a project with a little backup from John and I.”
“It would give the company some income before the big payoff. I’d need to talk it over with Reg and Taru, then take it before the board. Plus I’d have to talk to Cellini, and John.” She looked toward the kitchen and Alan was sure she was headed for the phone. She grinned at him. “Flyboy, I think you just earned yourself a blow job tonight.”
Alan shrugged modestly, “I do what I can. Mel, all this can wait until tomorrow, don’t you think?”
Her grin grew larger. “You know, I’m sure it can. By the time I talk to Stephenson on Monday, I’ll have all the details figured out and once I’ve chewed him a new one, I’ll toss him a bone and see how far in he’ll chase it.”
Alan rolled his eyes at Melissa’s metaphor, but was glad to see her more relaxed. “For right now, I think you need to cash in on that debt.”
Mel moved toward him with a smile. “With great pleasure, flyboy.”
Maureen J. Long
