"Dad, I'm as qualified as anyone in your corporation to negotiate with the bank." Carol stared at her father.
"Carol, you cannot just step in and save the day. I know you've been doing a great job, but some tasks are best left to those..." George paused.
"Who have a dick? Is that what you're saying? Christ, Dad, sometimes I feel as if we're still in the fifties. I've got an MBA from Yale, 6 years on management experience, hell, I'm totally up to date on the finances since you had me buried in that for two years," The tall blonde spit out. She shook her head wanting to cry, but that was exactly what her father wanted. All her life she'd tried to live up to his incredibly high standards. She was the captain of her state champion basketball team, right. Dad never made a game. Work, he said. She gave the commencement addresses at her high school and at Yale. Dad was not in the audience. Carol stared at her dad shaking her head, "You've never forgiven me for mom dying in childbirth, have you?"
"Shut up! Get out of my office. Don't you ever bring up my wife again. And don't you dare call her 'mom.' She wasn't your mom, Judith was. She raised you, she changed your diapers. When you kill someone, you have no right to call her mom." George turned and faced out the window. "Leave." He said quietly.
George was angry every time he laid eyes on his heir, his first born. There should have been a George LeTour Jr., but instead he was stuck raising a cute little blonde-haired girl. What angered him was that his hair was dark. His features were dark. And although his late wife was blonde, it always gnawed at him that his daughter might not have been his. He would have had a paternity check done, but it hurt him enough losing the one woman he truly loved. He would have been crushed to find out she was with another man. He thought about how she'd grown though.
He looked back as she was leaving, 'God, if only...' Carol was easily 6' 2" tall. Straight blonde hair and although, you couldn't tell, a figure that should have been gracing the catwalks and not these halls. He tried to get her to model, use those God-given womanly charms, but she seemed to have this drive to be his son, always trying to live up what she thought a good son would be.
Carol crept out the door and headed to the ladies room, fighting back tears, fighting back the pain of her father's apparent hatred of her for nearly thirty years. Closing the door to the stall, all her emotions exploded, her whole body shook and she pressed her fists into her eyes. 'Why did I get an MBA? Trying to please dad? Why the hell did I take him up on his job offer, I had better ones, more lucrative ones. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.' She grabbed tissue and blotted her eyes and cheeks. A look of resolution came over her face, "I really should have taken those jobs, in fact I'll go get one of those now. I'm done." She stood up and opening the door, went over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Dabbing off the moisture, she looked at herself, and though her eyes were fairly red, she wasn't a total mess since she had no makeup to smear.
She strode down the hall, opened her father's office door and spat out, "That's it. I'm done. I quit."
She saw that asshole Carl talking to her father and both heads turn to her. "Bye." She turned and as she was going out the door, she heard her dad, "Wait honey. I was wrong."
'Holy crap,' she thought, her dad never called her honey. The great George LaTour never admitted he was wrong. She turned, "I'm sorry, did you say you were wrong? About what, exactly?"
"About you negotiating with the bank. Carl tells me you're the most qualified person we have here. So, I'm sorry to have yelled at you." He looked at Carol waiting for an answer.
"Ok, I'm listening. You want me to be on a team? To lead the team? What?" Carol asked.
Carl spoke up, "To lead the team, actually, it's just me and you. Wait, before you say anything, those guys are old school, men's club sort of thing. I told your father, who better to get through to them than his own daughter. It is really the next best thing to working directly with George himself. I have no real role, except they are a bit chauvinistic, and I can help smooth that out. I know these guys."
Carol's demeanor changed, "Ok, I can do this. Dad, are you totally onboard with this?"
George came over and grasped his daughter by her shoulders, "Honey, you might be the only person in this building who can pull this off." He looked over at Carl, "I assume you have the first meeting set up?"
"Yes, I'll take Carol to her office and we'll go over what I've sketched up." Carl said.
George looked proudly at the two, leaving his office together, knowing between them, they should be able to get the loan extension that would mean the difference between losing it all and huge financial security.
Carol sat behind her desk listening to Carl's plan wondering why she disliked him so much. He was treating her with deference and thoughtfully agreeing with her suggestions, but as convincing as he was, she felt uncomfortable. Anyhow, finally, it was all set. They had their first meeting scheduled with their account rep, Stephen Allen.
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"I'm afraid you're both wasting your time, you guys are way in the red, your stock has slipped to what, 20% of what it was three years ago. I see this a simply throwing good money after bad." The 30 year old executive said dismissively.
"You're right, all your data is right. However, in six weeks when we release the RJ650, all that will turn around. Have you read the pre-reviews?" Carol reached into her briefcase and plopped down a half dozen magazines. "All these project the biggest thing since...Look, all we need is for you run this up the chain."
"Right, at this point they're pipe dreams. We cannot extend your line of credit unless you come up with more collateral. We owe it to our shareholders to not make risky loans." He pushed the magazines back towards Carol. He hated saying no, but they really were stretched to the limit and they had balls asking for more money. He chuckled to himself looking at the striking blonde who was dressed like a man and probably was packing a pair of balls.
Carol was about to say something, but Carl, who'd been studying Stephen, interrupted, "Can I speak to my colleague in the hallway a second?"
After Carl closed the door, she turned to him. "What? What are you going to say? I'm not doing something right?" Carol asked.
"Actually, you're doing everything right, except for one little thing," He reached up and ran his fingers down her jacket. When she batted his hand away he shrugged, "Listen, he's been studying you. Looking to see if there's a woman under all this. He's married, probably for the last 10 years, and he might not cheat on his wife, but he sure would like to window shop." Carl looked at Carol, "You actually look like a man. You always whine that women can do the same work as a man, but for Christ's sake, why didn't you just go for the sex change operation and get it over with? Why is it so important that you hide what could be your most convincing assets?" He opened her suit coat checking for breasts.
Carol was stunned, she'd always tried to look professional, but she realized she was trying to be the son dad always wanted. "Ok, but I sure can't change now. Ideas?"
"Let's say we need to go back, regroup. Look at our assets again and perhaps meet, say over dinner this evening." He again ran his fingers down her suit, this time Carol didn't slap his hand away. He looked back up at her, "Find something feminine, sexy. Make him wonder whether you have panties or a thong on, or you're going commando rather than whether you're wearing boxers or briefs." He led her back into the office.
