****
Publicly Traded
In Victor Moore’s office, he wraps his arthritic hands around the handle of his expensive Titleist putter. A bead of sweat forms along his receding gray hairline, while turning up his bulldog face, he slaps the ball. It slowly begins curving slowly to the right, until it is rolling ninety degrees from where it started, before stopping amongst other balls nowhere near the hole. Victor gleams at the scattered pile of balls, at the putter, and begins swinging the club violently, before bending it like a horseshoe over his thigh.
Marcy, Victor’s assistant, jets in. “Is everything okay Mr. Moore?”
“Yes,” regaining his composure, “I need you to dispose of this.”
“Mr. Young will be here shortly,” she asks examining the broken putter. “What shall you have me do?”
“Let him wait,” he answers as he wipes sweat from his brow. “I don’t want him to see me sweat.” Victor strains out a weak smile before dropping down into his chair. Rubbing his hand over his hoary head, he examines papers upon his desk.
The progress of his company for the last year has his particular attention, and after studying this paper, he becomes angry and quickly swipes the papers from his desk. As Victor lays his head back in the chair, Marcy announces Mr. Young over the speaker. He begins to scramble about the office, picking up his mess and wiping the perspiration from his face and neck, then finally grabbing his five iron from the golf bag and repositioning himself behind his desk.
“Send him in Marcy.” Casey Young was already opening the door before Victor could finish. Victor despised him upon sight, mid forties with silver lapping at his sideburns, a hit with the ladies, and the man about to buy the controlling shares of Victor’s company.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Casey smiled with extended hand.
“Anything for the riches man in the Midwest,” Victor returned with a hand and lump of pride in his throat. “Have a seat Mr. Young.”
“Please Victor, call me Casey.”
“Please Casey, call me Mr. Moore.”
“Okay,” Casey sat searching for a response. ”Mr. Moore, I…”
“I am just kidding,” Victor coldly smiled. “Call me Victor.” Casey chuckled then continued speaking.
“I am not here to bullshit you…Victor,” Casey spats as he observes the Titleist golf clubs in the corner of the office. “It would only be a matter of time before you would be filing bankruptcy and…”
“So what do you plan on doing with the company after the acquisition,” Victor inquires as if already knowing the answer.
“I don’t want you to look at this as an acquisition, but more of a merger.” An answer he has heard before, only coming form his lips. Victor sat back into his chair, grabbing the five iron he laid against his desk.
“So what is your plan for the company?”
“The plan is…” Casey tries to focus Victor caressing the handle of his club. “Sorry to change the subject, but what’s your handicap?”
“Do you play,” Victor snaps as if being summoned from a trance.
“Ever chance I get,” Casey responds. “I have my clubs in the car now.”
“Really,” Victor asks overly surprised.
“Why don’t we head out to the course and finish talking business there,” Casey asks.
“Sounds good,” Victor smiles triumphantly as he presses the speaker button on the phone. “Marcy, I will be stepping out for a while. Is everything clear for the evening?”
“Yes, everything is clear Mr. Moore,” she sings back with a chuckle.
“Let’s go slap some balls around,” Casey blurts as he jumps to his feet. Victor just grins.
Nearly four hours later, Casey and Victor enter the rundown clubhouse of Colorado’s worst golf course. Victor notices a man eating alone trying, not to make eye contact. “I’ll be along in a minute.” Victor tells Casey as he goes over to the gentleman. As he gets closer, he realizes that it is Thomas Daniels, a former CEO of a company he previously acquired and shutdown. “Daniels?” Victor inquired.
“Hello Victor,” Thomas answered without looking up as Victor sat down.
“What the hell are you doing here? Do you work here now?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Why?”
“After you shut everything down I found myself backed into a corner. This was the only place hiring. I still made out better than most of the others you screwed.” Thomas quickly stood up gathering his lunch to leave Victor’s presence.
“It was only…”
“Business. I know.”
Victor stood from the table and watched as Thomas Daniels disappeared into the kitchen.
Casey seemed to be a bit agitated when Victor sat down to join him. “I am appalled Mr. Moore.”
“Excuse me,”
“You have never played a day of golf in your life.”
“I said I wasn’t very good, but…”
“Save it,” Casey snapped. “You lured me here to try and get some dirt on me.”
“What the f…” Victor stopped. “ I don’t…”
“While you were over there talking to your grounds keeper buddy, I’ve had a woman and man both come soliciting to have sex with me. Hell, a transsexual midget even offered to give me a happy-ending out back.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but…”
“I have to use the restroom, please excuse me,” As Casey enters the restroom his food arrives and Victor reaches into pocket. He pauses as he notices Daniel’s returning to his hard labor duties. He pulls out a cigar tube and lighter, then lights up his cigar.
Casey Young returns from the restroom, he has calmed down from his previous meltdown. “Excuse my behavior,” Casey says slipping down into his seat and begins to eat. “I know what I would do if I was in jeopardy of losing my company.”
“Like put rat poison in someone’s food while they are in the bathroom.”
“Probably,” Casey stops chewing and stares up at Victor as he stands and pulls a pill vial from his pocket.
“Don’t worry, I changed my mind,” Victor exhales and departs.
About the Author
Ashley Doucette was born in New Orleans, LA, where he developed a love for art and literature. After graduating high school, he enlisted in the US Navy and served onboard the USS Boise. After his enlistment, Ashley worked several different jobs from mining to diesel refining. Now, Ashley is still working to provide for his family, but he is also attending Full Sail University in pursuit of becoming a professional writer.
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