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By the time I’m finished, my friend has gone from shocked to horrified, finally landing on indignant.
“How the hell have you been sitting on this all by yourself?!” she exclaims. “I feel like I’ve failed as a best friend.”
I laugh again. “You have. Irrevocably. Thus you owe me a night of drinks once you come back.”
“On me. Anything I can do to make this right,” Anna says. “But seriously, that’s kinda a lot to process. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Neither do I,” I say. “I’ve been going crazy all week trying to prepare. Of course there’s nothing I can do about Rhett. He hates me.”
“Has it been weird since?” Anna asks.
“It hasn’t been anything!” I say. “He’s disappeared completely since that meeting. Nobody’s seen him, and he’s not responding to my e-mails.”
I minimize Anna’s face and pull up my inbox out of habit. Nothing still, just another e-mail from Jefferson Reed’s assistant. My stressful day hadn’t ended when I’d left Sloane Westing’s office, but everything had worked itself out. I’d landed the account and survived another day at the Westing Bank. Now, in the face of a real challenge, I can’t even remember what I was so worried about.
I flip to my sent e-mails, scroll through the unanswered messages. We really need to talk before we leave. Have you found out anything about the Alencars that will be useful? Do you have a plan? Are you getting my e-mails?
Hello?
“Who knows if he’ll even show up tomorrow,” I say. “I don’t know why he’s acting like this is beneath him. The Alencar account, even halved, will be one of our largest accounts ever.”
“He just doesn’t have anything on the line,” Anna says. “Why should he care if you succeed? It won’t affect him at all.”
“Exactly,” I say. “I’ve got to assume that Rhett isn’t going to be any help on this trip. Actually, he’ll probably be a hindrance. I can’t babysit him the entire time. What if he makes headlines in Chicago doing something stupid? Then Sloane Westing will think I’m incapable of controlling him!”
“Liz,” Anna says soothingly. “Your job is to get the account, not corral an overgrown man-baby. Focus on one thing — Marie Alencar. If the meeting went like you said it did, then I think Sloane is well aware that her son isn’t going to be an asset here.”
“Then why is she sending him with me?” I bemoan. Is Rhett a part of the test? Is he a handicap, to make things difficult? If that’s the case then Ms. Westing might have an inflated sense of my ability. Now let me be clear: I am very good at my job. But the problem my esteemed boss has plopped in my lap would test even the mightiest of recruiters.
I’ve done a lot of research into the Alencars on my off hours. I’ve read newspapers from the ‘90s, poured over articles ranging from gossip pieces to financial columns. I’ve seen pictures of them across the years, read their Wikipedia page half a dozen times, and scoured message boards filled with speculation on how their marriage would affect stock prices. Little things popped out immediately, like a vacation for him in 2004, stepping out of their LA offices for an extended break abroad while she ran the business alone. Rehab maybe? Or a separation after an affair? There are no children; now that they’re in their early sixties there never will be.
I’ve done my research, but no amount of preparation can convince me that this is in the bag. Go to a convention intending to hook a valuable client? Hell yeah, I can do that all damn day. But snipe one based solely around knowing a personal secret that isn’t supposed to be out to the public yet? Difficult to the point of impossible. After a week of planning, I still have no strategy other than show up and try my best.
Add in hauling Rhett Westing along with me and my best may just not be enough.
Anna makes a valiant attempt to answer my question. “Maybe she wants you to rub off on him,” she tries.
“Ew,” I say immediately. “There’s no way she wants or expects that from me.”
Anna rolls her eyes. “I meant influence him. Like, with your business savvy.”
“Oh. You have to be clearer.”
“I think I was pretty clear. Why does your mind always go down the dirtiest path?”
“It does not!” I protest.
“It does. But in the case of Mr. Westing, I can’t really blame you. I just did a bit of Googling and holy shit.”
I groan in disgust. “Wipe that tone from your… tone. Rhett looks good on paper but in person he’s a Grade-A Asshole.”
“I thought the same thing about Cole,” Anna says in a sing-song voice. “And now look at us.”
“That’s because Cole ended up having a bit of depth despite the odds. Trust me. Mr. Rhett J. Westing, IV, is just a spoiled jerk.”
“I’ll be reminding you of this conversation in my Maid of Honor speech.”
“Oh my god, Anna,” I say, grimacing so hard that I pull a muscle in my cheek. “The best I can hope for is a stable working relationship with the guy. He’ll be my boss one day, if I don’t jump ship when Sloane does. Besides, he’s completely not my type.”
