Shadows of Innocence

Chapter 1

The digital clock on the silver Mercedes convertible clicked forward to 6:00 PM. Rush hour on Lawndale Avenue on Friday afternoon was the last thing Eddie Stinson needed, maybe on some other day, but definitely not on this day and especially not right now. A trip to the post office, the pharmacy, and the dry cleaners challenged his never late mystique that symbolized Eddie’s work at Computer Systems Solutions. Tonight over aged prime rib or grilled swordfish Eddie’s chances at becoming Senior Systems Analyst will rest in his carefully chosen words to CEO Donald Jermaine.

Eddie stared into the rear view mirror of his 2005 Silver Mercedes convertible and adjusted the Windsor knot of his imported silk tie. Three hours away from joining that exclusive fraternity of men who earn those six figure salaries. Maybe then he could actually afford a real Mercedes and not one that been auctioned off after a wreck at a fifth of its original cost. $71,500 provided Eddie with a comfortable standard of living for a 35 year old bachelor with no financial obligations other than the $900 monthly condo payment.

“Damn!” Eddie spoke aloud to himself as the traffic light motioned through another green-yellow-red cycle with no movement in either direction. Eddie laid on the horn for a few long seconds and then slapped his hands on the side of the steering wheel in disgust. Two cars up from Eddie, a door opens and a very large man in a faded blue greasy pair of garage overalls eases from the car and walks back towards the Mercedes. Suddenly Eddie questioned the wisdom of his out of character lack of patience as the well conditioned man slapped his hand on the hood of the Mercedes.

“Where in the hell do you think I can go Buddy? There are five cars in front of me and a curb to the right and a stalled lane of traffic to my left. Give it a rest. We all have somewhere to go, but we don’t have to act like a jerk.”

Eddie knows the law. The grease monkey had approached him in a belligerent manner and assaulted his car making a veiled threat. There were plenty of witnesses all around that would support him. After all, Phillip Saunders, the head of the company’s legal department would take this case all the way to small claims court and maybe he could get a new paint job from the hand on his hood. Before Eddie could make his put down verbal barrage to the garage mechanic there were a few scattered applauses coming from cars with their windows rolled down on this warm September evening. It was obvious there would be no witnesses from this crowd. Eddie was bothered. He knew he was wrong to honk the horn and that no one in the backed up traffic was to blame and none of them could have done anything about it. Eddie glanced quickly into the mirror and recognized himself as that man that acted as if he owned the world and everyone should yield to his every whim. That was not Eddie Stinson.

Instantly, Eddie’s frustration over his impeding career change allowed him a chance to gather his senses and respond in his truest reflection of his character. He threw his hands up in the air in a conciliatory motion and responded loudly to the mechanic and the attentive crowd as well.
“Sir, you are correct. I apologize for my impatience, rudeness and obvious arrogance. That is not the way I respond to situations or to people. Today has been stressful to say the least and I spoke and acted out of character. All I can do is say I am sorry.” Eddie leaned over and extended his right hand out towards the mechanic and the mechanic responded in kind without hesitation.

“Apology accepted. I had no business getting out of my car and coming back here, but you are not the only one to have a stressful day, my friend. Let’s call it settled and move on.” Eddie squeezed his hand tightly as a man to man sign that they understood each other but both secretly maintained their manhood in front of the gazing motorists without giving or losing ground in this stalled out late autumn road rage.

Letters to the editor in the local paper had always predicted eventual gridlock for the Lawndale and Battleground Avenue merge. No one ever believed it. Until now. But why today of all days must the jack-knifed truck on Interstate 40 and the repaving of Wendover Avenue force four times the traffic into this already overcrowded corridor? Eddie had nickled and dimed his way up the financial ladder $1,500 to $2,000 dollars at a time through dedication, hard work and immaculate annual reviews. Tonight, if all goes well there would be an overnight $48,000 salary increase. The increase alone was more than his starting salary was five years into his career as a programmer after graduating from Cal Poly in computer science. It was eight years of fighting internal cliques and good old boy clubs in his dead-end career at Lone Star Concepts in Houston, Texas. There was no room for the California wonder kid in the internal circle of financial name droppers in south Texas.

It was a total shock to hear from Computer Systems Concepts from Greensboro, North Carolina right out of the blue requesting an interview in 1992. It came from a conversation about the future of firewalls between Eddie and Robert Denton, Senior Programmer at Computer Systems Concepts while standing in line at a deli snack bar in Kansas City at the International Computer Expo. Five minutes of idle chatter, a handshake and an exchange of business cards that happens dozens of times at trade shows led Eddie to his corner office on the 8th floor of the Lincoln Building downtown on Elm Street. Robert Denton needed new and fresh ideas at CSS and Eddie wanted out of Texas. A phone call, a quickly booked red eye flight, and Eddie changed zip codes in three days as it was a corporate marriage made in heaven. In the business world more deals are made over roast beef and rye than are made in board rooms and networking is the way to go in the new millennium. Eddie just called it being at the right place at the right time.

But two more cars inching their way through the intersection let Eddie know this was the wrong place and the wrong time. Eddie wasn’t an analyst for nothing. With an uncanny ability to see the whole as well as its tiny parts Eddie could put a systems process into place that would meet the needs of the most complicated and demanding clients. This afternoon Eddie would have to analyze which of his tasks would have to be eliminated in order to meet the punctuality demands of Donald Jermaine. Eddie prioritized his task list and started analyzing which could be eliminated with the least amount of impact upon his greatest career opportunity. There could be no elimination of the trip to the post office to pick up the overnight letter from his favorite college professor with details of how to display a flow chart of systems analysis for multi-million dollar systems. This was going to be the heart of his dinner presentation to promote himself into the Senior Analyst position. The system was the life work and specialty of his professor that challenged Eddie into thinking outside the box creating roads into areas of cyberspace that have remained unexplored. The overnight mail would be the trump card to play to the CEO to cement the deal. Eddie smiled. He knew that even the garage mechanic could analyze the situation to know that the post office stop had to be kept on the task list. That was a no-brainer.

The closest stop on the task list is the pharmacy at Rx for Less only two blocks away on Westover Drive. But two blocks away in this traffic fiasco might as well be two hundred miles away. Eddie had Dr. Newcomb call in his prescription for general anxiety and heartburn that had been causing more increasing difficulties day by passing day. If there was any day in Eddie’s 35 years that he may face an anxiety attack with breathing and eating difficulty it would be this evening. He knew nothing would cost him the promotion faster than a panic session with difficulty breathing, talking and eating. Perhaps a stop at the convenience store near the post office could combine two stops into one because there is an over-the-counter version now that is almost as good as the prescription one. Eddie quickly ruled out that decision as an analyst should because tonight, of all nights, is not the night to use something that is almost as good.

The restaurant business meeting was at 6:47 PM with the restaurant being behind Eddie on the north end of Battleground Avenue. 6:47 PM. Why 6:47 PM? Eddie’s mind began to drift as the digital clock now stood at 6:05. The meeting could easily have been set for 6:30 or 7:00 or even 6:45 PM. But 6:47 PM had a purpose. It had a definite purpose and Eddie guessed it was his duty to inquire about the uniqueness of that exact timing. Little did Eddie know that the timing of that meeting to 6:47 PM would alter the path of his career and life in a most profound way. There had to be a change of plans as it became clear that all three tasks could not be completed. The dinner suit jacket at Greensboro Cleaners would have to remain there for another couple of days and the first meeting risk would be to go jacketless.

The light finally changed and Eddie was four cars from getting through the clogged intersection and off on a side street to avoid the congestion of the merged roads ahead. One car, two cars, three cars and the last car in front of Eddie pulls through the light as it changes from yellow to red. Eddie slaps his hands on the wheel and sighs aloud and slouches back against the leather seat. A long deep breath is followed by Eddie’s long fingers running through his thick black hair that is so neatly urban professional in appearance. Twenty more seconds and Eddie is out of this madness and on to the most important evening of his professional life, a life that will change starting precisely at 6:47.

There really was no explanation for Eddie to glance over to the car at his left waiting for the light but look he did. It was a casual time-passing moment that everyone does for no purposeful reason. Sitting in the green Camry sedan was a young lady appearing to be in her late 20s or early 30s. It was too difficult to determine as something more striking captivated Eddie’s entire attention. The stranger in this car had a death grip on the wheel with her arms straight and eyes fixed straight ahead. Eddie’s heart was stunned as he saw her lips quiver and tears were streaming down her face. It wasn’t a gentle sobbing as one would do over a sad book or movie. It was a soul-wrenching desperation cry that had tears dripping from the chin. Eddie turned down his radio and noticed the windows open on her car. This wasn’t any of Eddie’s business. Not tonight! Not any night! Eddie had more important events for his life tonight than to wonder about the problems of the stranger in the next lane. Urban people do not get involved anyway; not in this day and age.

The yellow light on the cross-traffic lanes flashed on and Eddie knew it is time to move on with this stressful afternoon. Just as Eddie was about to release his foot from the brake and accelerate through the intersection and out of this surreal traffic hell the lady turned her head briefly towards Eddie’s car. Eddie felt horrible for staring at someone in such obvious misery. He was an analyst but could not analyze this problem and did not know how to bow out of his gaze graciously. The make-up smeared down her face indicated that the crying had been going on for quite a while. Eddie could see bottled up and unbearable pain in her blue-green eyes. There was an emptiness and loneliness in those eyes that revealed a hopelessness unlike any he had ever witnessed. Eddie had no idea where the words came from or why and how they came from his own mouth. Staring directly into her eyes Eddie’s compassion spoke the words gently to the stranger he would never see again.

“I am so sorry. It will be OK.”

The car horns behind Eddie and the stranger blared out in unison. How on earth could anyone be so cold and heartless? Six minutes earlier Eddie was doing the honking and prioritizing his needs as the most important of anyone else in this traffic maze of humanity. Now Eddie wishes for just a few more seconds but he sees the Camry pull on down through the intersection and turns left through the neighborhood out of sight. Eddie speeds through the intersection and takes a right and flies through the houses of the residential upscale neighborhood. The haunting image of that stranger in pain kept moving through his mind as the blocks rolled by along with the turning of the digital clock. It is now 6:23 PM as Eddie pulls into the downtown post office. Quickly he runs into the building and runs to the lock boxes and turns his key into box number 1017 and gets out the overnight envelope from his old professor from Cal Poly. There is no time to open it or study it now. That would have to be done as he waits for his prescription to be filled three miles away.

With the overnight letter under his arm Eddie sprints from the parking lot of Rx for Less through the automatic doors to the back of the store to the pharmacy. Almost breathless Eddie speaks to the pharmacist, “I need to pick up my prescription that Dr. Newcomb called in today for me. My name is Eddie Stinson. I am in a really big hurry if you can get it for me.”

“I’ll do my very best Mr. Stinson. There are a couple of people ahead of you, but your prescription is already filled.”

The clock on the pharmacy wall read 6:33 PM. Eddie needed his anxiety medicine now. Time was running out. He opened the letter and started reading about the construction of a main frame firewall security system. Eddie flipped a page and casually glanced around the room to see how many others were waiting. In the middle of turning the page, he stopped suddenly. Ten feet away from him was the lady in the Camry pacing back and forth with her face now cleaned from the running mascara and make-up. The eyes were still red and puffy and there was a tear streaming down her left cheek.

The lady had still not made eye contact with or recognized Eddie as the guy next to her in the convertible. Suddenly she looks up and straight into Eddie’s stare. She is obviously embarrassed and turns to walk away. Eddie’s thought processes were not now his own but were on cruise control from his very soul. The clock clicked to 6:38 PM. Time was not important in this state Eddie was in. There was no reason to butt into someone else’s business. Eddie needed to be out the door and at the restaurant a mile away. 6:47 PM waits for no one, especially Eddie.

There was no choice. Eddie’s actions were not his own and yet they were all his own. Eddie reached out and touched the lady on the shoulder as her back was to him. The short second before he spoke seemed like an eternity. It wasn’t. It was just 6:38 PM.

“Ma’am, it’s me again, you know the guy in the convertible at the stoplight.”

Eddie waited for a response, any response. None came. The lady stared down at the floor and refused to look at Eddie at all. There was no book or manual on the proper thing to say to a broken-hearted stranger when giving unsolicited comfort. If there was such a book, Eddie knew he had not read enough of it to reach her.

“I know it is none of my business ma’am, but is there anything I can do at all to help you? I am so sorry that you are in so much pain. I will leave you alone now. I have a very important meeting I cannot miss or I would talk with you if you need someone to talk to.”

“Eddie Stinson.”, the loudspeaker at the pharmacy called out. Eddie turned and paid cash for his anxiety medicine and looked at the clock on the wall. It seemed to be running out of control as it pushed upward to 6:40 PM. There had to be something very important about the exactness of 6:47 PM, something very, very important. There was time to make it if Eddie left right this very instant and not 10 seconds later. There just might be a chance to make the restaurant front door right at 6:47 PM.

Eddie turned to run out the front of the door but someone grabbed his arm and spun him around. It was the stranger. She wrapped both of her arms around Eddie and hugged him in a hug that revealed years of neediness and longing for human touch. The hug tightened even harder and Eddie was amazed at the strength of this hurting lady. The clock on the wall said 6:41 PM. Eddie had passed his window of opportunity. The lady raised her face up towards Eddie and whispered quietly through her sobs into his ear.

“Please help me. I’m not going to make it. You have to help me. I have no one.”

“Ma’am, I will help you but just not now, not tonight. If you give me your . . . . “, Eddie was not able to finish as she turned and ran towards the ladies rest room. There was nothing Eddie could do. Eddie turned to the door and the loudspeaker at the pharmacy said, “Prescription ready for Jan Burnetta.” As Eddie jogged toward the front door he saw the mysterious Ms. Burnetta come from the rest room and make her way towards the counter. Eddie quickly scribbled the unusual name on the back of his envelope.

The silver Mercedes pulled up in front of The Guilford Seafood Grille at 6:51 PM. It was not 6:47 PM. That opportunity had passed. Just how costly these four minutes would be will soon be evident. Stepping through the door Eddie sees Donald Jermaine sitting at the bar with an empty seat next to him. As Eddie tried to read Donald’s expression and mood he stepped up toward the barstool and extended his hand.

“It's nice to see you Eddie. Have you got the time?” Donald asked very coldly and directly. There were two big clocks on the wall and Donald’s Presidential Rolex was visible below the sleeve of the freshly pressed shirt of the CEO. Eddie knew he had really messed up and that his flight into saving humanity could very well be the event that cost him the career move of a lifetime.

“It is 6:52, Mr. Jermaine.” Donald responded deciding to be more formal in the light of his failed effort at scripted punctuality. Eddie waited for the lambasting to come from Donald about the importance of being prompt for a job promotion meeting with the owner of the company. 6:47 PM was never mentioned; not then, not later, not ever again.

“Great, Mr. Stinson,” as Donald mimicked the formality of last name addressing, “We have time for a drink before dinner. What would you like?”

“Please, Mr. Jermaine, you can call me Eddie. And I would like a double Crown Royal on the rocks.”

Donald waved the bartender over. “John, a double Royal for my associate and I will have the usual, please.” Eddie was visibly impressed. It was obvious that Donald Jermaine was a regular here and got immediate attention and white gloves service befitting the owner of the city’s fastest growing company over the past ten years. Thirty seconds later the bartender returned and placed the drinks on the polished cherry wood of the bar top.

“A double Royal for you, Sir, and a sparkling water with lemon wedge for you Mr. Jermaine.” Eddie knew that he had just made mistake number two ordering a double loaded alcoholic drink while the CEO has ice water. This was not the way Eddie had pictured this evening in his mind. Eddie had daydreamed a hundred scenarios and yet none of them approached this disaster he was in. Donald laid a twenty dollar bill on the counter and said “Thanks, John. Tell Chrissy hello for me.”

“Will do, Mr. Jermaine. Enjoy your meal.”

The waiter approached them and spoke softly, “Please follow me this way. Your room is ready.”

Room? Did the waiter say ‘room’? Eddie was used to having a table ready and when he slipped the hostess a ten dollar bill he would get a nice table in a quiet corner. But Eddie had never been given a ‘room’. But Eddie was not a CEO. Eddie is about to enter a world that is so different from his modest world. Here the rules are different and so are the players. There could be no mistake number three.

Near the back of the fully occupied restaurant was a semi hidden door toward the side that the waiter opened and escorted the two inside the richly furnished room. It was unlike anything Eddie had ever witnessed other than on television or the movies. There was a fireplace with a gas log and a library type bookcase with fine paintings along the walnut paneled walls. The square table was just big enough for two people. There were four waiters in the room in their suits with tiny black bowties waiting quietly against the wall. Donald and Eddie each had two waiters for their every need. When one waiter would leave for the kitchen or bar the other waiter would take a step closer to the table to make sure that any additional needs would be met until the other waiter returned.

Eddie knew that he must order his meal selection correctly to avoid making yet another career ending mistake in front of the CEO. Should he order first and go mid-range in price or wait until Donald orders and choose from a similar price item? There were too many choices to make, but it was a moot point as Donald spoke up.

“Eddie, I have ordered the smoked salmon from the Puget Sound with capers along with a fresh salad and a red wine dressing. It is exquisite.”

Two of the waiters stepped forward and uncovered the silver trays with the dinners waiting for both Donald and Eddie. The presentation of the salmon was so appealing Eddie did not want to disturb it. But once Eddie started into the salmon he hoped that there would be no talking to break up this delicious meal. The tender salmon flaked off at the very touch of Eddie’s fork and the spices and juices just soaked into the pink flesh of the salmon. Eddie could afford this type of meal on his salary with no spouse or children to divide up his money with. In just a few minutes Eddie knew that with what was going to happen he no longer would ever have to look at the price portion of the menu again.

Five minutes passed and no one spoke during the manly ritual of really enjoying a meal without total social graces. Just as Eddie finished the last bite of salmon the waiter reached over and took the plate and removed it swiftly from the room. Without any visible signal the other waiter approached Eddie and turned over the wine glass and presented an open bottle of apparent vintage white wine to Donald for his inspection. Donald rolled the wine around in the glass and inspected it carefully and held the glass up toward the light. Donald very carefully sniffed the aroma of the wine and ran a small taste of the wine from side to side in his mouth. The waiter looked very anxious and had the look of a person that had disappointed the restaurant’s number one client.

“What vintage did you say this was, George?” Donald asked the wine steward very directly.

“1971, Mr. Jermaine. It was the very best vintage they have produced in over 20 years. Is there anything wrong?”

“No, George. It is just a little drier than what they usually produce.. It is fine.”

“My sincere apologies, Mr. Jermaine. The bottle will be returned and I will get another one and it will be on the house. That is not the type of service we provide for you.”

“George, it is fine. A drier wine will do well for the preparation style of the salmon tonight.”

Eddie was in a panic. He was not a wine drinker. Merlot, Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon. They were all the same to Eddie. He could not know which went before dinner, with dinner, after dinner and which went with fish and which went with red meat. Eddie was a hard liquor man and he felt he really needed a strong drink now. Eddie knew he had to plan ahead for the next couple of minutes. Mr. Jermaine would surely ask his opinion of the wine. He knew that if he said it indeed was on the dry side he would have to explain which wines he liked that were more fruity or woody in taste. If he made no response it would appear that he was unappreciative of very fine wine. Even worse it would show he was not of the social strata to be in Mr. Jermaine’s inner circle of associates that this new job would allow.

The waiter poured Eddie a full glass and stood back from the table with the neatly folded cloth over his arm. Eddie was puzzled that there was no wine poured for Donald. Eddie waited a polite length of time and picked the glass up. He stopped the glass half way to his lips. Should he pretend to smell the wine or slosh it around and pretend he is making his own evaluation of the wine, although not knowing what he was doing? Eddie thought would be an arrogant thing to do since Donald had already provided that service and made the decision. Donald’s eyes followed the glass to Eddie’s lips and watched Eddie take the first sip of the special vintage Chardonnay. Eddie knew that Donald was watching and waiting for some type of response. Eddie was wondering if this was part of the meeting evaluation of him as a worthy candidate.
There was tightness in Eddie’s chest and it was very hard to breathe. Eddie tried to swallow and opened his mouth trying to get as much oxygen in as he could. He felt his face and neck turning red and he knew he could not speak at this moment. The wasted trip to the pharmacy to get the medication for panic attacks and the pills were in his pocket. If Eddie were alone or at home he would get a glass of milk and walk around and extend his arms into the air to get more oxygen into his lungs. Eddie was hoping that the symptoms were self-contained and not as visible as he felt they were. He would be so embarrassed if the waiter started the Heimlich maneuver on him. What would be worse would be for Mr. Jermaine to ask him if he was OK. Eddie forced his breathing slowly in and slowly out and swallowed hard. It was beginning to pass. Maybe no one in the room saw his anxiety attack.

“Eddie. Do you know why I like salmon? Salmon are special creatures. They are born in a freshwater stream many miles inland but make their way out to sea. But at an exact appointed time each salmon makes his way back from the ocean and up the exact stream against all odds to reach home at the exact time. Don’t you find that fascinating, Mr. Stinson?”

Eddie froze. This was a veiled question about getting to an appointment on time. He knew that Donald would not let it go. The best strategy would be not to fight it and not to mention it.

“Yes, Mr. Jermaine. That is very fascinating.” That was all that Eddie needed to say or could say. He felt his chest begin to tighten again. Was Donald playing mind games with him or was that just some idiosyncratic mindless bit of conversation that Eddie was blowing totally out of proportion? Eddie was so confident in the weeks and days leading up to this long awaited evening. Now his confidence was shattered and his future was in doubt. This is not the way a business meeting goes. There has been no mention about work or any mention of the promotion. Eddie knew that the 6:47 PM deadline had sealed his fate and Mr. Jermaine was flying without a script.

Eddie had his letter from Professor Barrett sitting on the edge of the table. He would casually study it when the details of the position were discussed. The tense and awkward silence was broken by Donald.

“Gentlemen, would you please give us some privacy, please.”

The four waiters and the wine steward quickly and quietly eased out the door. Eddie’s heart raced and it was tough to breathe. He was alone in the room across the table from the CEO of a $220 million dollar a year company. Mr. Jermaine rose from the table and walked slowly around the room, stopping only to feel the texture of the finely polished wood of the walls. The silence and delay was destroying Eddie. The room was a cool 70 degrees but small beads of sweat were breaking out along Eddie’s forehead. Eddie hated mind games. This was a mind game. After three minutes Mr. Jermaine stopped in front of Eddie and leaned forward and put both hands on the table and stared directly at Eddie. It was a cold deep stare that looked right into Eddie’s soul. Eddie knew what was about to come from Donald’s lips. Eddie realized that 6:47 was really meant to be 6:47, and all the hoping and praying in the world cannot change that now.

“Mr. Stinson. We both know why we are here. It is no secret. You were my top candidate for the position of Senior Analyst. I have all the details and numbers right here.”

Donald reached over and opened a mahogany brief case and pulled out a letter size manila folder with a purple ribbon around it Donald slowly untied the ribbon and opened the folder slowly and removed the contract. The contract was at least five pages thick and had a notary seal on it and several signatures already visible. Turning his back to Eddie and thumbing through the papers Donald walked once again around the room and stopped at one page of the contract and read it silently to himself. Then he slowly and deliberately set the papers face down on the table in front of Eddie.

“Mr. Stinson. I am going to make this very brief and very simple. I have just three questions for you. The first two I want an answer right away in your own honest and candid response. The last question is more of a rhetorical question that I want you to think long and hard about and answer to yourself only. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Jermaine. I understand completely. I am ready when you are.”

“Mr. Stinson, what do the other programmers and analysts think of me? I mean what do they really think of me?”

This had to be another mind game. Eddie knew that if he mentions the truth about the jokes they say about Donald behind his back, then he is a snitch and not a team player. If Eddie gives Donald the truth about the hateful and cruel things the others say it can do nothing to help his cause. But if he makes up some glossy sugar-coated lie about how much respect they all have for him, Donald would see immediately through his lie. Why did Donald have to continue playing mind games over something that is so very important? Eddie knew that Donald asked for an immediate answer. Time was up.

“Mr. Jermaine, the programmers and analysts do not always give you the respect that an owner and CEO deserve. Programmers are that way as you well know. They have the feeling that you are out of touch with the work they do and that you only crunch financial numbers all day and do not stay in touch with the driving force of systems operations that fed your passion to form this company. They say that…..”

“Thank you, Mr. Stinson. You answered my question. Now I want to ask you the second question. What do you think of me, Mr. Stinson?”

Eddie knew he was finished. He stabbed his coworkers in the back trying to better his position in the company. The truth did not matter. This was big business. Eddie should have lied and told Donald something between the truth and what he felt he should hear. He sold his peers down the river. But he knew that his fellow programmers and analysts would have done the same to him but with more damaging embellishment. It did not matter what he said now. He was finished as far as getting this job was concerned. He never in his wildest dreams envisioned these types of questions. The questions had nothing to do with systems construction, program analysis, or network formatting. Eddie could not help but think this was some type of cruel joke played by a man who gets his fun making people look foolish.

“Mr. Stinson. I am waiting.” Donald was very sharp and direct in his tone.

“Mr. Jermaine. I think that you are a man that had a vision to build a company chasing your dream. I think that you have lost your passion and that you do not enjoy your work the way you did just a few years ago. I think you are too concerned with market share, advertising, and trade shows to even enjoy the scientific nature of what we do. I feel . . . .” Eddie was cut of again in mid-sentence.

“That’s quite enough. That’s all I need to hear.”

Bone honest. That was what Eddie gave Donald. After all, wasn’t that what Donald asked for. Did Donald already know the answers? Was the entire scenario just another mind game? Eddie did not even need to hear the last question. There was no way he would get the promotion now. There was doubt that he would even retain the position he has with the company now. His final day employed at Computer Systems Solutions may have been today. Eddie smiled. His mind may a weak reference to a Biblical Last Supper of Salmon and Salad rather than bread and wine.

Mr. Jermaine reached down and picked up the contract from the manila folder and flipped through it without really reading it. He then tore it in half and then in half again. He pushed a button on the wall and the head waiter came back in.

“Yes, Mr. Jermaine. How may I help you?”

“Please dispose of this will you? It has no more value.” Donald handed the waiter the torn pieces of the contract.

Donald stopped at the door and looked at Eddie very sternly. “Eddie I want to see you in my office Monday morning.” Donald turned to walk out the door. Eddie had nothing at all to lose. He can say anything now because it was obvious he was getting his pink slip and maybe a modest severance package in three days. He never figured it would end this way. Business works in strange ways.

“Mr. Jermaine. You said there were three questions and I didn’t have to answer the last one. What is the third question?”

“Mr. Stinson. Next Monday morning. 9:13 AM.”

“The third question. Mr. Stinson. Ms. Burnetta. I think that is her name. Ms. Burnetta. Was she really worth it?”

Donald walks out the door and it shuts tightly behind him. The clock on the wall read 8:10 PM.