Take Your Daughter to Work, Page 2
By Leslie Schmidt
Actually, it turned out good that Maurine couldn’t go out that Wednesday. Robert was still in the Starbucks when his phone rang. It took him a few moments to figure out who was calling him.
“Mr. Randolph? This is Charlie Briggs, I’m a pilot for Statforth and Ashton. We’re just over Tallahassee and will be in Miami in about 45 minutes. It’ll take about a half hour to turn around the airplane; we should be able to get you back to Chicago by 9:30.”
“Uhh…What’s this about?”
“No one called you? Mr. Ashton sent us down to get you.”
Robert had never been on the corporate jet…they had sent it especially for him. HOLY FUCK!
The Gulfstream touched down on a rainy runway at Chicago Midway and was met by a limo. Richard gave the driver his keys and, sometime in the night, his Avalon was rescued from the garage at O’Hare and delivered to a parking garage near the Hancock Center. The Limo was at his house in Skokie at 7:30 AM to take him to work.
Stratforth and Ashton leased the 67th and 68th floors of the John Hancock Center. When Richard walked into the Acquisitions Department at 8:15 everyone in the office stood up and started to clap. Richard’s boss came out of his office and approached as Richard stood dumbfounded at the elevator.
“As soon as you drop your coat off, Mr. Ashton wants to see us upstairs.”
He didn’t get the jet for the ride back to Miami the following Monday, but he was in seat 2A rather than back in coach.
He spent that evening having dinner with the executives of Windward Island Properties, an undercapitalized development firm with leases on land on Canouan and Mustique Islands but not enough money to develop them. With a little luck, everyone in the room would be a lot richer soon. As for Richard, he’d already done well—an EFT of $100K into his account as a bonus was the first thing Mr. Ashton had told him about.
He had already told Donna that he had moved some for a tax dodge. This gave him $25,000 in play money and he hoped to spend the first $5000 soon.
During a pit stop he called BTs. After dealing with the obligatory recorded menus he finally got a live human being.
“Hi, I’m Bobby Randolph. I’m wondering if Maurine may have left a message.”
There was loud music thumping in the background. “Just a minute…” the sound was deadened as the guy answering covered the receiver. Then, “What’s your number?”
“Ahhh…847-675-1813.”
“I’ll give it to her,” …click.
Twenty minutes later his phone chimed for a text:
“U in town?”
“Yes”
“Still want a date?”
“U n Cally?”
“Sure”
“Wednesday?”
“6 @ BTs”
“U bet!”
The next morning at breakfast Maurine watched Cally as she munched on a poptart. Summers were great because they got their mornings together and, during the week, most evenings. Still, Maurine had to work Friday and Saturday nights, that’s when she made most of her money. Over the past few years she had really cooled going out on ‘dates’. She really felt conflicted going to pick up her little girl from her sister after having turned a trick with some guy—even if she made $250 for an hour’s visit to a hotel.
She had, however, developed a better sort of clientele, she liked to think that she was a high-class hooker. These days she charged $750 for an entire evening—and the guys who she dated seemed satisfied. She had ‘dated’ Bobby around half a dozen times. The past two times they spent the whole evening together.
He never talked about price—she had told him up front and he had given her the cash. After that they never talked about money. He always took her to a nice restaurant, not super expensive, middle class places, then they’d walk for a while before going back to his hotel. He was good at small talk, always made her feel comfortable, like she was with a friend. A couple of times he’d bought her small things while they were out—a blouse, an inexpensive necklace.
He was always at the Coral Gables Marriott. It made Maurine feel a little uncomfortable when they went through the lobby, the bell boy or desk clerk sometimes smirked. But they became nothing but professional if Robert even looked at them.
He was respectful, appreciative, and, yes, very good. It was on their third date that she let herself go. She usually didn’t feel so comfortable with a guy that she could do that. Then again, he was the sort of guy that got what he wanted but never made other people feel coerced or used.
Afterwards they always took a cab back to her car and he stayed until she drove away, making sure she was safely on her way home.
Cally was a no-nonsense child—direct—and Maurine had always made it a point to be honest.
“Cally, there’s a guy, Bobby. I’ve dated him a few times and he wants to take both of us out.”
The girl stopped and looked at her breakfast. “You mean like a daddy?”
Maurine paused, “No, like one of my dates.” She watched as the girl absorbed the idea—she looked tense.
“He’s really sweet, a very nice man. I’ve shown him pictures of you that I took at the beach…”
“You mean, we’ll go to a hotel?”
“Yes, after a nice dinner, maybe a movie.”
The child looked up pensively. “You mean he wants to…do it…with me?”
“Both of us.”
Cally got a mischievous smile. “Mommy, you said you don’t do that with the other girls…!”
Maurine smiled, almost laughed, “You’re not an ‘other girl’.”
Her next question totally shocked Maurine: “How much is he paying?”
“Five thousand.”
“Can we get a new car?”
Maurine had just thought about getting the current one fixed…but. “Well, actually, now that I think about it, I think we can.”
“OK.” Colleen picked up the second poptart and bit into it.