Chapter 16

STEVE approached the Polar Bear offices with one big question on his mind: How do you tell your "pal" that the woman he's madly in love with is a two-timing whore?

Steve hesitated at the main entrance and tiredly shrugged. He was tired because he had been up most of the night mulling over the Tommy Crandon-Mildred Whitney tangle. "That woman," he muttered. Steve could blink at most anyone playing both ends against the middle—but this bitch really believed in hedging all her bets.

Steve entered the office and was instantly aware that this wasn't a routine Monday morning. At nine-forty-five the entire sales crew was loitering about the outer office area; most of them were milling thickly about the office girls, the chatter lively and the pawing obvious.

Steve smiled widely. Sheldon was evidently too busy grasping at every possible scheme for control of the company to bother with his pet ritual—the Mon-day morning sales meeting.

"Hey, Steve!" Phil Stanzer, one of the older sales-men, called out. "You're a big wheel now, you can tell us whether we have to wait around or not for Sheldon."

"Where's Mildred?" Steve asked.

"She's not in yet, either," a younger salesman called out, then snickered. "I wonder-wonder why?"

A howl of laughter went up and Steve motioned for everyone to keep the noise down. Steve didn't bother to inquire whether or not Dan Moore was in. The old boy rarely ever made an appearance before eleven.

"Hey, Steve," another salesman called out. "Why don't you hold the sales meeting? You oughta know Sheldon's lines by heart!"

Steve waited for the laughter and shouts of approval to subside. "Boys, when my sales crew finally gets into action, I'm holding sales meetings on Friday afternoons—at Matty's Bar!" Steve motioned for the men to restrain their cheering. "And that's not all—the man with the lowest weekly sales gross gets stuck for the entire tab!"

Nina worked her way through the clutter of idle employees, seeking Steve's attention. Steve gestured that he'd be with her momentarily, then faced the salescrew. "Okay, men, I'll be responsible. No sales meeting this morning. So take off and make money." Steve moved quickly through the happy salesmen making their mass exodus, walking alongside Nina to his office. "What's up, Nina?" He opened the door of his private office, entered behind Nina. "Well, why the gloom, Nina? We've still got our jobs in this mad-house; I told you I spoke to Adele on the phone and all was forgiven."

"Dolly Conway's mother called first thing this morning," Nina started. "She was raving like a mad-woman about some man in the office getting Dolly in trouble. Dolly hasn't been home all weekend—"

"Dolly's big enough to take care of herself," Steve cut in.

"Big enough—yes," Nina shot back. "But not old enough, she's a minor—under twenty-one."

Steve stopped short, his legs went rubbery as the thought of underaged Dolly triggered Dan Moore's name into focus. Nina watched him. "Steve, every-body around the office knows that Mister Moore has been fooling around with Dolly."

"Get me Dolly," Steve ordered, "I think she works up in accounting. I'll have a long talk with her."

"Steve, I'm trying to tell you, Dolly didn't show up for work this morning—and Mister Moore hasn't been at his hotel all weekend."

"Oh, no!" Steve sagged.

"And that's not all," Nina went on. "Dolly's mother threatened to call the police."

"We've got to keep this quiet."

"Steve, I've got one more low blow for you. When Mrs. Conway called she demanded to talk to `the boss.' Sheldon came in at nine sharp, right behind me, and we both happened to be at the switchboard. Lucy was a little late, so I took the call—but . . ."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes," Nina shrugged. "Sheldon smelled some-thing and took the call away from me. He sweet-talked Mrs. Conway and promised he'd take care of everything if she'd hold off calling the police."

"Don't tell me anymore," Steve sickened, "it'll only get worse."

"That's right, Steve. The moment Sheldon hung up, he got Mister Moore's hotel number and questioned the desk clerk. The more questions he'd ask—the more he smiled. Then Sheldon lit up like a Christmas tree and dashed right out of the office."

"Yeah," Steve started slowly. "Right over to black-mail Adele."

Nina looked confused. "Exactly what's going on around here?"

"That's a good question, Nina, but I know one thing—I'm clearing out of this nuthouse! I've got a bellyful! The hell with the title—the hell with being an executive! I'll get a job somewhere."

Nina squared-off with Steve. "If you do that, you'll never amount to anything, Steve."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "You're telling me it's okay to play dirty in the mud?"

"No, Steve, it isn't—but a more important issue is at stake."

"I just don't get you, Nina . . ."

"Steve, my father believed in giving his children a free hand in making their decisions. He'd let us have our way, but whenever we ran into unpleasant snags, you know what he'd say? `You made your own bed—now sleep in it.' So maybe it's dirty, and maybe that's how you'll have to play it, too, but the most important thing is to see it through." She jabbed a fore-finger close to his face. "Next time you'll start off with an important bit of knowledge: sex and business just don't mix."

"Nina, you never cease to amaze me." He cupped her chin, deciding to flick her a gentle, fleeting kiss, but he enjoyed the smooth clinging effect of her lips and he lingered at it, pulled back slowly, eyes fully on her.

"Steve," she said smiling. "If you keep doing that —I'll probably ask for a raise."

Steve smiled dumbly, unable to muster words. He gently gripped her arms, held her out for inspection. She passed with flying colors. The spiked heels accentuated the "long look" of her legs, the tailored beige suit brought a graceful symmetry to the flow of her body and a pert thrust to her bosom.

"Is something wrong?" Nina asked.

He shook his head as he slowly but firmly brought her to him, the contour of her blending smoothly against him. He eased his hands along the satin-sleek sides; his legs were rubbery from the contact of her thighs. He kissed her.

The ringing of the phone jarred him from his ecstasy. Nina, as though frightened, pulled back, breaking the magic.

"The phone . . ." she started dumbly.

"I don't hear a thing," he whitelied, still holding her arms.

Nina hesitated, then pulled completely away from him on the fourth or fifth ring and snatched the receiver, forcing a business-like greeting. She extended the receiver to Steve. "It's Mrs. Crandon."

Steve took the receiver.

"Steve?" Adele started immediately over the wire. "I've decided against branching out into the Home Bar business at this time. I—I seriously doubt if we'd be able to raise the necessary capital."

"Adele," Steve uttered into the mouthpiece. "Say whatever you have to say."

"I've decided that I won't need you in an executive capacity after all—since we're not expanding—and I doubt that you'd care to go back to the sales crew. I'll mail you six months termination pay."

It didn't take Steve long to add it up. Sheldon had reached Adele, threatening to cause trouble for Dan Moore. Suddenly Steve's faith was restored; he felt warm all over, and a sincere compassion for Adele Crandon.

"Steve? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here, Adele, and I never felt greater in my life! Adele, you're not so tough after all. You're a phoney, but a wonderful phoney with a real heart! Sheldon was there, wasn't he, Adele? But you could've tossed Moore to the wolves—no skin off our gorgeous back—so why didn't you do it and tell Sheldon to go to hell?"

"Steve," her voice came faintly over the line. Then Steve swallowed hard at the muffled sound of sobbing. He might have been all of twenty city blocks away from Adele, but he was certain of one thing. Adele's tears were real.

"Adele—I'll be right over—"

"That old rascal," Adele started tearfully. "Dan can't help himself, Steve, you must understand that. He made me so happy once. He—he's not a monster; he'll do well by that girl."

"Adele—just sit tight—I'll do whatever I can."

"After I fired you?"

"Must've been a bad connection," Steve shot back. "I didn't hear a word of it. Now stay put and I'll get to you as soon as I can. And don't worry—I hap-pen to like old Dan, too."

"What's going on?" Nina asked, holding a stack of mail.

"I don't know," he barked, heading for his door. "But I've got to do something—and fast!"

"Steve, how about your mail?"

"It can wait."

Nina suddenly pushed forth a large official-looking envelope. "Steve, this is addressed to you. Personal."

"I said it can wait—"

"It's from Mister Moore."

Steve stopped short, retreated to Nina, eagerly took the letter and tore the seal open. A penned note was stapled to a number of documents.

"Well?" Nina started, after she had allowed him ample time to read the letter. "What does it say?"

Steve stared vacantly, slowly pulled himself together. "I'll be damned." He limply handed the letter Nina. "You read it to me—maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me."

Nina tensed and began to read:

Dear Steve, '

By the time you receive this I shall be honey-mooning on a dude ranch somewhere in Arizona with my beloved bride, Dolly.

First off, I shall be forever in your debt if you will contact Dolly's mother and assure her that Dolly is happy with me and that I will take good care of her. Enclosed is a ten thousand dollar trust fund I have set up for my precious Dolly. (Completely paid-up and naming Dolly's mother as legal guardian of the money). I have no control over the fund and regardless of what may take place in the future—Dolly is to receive this money on her twenty-fifth birthday.

Steve, I hold nine thousand shares of stock in the company and I have transferred my proxy votes from Adele to you. Also, as president of the firm, I took the liberty of appointing you executive vice-president. In short, you are now officially acting-president of the firm with complete executive powers during my absence. Don't worry, I've thought of everything and the attached documents cover every possible loophole—you are the boss until I return or until the Board of Directors calls a meeting to elect a new president. But here's the gimmick: a meeting cannot be held without the consent of the president or acting-president.

Steve, I was a dummy-president—I want you to be a real leader. Adele got too sure of herself, setting me up as a mere figurehead and fall-guy. She has enough on me—certain frivolous escapades of mine—to cause me much grief and possible embarrassment with the law. But some-how, I'm certain she won't wreak revenge on me. In any event, I want you to do what's right for the company, and especially what's right for Adele. I'm certain you won't turn against her. I'm hoping that you'll make an honest woman of her. Until my lovely bride and I return—My very best wishes, Daniel Moore."

Steve whistled loudly. "One minute I'm out on my bare can—the next minute I'm running the show. Now I know why big wheels get ulcers."

"What are you going to do?" Nina asked.

"Do?" Steve echoed. "Exactly what Moore told me to do."

The door opened, and Sheldon barged in, not bothering to knock. He seemed out of breath, still wearing his hat and coat. "Turko, who in the hell gave you the right to dismiss the boys from a meeting?"

Steve calmly held up the documents. "These nasty little papers."

Sheldon halted, caught his breath. "I hear you're resigning, Steve." Then pointedly asked. "When are you leaving?"

"First of all," Steve tightened, "take your hat off." He glanced to Nina. "You are in the presence of a lady." Sheldon appeared dumbfounded. "Or haven't you ever employed a private secretary who was also a lady?"

Sheldon dumbly removed his hat. "What's the matter with you?"

"I'm tasting real power, Sheldon—and it's delicious!"

Sheldon tensed himself. "Steve—you're through!"

"As third banana," Steve quickly cut in.

"Steve's acting-president in Moore's absence!" Nina angrily flared up at Sheldon. "And he's nobody's stooge!"

Sheldon paled. "What?"

Steve smiled, waving the documents at Sheldon. "It took a little doing," Steve shrugged.

"But Adele couldn't do that—"

"No, Sheldon, Moore did it. He's the president, re-member?" Steve glanced over to Nina. "That's all for now, Nina?" He gave her a special smile. "I might use a few words with Mister Sheldon that would make you cringe."

Nina returned the smile knowingly and exited.

Sheldon started out of his stupor. "You can't possibly stay in power for long. The Board of Di-rectors—"

Again, Steve moved in to complete a statement for Sheldon. "Cannot meet without my consent."

Steve glared at Sheldon, decided that he'd had enough of him for the day. Words crowded his throat, eager to tell him off, maybe even fire him. Steve shrugged, knowing it wouldn't make sense to fire Sheldon while he might possibly swing enough votes to eventually take over control. Steve reminded him-self that he'd be in the driver's seat for a damned short time and that he'd better make every second count. And the only way he could accomplish that was to crawl down on all fours to Sheldon's level. Steve forced a smile, even though it pained him, ready to play the game.

"Sheldon, you've got something I need—I've got something you need. Don't you think a merger is in order?"

"You'd cut out Adele?"

"Just you and me—and your girl, Mildred," Steve sarcasmed.

"I'm getting a bit tired of her," Sheldon sighed. "Just you and me." He hesitated, eyes averted. "But then again, maybe I don't really need you, Steve."

"But maybe you do," Steve shot back. "You're still a little short to grab control, aren't you, Sheldon?" Sheldon's uneasiness served as Steve's reply. "Moore gave me a proxy for his nine thousand shares of stock." He watched Sheldon gape in shock. "And Moore's on his honeymoon with his child-bride. No telling when he'll be back."

Sheldon nodded weakly. "Maybe we had better talk ..."

Steve smiled as Sheldon eagerly seated himself. That's right, you greedybastard, Steve thought, we'll talk long enough for me to find out exactly where d how to yank out your crooked guts!