Page 9 of Fever

Chapter Three

Josiah

Chicago, Illinois

“Good morning, Mr. Rose. It’s good to see you today. I was worried about you for a second.”

A slow smile spread across my face, and I pulled my hands up, mimicking my brother’s infamous stance when inside the boxing ring. Playfully, I swung at the air as if I was tapping a speed bag. My boss Jim Monroe was cracking jokes early this morning because I never missed a day until recently when my brothers announced they were having a double wedding and celebrating their bachelor parties in Montego Bay.

“You know if it had been under any other circumstances I would’ve been around.”

Jim nodded. “I know. Even if you were paralyzed from the waist down, you’d roll your wheelchair in, ready to make a sale.”

We both chuckled at the image of me wheeling in for a day’s work. I’ve been employed at Infiniti Dealership for six years now. Some of the other salesmen didn’t understand why I made an effort to come to work every day. They would put up the argument that “If my daddy were rich, I would be living the life.” But when you know better, you do better. My father is Christopher Lee Rose, retired business mogul and financial guru. His first business Rose Bank and Trust Credit Union made its first million in three months of its opening. The institution was now worth over five hundred fifty million dollars and run by my brother Jonas.

Of course, although my father had retired, he kept his hands in some trade or business deal. As recently as the beginning of last year my father purchased Gemz, a chewing gum corporation founded in 1972 that had grown to become one of Chicago’s most popular chewing gums on the market. Unfortunately, the company began to fold under economic pressure, and two years ago, Gemz was set to go into bankruptcy. But leave it to my father to swoop in, secure the company, give it a face lift, and save jobs in the process. Odd for someone who’s supposed to be retired. At the beginning of the year, Gemz was ranked in Fortune’s 100 Fastest-Growing Companies.

I understood why my co-workers would be perplexed with me working a nine-to-five when I could go work for my father. But I was bred a different way. If I decided to pull weight at Gemz, it would be at the head of the table beside my father as President and COO. Then I could have a solid hand in the advancement of the company while simultaneously running my dealership. If my mentality was anything like that of Christopher Lee Rose, then building a company from scratch, without the help of my father, but with the same tenacity he had with Rose Bank and Trust Credit Union would be the road I’d like to take first, which was why I continued to work for Infiniti. My plans were simple. At least they were to me. Right now, I’d saved enough money to open my dealership, but that didn’t mean I planned to jump out into shark-infested waters. No. I’d watch, grow and wait until the perfect time for me to make my dreams a reality, and only then would I toss my hat in the ring. I know what you’re thinking. I’m a Rose; I didn’t need to do any of that to be successful. I could merely use my name. Aah, but again, I was a different type of breed.

And although Daddy was rich, and I had a platinum black card at my disposal, there was nothing like building your own and maintaining a legacy.

I’d been back from Montego Bay for a few days when I came down with the flu. Somehow, I managed to let it sneak up on me. Never in my life had I had a problem with the bug, and getting shots wasn’t something I cared to do. Besides that, it was summer time, so I was uncertain if it was the frigid waters from the blue hole or the disarranged mixture of seasons that had plagued me with the viral infection.

“I don’t know how you expect to make hand-to-hand sales with you barking all over our customers,” Jim said. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t want to catch that either.”

Jim Monroe was an extraordinarily tall person. There weren’t many people who could hit Jim’s height of 7 feet 2 inches. I was 6’4 myself, and looking up at Jim was a daily thing that never bothered me. Until today. My nose ran, and I pulled a tissue from my black Kenneth Cole pants pocket and blew into the napkin.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about right there. You’ve gotta go. I’ll still pay you for the day. Just go home, please,” Jim urged.

He held up his hands as if to fend off the virus he was sure was airborne by now and looking for a healthy home to lay its burden on. The sound of a spray can echoed, pulling Jim’s and my attention to the open door. Larry Benefield held a Lysol disinfectant can, moving his hand wildly as he sprayed continuously.

I narrowed my eyes. “It’s not that serious. I’ve managed it thus far, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, you’ve managed it,” Larry agreed. “The problem is once you get over it, it is sure to move on to one of us, and I’ve got kids to feed. There’s no way I can afford to get sick.”

“Larry,” I said calmly, “I haven’t been around you.”

“Viruses don’t discriminate.”

Jim nodded in agreement.

“The last thing I need is everyone at the dealership catching the flu.”

“But I’m your best salesman,” I reminded him.

“Yes, but if half of the staff, or worse, all the staff are absent because of the flu, I’d be in serious trouble. Go home. That’s not an option.”

“You’re joking,” I said.

“I’m afraid I’m not, dear old friend.”

Jim reached out to pad me on the shoulder but thought better of it and pulled his hand back.

“Take the week off. You’ve got sick time available. I’ll put it in for you so you’ll still get paid.”

“But, Boss, my bonuses.”

“The sooner you get better, the sooner you can come back. You’ll be okay. I’m sure your savings account is about to burst open with that rich daddy of yours.”

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