The Corporation

CHAPTER TEN

“GET THE HELL out of here!” Michelle yelled. With one fluid motion she slammed the bathroom stall door shut and rose to her feet. She clutched her slacks in her left hand and attempted to pull them up over her thighs. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was sent here by Sam to see if you were okay,” Alan said.

Leaning her shoulder into the stall door to keep it closed, Michelle managed to get her slacks and panties back up and buttoned. When she opened the stall door Alan was waiting for her. “So you had to follow me into the ladies room?” Michelle tried to interject some anger into her voice, but inside she was scared.

“I have to make sure our latest company asset is well taken care of,” Alan said. He had that same, strange smile on his face.

This was too much. All the strange behavior, the unacceptable mannerisms from her co-workers and now this! When this was over, Human Resources was going to hear about it. Maybe even Alan’s boss. Michelle shouldered her way past Alan and headed to the sink. “I’m fine,” she said. “Now why don’t you get the hell out of here and leave me alone!”

“Do you realize you’re breaking company policy?” Alan said. That strange smile was gone from his face now. Michelle caught him looking at her from the bathroom mirror as she quickly washed her hands.

“Having to pee is breaking company policy?”

“Excusing yourself to attend to personal business while company business is at hand is a violation of company policy,” Alan said. He sounded like a robot. Michelle felt a shiver run down her back. Jesus, he sounds like Dennis Harrington. She turned around and regarded him. As much as he sounded like Dennis he surely didn’t look like him. Alan wasn’t vacant-eyed or devoid of emotion. Alan appeared to be trying to hold his emotions—mirth? happiness? relief?—inside him while trying to appear business-like.

Michelle turned off the faucet and dried her hands on a paper towel from the dispenser. “I don’t give a shit. Report me.”

“I can make it all go away as if it never happened,” Alan said. He stood before her as she attempted to exit the ladies room.

“Get the hell out of my way!”

“Did you hear what I said? I said that I can keep this a secret between us… tell Sam that you’re fine and that you’re right on schedule. He trusts me.”

“Why would he trust you?”

“He just does.”

“Why should I care?”

“Don’t you want to be a part of Corporate Financial?”

“What do you care?”

“I care a lot.”

“The fuck you do!”

“Talking to me in that tone and language is a violation of corporate policy, too.”

“Fuck corporate policy!”

Michelle made another attempt to storm past him again and this time Alan grabbed her shoulders. “You leave now, I’ll make sure you’re fired. If you want to stay, you’re gonna have to blow me!”

Michelle stomped down on the top of Alan’s right foot with as much force as she could muster. Alan yelled and almost released her from his grasp. Michelle drove her left elbow into Alan’s stomach but Alan turned and brought his left arm up in a headlock around her throat. She felt his breath at her right ear as he applied a vice-like grip around her neck. She began to scream. “Get your fucking hands—” and then she was silenced by the meaty weight of his palm, suffocating her nose and mouth.

Michelle struggled wildly in his grip, stomping her feet, trying to elbow him again; she felt her elbow strike his torso, heard a mutter of pain. She tried to bite through his palm and then she felt a sharp pain on her right shoulder blade that paralyzed her. Alan’s voice muttered in her ear. “Calm down. I had to make sure you were real. Just calm down.”

The pain was so paralyzing that Michelle couldn’t fight back. Her vision went blurry; tears sprang to her eyes. She felt her breathing quicken as she thought, he’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me, dear God he’s going to—

“I had to make sure you haven’t been influenced yet,” Alan whispered in her ear. “That was just a test. I’m not going to say anything to Sam, and I’m not going to report you to anybody. I’m here to help.”

The pressure on her shoulder blade subsided and the pain began to diminish. “I know about Dennis and Alma, and I know about Sam and the rest of them,” Alan continued. “I also know about Jay O’Rourke and some of his co-workers at Building Products. Corporate Financial has got a lot of those people now. Jay’s not one of them, but some of his co-workers are now. They’ll probably have them all by the end of the week.”

At the mention of Jay’s name Michelle stiffened. She drew in a breath and felt Alan’s grip around her neck loosen. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. Don’t scream. Please… I don’t want this to be ugly. You’re not one of them so I can trust you. Right?”

Michelle tried to say yes and nodded. She felt Alan’s grip on her loosen and his hand came away from her mouth. She breathed and looked at him through hazy eyes as he stood before her. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

Alan raised a finger to her and winced. He raised his right foot up and gingerly rubbed the top of it with his fingers. “Damn, you got me good.”

Michelle felt her heart race. She was nervous and scared. This was all happening so fast she didn’t know who to believe or trust. “Tell me what’s going on now or I call the police.”

“No police,” Alan said, setting his foot down. “The minute the police get involved, we’re both doomed. They’ll blow my cover and then I’ll be in danger with you.”

“Why will we be in danger?” Michelle’s voice was low, raspy. Her throat felt dry.

Alan rubbed the top of his foot gingerly, still wincing. “I’ll explain everything to you after the meeting… tonight. I promise.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend,” Alan said. “I’m here undercover.”

“Are you a cop?”

“No.” Alan stopped massaging his foot. His features were slightly strained. He pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and wiped his brow. “And you’re not in trouble. I’m not going to say anything about what happened here. I’m not going to tell Sam anything about reporting you.”

“Why would he believe you anyway?”

“He trusts me. He thinks I’m one of them, but I’m not.” Alan inspected himself in the mirror briefly. “Neither are you. You proved that to me just a few minutes ago when your instincts kicked in. If you were one of them, you would have been quick to do what I asked.”

If you want to stay you’re gonna have to blow me. Michelle regarded him warily, her emotions conflicted. A moment ago she’d been scared out of her mind. Alan had done such a sudden about-face that it stunned her. His behavior now was different; his demeanor was so cool, so casual, that part of her felt she should relax her guard, but she’d been so surprised by his behavior earlier that she didn’t know what to do. His character had been so offensive, so unprofessional, that she felt she needed to be on her guard around him. She had to tread lightly, see what was really going on. “What do you mean that you’re not one of them?”

“You’ll understand when we meet later,” Alan said. He smoothed his hair back and turned to her. His features were calm, sensitive. He also looked sorry he’d scared her. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry if I hurt you. Are you okay?”

“No. I mean… yes.” Michelle’s heart was still racing and she felt nervous. She thought about what Donald told her last night regarding Jay’s experience with Dennis Harrington (he was just lying there in his bed… he seemed… empty… dead) and she shuddered. “You scared me but… I’m okay.”

“I’ll explain everything after the meeting,” Alan said. “But right now we need to get back and be attentive to business. I’ll tell Sam that you’re on track with the program.”

On track with what program? She nodded. “Okay.”

“Just act like nothing happened. Behave the way you have been behaving. Pretend you’re interested in what’s being presented. That’s what you’ve been doing anyway, right?”

Alan hit the nail on the head. It was true; she had been acting like she was interested in the meeting when she really wasn’t. She nodded. “Yeah,” she said.

“You’ve fooled the best so far,” Alan said. “That’s part of how you got in. And you have to keep that act up until tonight when we meet. I’ll tell you everything then.”

“You said something about Jay not being one of them,” Michelle asked quickly. “What did you mean by that?”

“He’s for real, like you. He revealed himself to me Monday evening at the Lone Star when he went on that tangent in front of Barb.”

Michelle was still trying to grasp what Alan was saying. “I still don’t understand,” she said. “So Jay spoke his mind. Big deal. A lot of people speak their minds, especially in places and circumstances they shouldn’t.”

Alan’s features were direct and to the point. “He’s human, Michelle. That’s it in a nutshell, plain and simple. He’s human and so are you. And that’s all I care about now.”

“And Sam and Dennis Harrington and everybody else?”

“The board members of Corporate Financial… in fact, all of Corporate Financial except for you and I? And most of their clients, especially those in middle and upper management and the executive level? All the firms they’re influencing? They’re not. They’ve been turned into something else.”

He’s crazy, a part of her whispered. He’s got to be. Dennis Harrington may be weird, but he’s not some… some… thing!

What about the story Jay told Donald? This is dovetailing perfectly! How can you deny that?

What the hell is going on here?

“You still don’t believe me,” Alan said. He was watching her calmly.

“I didn’t say that.”

“I can tell. It’s written all over your face. That’s a good sign.”

“What’s a good sign?”

“That I can read emotion in you. Doubt, fear, anger. It further convinces me that you’re for real.”

“So what if you don’t believe me?” Michelle asked. “I admit I am having a hard time believing this.”

“Here’s something that may convince you,” Alan said. He took a step closer to her, his voice low. “Your parents are Michael and Connie Dowling from Jersey City, New Jersey. They’re long time employees of All Nation Insurance. You were born on June 2, 1968. You weren’t wanted, your parents were young and struggling to climb the corporate ladder at the time and abortion was not an option at that period. You spent most of your childhood at daycare centers during the day while your parents worked long hours for All Nation’s corporate goals. You were essentially a latch key kid and you never understood why your parents had to work so much.”

“Stop it,” Michelle said, her voice lowered and trembling as a door opened in her mind, releasing a flood of memories.

Alan ignored her and continued. “That’s why you buried yourself in art, because you never had the attention of your parents. Even your relatives were blinded by the fact that there was something wrong with your parents. They made all the right moves, said all the right things to convince their families that everything was normal—they looked normal, dressed normal, behaved normal, had a normal suburban house, had a nice, well-mannered child and held good solid positions with their employer. Typical middle-class caricature, right? So it seemed to everybody but you knew it wasn’t.”

“That’s not true,” Michelle said. She felt a pain in her chest as she remembered nights spent begging her mother to look at her drawings, to play with her. Mother had been too self-absorbed in work, going over documents that were work-related even when she was at home. She remembered her father taking her to the office on Saturday mornings when she was very young… five, six years old, and placing her in front of a keypunch terminal and giving her punch cards to play with while he toddled off to his cubicle nearby to work. Even then Michelle had been only interested in pleasing him, in playing with the machine to make him happy, and it had. Her father had beamed that day, telling his co-workers, “Look at her! We got ourselves a future All Nation employee!”, and his co-workers had smiled and told her what a good girl she was, and that had made her feel proud.

“You were talked into becoming a business major by your parents in high school when you secretly hated it,” Alan continued. “You didn’t know it at the time, but subconsciously you didn’t want to have anything to do with what your parents did for a living because you already associated it with negative feelings. You majored in business anyway to make them happy because you still wanted their approval.”

“Stop,” Michelle said, the memories flooding her.

“You wanted to go to college and pursue a liberal arts degree,” Alan continued. “You wanted a career in the creative arts. Your parents disapproved, and they talked you into getting a job at All Nation right after high school because they convinced you that starting your career early would get you in the door, and you could work your way up the ladder and have a long career with them. You worked at All Nation. Your parents were in high positions by then, and they helped you get in the door. Then when you got pregnant, your mother tried to talk you into having an abortion.”

“Shut up!” Michelle yelled. She clasped her hands over her ears. Her vision blurred with tears as she remembered those conversations, remembered those emotions of turmoil.

Alan paused. His kind, sensitive features were troubled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for bringing that up and for… what happened.”

Michelle tried to staunch the flow of tears. She’d never told anybody about the conversations she had with her mother about Alanis, and how her mother suggested to her that she abort her child. The only person she’d ever told was Donald. “How…” she began, sniffing back tears. “Why…?”

Alan put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m on your side, Michelle. The organization I’m really with… we’re on your side.”

Michelle took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. Everything Alan just told her confirmed everything she’d always felt—that her parents never wanted her because her arrival got in the way of their career plans. “My parents… I haven’t seen them… even thought about them… in so long.”

“Was there ever a time when you thought there was something wrong with your parents?” Alan asked softly.

A wave of memories rushed by and Michelle sorted through them, searching her memory banks. She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dried her face. “When I was a teenager. But then all teenagers think their parents are from another planet when they’re that age.”

“What about later?”

Michelle looked down at the floor, twiddling the paper towel in her fingers. She remembered the conversations she’d had with her mother when she first learned she was pregnant. Her mother’s voice, cold, emotionless, came back to her unbidden. A child will only spoil your career… it’s a mistake… get rid of it now before you ruin your future with the company.

Get rid of it now before you ruin your future with the company.

…your future with the company…

…with the company…

Michelle blinked back the tears and took a deep breath. “When my mother told me that my career with All Nation was more important than the life of her unborn grandchild, I knew there was something wrong with her. I knew she wasn’t… wasn’t the woman I thought she was. I… for so long I tried to pretend that the reason my parents were never around for me, that the reason they were more interested in work than me, was because they were… they needed to work to keep… a roof over our heads. I mean, they provided for me, we had a home, food, clothes. We weren’t on the streets, we had a good home. But…”

“They were never there for you,” Alan said. “They put their jobs with All Nation above you; made it a priority even though they really didn’t need to do that. They could have skated by if only one of them worked; your mother could have been a stay-at-home mom. They could have taken less strenuous and lower paying positions and they still would have been able to take care of you adequately, but they didn’t. Right?”

Michelle nodded. The emotional pain was great but she didn’t cry. She held back the flow of tears, took a deep breath and composed herself. She dabbed at her eyes again with the paper towel. “I realized that when I was pregnant,” she said, her voice shaky. “That… that they placed an emphasis on work… on giving yourself over to your employer’s cause above everything else. Work was more important than everything to them including family… friends… life itself. And… that’s why I haven’t so much as spoken to them in almost ten years.”

Alan nodded. “Your parents were early clients of Corporate Financial. They entered a training program Corporate Financial conducted in the mid-sixties. That’s one of the reasons why Sam tapped you for your position. Your entire employment background was exhaustively researched. When they saw that you worked for All Nation in the late eighties and early nineties, they dug up your old Personnel files. Your corporate rating was A1—the highest mark an employee can receive. It was noted in your personnel file that your reason for leaving All Nation was to pursue other business interests. That careful wording was acceptable to them. Had you indicated the real reason, it would have raised red flags.”

The more Michelle was hearing, the more confused and nervous she was getting. She was no longer emotionally battered from the sudden rush of memories of her upbringing; they were being eclipsed by what Alan was now telling her. “But I left All Nation to pursue my art career,” she said. “I don’t remember putting that in… that form or whatever it was they had me fill out when I quit, but—”

“I saw a photocopy of the form,” Alan said. “Trust me, that’s what you put down. Smart move. Had you put down you were pursuing an art career you would have been black-listed and you never would have been hired at Corporate Financial.”

Michelle looked at Alan, suddenly wanting to know everything. She was just about to ask him another question when he quickly beat her to it. “Later,” he said, gently turning her toward the mirror. “Straighten yourself up and let’s get back to that meeting. Sam will begin to wonder what’s going on and we don’t want them suspicious.”

Michelle started doing what Alan suggested, inspecting herself in the mirror, straightening her hair, her composure. She looked okay; eyes a little too red from crying, but at least her mascara hadn’t run and her face wasn’t red. Alan quickly inspected him-self in the mirror and then, once satisfied he looked presentable, turned to her. “You look fine. When we get back to the meeting, pretend things are okay and that nothing happened. If Sam asks me what happened, I’ll take care of it. Should he pull you aside later and ask you, tell him you were feeling sick and you waited for it to pass, and that once you were over it you got your mind back into work and came back. I’m going to tell him I checked on you, saw you were feeling sick, went into the men’s room real quick, and then waited for you to come out and made sure you were okay before we returned. He’ll believe me.”

Michelle inspected herself one last time before she grasped her purse. “Okay.” She took a deep breath, preparing herself to go back into the meeting. Pretend to be interested, she thought. Look and behave the way you always behave when you’re bored at work—pretend you’re really into the drudgery you were hired to do. Say the right buzz words, step into the role.

Jesus, I should have been an actress, she thought. She turned to Alan. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“Good. This meeting might last until eight. When it adjourns, head straight to your room, order room service if you’re hungry, then get some sleep. Set your alarm for three a.m. and meet me in the lobby at three-fifteen. I have a car—we’ll talk in there.”

Michelle nodded. “Fine,” she said.

Then they headed back to the meeting, looking every bit as presentable and business-like as they had when they first entered the conference room earlier that day.