Disclosure: A Novel (37 page)

Men screw women and get ahead. Everybody's going to screw everybody else anyway, if they can. Because they want to. I mean, women are just as hot as men. They want it just like we do. That's real life. But you get some people who are pissed off, so they file a complaint, and say, Òh no, you can't do that to me.' I'm telling you, it's all bullshit. Like these sensitivity training seminars we all have to go to. Everybody sits there with their hands in their laps like a fucking Red Guard meeting, learning the correct way to address your fellow workers. But afterward everybody goes out and fucks around, the same as they always did. The assistants go, Òh, Mr. Jackson, have you been to the gym? You look so .strong.' Batting their eyelashes. So what am I supposed to do? You can't make rules about this. People get hungry, they eat. Doesn't matter how many meetings they attend. This is all a gigantic jerk off. And anybody who buys into it is an asshole."

"I guess you answered my question," Sanders said. He got up to leave. Obviously, Jackson wasn't going to help him.

"Look," Jackson said. "I'm sorry you've got a problem here. But everyone's too damned sensitive these days. I see people now, kids right out of college, and they really think they should never experience an unpleasant moment. Nobody should ever say anything they don't like, or tell a joke they don't like. But the thing is, nobody can make the world be the way they want it to be all the time. Things always happen that embarrass you or piss you off. That's life. I hear women telling jokes about men every day. Offensive jokes.

Dirty jokes. I don't get bent out of shape. Life is great. Who has time for this crap? Not me."

Sanders came out of the Aldus Building at five o'clock. Tired and discouraged, he trudged back toward the Hazzard Building. The streets were wet, but the rain had stopped, and the afternoon sunlight was trying to break through the clouds.

He was back in his office ten minutes later. Cindy was not at her desk, and Fernandez was gone. He felt deserted and alone and hopeless. He sat down and dialed the final number on his list.

"Squire Electronic Data Systems, good evening."

Sanders said, "Frederic Cohen's office, please."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen has gone for the day."

"Do you know how I could reach him?"

"I'm afraid I don't. Do you want to leave voice mail?"

Damn, he thought. What was the point? But he said, "Yes, please." There was a click.

Then, "Hi, this is Fred Cohen. Leave a message at the tone. If it's after hours, you can try me on my car phone at 502-8804 or my home at 505-9943."

Sanders jotted the numbers down. He dialed the car phone first. He heard a crackle of static, then:

"I know, honey, I'm sorry I'm late, but I'm on my way. I just got tied up.),

"Mr. Cohen?"

"Oh." A pause. "Yes. This is Fred Cohen."

"My name is Tom Sanders. I work over at DigiCom, and-"

"I know who you are." The voice sounded tense.

"I understand you used to work for Meredith Johnson."

"Yes. I did."

"I wonder if I could talk to you."

"What about?"

"About your experiences. Working for her."

There was a long pause. Finally, Cohen said, "What would be the point of that?"

"Well, I'm in a sort of a dispute with Meredith now, and-"

"I know you are."

"Yes, and you see, I would like to-"

"Look. Tom. I left DigiCom two years ago. Whatever happened is ancient history now."

"Well, actually," Sanders said, "it's not, because I'm trying to establish a pattern of behavior and-"

"I know what you're trying to do. But this is very touchy stuff, Tom. I don't want to get into it."

"If we could just talk," Sanders said. "Just for a few minutes."

"Tom." Cohen's voice was flat. "Tom, I'm married now. I have a wife. She's pregnant. I don't have anything to say about Meredith Johnson. Nothing at all."

"But "

"I'm sorry. I've got to go."

Click.

Cindy came back in as he was hanging up the phone. She pushed a cup of coffee in front of him. "Everything okay?"

"No," he said. "Everything is terrible." He was reluctant to admit, even to himself, that he had no more moves left. He had approached three men, and they had each refused to establish a pattern of behavior for him. He doubted that the other men on the list would behave differently. He found himself thinking of what his wife, Susan, had said two days before. You have no moves. Now, after all this effort, it turned out to be true. He was finished. "Where's Fernandez?"

"She's meeting with Blackburn."

"What?"

Cindy nodded. "In the small conference room. They've been there about fifteen minutes now."

"Oh, Christ."

He got up from his desk and went down the hall. He saw Fernandez sitting with Blackburn in the conference room. Fernandez was making notes on her legal pad, head bent deferentially. Blackburn was running his hands down his lapels and looking upward as he spoke. He seemed to be dictating to her.

Then Blackburn saw him, and waved him over. Sanders went into the conference room.

"Tom," Blackburn said, with a smile. "I was just coming to see you. Good news: I think we've been able to resolve this situation. I mean, really resolve it. Once and for all."

"Uh-huh," Sanders said. He didn't believe a word of it. He turned to Fernandez.

Fernandez looked up from her legal pad slowly. She appeared dazed. "That's the way it looks."

Blackburn stood and faced Sanders. "I can't tell you how pleased I am, Tom. I've been working on Bob all afternoon. And he's finally come to face reality. The plain fact is, the company has a problem, Tom. And we owe you a debt of gratitude for bringing it so clearly to our attention. This can't go on. Bob knows he has to deal with it. And he will."

Sanders just stared. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. But there was Fernandez, nodding and smiling.

Blackburn smoothed his tie. "But as Frank Lloyd Wright once said, `God is in the details.'

You know, Tom, we have one small immediate problem, a political problem, having to do with the merger. We're asking your help with the briefing tomorrow for Marden, Conley's CEO. But after that . . . well, you've been badly wronged, Tom. This company has wronged you. And we recognize that we have an obligation to make it up to you, whatever way we can."

Still disbelieving it, Sanders said harshly, "What exactly are we talking about?"

Blackburn's voice was soothing. "Well, Tom, at this point, that's really up to you," he said.

"I've given Louise the parameters of a potential deal, and all the options that we would agree to. You can discuss it with her and get back to us. We'll sign any interim papers you require, of course. All that we ask in return is that you attend the meeting tomorrow and help us to get through the merger. Fair enough?"

Blackburn extended his hand and held it there.

Sanders stared.

"From the bottom of my heart, Tom, I'm sorry for all that has happened."

Sanders shook his hand.

"Thank you, Tom," Blackburn said. "Thank you for your patience, and thank you on behalf of this company. Now, sit down and talk with Louise, and let us know what you decide."

And Blackburn left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He turned to Fernandez.

"What the hell is this all about?" Fernandez gave a long sigh. "It's called capitulation,"

she said. "Total and complete capitulation. DigiCom just folded."

Sanders watched Blackburn walk down the hallway away from the conference room. He was filled with confused feelings. Suddenly, he was being told it was all over, and over without a fight. Without blood being spilled.

Watching Blackburn, he had a sudden image of blood in the bathroom sink of his old apartment. And this time, he remembered where it came from. A part of the chronology fell into place.

Blackburn was staying at his apartment during his divorce. He was on edge, and drinking too much. One day he cut himself so badly while shaving that the sink was spattered with blood. Later on, Meredith saw the blood in the sink and on the towels, and she said, "Did one of you guys fuck her while she was having her period?" Meredith was always blunt that way. She liked to startle people, to shock them.

And then, one Saturday afternoon, she walked around the apartment in white stockings and a garter belt and a bra while Phil was watching television. Sanders said to her, "What are you doing that for?"

`Just cheering him up," Meredith replied. She threw herself back on the bed. "Now why don't you cheer me up?" she said. And she pulled her legs back, opening-

"Tom? Are you listening to me?" Fernandez was saying. "Hello? Tom? Are you there?"

"I'm here," Sanders said.

But he was still watching Blackburn, thinking about Blackburn. Now he remembered another time, a few years later. Sanders had started dating Susan, and Phil had dinner with the two of them one night. Susan went to the bathroom. "She's great," Blackburn said. "She's terrific. She's beautiful and she's great."

"But?"

"But . . ." Blackburn had shrugged. "She's a lawyer."

“So?”

"You can never trust a lawyer," Blackburn had said, and laughed. One of his rueful, wise laughs.

You can never trust a lawyer.

Now, standing in the DigiCom conference room, Sanders watched as Blackburn disappeared around a corner. He turned back to Fernandez.

“. . really had no choice," Fernandez was saying. "The whole situation finally became untenable. The fact situation with Johnson is bad. And the tape is dangerous they don't want it played, and they're afraid it will get out. They have a problem about prior sexual harassment by Johnson; she's done it before, and they know it. Even though none of the men you talked to has agreed to talk, one of them might in the future, and they know it.

And of course they've got their chief counsel revealing company information to a reporter."

Sanders said, "What?"

She nodded. "Blackburn was the one who gave the story to Connie Walsh. He acted in flagrant violation of all rules of conduct for an employee of the company. He's a major problem for them. And it all just became too much. These things could bring down the entire company. Looking at it rationally, they had to make a deal with you."

"Yeah," Sanders said. "But none of this is rational, you know?"

"You're acting like you don't believe it," Fernandez said. "Believe it. It just got too big.

They couldn't sit on it anymore."

"So what's the deal?"

Fernandez looked at her notes. "You got your whole shopping list. They'll fire Johnson.

They'll give you her job, if you want that. Or they'll reinstate you at your present position.

Or they'll give you another position in the company. They'll pay you a hundred thousand in pain and suffering and they'll pay my fees. Or they'll negotiate a termination agreement, if you want that. In any case, they'll give you full stock options if and when the division goes public. Whether you choose to remain with the company or not."

`Jesus Christ."

She nodded. "Total capitulation."

"You really believe Blackburn means it?"

You can never trust a lawyer.

"Yes," she said. "Frankly, it's the first thing that has made any sense to me all day. They had to do this, Tom. Their exposure is too great, and the stakes are too high."

"And what about this briefing?"

"They're worried about the merger-as you suspected when all this began. They don't want to blow it with any sudden changes now. So they want you to participate in the briefing tomorrow with Johnson, as if everything was normal. Then early next week, Johnson will have a physical exam as part of her insurance for the new job. The exam will uncover serious health problems, maybe even cancer, which will force a regrettable change in management."

"I see."

He went to the window and looked out at the city. The clouds were higher, and the evening sun was breaking through. He took a deep breath.

"And if I don't participate in the briefing?"

"It's up to you, but I would, if I were you," Fernandez said. "At this point, you really are in a position to bring down the company. And what good is that?"

He took another deep breath. He was feeling better all the time.

"You're saying this is over," he said, finally.

"Yes. It's over, and you've won. You pulled it off: Congratulations, Tom."

She shook his hand.

`Jesus Christ," he said.

She stood up. "I'm going to draw up an instrument outlining my conversation with Blackburn, specifying these options, and send it to him for his signature in an hour. I'll call you when I have it signed. Meanwhile, I recommend you do whatever preparation you need for this meeting tomorrow, and get some much deserved rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay,"

It was slowly seeping into him, the realization that it was over. Really over. It had happened so suddenly and so completely, he was a little dazed.

"Congratulations again," Fernandez said. She folded her briefcase and left.

He was back in his office at about six. Cindy was leaving; she asked if he needed her, and he said he didn't. Sanders sat at his desk and stared out the window for a while, savoring the conclusion of the day. Through his open door, he watched as people left for the night, heading down the hall. Finally he called his wife in Phoenix to tell her the news, but her line was busy.

There was a knock at his door. He looked up and saw Blackburn standing there, looking apologetic. "Got a minute?"

"Sure."

"I just wanted to repeat to you, on a personal level, how sorry I am about all this. In the press of complex corporate problems like this, human values may get lost, despite the best of intentions. While we intend to be fair to everyone, sometimes we fail. And what is a corporation if not a human group, a group of human beings? We're all people, underneath it all. As Alexander Pope once said, `We're all just human.' So recognizing your own graciousness through all this, I want to say to you . . .

Sanders wasn't listening. He was tired; all he really heard was that Phil realized he had screwed up, and now was trying to repair things in his usual manner, by sucking up to someone he had earlier bullied.