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May 14, 2004
Marks - A Novel
By QBlog in
What do John Grisham, Daniel Defoe and Charles Dickens all have in common? Well, besides being male, they've all published at least one novel as a serial. And today, author Janet Marie Mills joins their prestigious company as Quixtar BLOG publishes the first chapter in a 16 part serialization of her novel, Marks.
Marks tells the story of a young married couple, two college roommates and a successful businessman whose lives ultimately intertwine as the result of a business opportunity — and a dream. Each Friday another chapter of the book will be published here at Quixtar BLOG. After the last chapter has been published, a "pdf" copy of the book will be available for download.
Disclaimer: This book has not been through a final edit. There may be some misspelled words and grammatical errors. Please understand that as you read through the novel.
» Chapter 1
“I’m going out to eat, Tom. Sure I can’t bring you anything back?”
Byron smiled from the doorway. He was just out of college — energetic and talkative. The kid was the newest member of the engineering department and stuck in a room with a lowly construction equipment salesman until a space could be found for him upstairs. At twenty-two he was ten years younger than Tom and made fifteen thousand a year more.
Tom wanted to smack the acne ridden face and fire off a spirited speech about the injustice of the world. Instead, he smiled, shook his blond head and waved to his young officemate.
“No thanks,” Tom said. “Hey, do me a favor and close the door on you way out, would you?”
Byron smiled wide enough that Tom could see the entire row of dark metal braces that lined his teeth.
“Don’t you want the boss to see you diligently working through lunchtime?”
“No way,” Tom answered. “He’ll assume I’ve been goofing off all morning. You’ll learn. The man sees good in nothing.”
With a chuckle and a wave Byron was gone. From behind the large, buffed steel expanse of his desk, Tom studied the door to make certain it was securely shut. He gritted his teeth, gave a determined sigh, picked up the phone and dialed the number that had been floating in his head all morning — singing to him even as he talked about the latest model of excavaters to bored superintendents.
“Hello?” a male voice answered after four rings.
“May I speak to Charles Tygart, please?” Tom asked while he flipped a three-ring notebook open.
“Speaking.”
“Charles! This is Tom Remly, your old suitemate back at school. I saw you at Sam’s funeral.”
“Tom, yes. Sorry I couldn’t talk to you then. I was just so upset about Sam. It was such a shock, you know? He was so young — our age.”
“I know,” Tom lowered his voice. “A real tragedy.”
Tom used the respectful silence to review his notes.
“Listen,” he continued after a moment. “I don’t want to make light of anything, but it really was great to see you; brought up some great memories.”
“I know. Too bad it had to be because of such a horrible occasion. What are you up to now, Tom? Still living in Tennessee?”
Tom leaned back in his chair and smiled. The awkward part was over. Now he could relax and follow the script.
“Yes, I’m still here in Knox County. Doing really good. Well, great actually. Got my own business, a beautiful wife, new car, nice home. What else can a man ask for?”
“Sounds wonderful.” Tom heard a touch of wistfulness on the other end of the line.
“It is. That’s the perfect word for it. Wonderful. Anyways, I would love to catch up more. How about we meet for dinner somewhere? I think you would like my Teri and I would love to get to know your wife.”
“That would be great, but we live outside of Nashville now. It’s a long drive to Knox County just for dinner. One day when we’re out that way, we’ll give you a call.”
Tom ran his finger down the sheet of paper in front of him and found the appropriate response.
“Two problems with that,” he read, focusing on his inflections so the words sounded natural. “First, I am on the road a lot. My business lets me see the whole country, all of it a tax write-off thankfully. Second, people say that and then they never get together. You know what? I’m going to be in your area next weekend. Let’s get together then. Do you like steak?”
“Love it,” Charles answered. “Friday night okay?”
Tom closed his eyes and gave a silent prayer that Friday would be the beginning of his new, improved life.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
Tom Remly drove a forty thousand dollar car and wore an eight hundred dollar suit.
The glossy, black car was leased and the monthly payments steep to the point of demolishing the monthly budget, but to Tom the privilege of driving such an impressive vehicle was worth any sacrifice. His wife, Teri, longed for an address in a better neighborhood. She would have preferred an older starter home with a backyard to the endless rows of identical townhouses teetering on the edges of streets named after birds. The couple wrestled with the issue for a few weeks, but Tom decided that more potential clients saw the car than the apartment so they remained in the confines of nine hundred square feet on Red Robin Lane where rent was cheap, schools performed slightly worse on standardized tests and every parking lot fed directly onto a highway. Tom and Teri made sure to inform everyone that they owned the unit. Not a complete lie, the couple told each other, since they were trying to pull a down payment together.
At the end of the month, the available cash never matched the honest intent to bolster the meager house fund. More often than not they had to drain a few hundred dollars out of their savings account to pay the bills, a practice that couldn’t continue for much longer.
Not that it would have to, Tom reminded his wife when she found the passbook and saw the tiny balance. Everything would be better when their business took off.
The purchase of the dark blue gabardine suit didn’t cause nearly as much marital strife as determining their living and driving arrangements. An eight hundred dollar suit on clearance and marked down a hundred dollars – how could they pass that up? On top of the discount, three percent of the wholesale price went directly back into their pockets as commission since they bought it through their own Sheik Chic retail business. With that single purchase Tom met the sales quota for the entire month. The constant scratch of the tag on the neck of the jacket was an uncomfortable reminder that the lining puckered awkwardly.
They had managed a similar deal on Teri’s business apparel. She wore a faux wool suit in pale blue. The material looked just like natural fibers, but the skirt and blazer were machine washable. The color was not as conservative as Tom would have liked, but Teri had insisted that it match her eyes, which were always perfectly rimmed with Fresh for Her brand liner in charcoal. If a meeting with a potential was going poorly, Tom could usually bring attention to Teri’s precise, tasteful makeup. Teri always kept the catalog and a few samples in her purse for just those occasions. They might not recruit the prospect into the Sheik Chic business, but they often sold a tube of mascara or lipstick.
Although she would never admit it, not even to Tom, Teri bought her own lipstick from the drugstore. The Fresh for Her version just didn’t have the staying power needed to get through an entire sales pitch. She seldom talked at the frequent dinner meetings where they tried to recruit others to join the Sheik Chic family, not even when the conversation degraded into thoughtless babble about cosmetics, but it was important to keep an enthusiastic smile plastered on her face when her husband talked – nearly as important as fixing adoring eyes on his every move.
The idea of his own wife walking into a store and buying a product when there was a perfectly acceptable alternative in the Sheik Chic catalog would shock Tom. Of course, the commission on a small item like lipstick was negligible, but every sale brought them a little closer to their monthly quota and to their long-term goals. Whenever they fell just a few dollars short on sales, Teri would look at her cosmetic case – the contraband lipstick hid in an interior compartment – with guilty eyes. Sometimes at Sheik Chic retailer meetings she wanted to keep her face down in case someone would recognize a non-Fresh for Her shade on her lips and reveal her as a thief from her own business.
“The dream begins with team, the team begins with me,” Tom chanted, gripping the leather-covered steering wheel in time with his mantra. Teri watched him go through a few rounds of his motivational ritual before she turned to stare at the passing landscape. They passed a strip mall with a carnival set up in the parking lot. The blinking lots traveling up and down with the Ferris wheel were mesmerizing.
“There’s no rewarding without the working.”
“The only limit is your dreams.”
“The strength to persevere, the strength to succeed.”
Teri was tempted to mouth the familiar phrases along with her husband, but that would look too much like mocking him, and Tom hated to be mocked.
Teri smoothed her skirt and began her own ritual. They had been on the road for three hours. They still had twenty minutes of driving ahead of them. After eight hours of entering numbers and staring at the blinding light of a computer monitor, her main goal for the evening was just to stay awake. Tom insisted that this could be a very productive meeting though, so she would concentrate on looking happy, prosperous and totally engrossed by what her husband was saying.
The black car slipped through a patch of rain. Lights from the street and traffic illuminated the splatter of water on the windshield. The wipers left precise arcs and faint traces of raindrops that reminded Teri of the pattern of a peacock’s tail.
“What’s the bullet?” she asked after treating her body to a few invigorating shoulder circles and deep breaths.
“Charles and Jenny Tygart. We reconnected at Sam’s funeral. He’s an old college friend, now a chef – overweight so I’m going to mention the fitness support group. She’s a high school math teacher, average body and looks, expecting their first child soon.”
Teri sighed and examined her nails, each meticulously shaped and painted in demure rose. Tom thought funerals were a great place to make contacts and he went to any he could find – even those of minor acquaintances that lived in other states. Occasionally he took half days off work just to drive to one. This all seemed rather macabre for Teri’s taste, but they did get a surprising number of nibbles that way.
They pulled in to the parking lot with fifteen minutes to spare. All around them, the familiar names of stores and restaurants blared out in neon lights. No matter how far they drove, the same businesses always seemed flocked together. Teri sometimes wondered how some of the tiny rural towns could support so many restaurants, shoe stores and home décor franchises.
Tom switched off the ignition and pulled out his organizer and cell phone. They were over a hundred dollars short of their sales goal this month and their sponsor was leaning on them hard. They dreaded their supporting family’s nightly phone calls to remind them that if they didn’t drum up some more business soon, they knew they would be letting a lot of people down.
When they first joined Sheik Chic, Teri cracked a joke that the people at the lower levels should be called the ‘supporting family’, since the new recruits were the ones that had to sell enough merchandise and keep meeting with potentials.
The joke was not well received by the others in the business. The upline was the supporting family, she was informed, because they had all once been where she was now. Sure, they now received bonuses based on how well their downline did, but that was only fair since it was their guidance, their support that kept everyone motivated and selling. If she kept following the system she would soon be in their shoes. They were a family. They only wanted what was best for her.
Teri learned very quickly that it was never wise to joke about any aspect of Sheik Chic. It always ended in a lecture.
“Uncle Robert,” Tom exclaimed into the phone. Teri winced. Robert was her uncle, not Tom’s. Somehow it felt fake for him to use the title. Although her husband had only met Robert twice, he called the old man whenever they needed a sale.
“How are you doing?” Tom continued absently. “Good, good. How did you like those vitamin bars I snuck into last month’s order? You did? How many can I put you down for this month? Okay. And you’re probably running short on shampoo, soap and toilet paper, right? She did? No, no that’s fine… I’m sure you won’t be satisfied with the low quality of that supermarket stuff, so I’ll just send your usual order. How are you doing with toothpaste? Yeah? Well, better order some of that, too. And floss, deodorant and shaving cream. Tell me, Uncle Robert, how long has it been since you got a little something for yourself, like a new shirt? You know, you have to splurge every once in a while… you know what? Sheik Chic has some great shirts on clearance. How about I pick you out a few and just add it to your bill. I promise you’ll like them. Oh, they’re great – very high quality. I love them myself. No, no you won’t find anything this good at Big Mart. All right then. I have your credit card number on file so I’ll just put that through. Expect your merchandise in a few weeks. I’m so glad we can help you out and save you a few trips into town, Uncle Robert. Take care. Goodbye.”
Tom gave a thumbs-up as he hit the end button.
“There’s our quota right there,” he said and slammed his organizer shut for punctuation. “Your cousin had stocked him up with supermarket toiletries and was feeding him lines about our stuff being too expense. She’s just afraid he’s spending her inheritance.”
The phone rang while Tom still held it.
“Damn,” he said after glancing at the incoming number. “It’s Bill.”
Tom let two more rings pass before he shoved the speaker plug into the jack so Teri could hear and answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Tom, Bill Lewis. How are you doing?”
Tom leaned his head against the window. Teri gave him a supportive smile but he ignored her. Feeling a little hurt, she turned and looked out the windshield.
“Fine, fine,” Tom answered. “We’re meeting some potentials right now, I think we have a real shot at recruiting them.”
“That’s really great, Tom. I know you put in a lot of hours planting seeds. What I wanted to talk to you about is Cory and Belinda’s retreat next weekend. You know, MotoQuest. I noticed you hadn’t signed up yet and I wanted to remind you to get that registration form in.”
Teri jerked her head around and glared at her husband. She frowned and shook her head fantically. To her relief, Tom nodded.
“Actually Bill, we’re not going to be able to make it this time. We are just a little short this month. We’ll catch the next one.”
“Well Tom, that’s just not a good excuse. You and Teri are good about getting those seeds planted, but you just aren’t getting enough sprouts. Now, the Jacksons went Mega over ten years ago and are consistently on the receiving end of Sheik Chic’s highest bonuses. If you want to start moving up in the company, if you’re serious about your business, then you have to be there. Do you want to be ‘short’ every month or do you want to leave those financial worries behind? It’s only three hundred and fifty dollars, that’s not much of an investment for a lifetime income.”
Tom took a quick glance at Teri, who was gritting her teeth.
“We just can’t afford it this month,” he whispered.
“It’s only three hundred and fifty dollars. Let’s figure this out. How many in your recruited family now?”
“Two couples: the Stemples and the Ducks.”
“That’s a fine start, but you go to this retreat and you may be up to twenty couples soon. Let’s see. This weekend is really for retailers at your level and higher, but we’ll make an exception this time. Invite your recruited family. Tell them how inspirational and informative the Jacksons can be. Let them know how much they can learn. If you can get them to register and pay four hundred dollars per couple, that will take a hundred dollars off your fee. Would you be able to swing that?”
“I don’t know, Bill. Money is really tight this month – our car insurance premium was due and we’re still paying on last month’s retreat.”
“I understand, Tom. I really do. Let’s say you charge your recruited family four hundred and fifty dollars. We’re down to, what, just a hundred and fifty dollars for you and Teri. I’m telling you, Tom, this is going to be a terrific weekend. I really think some of the techniques Cory’ll be teaching will take your business to a new level. And Belinda – she is a truly wonderful woman. I know Teri will pick up some hints to really get those cosmetics flying over the shelves. Don’t let me down, Tom. Talk to your recruited family, let them know what a privilege it is to even be invited to this retreat. You need to be there, Tom, you really do. Fax me that registration material as soon as you can. We’re here to support you, but we rely on you too.”
Tom took a guilty, sidelong glance at his wife.
“I’ll do my best, Bill.”
“I know you will. I talk to you soon. ‘Bye.”
The signal clicked off before Tom could respond. His fingers automatically dialed another number.
“Hello?” A man’s voice answered.
“Bud, Tom Remly. I just got word that you and Sue are invited to a retreat sponsored by Cory and Belinda Jackson next weekend. Bud, this retreat is just for the higher levels of the family and a few newer recruits, like you and Sue, who show exceptional promise. I can’t even begin to tell you what a compliment to your hard work this is. You will meet some of Sheik Chic’s top performers and learn their secrets. Bill, if you want to start moving up in the company, if you’re serious about your business, then you have to be there.”
Teri blocked out the conversation. She was becoming very good at letting words wash over her as if they were in a strange language. She pulled down the visor and concentrated on carefully touching up her makeup.
Tom preferred to meet with potential recruits in large chain steakhouses. The service was usually quick and efficient, the food was hearty enough to see them through the long drives home and the atmosphere was comfortable but not overly intimate. Plus there was usually at least one in whatever podunk town they found themselves.
Teri was not a big meat eater, so she would always order the smallest cut the restaurant offered –a four ounce serving that she would mark off in a precise grid with her knife then cut in pieces tiny enough for her to eat without smudging her lipstick. The side dishes were more difficult to deal with. Rice was too crumbly, potatoes too messy and French fries not ladylike enough. If she planned carefully she could make the steak last through most of the meal, but if she needed to buy a little more time she would nibble the mixed vegetables.
Every meeting followed a precise pattern. First there was what Teri silently called the enthusiastic introduction, where Tom would describe to her, in great detail, how he had met the potentials. She lumped the potentials into two groups: the long lost acquaintances and the new best friends. Long lost acquaintances, like tonight’s Charles and Jenny Tygart, included old friends, distant relatives and former co-workers that they ran into at reunions, funerals and weddings. New best friends ranged from the pizza delivery boy to the local librarian – anyone Tom met who seemed remotely dissatisfied with some aspect of their life. In general, Teri preferred new best friends. They came with a much shorter enthusiastic introduction.
After the enthusiastic introduction came the befuddled ordering. Teri hypothesized that all steakhouses used the same template to compose their menu. The dishes were pretty much the same. Only the names were different. The petit sirloin at one chain was identical to the lady’s cut and the cowgirl steak at others. No matter what it was called, it was still four ounces of beef. During the befuddled ordering, though, Teri had to look over the offerings as if they were all new to her. She had to hold up her end of the conversation about what looked good and what sounded good and what was good the last time they ate here. A short enthusiastic introduction generally meant an excruciatingly long befuddled ordering.
The expectant façade was next, where they waited for the food to come and Tom began to drop hints about their affluent lifestyle while asking the potential recruits about their dreams. This was the time when Teri would hear that whenever they were blessed with a family, Teri would be able to stay home and be a full-time mother. Tom never saw fit to add that on the rare nights they had sex, they used two forms of contraceptives to keep the long-anticipated event well at bay. Without Teri’s income they would be hard pressed to pay for the rent on their apartment or luxury car, which was the next topic of conversation during the expectant façade. Teri’s job was to agree with her husband at every turn and look sympathetic and encouraging when the prospect’s talked of their own dreams of spending more time with their family, retiring early and fixing up their house.
The meal was usually the longest portion of the meeting. Tom had to eat his steak and baked potato while explaining the system. Depending on how many questions the potentials asked, the process could seem to take forever. Teri had to look intrigued over every detail, as if it was the first time she was hearing about Sheik Chic. As Belinda Jackson explained on a motivational tape, the trick was to pretend that the husband was a successful entrepreneur who brought home tons of money but liked to leave the professional talk at the office. Imagine that he never involves you in the business, Belinda suggested, and you are just thrilled to be sitting in on an important business meeting.
Teri found herself pretending a lot more than that. In her mind, she played out romantic interludes and intricate dialogues between with her food. A square of meat with a vein of fat was hopelessly and unwisely in love with a leaner cut. The mixed vegetables experienced racial tensions, and the carrots lined up in a protest march. The bubbles in her diet soda raced upward to escape the tyranny of the glass overlord.
The supportive smile never left her face.
As soon as the waitress removed the dinner plates and served the obligatory round of coffee Tom began the presentation of the paper. He pulled the recruitment materials out of his Sheik Chic executive briefcase and reviewed the information he had already talked about, treating it with more weight the second time through because it was printed out in full color. Then he would wave around the illustrations of sales models and how much the potentials could expect to make, if they joined the Sheik Chic family and built up a good clientele.
The goal was to have the potentials sign the recruitment agreement and hand over a check for a down payment on the independent retailer fee. According to Cory Jackson, the rule was not to give up until the potentials said ‘no’ seven times. If that happened, as it usually did, Teri was finally on. She would break out the Fresh for Her makeup samples and start talking with authority about complementary colors and blemish coverage until the potentials either purchased something or paid for their meal and left.
The first time a potential bought a lipstick before leaving, Teri had called it a ‘pity purchase’. Tom had refused to talk to her for the rest of the night. Sales are made on the price and quality of the products and the power of the sales pitch, he had said. Not from pity.
Now she only used that term, like all the others, in her head.
By the time Tom had called both couples in their recruited family and convinced them to sign up for the weekend retreat, it was time to slip off of the heated leather seats, drape their wool overcoats jauntily over their shoulders and pick their way around the parked cars and huge concrete planters.
The Tygarts were waiting for them in the foyer. Tom went right to them and stuck out his hand, leaving Teri hanging back a few steps.
“Charles, Jenny, nice to see you again. This is my wife, Teri. Teri, these are the Tygarts.”
Charles Tygart slowly removed his fleshy arm from his very pregnant wife’s shoulders, shook Tom’s hand and turned toward Teri.
“So nice to finally meet you, Teri. We’re already on the list for a table. It should only be a few more minutes.”
Teri let a warm smile fill her face as she pulled Charles then Jenny into big hugs. Welcoming was the catchword constantly repeated in the motivational audio and video tapes they bought each month from their supporting family. Welcoming meant making a potential recruit feel like part of the group from the very start by hugging them, laughing at their jokes and relating to their experiences. Welcoming meant signing all correspondences, even Christmas cards to former customers, with ‘we love you guys’. Welcoming meant using first names exclusively and often.
The Tygarts seemed mildly surprised by the affection, but returned her embraces and smiles. Teri turned to her husband, tilted her head and looked at him with a mixture of tenderness and admiration.
“So you met Charles in college, is that right, Tom?”
“That’s right. We were suitemates sophomore year.” He launched into a longwinded story about a snowstorm that closed the path between the dormitory and the school cafeteria and their adventures braving the elements to get to the local pizzeria. Teri didn’t bother to listen. She kept the ends of her welcoming smile lifted high and laughed and nodded when the others did. Out of the corners of her eyes she examined the restaurant. Reproductions of antique washboards, musical instruments and mementos dotted the wall above a thick, fake oak chair rail. The bottom of the wall was covered with a heavily patterned, maroon vinyl coating. Teri caught herself wondering if all the steakhouses of the world bought their decorations from same catalog.
“Tygart, party of four.” The crack of the intercom cut off Tom’s reminiscing. He took the interruption in stride, motioning the others to follow him down the narrow aisle like a natural leader.
“It all looks so good,” Teri murmured once they settled into the hard, vinyl-upholstered benches. She absently thumbed through the menu and peeked glances at the woman across from her.
Jenny sat so close to her husband that their elbows touched. Teri watched her give the dinner selections a quick glance before she folded up the laminated menu and tucked it behind the salt and pepper shakers.
“I don’t even have to look,” she announced, giving her belly a little caress. “Just give me the biggest steak possible. Since I’ve been pregnant, I can’t seem to get enough meat.”
Charles laughed as he folded up his own menu and placed his hand on top of hers. To Teri, the gesture seemed more intimate than a passionate kiss.
“She used to be a vegetarian,” Charles said. “But the further along she gets, the bigger and bloodier she likes her food. A pregnant wife is a chef’s dream come true.”
Jenny beamed over at him and Teri felt a wave of warmth wash over her. She hadn’t been in the midst of such obvious love since she was growing up.
“I can’t believe how much weight I’ve gained,” Jenny was saying. “I come home from work too starved and exhausted to exercise. Growing a baby is hard work!”
The waitress reappeared right then. Teri and Tom ordered their usuals. The Tygarts each got a sixteen ounce T-bone, rare.
“So,” Tom began. Teri suddenly felt a chill. “You’re working full-time through your pregnancy, Jenny? That must really be exhausting.”
“Teaching math to thirty sophomores is exhausting in itself. I don’t think I’m cut out for the ‘lady of leisure’ lifestyle, though.”
“After the baby’s born, will you be able to stay home and raise him yourself?”
Jenny raised her eyebrows and tilted her head.
“I’m working out arrangements to work part-time at the local community college. Since Charles works mainly in the evening, he’ll be home to do his share of baby duty when I’m working.”
Tom reached for Teri’s hand. She kept her loving, compassionate smile and fought her first instinct to pull it away.
“Having a parent at home is so important.” Tom directed his speech entirely to Charles. “Teri and I are working hard to build up our business so that she can stay home when we start a family. That’s one of our dreams. What are your dreams?”
Charles hesitated and looked around awkwardly.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think I would like to have a restaurant of my own one day, but I don’t think I would like the worries. You know, the business hassles. I guess I would be happiest doing what I’m doing — being able to come up with new dishes when I want, working with people I like, coming home to a woman I love and not worrying about dealing with the accountants and lawyers.”
“You’re right about the hassles and risks of owning a business. Did you know ninety percent of new businesses fail? I tell you, Teri and I really lucked out when we opened our company. The time was right, the support system was there and the risk was low. Now, I don’t know what I would do if I had to clock in and out everyday. Without the freedom of owning my own business — if I were using my skills and talents to line someone else’s pocket, I would go insane.”
Teri marveled at how easily her husband stretched the truth. They did own their own business and he definitely worked more than forty hours a week building up their recruited family and clientele, but he still worked for someone else fulltime. As a salesman he punched a clock just like she did doing data entry. He lined the pockets of the construction company where he worked, but somehow he stayed sane.
Charles looked slightly insulted. Before he could speak, his wife quieted him with a pat on the arm.
“How exciting it must be to work for yourself,” Jenny exclaimed. “What does your company do?”
Tom shrugged in a way that implied humility.
“We’re pretty diversified. The two main segments are retailing — especially clothing and cosmetics — and consulting. For me, consulting is the best part. We teach people how to start their own businesses and make them grow. Some people just want something on the side, so they can save a little more and retire a little earlier. Others want to work for themselves fulltime. Whatever their dream, we help families build the business to help them reach it. It is so fulfilling. And surprisingly lucrative.”
“You mentioned ninety percent of startups fail. Is the success rate among your clients appreciably higher?”
Tom’s face lit up and Teri had to stifle a giggle. Jenny was asking all the right questions and playing perfectly into his hand. Even if she didn’t completely approve of his methods, Teri recognized that her husband was definitely an entrepreneur at heart. After a long string of disappointing meetings, this time they had a real chance of adding the Tygarts to their recruited family.
Teri flashed her first genuine smile of the evening.
“I don’t think we’ve had one of our clients go under yet,” Tom answered thoughtfully. “Have we Teri?”
Teri shook her head frantically.
“We use a system,” Tom continued. “We don’t just send people out with inventory and a cash register. We really support our team members. You see, the way our business works, Teri and I don’t make any money unless our clients do. It’s in our best interest to help them, encourage them, keep them motivated and give them all the tools they need to succeed.”
“That must really be fulfilling,” Jenny said with a smile. The food arrived then and she paused to eye her plateful of steak and lick her lips anxiously. “And you get to work together all day. That’s wonderful.”
Tom thanked the waitress with a boyish smile. Teri picked up her fork and watched him anxiously. The presentation was going so well — there was none of the eye rolling and heavy-handed subject changing that usually accompanied dinner.
Across the table, Charles ripped into his T-bone gleefully.
“It really, really is,” Tom said with a contented sigh. He looked back and forth between the couple. “That’s one of the reasons I was so happy to run into you, Charles.”
Charles looked up from his plate, startled to hear his name.
“Teri and I are looking to expand our business into the north. When you mentioned you lived in Beauregard, I thought we should talk to you about this opportunity before we take it to the public.”
Charles exchanged an uncomfortable look with his wife.
“Thanks for thinking of us, Tom, really. But Jenny and I already have good jobs. I’ll be on the look out for some people for you, though, if you want.”
Tom shook his head.
“I’m not talking about a job, Charles. In fact, we consider job a dirty word. What we’re talking about is an opportunity for a new life. A chance to reach your dreams and give your child a better life.”
The Tygarts looked at each other again and Teri felt the expectant high start to fade away. She tugged the corners of her smile back up.
“For less than three hundred dollars, you can get your starter kit which will get you started owning your own business. You get a commission for any clothing and cosmetics you buy for yourself at a wholesale price as well for any you sell to friends and family. That will give you a nice extra income. Then, and only if you want to, you can share with others this business model. If they decide to take their futures in their own hands — and let me tell you, once they see how your lifestyle has improved they have to see what a great opportunity this is — you will get a percent of their commissions. As you can see, this can really snowball into a nice monthly paycheck. The best part is, after a while you won’t have to do anything but let the money come in. I really think this is the right move for you and I know you won’t regret it. Let me show you a graph of just how much you could make if you work less than two hours a day for the next two years.”
Tom paused to reach into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Jenny cleared her throat.
“Is this Sheik Chic, Tom?” she asked quietly.
Tom looked up and withdrew his hand.
“Why, yes it is.” Teri marveled at Tom’s bright, happy echo of the instructional tape that provided steps to handle such situations. “Why? What have you heard about us?”
“I saw the news story a while ago.” Jenny speared a piece of meat with her fork and shoved it into her mouth.
“You know how the media is. I saw that piece and I can tell whoever researched that should lose their job. Now, Sheik Chic did have some problems a few years ago, but the system is all straightened out now. It is not a pyramid scheme and it is not illegal.”
Teri barely remembered to shake her head and laugh at the absurdity of the idea that their company was anything but righteous. She knew by the way Charles and Jenny avoided meeting her eye that the cause was lost.
Tom kept on speaking, but Teri couldn’t hear the words. Around the table, couples laughed, waitresses rushed past with armfuls of food and kids squealed but Teri felt as if she were watching the scene from underwater. She shook herself, took a deep breath and let the smile slide down a notch.
While her husband continued with the spiel, Teri studied Jenny’s blue eyes and her pale skin with the softest pink undertones. She began compiling a mental list of the makeup shades that would look best on the pregnant blonde. After dinner, she would make the sale.
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