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July 10, 2004
Marks - Chapter 10
By QBlog in
Due to the outpouring of positive feedback for this novel, I've decided to publish Chapter 10 today instead of waiting for Friday. Consider this a bonus chapter. Be sure to tune in next Friday to read Chapter 11.
What is this novel I'm talking about? Well, it's called Marks and it 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. All previous chapters are archived here on the blog so if you missed any just search for "Marks" and you should be caught up in no time.
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 10
Teri took her break early in hopes of avoiding the hallway full of giggling gaggles of women. She didn’t care whether the room was empty or full when she was keying in numbers. Either way, she was alone.
She tucked her handbag under her arm and slipped into the lavatory. The room was dimly lit with cold, painted cinderblock walls, but no one would bother her. Teri entered the last stall and carefully locked the door.
Teri pulled a slim, brown parcel out of her handbag and inspected it. The return address was her parents’ and although there were no stamps proclaiming the contents personal or private, Teri didn’t want to rip open the packing tape right there in front of everyone. There was some significance in the fact that her parents hadn’t posted the package to her home address. Teri knew she would find something more important than a friendly card of packet of family photographs.
She traced her mother’s familiar handwriting. Regan Carlisle had exquisite, elegant penmanship. Sometimes Teri saw traces of it in her own writing — in the slope of a particular word or the curve of a single letter. But her efforts always fell short of her mother’s precise, curls and loops. They were like the immature fumblings of a young girl trying to mimic her mother’s face with a thick layer of makeup.
Teri checked her watch. She only had a few minutes before she was due back at her desk.
With trembling fingers, she tore at the package and removed a note card and small booklet.
Teri studied the booklet first — a catalog for the small private college near her parents’ home.
Hesitantly, she opened the card and read line after line of her mom’s perfect script describing the courses she could take over the internet. Teri had mentioned nursing before, the calligraphic cursive recalled. She could take most of the classes at home whenever she could fit the work in. Then she could come home, back to her parents’ home, and complete her laboratories and clinicals. She could study at the same desk she had sat at as a teenager and look across the same window at the same view of rolling hills and fluffy clouds. The words were so descriptive and the plan so well thought out that Teri could nearly feel the plush green carpet of her old room under her feet. The cool breeze, jumping off the river and bellowing her sheer curtains before sweeping across her body seemed very near.
They would bring her snacks during study breaks, the lines promised, and give her plenty of space.
Teri read each word carefully. Through the designs and pledges, there was no mention of Tom.
Teri dropped down to the cold tile floor. Her brain raced to work out the implications of the omission.
The idea was a fantasy. Teri didn’t have the time or the energy to take a college class and she knew that living with her parents would be a mistake.
As nice as it might be to enjoy some pampering from her mother in the quiet, uncrowded house that held so many nice memories, Teri was an adult. She could step back into childhood for the occasional weekend, but Regan Carlisle was offering a sort of Neverland where Teri would only have to worry about assignments, exams and who would ask her to the homecoming dance.
Teri pulled herself up and raced out of the stall. She paused at the bathroom door to stuff the torn remnants of brown wrapping, the college catalog and the card into the mouth of the tall metal trashcan positioned expectantly in the corner.
She looked guiltily at the wall clock as she swung back into the chair.
Her allegiance was to her husband, Teri decided. She would have to find a way to make that obvious to her parents without being rude.
The Stemples and the Ducks were sitting in the living room when Teri came home. She could barely tell them apart – dumpy wife, balding husband, each with the same wide-eyes staring hopefully at Tom and the whiteboard he kept gesturing at.
“Welcome home!” Tom cried. “Everyone was here except for you, so we went ahead and got started with our meeting early.”
Teri gave the warmest smile she could manage toward the two couples perched on the edge of her couch.
“I’ll just get tidied up and be right back out.” Teri tried to keep the weariness she felt out of her voice.
“She just loves her job,” she heard Tom say as she plodded across the neat lines left in the hallway carpet by the vacuum. “I tell her to quit, to join me in our business fulltime, but she adores the girls she works with.”
Teri slid her handbag and tote under the bed before plopping down on the hard mattress.
Why hadn’t Tom told her that he had scheduled a meeting? Teri searched her memory. Maybe he had, she admitted. To be completely fair, he usually didn’t plan these things without at least mentioning them to her.
Lately, she just couldn’t focus on the business. She tried to give Tom her attention when he went on and on about dinner with this potential or the latest advice handed down from Cory Jackson. Teri found herself tuning him out more and more often, assured and complacent with the knowledge that he would nudge her out the door in time for the wives’ meeting and give her the bullet of information before a business dinner.
She hoped Tom hadn’t asked her to bake a coffee cake last night, or pick up donuts on the way home from work. She already felt like the opposite of the attentive and supportive wife. She didn’t need another reminder of her shortcomings.
Teri looked around the bedroom. The walls were stark white since the lease didn’t allow the tenants to paint, but the framed seascapes that hung on either side of the bureau and chest of drawers coordinated perfectly with the cream and cornflower blue bedspread. The picture of the ensemble in the Sheik Chic home furnishings catalog showed a beige wall with a chair rail that picked up the teal in the pictures and accent pillows. When they bought the townhouse, Teri thought, she would probably paint using those suggestions.
She stared at the seashell-shaped mirror and wondered how many independent retailers slept in the exact same room. She imaged dumpy Sue and balding Bud Stemple turning down the same blue and cream sheets every night while Frank and Juanita Duck rested their heads on the turquoise pillow shams.
Teri played with the idea of slipping out of her work clothes and into a sweat suit. She tried to work out if the certain lecture on proper business attire would be worth the look on Tom’s face.
Deciding to be a responsible business partner, she slipped out of her jacket, brushed it off and hung it in the closet. She walked to the bureau and tugged on the handles, cast out of resin to resemble clamshells and echo the nautical theme of the room, and inspected the carefully folded twinsets. Genevieve Lewis wore them for less formal meetings at her own home. Teri had purchased them back when the business was new and she thought they were going to go Mega any day. This was her first opportunity to wear one. She selected pale pink from the neat, pastel pile, drew the shell over her head then slipped on the cardigan.
“Teri, honey? Everything okay in there?” Tom called while Teri smoothed her hair.
She took a deep breath and strode out the door with a look of happy tranquility plastered firmly across her face.
“Everything’s fine,” she answered in a lilting voice. “Can I get everyone some coffee?”
Tom frowned.
“We have quite a bit to cover,” he said before the Stemples and Ducks could rouse themselves to speak. “We’ll have coffee and donuts afterwards.”
Donuts. Damn. She was supposed to pick up a box. Teri felt her stomach constrict with apprehension as she settled herself on the dining room chair that had obviously been set out for her. She sat a little apart from the downline, but on the same side. Together they would be instructed and motivated by Tom
“You haven’t missed much,” Tom told her. “We’ve mainly been chatting about how important it is to buy motivation materials the moment they are available. Those recordings and books are the best way to get timely information about the business straight from Cory and Belinda Jackson.”
Tom paused in reverence.
“Teri and I would be glad to pass our copies on to you,” he continued. “But by the time we have both listened to a CD a few times, read and highlighted a book, discussed and really assimilated the information enough to part with the material, that news is too old to be of much use to you.”
Frank Duck cleared his throat and glanced at his wife.
“Tom, I think we’re willing to commit to a subscription.”
“Terrific,” Tom beamed. “I’ll put you down for the middle package – three tapes a week and a book every month. You will be shocked at the difference it will make in your business and your entire life. Remember, it’s all tax deductible.”
Tom turned toward the Stemples and fixed them with a stare and the smallest hint of a smile. Bud wriggled uncomfortably and Juanita’s eyes held fear.
“We can’t afford a lot,” Bud finally broke the silence. “But maybe we can swing the introductory plan.”
Tom seemed surprised.
“Only two tapes and one book a month? That’s a start, I guess.”
Teri knew why her husband pushed the subscriptions so hard. They got a small percentage of each sale. The upline got a larger cut, of course. The Lewises, Bellefontaines, Gerkins and ultimately the Jacksons themselves would make more on each twenty dollar tape and forty dollar book than Teri and Tom would see, but that was only fair. Those retailers had already paid their dues and built their businesses. Tom and Teri would get there one day. That was the message of every single Sheik Chic motivational publication.
“We’ll connect next week, Bud. We need to talk about your priorities and commitment to the business. What’s a few dollars on the credit card now compared to a future of financial independence?”
Bud studied his shoes.
“Let’s move on,” Tom said cheerfully. “Unfortunately, the other legs of our organization couldn’t make this meeting, but in a way that’s good. You are the ones I really need to talk to.”
Teri straightened up against the stiff back of the chair. She knew that there were no other legs. The Stemples and the Ducks represented the total accumulation of the years they spent recruiting.
“I notice that neither of your businesses are growing,” Tom said easily. “You haven’t signed up any new retailers and your sales are stagnant. I know the problem isn’t our products and it’s obvious that the system works.” He paused to gesture toward the display of trophies that he and Teri had won each time they made quota for six straight months. “I want to know what the holdup is.”
The Stemples and Ducks looked at each other solemnly.
“It’s just that Sheik Chic has such a bad reputation,” Bud Stemple finally said in an apologetic voice.
“And as soon as they find out that’s the company, potentials run,” his wife continued.
Now that the ice was broken, the Ducks joined in and together the four had a litany of excuses.
“The products are so expensive, we can’t get anyone to buy them.”
“My boss said not to run my business during his time.”
“We can’t afford a sitter every night to show the plan or go to the meetings.”
“My friends say I’ve changed since joining.”
“It’s just impossible.”
Tom waited for them to grow silent. He shook his head and shot looks of disappointment toward the couch.
“I think I overestimated you,” he said slowly. “I’m usually really good at only picking out potentials who are real winners — people who have what it takes to go all the way to the top. Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if I made a mistake about you.”
Bud Stemple bristled.
“Look here, Tom. I think we’ve brought up some valid points. Are you going to help us solve these problems or insult us?”
“Valid points?” Tom repeated with a little laugh. “I think you’re insulting me with those excuses. All I heard was a list of things more important to you than your business and your future. You’d rather have your friends’ approval, stay on your boss’s good side and have a little extra money at the end of each month than build a business that will put your kids through college and let you retire before you’re too old to enjoy it. That’s fine, but we have a word for retailers like that: losers.”
Bud slapped his hands against his thighs and gritted his teeth.
“Losers, huh?” he spat. “I think I’ve heard enough. Let’s go, Sue.”
Teri looked back and forth between Tom and the horrified downline.
“You misunderstood me, Bud.” Tom’s voice was forceful without a hint of apology. “I didn’t say that you were losers.”
Bud was surprised by Tom’s words and tone. He dropped back onto the couch.
“I know you all have what it takes,” Tom continued. “But those excuses are loser-talk and it makes me angry to hear that from people who have so much potential.”
“How high do you think we can go, Tom?” Juanita Duck asked breathlessly. Teri figured this was the most excitement the poor woman had experienced since MotoQuest.
Tom rewarded the question with his most charming smile.
“As high as you want,” he answered while taking a few steps forward and reaching for Teri’s hand.
For the first time that evening, he turned his complete attention to his wife.
“You know,” he said softly. “Teri and I were just talking about how much you guys remind us of ourselves. We were a little hesitant to commit fully to the business at first. To tell the truth, we were a little afraid to succeed. Isn’t that right, Honey?”
Teri nodded fervently although she had no idea what Tom was talking about.
“But once we threw every bit of ourselves into the business and stopped hiding behind loser excuses, everything just took off.”
Juanita Duck reached for her purse and dug out a wad of tissues.
“I don’t know what else we can do,” Frank protested while his wife dabbed her eyes.
“Let me ask you this, Frank. Are you out there every night, meeting potentials at the store, passing your business card, taking them to dinner? You are so good with people, a real people-person, I can’t understand why your business isn’t blossoming if you really are giving a hundred and ten percent.”
Teri marveled at how effortlessly her husband moved from accusations to flattery.
Frank straightened up and sat a little taller.
“I’ll try harder, Tom. I really will.”
“I know you will, Frank.” Tom stepped away from Teri and put his hand on Franks’ shoulder. “Remember, we rely on you.”
“I won’t let you down.”
Tom turned his attention to Bud Stemple, who sat glowering on the edge of the sofa. He looked ready to bolt at the first sign of attack.
Tom shook his head sadly.
“Bud. Sue. I just don’t know what to say.”
Teri thought that sounded wrong, since Tom only paused to take a quick breath before launching into another sermon. She felt the start of the same flutter of excitement she got when Tom pitched the heart of the plan to a receptive potential.
“You both have such fire and passion,” Tom said. “I’ve been looking, hoping, for some way to channel that energy into your business. Now, when you joined our organization, Bud and Sue, you told me that you wanted to pay off your mortgage in three years and retire from your jobs in five. You wanted an RV so you could travel across the county and get to know each other again. Do you still want those things or are you happy making money for your boss?”
Bud shook his head and pursed his lips defiantly.
“No, we still want that, but I’m just not so sure Sheik Chic is the best way to get there.”
“Not the best way?” Tom echoed. “Sheik Chic is the only way. What else are you going to do? Live from paycheck to paycheck on whatever your boss decides to give you? Borrow tens of thousands of dollars to start a business with a ninety percent chance of failing?”
Teri could see that Tom was just beginning, but Bud cut him off.
“When I figured my taxes this year, I had to declare over two thousand dollars in business losses. How is being in the red going to help me retire early?”
Teri once read that nothing good happened when someone answered a question with another question. Maybe that was how she knew or maybe it was the unwavering look on Bud’s face, but at that instant Teri was certain that their downline was going to shrink by half.
“But that was tax deductible,” Tom argued. “It wasn’t like the two thousand dollars came out of your pocket.”
Tom didn’t realize that arguing was futile. He still thought he was going to find the right words to send the Stemples off into the world of potentials as happy and motivated independent retailers. Teri wished she could signal her husband, to tell him it was over, but all she could do was sit helplessly and watch him fight a battle that was already lost.
“It came out of my pocket first,” Bud said. “So what if I get a couple hundred back?”
“You’re right on the cusp.” Tom’s smile was bigger than ever and his voice was steady, but Teri heard the faintest hint of pleading. “Right now you’re investing a little money, a little time and a little energy so that you can reap big rewards later.”
Bud scoffed.
“That’s what you told us when we signed up. Ever since then, no matter how many useless business materials and tasteless TV dinners we buy or how many evenings and weekends we give up or how many friends we isolate, it’s still too little.”
“So all those dreams you told me about, those were lies. And when you told me you had what it took, I guess that was a lie too.” Some of Tom’s composure fell away and his face wrinkled in anger.
“You’re really some piece of work.” Bud nudged his wife. “Come on, Sue. Let’s get out of here.”
Tom regained control of himself and backed away. He even managed a small grin.
“That’s probably for the best. I’ll call you tomorrow after we both have a chance to calm down. Maybe tonight we’ll each brainstorm some, you know — write down some ideas of ways you can really get your business soaring. You’ll be flying with the big boys in no time.”
The Stemples were already at the door.
“Don’t bother,” Bud said over his shoulder. “We’re quitting the business. You’ll have to find some other suckers.”
“Sue, are you going to let him crush your dreams and future like this?”
Bud swung completely around.
“What was it you told me when Sue wasn’t sure about joining? You’re the man, Bud. You should make the important decisions. You know what’s best for the family. Was that all a lie, Tom?”
Without waiting for an answer, he guided Sue out the door.
“A loser,” Tom muttered. His hands were clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white. “A loser tied to a job. That’s all he is and all he’ll ever be.”
Teri glanced at the Ducks. Frank and Juanita were staring at Tom with their mouths open in amazement. She wondered if she ought to say something to bring Tom’s attention back to the living room before they lost the rest of their downline.
Cautiously, Teri cleared her throat.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “They’ll come around in a day or two. Some people have trouble accepting constructive criticism.”
“No,” Tom said sharply. His back was still toward her. “I won’t take them back. We don’t need them. We don’t need their excuses and negativity. We are winners and we don’t have time to deal with losers.”
When he finally turned away from the door, Tom’s face was much calmer.
“We’ll be fine,” he said. “Better than fine. We’ve just cut some deadwood and we’re going to fly even higher because of it.”
Teri smiled as hard and big as she could physically manage. She was afraid that the combination of a fake grin and held-back tears made her face grotesque, but the alternative was to dissolve into weeping.
To her side, the Ducks still looked dumbfounded.
Only Tom seemed unaffected.
“Okay, Teri. How about you make that coffee and bring out the donuts now? We’ll have a little fellowship before Frank and Juanita race back to that gorgeous little girl of theirs.”
Teri wordlessly stood up and scooted toward the kitchen. With the drama of the evening, forgetting to pick up pastries seemed minor. Still, she wished she hadn’t added to the disastrous meeting.
Two dozen assorted donuts, arranged elegantly on their good cut-glass serving tray, sat under the kitchen cabinet where Teri would not be able to miss them.
A genuine smile tugged at her lips and she looked over the bar toward the living room.
Tom caught her eye and gave her a little wink.
They had lost the half of their recruited family with the greatest potential and they were embarrassed in front of the Ducks, but Teri’s heart was singing with happiness.
© Copyright 2003-04, Janet Marie Mills - (The Creative Commons Liscense on this site does not apply to this Copyrighted work which is published with the permission of the author)