Chapter 3 - THE COMMODITY OF CARE
The immediate aftermath was a blur of rapid executive action. Once Eli was calm, breathing evenly and clutching the ball bearing like a talisman, Vivian had her security detail clear the lobby. The medical professionals were dismissed with a cold, terrifying efficiency that only a CEO of her caliber could muster.
I tried to slip away. I picked up my toolbox, wiped my hands on my rag, and headed toward the service elevator. The door closer on Conference Room 3B still needed fixing, and I had a schedule to keep.
"Mr. Brennan."
Her voice stopped me. It wasn't the broken, pleading voice of a mother anymore. It was the tempered steel of Vivian Cole, founder of Cole Meridian. I turned around. She stood there, wiping away the last of her ruined mascara with a silk handkerchief. Her eyes, though red, were razor-sharp.
"You're Dale, right? From maintenance?" she asked, walking toward me. Her heels clicked with authority on the marble.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, shifting my grip on the toolbox. "I'm glad your boy is doing better."
"You calmed him down in five minutes," she said, her voice tight. "The best pediatric neurologist on the East Coast couldn't do it in an hour. How?"
"I've got a son, ma'am. Danny. He's on the spectrum," I said simply. "You learn to read the weather before the storm hits. And when it hits, you don't try to stop the rain. You just offer a shelter."
Vivian stared at me, processing the metaphor. "I offered seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to anyone who could reach him. I meant it. My CFO is drawing up the paperwork as we speak."
I shook my head, feeling a sudden surge of discomfort. "No, ma'am. Keep your money. I didn't do it for a payout. I did it because I know what it feels like to be drowning in public while everyone watches."
She stepped closer, invading my personal space, an intense, assessing look on her face. "Nobody refuses that kind of money, Dale. Nobody in this building, at least."
"I'm not in the business of making money off a frightened child," I said firmly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a door to fix."
I turned and walked onto the service elevator. As the doors slid shut, I saw her watching me, a new, calculating expression on her face. I thought that was the end of it. I was wrong.
By 3:00 PM the next day, my supervisor, a nervous man named Higgins, pulled me into his office. He was sweating through his cheap shirt. "Dale, what did you do?"
"I fixed the HVAC on the seventh floor," I said.
"No, I mean with the CEO. Vivian Cole's executive assistant just called down. You're being reassigned."
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"Reassigned? To what? Executive plumbing?"
"To her," Higgins said, swallowing hard. "She bought out your contract. You report directly to the top floor now. Dale, whatever game you're playing, be careful. The people up there... they don't play by the same rules we do."
