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June 18, 2004
Marks - Chapter 6
By QBlog in
Marks is a novel that 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. Quixtar BLOG is publishing Marks as a serial, making a new installment available every Friday.
If you missed chapter five, never fear, it's still here for your reading pleasure.
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 6
Abuja, Nigeria
The air conditioner had broken again and the heat in the hotel was almost unbearable. Jacob wondered if the air was any less stuffy outside. He planned to take a long, cool shower then venture out to the concrete terrace attached to the back of the building.
“So, how much did you earn today?” Marco asked as soon as Jacob opened the door. He was spread out on his bed, dripping wet and wearing only his boxer shorts. “A buck fifty or so? About enough to pay for an nice fat olive in a first class passenger’s cocktail?”
“Shut up,” Jacob replied. He was exhausted from working in the incessant heat and that was the best retort he could form. “I need a shower.”
“Good luck. The water is about as hot as the air. It’s like standing in steam.”
“At least it will get some of this sweat off of me,” Jacob growled. He started shedding clothes before he was in the bathroom.
“We got a nibble,” Marco announced.
Jacob stuck his head out.
“What?”
“On the Bala Reyima email. We got a response.”
“You’re kidding me. How do you know? How much money did they send?”
“You never got Dr. Bean out of the way this afternoon so I went to a cyber-café and bummed some time off of an American tourist.” Marco gave a pitiful pout and continued speaking in a pleading voice. “My poor mother is on her sickbed and my brother has no way to get in touch with me except by email. I gave my last dollar to a little orphan street beggar. Please, Mister, please can I check my email on your computer?”
“I can’t believe you.” Jacob shook his head in reproach but chuckled at his friend’s resourcefulness. “So how much money did you make?”
“None, but that’s how it goes. You can’t expect people to just send a few thousand. Geez, Jakey, didn’t you even read the letter?”
“Of course I did. Most of it.”
“Then you know that we haven’t even asked for anything from them yet. They think that we’re giving them six million dollars, remember?”
“Okay, so what’s the big deal that someone answered? What did they say – ‘Yeah, we want the money. Send it to this address?’”
Marco glared.
“No. But they are interested. That’s what they wrote. So now we play them.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?”
“There will be officials to bribe and attorneys will have to draw up papers. Then there are the fees and fines. Obviously we can’t pay them.”
“So if they send the money, we’ll still have to pay the lawyer and the bribes, right? There won’t be much left after that.”
Marco looked at him strangely.
“You do realize that it’s all made up, right?” he asked. “The stocks, the lawyer, the corrupt officials – all figments of our collective imaginations. We get to pocket any money they send.”
Jacob blushed with embarrassment.
“Of course. Of course I know that. So what’s the next step?”
“Well, we need to get some serious computer time. Everything is on the CD: examples of letters to send, mock ups of passports, memos and documents, answers to questions they might ask. There’s even the address and passwords to some websites where we can set up mock bank accounts and stock portfolios under different names. Everything we need, it’s all there. We just have to get some nice, big blocks of time on a computer.”
Jacob frowned.
“Most of the fieldwork is finished now, I think. Dr. Bean sometimes meets people for lunch, but he doesn’t tell me his schedule ahead of time. Maybe on days he’s gone I can – ”
“I’m not talking about the odd half-hour here and there,” Marco interrupted. “The forms are on the CD, but there’s a lot of personalization involved.”
“The thing is, we use the computer all day. Either we’re researching or crunching numbers. Dr. Bean would never let you just waltz in and take over the machine for a few hours.”
“You’re thinking too linearly. Just because I’m going to be working doesn’t mean it has to be during working hours.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What does the good professor do at night?”
“I don’t know. Read, I think. He mentioned that he’s working through the classics that he just studied for tests, not for insight, in college.”
Marco smirked.
“How noble and academic of him. Okay. Just tell him you’re bored silly and ask to borrow the computer at night – to play video games or something. There’s a data port in this room so we can do anything we need to.”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t think Dr. Bean likes you. He might be suspicious.”
“Why would he be suspicious?” Marco challenged. “If he’s afraid I’m going to touch his precious laptop, tell him I got a night job stocking at a warehouse or something so you don’t have anyone to talk to. I’ll lay low in the evenings so he doesn’t see me.”
“I’ll try.” Jacob was unenthusiastic.
“Okay,” Marco said pointedly. “What’s the real problem?”
“Jacob wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back into the room. His shower could wait and he felt silly holding a conversation with his head dangling out the bathroom door.
“I’m just not sure about this.”
Jacob dropped on to the bed. The polyester blanket repelled his moisture and made him feel even stickier.
“What aren’t you sure of, that you don’t ever want to leave this beautiful, tropical paradise?”
Jacob let the sarcasm pass.
“We’re trying to cheat someone, to scam them out of their hard-earned money.”
“It’s not like we’re raiding some subsistence farmer. These people are willing to pull six million dollars out of the economy of a third world country. They deserve to be taught a lesson.”
Jacob stared at the ceiling.
“I just don’t feel comfortable doing it. I think I want out.”
“Out,” Marco repeated. “There is no out, Jakey. This isn’t the mafia. If you don’t want to help me, fine. I’ll find some other computer somewhere. I suppose when I have the money, you won’t accept a plane ticket home bought with such tainted cash.”
“I’ll get back eventually, with money I earned honorably.” Jacob felt very righteous and rather relieved that Marco didn’t sound too mad.
“Fine. I respect that. I’m sure I’ll see Bethany around the frat house. I’ll give her your regards and tell her you’ll see her in a few years.”
Jacob sighed. Even if his girlfriend, by some miracle, forgave him for being delayed in Nigeria, how could he explain that Marco managed to return home before he did?
“Hand me the phone,” Jacob said in defeat. “I’ll call Dr. Bean and ask for the computer.”
“Better walk to his room,” Marco suggested. “It will be harder for him to refuse if you’re standing there, looking miserable. Plus, I’m loading boxes at the warehouse, remember? We don’t want him to see me here.”
Teri put the finishing touches on her makeup and ducked back into the bedroom before walking downstairs to start a pot of coffee.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” she laughed. “You’re due at the office in a half hour.”
Just days ago she would have given her husband a brisk “get up” or simply slipped out the door without bothering him. Teri was almost heady with the new level of intimacy and communication the trip to the funeral had inspired. Life was almost as it was when they were first married.
“I’m not going to work,” Tom muttered.
“Are you feeling okay?” Teri was concerned. Her husband seldom missed work, even when he was really ill. It was well after midnight before they got home from the funeral. Perhaps so many late nights plus the stress of the business were taking their toll on his health.
Tom twisted around to face the wall.
“I’m fine.”
“Just want to play hooky?” Teri was sympathetic. “What are they called, personal health days?”
Tom remained silent for a long time. Teri shifted uncomfortably and wondered what she should say. Finally, Tom sighed and turned back to look at her.
“I decided that the only way to really make the business grow was to work at it full time. Spending my hours at a job is just handing my money over to someone else. We always said that.”
Teri’s mouth fell open.
“What are you talking about? When did this happen?”
“Last week.” Tom shrugged and lowered his eyes.
“And you didn’t tell me? Isn’t this something we should have discussed?”
Tom swung his legs out of bed and began fumbling through the top drawer of his nightstand.
“We did discuss it,” he insisted. “it was always part of the plan that one of us would work for our business fulltime.”
Teri wanted to grab him and force him to look at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to move from the doorway.
“I was supposed to stay home,” she said in a small voice. “When we could afford it, we were going to start a family.”
Tom slammed the drawer shut and looked up with blazing eyes.
“It’s always about you, isn’t it? You don’t like your job. You don’t feel comfortable selling at work. You don’t know anyone well enough to recruit them.”
Teri stared at her husband mutely.
“Well, I hate to tell you,” Tom continued. “But I have to take up the slack. Selling and recruiting at the office doesn’t win you friends or brownie points but I do it because you won’t. So when it’s a slow year, guess who is the first to go?”
“So you were laid off.”
Ton’s eyes narrowed.
“I made choices, for the good of the business, that didn’t endear me to my boss. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“But how -- ”
“Look, this is probably a blessing in disguise.” Tom interrupted in a much calmer voice. “Now I can devote myself to Sheik Chic fully and have time to explore that Nigerian opportunity.”
“But we -- ”
“You’d better get going. You’re the main breadwinner now.” Tom gave a wry but vaguely encouraging smile.
“Okay. Don’t work too hard.” Teri backed out of the room.
She found it hard to concentrate at work. Her eyes would suddenly tear up and the numbers blurred into big blocks. She knew she was running through the forms well below her usual rate.
After the endless morning, lunchtime finally arrived. Teri steadied herself and decided to do her part for the family’s financial future. She grabbed her purse and strode to the employee cafeteria with far more confidence than she felt.
After paying for her salad and apple, Teri surveyed the crowd until she narrowed in on a table toward the middle of the large room.
“Hi!” Teri called out enthusiastically when she approached the five women sitting there. The stream of chitchat and laughter stopped as her co-workers regarded her with a mixture of interest and hesitation.
“Mind if I join you?” Teri asked with a smile that nearly cracked her face in two.
The women exchanged glanced.
“Not at all,” one finally said. Teri knew her name was Penny and that she was the leader of a clique of data entry specialists.
“It’s Teri, right?” Penny asked while Teri settled herself at the table.
“That’s right.” Teri beamed. “And you’re Penny, Cynthia, Carla, Michaela and Berle, right?”
The women nodded awkwardly. Teri had worked in the same room as these women for months – years even – without exchanging even a casual hello. This meeting in the cafeteria felt very forced. Teri maintained her smile despite the obvious discomfort around her.
“I have a few makeup samples and was wondering if you girls would like to experiment with them. You can never have too many lipsticks, right?”
The prospect of free goodies made the women turn immediately warmer. A couple even gave genuine smiles.
“Let’s see.” Teri opened her purse and flipped through her stock. “Penny, this eye shadow will really look nice on you. The gold will bring out the green in your eyes. Cynthia, you have to try this lipstick. It is so moisturizing.”
In her cosmetics sales manual, Belinda Jackson advised that it was imperative to give precise and individualized recommendations rather than simply turning people loose with the catalog. Everyone wanted to feel unique.
Teri handed out three more cards, each with barely enough product for one application.
“Go ahead and try them out,” she urged. She dug a few small mirrored compacts out of her bag and passed them around the table.
The chitchat and laughter resumed and the women puckered and preened in the tiny mirrors. Teri gave bits of advice and clapped her hands in delight at the results.
“Don’t you just love how light the makeup is?” Teri asked conversationally while she collected the mirrors. “And it will stay put all day long. You will be surprised.”
She slipped the mirrors back in her purse and in the same motion pulled out a handful of catalogs.
“I don’t know if I ever mentioned it,” Teri said, knowing quite well that she hadn’t. “My husband and I run a little catalog business. We discovered these products and loved them so much that we wanted to have direct access to them. You’ve gotten a taste of the quality of Fresh for Her products, but I hope you’ll try a full size.”
The women exchanged quick looks. The friendly atmosphere of a slumber party instantly died and the discomfort returned.
Penny cleared her throat.
“I’ll take one of those lipsticks,” she said. “It wasn’t a bad color.”
Teri’s stomach was in knots, but she smiled and wrote out the order form.
“I’m sorry. I don’t wear makeup.” Cynthia’s face was stony. She pushed the catalog toward Teri.
“I do need a new mascara. Might as well get it from you.” Berle seemed apologetic.
Carla and Michaela handed their catalogs back without saying a word.
“I’ll have your merchandise in about a week,” Teri said in a sing-song voice. “I’d better get going. See you girls back in the pit.”
She gathered her tray and left the table.
Behind her, Teri heard the malicious whispers.
“Only wanted to see us something.”
“Too good to eat with us but not to take our money.”
“My aunt was into that. It’s part cult, part pyramid scheme. Whatever you do, don’t let her invite you to dinner. It’s a con.”
Teri squared her shoulders and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She emptied her tray at the first trashcan she passed. She hadn’t had a single bite of her lunch, but she had lost her appetite.
“Is it that time already?” Tom asked when Teri stepped through the front door. He sat at the table. The laptop was in front of him and stacks of paperwork and books surrounded him. Cory Jackson’s voice came from the stereo.
“You must have stayed busy if the hours passed that fast.” Teri was determined to be cheerful and supportive. “Guess what? I made a couple of sales today.”
“That’s good,” Tom said absently. “Sales are good but recruits are better. Come here. We need to get started.”
He pulled a sheet of notebook paper out of a pile and handed it to Teri.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“An agenda. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Marketing, sales, recruiting, Nigeria, future,” Teri read. “What is this, a meeting?”
“Right. We own a business, it’s time we started treating it professionally. First thing is marketing. I’ve taken out some ads in the newspaper and the internet.” He handed Teri more papers.
“Needed – an energetic, hardworker to join an established and growing retail business. Sales experience helpful but not required. Seven thousand dollars a month potential salary for part-time work.” Teri looked up. “Tom, we can’t print this. It’s not true.”
“What do you mean?”
“No one can make that much money working part-time.”
“Cory Jackson does. More even. I said potential, not as straight salary. Now, about sales – I talked to Bill about our situation.”
“You told him that you lost your job?”
Tom waved the question away like an irritating gnat.
“I told him about Robert dying and our losing a good customer. Bill said not to worry because he was concerned that we were selling more than we were recruiting, anyways.”
“He cut our sales quota?” Teri was happily surprised.
“Not exactly. He did waive our customer minimum, though. We still have to sell five hundred dollars worth of product, but now we can just buy it ourselves instead of spending hours on the phone and pounding the pavement trying to make sales.”
“Tom, we’ll never spend that much in a month.”
Tom grabbed yet another sheet of paper, this one filled with neatly typed columns of numbers.
“I did a little inventory around the house and these are the items I found that we’re still buying from other retailers.”
“Breakfast sandwiches, popcorn, canned biscuits. These are all food prodcts. We have to buy them at the grocery store.”
Tom shook his head.
“Sometimes I wonder if you ever read any of the Sheik Chic news briefs. The company has started a new line of frozen foods and snacks called Desert Oasis. These are all items that we can buy at a discount from our own business.”
Teri scanned the sheet of data.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Nine dollars for a box of frozen breakfast sandwiches? Microwave popcorn at a dollar a bag? These prices are over twice as much as we pay now.”
“The prices of the leading national brands are there to the right,” Tom pointed out defensively. The Desert Oasis prices are the same or cheaper. Plus, we get three percent of the money back.”
“Teri placed the sheet on the table.
“The leading nation brands are always on sale and anyways we buy generic. We can’t afford this.”
“I’m in chard of finances, remember?” Tom asked sternly. “I say we can’t afford not to support our business.”
Teri looked at him for a long time. Part of her wanted to walk out the door and leave this life behind. She never thought her life would be this way, a constant struggle to something she never really wanted in the first place.
Gazing in her husband’s eyes, she saw the young man who offered her sympathy at her uncle’s funeral. Tom was still the same person who opened up to her just days before. Every choice he made was for her good and for their future happiness and security.
“Okay,” Teri said with a warm and encouraging smile. “If you say we can do it, then I know that we will. What’s next on our list, recruiting?”
“Correct,” Tom answered with a sharp nod. “Bill said he was disappointed with the growth of our downline. If we don’t build up our recruited family, the business will never grow.”
He paused and looked at Teri expectantly. She knew what he wanted to hear.
“What do we need to do?”
Tom’s expression said, ‘good girl’. Teri beamed at the unspoken praise.
“The increased marketing might do the trick. Plus, now that I have my days to do real work, I can prowl the malls and the college campus. I heard that employees at fast food restaurants are good targets so I guess I’ll be having a lot of hamburgers for lunch. We need all the potentials we can get, though. What about the people you sold to today? Any chance one of them will be interested?”
“I don’t think so,” Teri answered doubtfully.
“Try,” Tom urged. “Keep at them until they agree to dinner. Alright, now for the fun part of the agenda.”
“You think there might be something to the Nigeria letter?”
“Wait until you hear this.” Tom briefly sketched out the contents of the email. Teri listened politely, nodding her head at the appropriate times.
“I don’t know,” she said when Tom finished his discourse on the opportunity. “This guy is just going to hand us six million dollars? Are you sure it’s on the up and up?”
“Even if it’s not, we’re not going to lose anything,” Tom insisted. “Bala Reyima is not asking for any money.”
“I think we need to do some research. Surely there will me some information on the internet about this sort of thing.”
Tom sighed in disgust.
“The internet,” he scoffed. “You know what some websites say about Sheik Chic. What if we had relied on them? Anyone can put anything on the web.”
Teri was not convinced.
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay. Best case scenario is we get the six million. Can you imagine what we could do? We could advertise with full-page ads in magazines and go to every single retreat without a second thought. We could buy a house and both be home to raise our babies and grow our business.”
“But that’s far from certain.”
“Okay, worst case is that we spend sometime exchanging emails with Mr. Reyima and we never see the six million.”
“Ten to one that’s what will happen,” Teri said with certainty.
“So what if it does?” Tom challenged. “If we have a business associate in Nigeria, that just might be enough to meet some potentials and start recruiting overseas. Can you imagine how big our company could go? Remly International. We could make a killing.”
Teri often wondered how Tom could remain so optimistic and so full of dreams despite every setback and hurdle. At least this straw wouldn’t cost them anything to try to grasp, she reflected.
“Sounds good,” she finally admitted. “How do we get this correspondence rolling?”
“I’ve already written back. The ball’s in his court. So we’ve covered most of the items that I wanted to today. Now, let’s talk about the future.”
“The future,” Teri echoed. She tried to equal the awe and drama in her husband’s voice.
Tom reached out and took her hands in his own.
“We’re going to do this, Teri. We really are. I truly believe that this is the year we will go Mega and I wanted to tell you that I’m glad we’re going together.”
Teri kissed her husband’s fingers, closed her eyes and smiled. Tom could be manipulative, even deceitful, to potentials. He was demanding in his pursuit of entrepreneurial success. The moments when he put all that aside and became himself – the kind, caring man whom she fell in love with – made the pain and loneliness all fade away.
As much as Teri usually craved time to herself, she was disappointed when Tom left her alone after their meeting. He met a disgruntled salesman at the mall that morning, Tom explained. Sheik Chic was a family-friendly business, but it was better to leave the wife at home when trying to recruit young bachelors. The two men were meeting for a pizza and beer to discuss how women weren’t interested if you didn’t have the right clothes, car or paycheck. Teri would hamper the “all guys together” intimacy.
Tom had left her with explicit directions to enjoy herself, try the Desert Oasis frozen dinner that Bill had dropped off and listen to one of the lighter Belinda Jackson motivational tapes.
Teri reluctantly put the cardboard box of Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes in the microwave. She would rather have called the little Chinese restaurant on the corner and have them deliver a carton of sweet and sour shrimp, but Tom would expect a full report on the sample meal and money was even tighter than usual.
While her dinner thawed, Teri wandered into the bathroom and inspected the contents of the medicine cabinet. There were so many treats to choose from – potions and creams she ordered because of their extravagant promises of restored beauty and relaxation. Tom encouraged her to buy them when they need a few dollars in sales.
She decided on the Fresh for Her Apple Butter and Cinnamon Purifying Mask and the Avocado and Chamomile Revitalizing Deep Conditioner. She placed the mint green packaged on the side of the bathtub. She would find some soft jazz on the radio, draw a steaming hot bath and see if the products lived up to their claims right after dinner.
© Copyright 2003-04, Janet Marie Mills - (The Creative Commons License on this site does not apply to this Copyrighted work which is published with the permission of the author)