Page 51 of Daddy's Game

“Ms. Schuster, you are now the new CEO of GolfCarts. Do not disappoint me.”

“Me, sir? But I’m just an analyst. I don’t have my MBA yet–”

“It’s fine. I know you’re smarter than everyone who just shuffled out of this room with their tail between their legs.”

“How do you know that?” she dared to ask.

“You didn’t lie to me. Not only did you not lie, you pointed out to me that other people who worked for me were, in fact, lying. Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t think it was right. That, and…”

“What? Spit it out.”

“I was afraid of what you would do to all of us if I didn’t tell you.”

“See? You’re a certified genius, MBA or no MBA.”

I scribbled a note on a pad and signed it, then ripped it off and handed it to her.

“Take this down to Colleen Wing in HR. She’ll get you set up with your new position and pay scale, effective immediately. I’m assigning you Fred Dux as a mentor, but he’s just your guide. You will be making all of the final decisions. He’s not going to hold your hand the entire time.”

“Understood, Sir.”

I smiled at the way she held her head a little higher on the way out the door. She stopped at the last moment.

“Just one thing, sir. What’s a code STM?”

I grinned.

“That’s a problem that’s uniquely my own, Ms. Schuster. I suggest you get moving. You have a ton of work ahead of you, namely dissolving our relationship with Hurlock and finding a new source of widgets.”

She hustled out the door, and I wasn’t far behind. I took the executive express elevator to the lobby, and as soon as the doors slid open I saw the code STM.

Samantha sat on the marble reception desk. Her dark green dress was Prada, her heels Gucci, and her jewelry could have financed an NBA franchise for an entire year.

Seventy years old but still spry, eyes shining with mischief, my stepmother remained a force to be reckoned with. Case in point, she’d basically taken over my entire lobby. Receptionists, the floor manager Maurice, and even one of the security guards had gathered around to hear her story.

“...and that, boys and girls, is why you never fly to Borneo during the Winter Solstice.”

They all erupted into laughter, her gathered audience. I stepped up in front of her.

“Hello, Samantha. I didn’t hear you were in town.”

Her eyes darted over to me, and a smile etched itself across her wizened face.

“Oh, there you are, my boy. I’ve missed my son so much.”

She slid off the desk and came over to me, throwing her arms around my waist in a tight hug. I put one hand on her tiny back and patted gently.

“It’s good to see you, Samantha. How have you been?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine. I’m not here to talk about myself. Let’s go somewhere private.”

She held her hand out and Maurice gave her a dark green D and C purse. It subtly matched both her dress and her shoes.

“Of course. You can come on up to my office.”

I led her to the express elevator. When the doors closed, she turned her narrow eyed gaze on me.

---