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July 16, 2004
Marks - Chapter 11
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. 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 11
Mr. Remly;
You don’t know me but I would like to introduce myself. My name is Marco Brand and I am an American friend of Bala Reyima. Bala told me about your business opportunity. Because of complexities in the Nigerian legal code regarding international business venture, it would be much simpler if any official paperwork is drawn up in my name.
Since English is not Bala’s native language, he is afraid to communicate directly with you regarding the details of this venture, although he trusts you completely.
For these reasons, the easiest way to proceed is to deal directly with me. Bala will be sending you an email confirming his agreement to this arrangement.
I am very excited about this opportunity and eager to talk with you more and to get started.
Please let me know if I can provide you with any more information.
Sincerely,
Marco Brand
Marco read over the email carefully before clicking the send button. He had considered every single word and wove in as many phrases from his father’s memos and last semester’s business writing class as he could remember.
Still, it sounded phony to him. He hoped Mr. Remly didn’t see completely through the ruse. If he realized that Bala Reyima and Marco Brand were the same person – or worse, that Marco was a two-bit hustler not worthy of being trusted – the whole venture would be jeopardized.
Marco gritted his teeth and frowned while he logged out of the email account and into one that he had created for Bala. The guy who sold him the package swore that he once had seven scams running simultaneously and never got his facts confused or his stories crossed. Marco had trouble managing his one client. The imaginary barrister and banker each had to have an email address, writing style and background.
The instructions on his CD said the background material was crucial. Make up something personal but believable and confide in the mark, read the text file. If he thinks you trust him then he will trust you.
What the detailed but poorly written directions didn’t say was that this created a net of facts, lies and exaggerations that had to be checked, reviewed and cross-referenced with every piece of correspondence.
Of course, that all added up to a lot of work and time but as of yet no money.
Marco tapped on the laptop. Each finger fell with a loud click. He probably would have been better off if he had stuck with Dr. Bean, he admitted. At least then he would have something to show for the past few weeks. Some money toward returning home and a blip for his resume.
But he would not have met Tom Remly. Marco honestly thought that this business opportunity would hold the key to everything that was missing in his life.
For once, Marco believed he was facing life without any misconceptions. He knew that there would be plenty of hard work involved and not much profit in the beginning. That didn’t scare him. Marco was actually looking forward to building something for himself.
He finished the letter and leaned back in his chair.
This was the first time he could look at his future with something besides anxiety and dread. He wasn’t going along with his father’s wishes or his mother’s manipulations. He wasn’t bowing to history or the easy way. He wasn’t looking for something to shock his parents and mark him as a rebel. He felt as if he had spent every day before wandering through an enchanted forest, one with pots of gold and bushes of succulent fruit. A fairyland where he was physically comfortable but aching from the pain of being lost. Now he had found his path – one filled with obstacles and leading away from the life where everything was handed to him and each decision made for him.
It was his road.
Marco knew that every single aspect of the rest of his life could be determined by Tom Remly’s response. If Remly was not willing to trust Marco in the same way he did the fictitious Bala then Marco feared he would be condemned to never be anything more than an echo of his father. Like Jonathon Brand, he would graduate from Kenton, marry a suitable girl who was probably more attracted to his money that to him and run a business thanks to no other virtue than his name matching the one outside the corporate headquarters.
Marco wanted more. He wanted Tom Remly to accept him, to teach him how to succeed and to help him build a business that he could be proud of. He wanted to meet a girl who loved him even when the fledgling company was struggling. He wanted a marriage like Tom described. Teri Remly seemed like a business partner as much as a wife.
And it all depended on one email.
Marco suddenly felt overwhelmed with anticipation. His stomach fluttered and the boxy hotel room seemed closed in.
Remly wouldn’t get the email for hours, so there was no reason to wait around feeling trapped and anxious. Abuja had a surprisingly intense nightlife – one that made Cincinnati look like a one horse town. When the sun went down, the entire city seemed to spill out onto the parched streets and pulse to the throbbing dance music from the slick discos and makeshift clubs.
Marco tugged on his sandals and sprinted out the hotel to join the nightly party.
The cashiers at the bookstore used to watch Tom as if afraid that any minute he would shove a book under his jacket or expose himself to a child. Now they were used to his daily, hour-long loitering session in the business aisle. They nodded at him when he came through the door and politely stepped around him to restock the shelves.
Of course, it wasn’t really loitering. He was working, staking out promising territory and waiting for the right person to stop by – someone bored with his job and shopping for a book on working at home or starting a small business.
In the past month he had wracked up twelve meetings with potentials he had met in this very store. It was his most fertile hunting ground.
Tom watched as his target, a middle aged, well-dressed man, picked out a book and began thumbing through the pages. Slowly, with practiced nonchalance, Tom glided toward him.
“LaGrette,” Tom read from the cover. “He writes wonderful stuff. Really earth shattering ideas about business models of the future.”
“You know LaGrette?” The man asked, obviously surprised. “Have you read Ways to Wealth?”
“Read it? I practically have it memorized.”
“Trevor Boli.” The man stuck out his hand. Tom grabbed it and gave a confident pump.
“Tom Remly.”
“What did you think of LaGrette’s explanation of nontraditional marketing, Tom? Do you think it’s a viable alternative in this economic climate?”
Tom’s stomach fluttered with excitement. The tapes were right, a good suit did influence people’s opinion of you. This guy was talking to him as if he were a hotshot Harvard MBA or a big corporate executive.
Of course, Tom reminded himself, he was an entrepreneur. A business owner. A success. He squared his shoulders and stood a little taller as he pieced together his answer.
“I think LaGrette was right on target,” Tom said carefully. “The average guy today, he doesn’t have thousands of dollars to build a business the old-fashioned way. He needs an edge, and the nontraditional marketing plans provide that.”
Trevor smiled broadly.
“I’m very glad to hear that. So, Tom, what do you do for a living?”
Tom leaned his elbow against the bookshelf and gave his own little smile. He tried not to look to eager or become overly excited.
“I own my own retailing and consulting business. Of course, it practically runs itself now thanks in a large part to LaGrette’s advice.”
Trevor’s face dropped.
“Sheik Chic?” he asked.
Tom was confused by the potential’s obvious irritation, but he remembered the canned lines and even managed his charming smile.
“Why, yes it is. Why? What have you heard about us?”
“Dammit,” Trevor growled. “You’re the second person this month.”
“I don’t understand. Did you have a bad experience with Sheik Chic? Because I can assure that there have been changes and the new Sheik Chic is different -- ”
“I’m in Sheik Chic too, you moron. I was trying to recruit you.”
Tom stammered for a moment and Trevor warmed slightly.
“Look,” he said. “I’m willing to be fair. You were here first. I’ll fish in the food court until you’re done. How long do you plan on being here?”
“About an hour.”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll be back then. Good luck.”
“Hello,” Bethany’s voice sang from half a world away.
Jacob was unable to speak for a moment. Bethany never seemed to be home, no matter what time he called, and he was surprised when the familiar answering message didn’t click on.
“Hey, Beth,” he finally managed to whisper.
“Jacob.” Her voice was less than enthusiastic. Jacob wondered if Marco had mentioned Muriel to her, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Marco didn’t even like Bethany, not enough to send her an email or spend the money on an international call.
“Still mad at me for staying here? I’m working on coming home. I really am. It won’t be long now.”
“I’ve been hearing that for a while.”
The conversation was not going the way Jacob imagined. Whenever he called Bethany, he hoped that they could commiserate on how it felt to be alone, buck each other up with plans for what they would do together when he finally returned. He wanted to feel connected to home by the sound of her voice stroking him.
Instead of feeling warm and loved, Jacob felt like an unpopular kid being shunned on the playground.
“Bad day, Sweetie?” Jacob asked.
“No,” Bethany answered slowly. “I’ve had a great day, actually. A great week.”
“Oh.” Jacob was at a loss.
“I can be upset without you for reasons beyond school, hormones and the weather, you know.”
“So you are mad at me. I’ll be home soon, Honey. I really will be.”
Jacob was glad that Marco had slipped out for the night. He didn’t need his best friend hearing the desperation in his voice.
“Don’t bother, okay? I just hope you enjoy whatever it is that’s keeping you in Africa.”
The sharp click startled Jacob. He stared into the receiver and listened to the dial tone.
With clenched teeth, he redialed the international code and the familiar telephone number.
“What?” Bethany’s voice was cold when she finally answered.
“We need to talk about this.” He tried to keep his tone calm but loving.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Just get over it, Jakey.”
“Get over it?” Jacob echoed. “Get over what, exactly?”
“Okay. Listen. I’ve tried to tell you nicely.”
“Tried to tell me what? We never even talk.”
“In my letters,” Bethany answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t write the long, rambling description of peanut farms that you do but I do send emails and I’ve told you every way I can think of. Now I’ll have to just come out and say it.”
“I know you’re mad that I can’t come back right away,” Jacob protested. “I know that.”
“God, Jakey. Stopped thinking about yourself for once. This isn’t about you.”
“Then what?” Jacob was confused and not certain he wanted to hear what was coming next.
“Okay.” He heard her take a deep breath. “I’ve met someone else.”
“What?” Jacob managed to murmur while he stiffly sat down and tried to stop the swirling around him.
“It was fun, Jake, really. But it was never serious.”
“Is this serious? Whatever you have with this guy?” Jacob was buying time, just trying to keep her on the line until he could find the right words to convince her to wait on him.
“I don’t know.” There was real annoyance in her voice. “Maybe, maybe not. At least he’s here and I’m having fun.”
“What if I could be back tomorrow,” Jacob pleaded. “What if I got the next plane home?”
“Just let it go,” she shouted. “I’m with Sam now. If you can fly back to Kenton tonight, you could have two months ago when I was lonely and you still had a chance.”
“So I don’t have a chance now, is that what you’re saying?” Jacob yelled back before she could hang up on him again.
“I can’t take this drama. Does everything always have to be so heavy with you? It’s over, Jake. Accept it and move on.”
Jacob eased the telephone on its cradle after he heard the line disconnect.
After a while, he could breath easily again, without the painful constriction in his chest that threatened to pour out in endless sobs if he didn’t concentrate on other things: the tiny spider web in the corner, the constant drip from the bathroom sink, the horns honking outside — on anything but his wrecked life.
Muriel would be at the Urban Health Center, helping with a workshop on birth control. Jacob stood up and picked his way past the discarded towels and castoff clothing that were scattered across the floor.
He couldn’t recall leaving the hotel or following the twisting path through downtown Abuja to the back entrance of the large house that served as a hostel and the health center. Working on autopilot, he waited at the door while a dozen Nigerian women in flowing, native robes, filed past him. Each looked away, covered her mouth with her fingers and giggled at seeing a man after discussing such intimate topics.
Muriel was the last one out. Her long brown hair was down instead of in her usual ponytail.
“Venturing out in the city at this time of night? Aren’t you becoming adventurous.” She cocked her head and smiled at him before turning around to lock the door.
“It’s not even dusk yet,” Jacob answered.
Something in his voice made Muriel frown.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Jacob shrugged and looked around.
“You’re not planning on walking home alone, are you?”
She shook her head.
“No. Paul is hanging out upstairs. He’s going to escort me.”
“Good. Okay.”
“Is that why you walked all the way down here? To see how I was getting home?”
Jacob leaned against the brick wall. He didn’t want to talk about Bethany yet, but he did want to be with Muriel. Just standing beside of her was somehow very comforting.
“Will he be coming down soon?”
Muriel let him change the subject.
“I’m supposed to go up and get him when I’m ready. Sometimes these things run late.”
“Can we go back in there?” Jacob jerked his head toward the door of the health center.
Muriel twisted the key again and led the way into the dark room.
“Let me warn you, there are pictures of uteruses everywhere,” she laughed and pulled a piece of twine to turn on the overhead light.
“It’s like the health classroom at high school.” Jacob looked around at the plaster walls decorated with lengthy cracks and diagrams of the female reproductive system.
“I thought you went to an all-boys school.”
“Yeah, but we were still bombarded with all these cycles and hormones. We all sat through class frightened half to death and humming The Battle Hymn of the Republic to drown out the teacher’s lecture.”
“You boys are all alike. What’s so terrifying about reproduction?”
Jacob shivered.
“I don’t know, it’s just something we’d rather not know about.”
Muriel watched him closely.
“So are you going to tell me what’s up or do I have to start my lecture on fertile periods to get it out of you?”
“Paul’s probably waiting on you. We’d better get going.”
She shook her head.
“There are a couple of students from Australia upstairs. Paul’s hoping to go there for graduate school next year. He’ll appreciate any extra time I give him to chat with them.”
Jacob walked to a thick steel desk positioned at the front of the room and sat down on the smooth, gray surface. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Muriel so he stared at the worn linoleum.
“I talked to Bethany a little while ago. She wants to break up.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Oh,” Muriel said eventually.
“She says there’s someone else. I wish I wasn’t stuck in this godforsaken place.” Jacob balled his hand into a fist and hit the desktop for emphasis.
“If she wouldn’t wait until you came back, then she’s not worth getting upset about.” Muriel’s words came out slow and evenly.
“How can you say that? You don’t even know her.”
“Did you think she would find another guy?” Muriel asked in the same voice.
“No. I knew she was mad at me, but I didn’t think she’d do that.”
“Maybe you don’t really know her, either.”
“But I love her,” Jacob argued.
“Or maybe she’s changed. Maybe she’s not the same person you fell in love with.”
Jacob looked up and sighed. Muriel sat beside of him on the metal desk and put a companionable hand on his shoulder.
“I know you’re upset,” she said. “I wish I could say or do something that would make it all better, but I can’t.”
Jacob tried to give a brave smile.
“You could tell me that when I get back to Kenton, Bethany will see the error of her ways, fall into my arms and we will live happily ever after.”
Muriel lifted her hand and edged away.
“Here’s my take on life,” she said after a brief pause. “Nothing happens without a reason, and if you’re a good person and try to do your best toward the world in general and the people around you specifically, then everything will turn out for the best in the end.”
“The best is to be back with Bethany.”
Muriel shrugged.
“Maybe, maybe not. What I’m saying is that even if something doesn’t seem good right now, in the future you will look back and see that it was a blessing in disguise.”
“I hope you’re right, but I don’t see how this could be any kind of a blessing, disguised or not.”
Muriel reached out and gently stroked his cheek. Jacob’s eyes shot open with surprise and he turned to look at her face more fully.
She pressed a gentle kiss on his lips but jumped down from the desk and bolted to the door before he could respond.
“I’m going to get Paul,” she called without looking back. “It’s dark out and you won’t want to be alone, so we’ll walk you back to the hotel first, okay?”
Jacob nodded but Muriel was out the door and couldn’t have seen.
He touched the cheek where she had been stroking and wondered just how he would have responded to her kiss if there had been enough time.
Teri enjoyed her commutes to and from work. Listening to the callers to the local radio show, she wondered if she was the only person who did. Sometimes she listened to the radio, occasionally she would tune in to the AM station to see hear about the latest uproar in local politics.
Unless Tom insisted, she never listened to a Cory Jackson motivational CD.
She looked at the drive as a bit of time for herself. She was trying hard to be part of the business, for Tom’s sake. She really was. If his happiness and their financial future were at stake, she didn’t mind sacrificing her weekly soak in the tub, facial and conditioning treatment. Compared to Tom’s plans for them, those little luxuries seemed so frivolous.
Her time alone in the car was the main factor that let her be so magnanimous. That was her chance to let her mind wander, so think about the past and make tentative little stabs at what might be her future. She spent most of the time thinking about the past. An incidence would play in her mind and she would dissect how she handled it and what her life might be like now if she had made a different decision.
There was a lot she would have liked to go back and do differently.
Once she had read that no experience was wasted because they all worked together to make her present self. She reminded herself of that quite often. It was a comforting sentiment.
The morning was bright and sunny and for some reason, as she zipped along the streets towards Burkelin Securities, Teri thought about her best friend in elementary school. She and Sonel had been inseparable since they met when they were seven years old, then for some reason Sonel backed off at the beginning of sixth grade. She had spent the summer with her grandparents in India and explained her unwillingness to join the four-square game or gossip in the cafeteria on jetlag, but the distance between them grew throughout the year. By junior high they had each found other friends and moved in different circles.
Now, years later, Teri was sitting at a red light, remembering how lonely and confused she had been. She wondered what happened to Sonel and vowed to ask her mother if she had heard anything.
Teri studied the rainbow of cars on the other side of the street and suddenly realized that her period was late.
She remembered taking the last green pill in her birth control pack after leaving the steak house last night, which meant she was exactly five days late.
Somewhere behind her, a car beeped. Teri’s head snapped up. She maneuvered past the green light and across the intersection.
After the initial wave of surprise and panic passed, Teri wasn’t worried. Her cycle was very irregular and despite the promised of her physician, the Pill did little to change that. She was often late, she reminded herself. Sometimes she missed a month an entire month and occasionally – and always at the worst possible times – she was weeks early.
Still, Teri was concerned enough to risk clocking in late. She pulled into the big chain drug store. She knew the exact location and brand she liked, so she was back in the driver’s seat, staking her position in the endless chain of commuters, within minutes.
She knew from experience that life would be easier if she just took the test. That way, there would be no hours wasted on needless fears, hopes or wishes. Get the anxiety out of the way with a simple blue line, she told herself, and let nature take its course.
As certain as she was that the pregnancy test would be negative, Teri couldn’t help but daydream about what life would be like when she and Tom did have a baby.
Tom would be a terrific father. She didn’t doubt that. He was always talking about children with prospects. Maybe a family would keep them home more. Surely they could arrange for less meetings and conferences once the business was built. On top of that there would be all the little kisses and smiles, first words and laughs. Teri’s childhood had been so happy and she was ready to help tiny hands shape Christmas cookies and cut out paper dolls.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and imagined a sturdy carseat strapped in the back.
Of course, they weren’t ready yet. Not financially. Teri knew how important building the business was to Tom. He wanted to establish himself before starting a family.
Sometimes Teri wondered just who he was so determined to prove himself to. He was her husband, but she still wasn’t sure what motivation sat behind the catchphrases and endless optimism. Who did he think about when the monthly balance sheet was deep in the red? Her father? Their upline? His former boss? An old buddy who smirked at the recruitment presentation?
Or was it just himself?
Teri pulled into the familiar parking lot and slipped the paper bag from the drugstore into her handbag.
She stopped in the restroom before punching her code in the time clock. Peace of mind was worth a few minutes of wages from her paycheck. If she waited until her break to take the pregnancy test then she would spend the entire morning fretting, dreaming and entering very little data.
This way she could know for certain and prepare for the inevitable period that would probably start sometime after lunch.
Teri leaned against the wall and reviewed her datebook while waiting for the test to process. She knew the organizer, a Sheik Chic exclusive, was a great tool for keeping track of meetings and chores. Tom relied on his religiously, but Teri found it difficult to keep the calendar up to date. She would forget to use the little notebook for a few days and suddenly it was useless.
Surely three minutes had passed, she decided. She returned the book to her purse and flipped over the indicator stick, fully expecting to see the usual single line.
There were two lines in the rectangular window on the white plastic stick.
Teri was pregnant.
© 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)