Pink Slips and Glass Slippers (7 page)

Coach Mike Krzyzewski

Interesting, she thought, no picture of a wife? Just before she could ask about the photo on the wall with the small boy, Chase said, “Brooke, I wanted to call you here to see how Integrated Client Services is doing?”

She reached down and searched for the stuffed folders as if picking a card from a deck crammed inside her briefcase. She spotted it and nearly broke two nails pulling it out. Placing it on her knees, she opened it, and said, “Well, so far, we’re on budget.”

“That’s great.”

“It’s a bit of a misnomer though. I have twelve openings in my division, so my P&L is skewed.”

“Why so many openings?”

“I guess they all thought I was Attila the Hun.” She laughed, but noticed Chase’s furrowed brows. Brooke gulped, then continued, “I’ll shoot to you straight—I tend to be brutally honest rather than politically correct.” Chase nodded while he watched her lips move as she spoke. Brooke inhaled, then said, “HR hasn’t been as helpful as I would have liked.” Brooke felt relieved for stopping short of saying
dragged their feet
or
useless
—or worse. Maybe I can be PC, she thought.

“We need to secure the right team to deliver the number this year. What does David Greenberg say?”

Brooke pictured the absentee android and nearly blurted, can you introduce me to him? “I haven’t bothered him with this. He seems like he has a lot on his plate right now. His HR department works at a snail’s pace and the few people they’ve sent me have all been duds. I’ve had more luck on my own.”

“Well, if you’re not getting the support you need, you’ve gotta get in Greenberg’s face. I’ll back you to the hilt.”

“Thank you sir,” she bit her lip, then, “but I’d rather you didn’t say anything. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a tattle tale—running to the CEO. I don’t want to scare any more people away.” In truth, she wanted to nuke the entire division and start fresh. The people who bolted were the marketable ones; the employees who remained needed a perpetual cry towel dispenser. Such a difference from before—nobody ever left GenSense.

“How’s our fill rate?”

Brooke marveled at Chase’s understanding of her world, a microcosm of the greater whole he oversaw. She thought, no wonder he’s CEO—he has a nice grasp of all elements of Pharmical. The ability to grasp the macro, yet understand all the micros. Plus, she loved his enthusiasm—and his chiseled features. That face belonged on a magazine cover.

“My department’s customer fill rate’s in the eighties.” Chase frowned. Brooke said, “It’s not where I’d like it, but without a full staff, I feel like a Band-Aid on an amputated leg.” Chase grinned for the first time in awhile, sending a wave through Brooke. Though even handsome with pursed lips, when he flashed his smile, she melted.

Similarly, Chase enjoyed Brooke’s spirit. Her lips mesmerized him as they formed each word. In addition to brains and wit, she had unmistakable beauty. Heather had pretty features, but Brooke’s beauty stemmed from within. She was the total package. Examining her bio earlier, he wondered why she was single. Was she ever married? Did she have any kids of her own? He realized he couldn’t go there, but craved more information. Imagining her in college, she would’ve been scooped up in two seconds at a Duke party.

“Where would it be if you were at full capacity?”

“In the high nineties. Focusing solely on Stabilitas, there’s no reason our numbers dropped to the low eighties.”

Stabilitas?
The word shattered Chase’s dreamy gaze. His eyes burst as a wave of paranoia mushroomed inside like a nuclear implosion. Did she find out? How could she know? She couldn’t know. He drew a deep breath, and realized his anxiety still lingered since the earlier call. His voice of reason resonated—she couldn’t have heard anything. My door was closed the whole time. I’ve got to settle down.

Brooke sensed Chase’s unease; he’d lost that sparkle in his eye. I’m losing him with this minutia. “Am I boring you with these numbers?” I hope I’m not leaning too far forward.

“Not at all, Brooke, I love numbers.” He slightly furrowed his brows. Brooke had always been perceptive with body language—especially obvious signs like crossing one’s arms in the middle of a negotiation or glancing at one’s watch. Chase’s change was more subtle, but detectable. She hankered for a peek in her compact without him noticing.

“I brought a whole stack of numbers, but I’m still trying to learn ‘em all. What would you like to discuss next?”

“There’s no need to continue beating a dead horse, Brooke. I have all the confidence in the world that you’ll have ICS running smoothly soon. You’ll fill your openings, just be patient.” He peered at her hands, and she folded her left hand on top of her right.

Chase switched gears and asked, “Did Dixon take good care of you?”

“The ankle’s fine—the MRI was negative. And it feels much better. After having said that, can I be honest?”

“Please…”

“After what he said to me, I’d rather amputate my leg than see him again.”

Chase grimaced, wondering how Dixon crossed the line this time. He knew from experience how off the wall he could be. Chase made a mental note to have it out with Dixie-dawg. He decided to avoid discussing him with Brooke, but his scowl spoke volumes.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

Yeah, tell me about your wife? Why don’t you have her picture up? Is that your son next to you? Why are you friends with a creep? Who did you vote for? Why do they call you ‘Boa’? Did you get your own coffee this morning? Boxers or briefs?

Instead, “What is happening with GenSense?”

“What do you mean?”

“An old client called and said he couldn’t re-order any of our products.”

“Listen, GenSense was a strategic acquisition that the Board believed would fit well with our five-year strat plan. Pharmical was intrigued by gene therapy, but it’s new for us—and we still see it as futuristic. I’m pushing for a division dedicated to genetic treatment, but for now, I’m afraid GenSense is on hold.”

Futuristic?
Brooke’s brows scrunched. “On hold? Millions of people die from leukemia each year. GenSense provided hope for so many people—real hope. We had an incredible remission rate. I was expecting Pharmical to obtain FDA approval by now.”

“Don’t get me started with the FDA. It’s a wonder anyone can stay in business with those clowns.”

“We already had enough research data from Canada and Mexico. Our little company secured the green light from the FDA for a test market. Why isn’t Pharmical pushing for a rollout?” Brooke felt her jaw tighten.

“Like I said, we’re going to walk before we run. I’m not at liberty to discuss specifics, but M&A is actively pursuing other companies to buy and integrate.”

Brooke’s stomach churned. Her divine calling had been trampled, now sitting in corporate purgatory, waiting to be
integrated
. Everything she fought for and believed in was now tossed in a company closet. She realized if GenSense existed five years ago, Tanner would still be alive—by her side—rather than a memory lingering like a haunting shadow. She’d return everything…all the money…if only GenSense’s revolutionary treatment could reach the dying masses in time. Brooke’s face turned ashen; with white lips, she said, “Excuse me, Mr. Allman, but I think I’m going to be sick…”

He started saying, “I’ll do my best to try to salvage GenSense—” but Brooke had already lunged toward the door. Asking, “What’s wrong?” Brooke advanced beyond his door. Stunned, he remained silent as he watched her. He wondered why she looked so distressed, but marveled at her faultless figure.

Did I make her sick? Recalling his answers, he didn’t think so. Her reactions seemed peculiar, like an obsession. She definitely cared about GenSense—and he loved her passion, but didn’t realize her rationale.
Women.

Admiring Brooke’s final steps before the elevator, Chase noticed Ruth wasn’t at her desk. He slid his bottom drawer open and removed the picture. He glanced up once more, hoping Ruth wouldn’t just pop in. Coast clear. He spun in his chair and slid the Coach K photo over to the side and set the framed picture in its spot. He breathed a sigh of relief, but while glancing at Heather, he felt a thud. That same face could light him up in the not-so-distant past; now, she looked like a ghost. What a waste. Chase’s hackles rose, causing him to spin back around. He hiccupped in surprise. “Hi Ruth, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry. Are you finished with your meeting with Miss Hart?”

“Yes, did you need me for something?”

“I was just going to put your messages in your in tray.”

“I’ll take ‘em, thanks.” He reached out and grabbed the sizable stack of papers—so much for the electronic age. The small pink reminder slip flashed at his eye like a neon Vegas casino sign: “Call Max Molini. He says it’s important.”

With panther speed, Chase closed his door, then lifted the receiver. On the first ring, “What the fuck took you so long?”

Huh?

To a guy accustomed to people kissing up to him, there were few who could get away with
this
greeting—especially in his office—but Max Molini was one of them. Chase didn’t hire him for his social graces. “Sorry, I was in a meeting.”

“A meetin’? Man, I wish I could just jack around in a meetin’. Well, one of us has to work.”

“You left a message…You said it was important?”

“Are you on a secure line?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have some good news and some bad news.”

“Go on.” Chase hoped Max didn’t say
which one you wanna hear first?

“Well, the good news first. Your little Heather surfaced.”

Chase gulped and the words struck like a sucker punch. Though he had been searching for her for so long, hearing the news brought a wave of apprehension. Life had become easier with her gone. Now that she surfaced, the game changed. And Chase’s risks ran high. “Where is she?”

“I got this second hand, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s accurate…” Max paused for effect, Chase held his breath. “She’s in Minneapolis.”

“That makes sense,” Chase exhaled, “Hazelden’s in Minnesota and I think she had a cousin in the twin cities area.”

“Not so fast, Chief. I haven’t told you the bad news.”

“What’s that?”

“She’s shacked up with some low life scumbag in a not so nice area.”

“She has a boyfriend? Are you sure?”

“Like I said, I’m ninety-nine percent sure, but I’m only one-hundred percent if I see it with my own eyes. Unless you wanna fly my ass from New York to Minneapolis—”

“It doesn’t sound like that would be necessary. What do you have on this guy?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“You’re talking about my wife. This information is exactly what I need to end this marriage once and for all. Don’t worry, I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

“From what I hear, this guy’s lucky he’s still walkin’. About a year ago, he crossed the wrong person, and his enemy list is impressive.”

“Drugs?”

“Bingo! He got busted dealin’ meth and did time. He’s gotten into other shit too, but he’s a small time punk.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do on my end. It’s her life. Or death, in her case. After all I provided, I can’t believe she’d just throw it all away like this.”

“She’s a junkie my friend. And junkies do crazy shit.”

“Well, keep an eye on her. She tried to call Parker once and gave my housekeeper a hard time, but for now, the only threat is to herself.”

“Hey, for what it’s worth, my friend, you don’t deserve this. I’m sorry you gotta go through this. I know it’s hard, believe me, I know. I’ll keep an eye on her for you but try to forget about her.” Max’s
forget about her
blended into one word.

Chase set the receiver back on the hook and stared at his wall. Not the pictures with former presidents, not the Coach K memorabilia. The blank wall. His eyes blurred—not from tears, he was past that—from shock. As the words hit like a punching bag, he felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. In Hell. Max reinforced his gravest fears.

He recalled the day his life fell apart. First, the call from Mary, Parker’s best friend’s mom, wondering where Heather was, and why she didn’t answer her cell. It wasn’t like Heather to be late. Chase knew better. He’d discerned her erratic behavior, listened to her rant and rave about small things, and observed how she coped—by popping pills. Then, racing home, his intuition screamed trouble. Noticing her car in the driveway, he feared the worst. While yelling her name to the empty house, he ran upstairs. There she was—comatose, sprawled out on the bed with a note next to her. The paramedics told Chase that if he’d gotten there an hour later, she would be dead. In many ways, she did die that day.

Beyond the bottle of sleeping pills she swallowed, Heather’s blood work revealed how deeply her addictions extended—Vicodin, OxyContin (“hillbilly heroin”), Demerol, Percocet, Stabilitas, and Cocaine. But, the most damning drug was the trace of Stabilitas. The media would have a field day with that one. He could picture all the talking heads declaring that the new age anti-depressant caused suicide—even for the CEO’s wife. Fortunately, he knew the right people who squashed the information before it landed on the front page or became the top news story. And, so far, he had managed to keep his pending divorce private.

Being forced to live two lives tore at him. All the cover-ups to deceive the public. Lying about the divorce to maintain that good bible-belt image—and his job. Lying to his son about where mommy is. Lying to himself. His conscience tore at him. Chase loved Parker and turned his full attention to his son. He enjoyed tossing a ball back and forth, wrestling on the family room rug, and reading him bedtime stories. But, he missed going on a romantic date, sharing his love, his passion. He accepted his fate that he couldn’t date while living his lie; even though he had every reason, he still felt guilty and hesitant about divorcing Heather.

Hearing Max describe Heather’s new life tore Chase apart. The woman he loved with all his heart and soul—the mother of his child—was a junkie all along. Maybe I should have been there for her? I placed my job ahead of her. Were there signs of her illness, but I was too wrapped up in me to notice? And, the realization stung—she wasn’t coming back; his life would never be what he wanted it to be. He felt like a modern – day Job from the Bible, guessing his suffering would pale in comparison.