The Internship

Author's Note: Many thanks to oz99, who allowed me to use the characters of Todd and Peggy Sanford in this story, and to the real Peggy! As always, all characters are over the age of 18.

*

Thursday evening in the Raleigh-Durham area found Dave Wilson and his daughter Stacey unhappily separated, but occupied with activities that took their minds off each other, for the time being.

Stacey had been working in her father's company for less than a week, but she had already stumbled upon a mysterious conspiracy that she was determined to unveil with the help of Joyce Walker, one of Dave's most trusted employees. When the unsuspecting IT tech Carlos dropped the bombshell revelation that someone had been in Dave's office and on his computer into the early morning hours, and it certainly was not her father, Stacey knew immediately what she was going to do.

As soon as Carlos left the office, she turned to Joyce and said, "Well, that's it, I'm coming back here, tonight."

Joyce said, "Do you have the keys?"

"Yes, I know where they are."

"I wish I could join you—"

Stacey interjected, "Oh, can't you?! I'd feel so much safer."

"No, I have to watch my son tonight. But I'll be on my phone. Keep in touch with me. If anything goes wrong, I'll get some help."

Stacey said, "Oh I'm not worried. Nothing's going to happen to me! They're the ones who should be worried."

"Still, you never know . . . be safe!"

"What's going on, Joyce? What could they be doing?!"

"Lots of things. But now that we can get on Fred's computer, we're one step ahead of

him,

at least . . . Good job with that, by the way!"

Stacey smiled. "It was easy. Carlos is an absolute doll. What a day! You won't believe some of the things I've seen!"

"Well look, I've got about two hours left. I'm going to take advantage of it," Joyce said, settling down in Fred's desk. "We'll talk tomorrow. Now I want to see just what kind of shit this conniving bastard's been up to."

"All right. I'm going to go home. I'll text you tonight." Stacey smiled at her new friend and left.

In Durham, meanwhile, Dave had made plans for dinner with his new friend, an attractive lawyer he'd met at the hotel bar. Peggy Sanford was new in town and just settling into a new job. When Dave told her about his concerns for his business, she was quite interested and wanted to hear more. She'd dealt with enough fraud and legal cases in her career to know something was going on. Perhaps she could help. She looked forward to the evening's conversation with her most attractive host.

Stacey called Dave around 6:00, and they had a somewhat strained conversation, since both were hiding their true intentions from the other. Dave didn't want to let on to Stacey that he was having dinner with a beautiful woman, while Stacey wasn't about to tell him about her covert stakeout. She knew he'd never allow it.

"Hi . . ." Stacey said into her cell when she called him.

"Hi, baby, how are you?" Dave said with tender concern.

"I'm doing fine, but I miss you . . . "

"Mmmmm, I know. . . but it shouldn't be too much longer. I'm cutting my trip a little short. I should be back late tomorrow night."

Stacey felt her body jump with anticipation and pleasure. "Oh! Good!"

"What do you have planned for tonight, sweetheart?" said Dave.

"Oh, I'm home. I have some of your files to go over."

"Stacey!" Dave said suddenly, in a stern paternal voice, "Put that crap away. I told you, don't let this monkey business take up too much of your time."

"But I've got so much here!"

"I mean it! Put it aside. Do something fun tonight. Don't think about work. What about your friends? Why don't you call one of them up? Is it Janey? See what she's up to."

"Oh!" Stacey thought, "Good idea, Daddy! Why hadn't I thought of that!"

"Oh, um, all right . . . maybe I will do that," Stacey said. "What about you, Daddy?"

"I'm having dinner with a . . . work colleague I ran into here. But it should go pretty late, so don't be worried if I don't call."

"That's ok. . ."

Dave whispered into the phone. "Baby, I can't wait to take you in my arms. . ."

Stacey whispered back, "Oh, I can't wait, either!"

"I don't like being away from you . . ."

"I don't like it either."

Stacey's voice was full of lust and promise. "I hate being in our bed without you . . ." she whispered.

"As soon as I get back. I'll wake you up with a kiss."

"All right . . ." said Stacey, loving the idea.

"Good night, baby girl, I'll be in touch tomorrow."

The second she hung up, Stacey called her friend Janey.

"Hi! How'd you like to have an adventure with me tonight?"

Yes, Janey was a bit on the wild side, but she was up for anything, and Stacey thought she'd make the perfect partner in crime.

+++

A few hours later, Stacey was waiting outside her father's office. It was a nice Southern night—warm and balmy, and smelling of jasmine. She was dressed in sweats and a tank top, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She'd gotten the keys from Dave's bureau and was also armed with her cell phone. Just then she heard someone approaching. When she saw Janey, she burst out laughing.

"Oh my god. What are you, a Ninja?"

Her friend was decked out in roomy black dress that went down to her ankles, and her mass of red curls was tucked up tightly underneath a too-large black baseball cap that hid half her face.

"What? I thought we were doing a stakeout."

"Right! Not robbing the place!"

Janey giggled. "This is so exciting! I'm so glad you asked me along. I've hardly seen you, Stace. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, it's a long story! Let's go . . . Oh, wait, wait! Hang on, let me take a pic."

She snapped a picture of them both together, then sent it to Joyce, saying, "On our way. Don't wait up."

They entered through a side door after Stacey punched in the security code, then took the stairs up the darkened office building up to the third floor. There were dim security lights helping them along as they made their way to Dave's office. Stacey listened carefully at the door. Hearing nothing, she gestured to her friend.

"Ok, I think the coast is clear. Let's go."

Inside, the room was lit by floor lights. Stacey knew this place well. She'd already thought it through. There was a huge bathroom, but the best place for spying would certainly be Dave's walk-in closet. It was huge, with plenty of room, and clothes, boxes and other things to keep them hidden, if necessary. The closet was positioned with a view looking out right behind Dave's desk and into the room.

They tiptoed in and sat down, laughing, and waited . . .

+++

Not too many miles away, Dave was sitting at a table in a nice restaurant, waiting for Peggy Sanford to arrive. He was slightly nervous. Dave didn't have a lot of friends; in fact he found it very difficult to open up to people. He was almost considering leaving when he saw Peggy enter the room. She was quite a stunning figure in a clingy red dress, sleek black stockings and spiked sling-back pumps. She was much better dressed than Dave, which made him even more self-conscious.

"Hello!" she smiled.

Dave stood up. "Glad you could make it, Peggy. How was your day?"

"Oh, running around. My son is in Raleigh so he was showing me his brand new office today."

"Oh, where is that?"

"Hmmm, I'm not sure . . . somewhere near Research Triangle Park."

"Ah, good location."

"Yes, and since I'm here we're going to be looking for a house, eventually. Maybe you could help us out when the time comes."

"Oh sure, sure."

After they were seated and drinks were ordered, Dave said, "Are you sure you want to talk about my business problems? I don't want to be a burden . . . "

"Of course. It's interesting. And I have absolutely nothing else to do, so please continue with your story."

"Oh, hmmm, where did we leave off?"

"Your friend? The one you think is stealing from you. You were going to tell me about him."

The waiter came and interrupted them to take their order. Peggy deferred to Dave's taste and let him order for the both of them. She noticed he made an excellent choice.

"So . . . where to begin. Well the thing to know about myself and Fred Hayes is that we come from very similar backgrounds."

"Oh yes—what's that?"

"Well . . . I believe the correct term is 'white trash.' 'Poor white trash' is more like it."

Peggy found this hard to believe. "

You?

You're not serious!"

"Oh yes, indeed. And when I say 'dirt poor' I mean

dirt

poor,

country

poor—we had nothing. We lived in little more than a shack, way out in the country, with some pigs and chickens and my Daddy's guns."

Peggy was astounded to hear Dave lapse into a completely different accent—twangy, country, and sounding totally uneducated. And though he seemed to be making light of it, she could detect a certain anger and bitterness evident as he related his background.

"It was just Mama and Daddy and myself, plus all the other cousins and aunts and uncles. My Daddy was a drunk—when he was around, that is. Neither of them even finished high school. Nobody in that family did. They were truckers or waitresses, and mean as the day is long."

"Dave I never would have known this about you! You have certainly overcome a lot to rise to the stature and public image you have today. "

"Ah, well, that's my point! I've . . . moved beyond it, shall we say, and Fred Hayes had a lot to do with that."

"He came from the same type of background, only worse, because his father left his mother and he grew up in foster homes. When two people share that type of a personal history, especially here in the South, they have a unique bond. We understood each other—we were two guys desperate to escape our pasts, though we did it in different ways. I worked my way out, through mechanics and learning about cars. I graduated from high school, got a job and never looked back. But Fred . . . he is the charmer. He used his looks, his ability to network, to flatter, to manipulate. I didn't see it that way at the time, but that's what it was."

"He made 'friends' in high places, shall we say, and loved being around rich people. And so he kind of showed me the way, socially. I emulated him . . . how to dress, how to talk, how to order the right food at nice restaurants. . ."

Peggy smiled.

"At the time, I admired him and looked up to him. He can be very charming, and very convincing."

"Convincing about what?"

"That you can do better. That you can be ambitious. To believe in yourself. He's so confident that he makes you feel more attractive, smarter, better about yourself. He was like an older brother to me, and my mentor."

"I see. . ."

"We spent most of our time outside work together—conniving, planning, strategizing, and, of course, partying. We were close. As close as I'd ever been to anyone."

"Ok, so then what changed? How did you end up here?"

"Well that, I believe, has to do with my daughter . . ."

+++

Hiding out in the huge, executive closet of her father's well-appointed office, Dave's daughter was at that moment thoroughly wrapped up in the present.

In fact, Stacey knew very little of Dave's past. He'd always kept it completely hidden from her, except to say on occasion, "It wasn't good." She only had one memory of ever meeting any of her extended family—when she was ten, and he took her with him to attend the funeral of his father. It was in some strange, rural out of the way place, with people she did not understand. What she recalled mostly was Dave holding her hand tightly the whole time and never letting her stray off. She never pushed him about it, and it remained a vague if not mysterious memory for her.

She and Janey had spent an hour sitting in a dark closet, whispering, as Stacey told her a bit about why they were there. Janey thought it was completely fun and fascinating. Stacey had such an interesting life! This was so exciting! They were gossiping and giggling when all of a sudden, they heard a key in the door and someone entering.

"Shh!" Stacey hissed.

They listened. They heard two voices. Not surprisingly, one of them was Fred's. The other was Paula, Dave's assistant—also not a surprise. But what were they up to? Stacey moved close to the door and listened intently.

"How much longer do we have to keep doing this, Fred? It's been six months!"

"Calm down. Just a few more weeks. Maybe sooner."

"Fine."

Paula sat down at Dave's desk, right in front of Stacey, who was peeking out through the opened door. Paula booted up Dave's computer while Fred took a seat next to her.

Before long, the two were talking back and forth. Fred was reading off numbers, and Paula was entering them in the computer, but Stacey had no further clue what this was all about. Then she heard Fred speak.

He snickered. "You know, I can't figure out why you're doing this, Paula. What's in it for you, really? I know you don't need the money, so why do you want to do this to Dave?"

Paula said, "Just shut up and give me the data, would you?"

"Hmmm . . ." Fred contemplated her. Being devoid of emotion himself, Fred liked to chip away at other people's insecurities and motivations. Like a true sociopath, he fed off them, and was often good at getting at the truth.

"Perhaps it's not about Dave at all. You're not in love with him, like Kathy. You've never wanted to fuck Dave, I'll bet."

Paula snorted. "As if."

"Hmmm . . . Paula Broughton . . . a fine old Southern name. You don't even need this job, do you? Isn't your Daddy still at SAS? Is that what this is about?"

SAS was the largest corporation in the Raleigh-Durham area. Paula's father was a very high-ranking V.P. on the boards of that and many other Raleigh businesses.

Stacey could hear Paula's voice get tense as she told Fred to "Hurry up so we can finish."

But Fred was pursuing an idea. "Is that why you're doing this? To get on Daddy's good side? Impress him? I know the guys at SAS are aware of what's going on."

"Let's see . . . lonely little rich girl . . . loves her Daddy so much, but he couldn't give two shits about her. . . so she goes into business, hoping to get his attention . . . so cliché. Perhaps if you'd ever become more than a secretary . . ."

"And then this comes up. You'll do anything. If this goes off, maybe Daddy will finally

love

you when he knows you had a hand in it and give you the recognition that you so desperately crave."

"Is that why you hate Stacey so much, Paula? Because she has what you never got from your Daddy? You barely hide it, you know. You're so transparent. You can't stand the fact that Dave loves his daughter. You can't stand seeing them together, or seeing how happy she is, how close she is to him, is that right? Just her being here is rubbing your face in what you never had?"

"Like I care about that trashy brat. Total trash, both of them."

"Oh that must bug you," Fred goaded her. "You're from one of the finest families in Raleigh, and here you are working for a stupid redneck hillbilly and his spoiled little daughter."

Paula whipped around to face him. "Fuck you, Fred. Just fuck you. Now, I'm done. I'm leaving. And you can figure out how to finish this yourself."

Fred only laughed. He had no conscience. He'd gotten what he wanted—an emotional rise out of her. It fed his empty heart. And now he knew that he could toss Paula aside like yesterday's newspaper; he had used her, like he had used everyone in his life, except perhaps Dave . . .

+++

Back in Durham, Peggy said to Dave, "Please continue with your story. You were saying you had a daughter. I didn't know that. Were you married?"

"No, never married. And yes, I have a daughter, Stacey. She's 19. She was born . . . let's see . . . right around the time I opened my first shop."

"So how did that happen?" Peggy seemed deeply interested in this part of Dave's story.

"A fluke. It was an old girlfriend—hardly a girlfriend, actually. Just someone I was with for a few weeks. She showed up at my shop one day, six months pregnant, and promptly informed me I was going to be a father, and that I would never see her or the child again."

"So how did you end up with the kid?"

"Six months later, she came to see me again, this time with Stacey in tow. She was obviously in a state. She said she 'couldn't do it.' She' just couldn't do it.' She 'didn't have what it takes to be a mother.' She literally came to my shop with a baby and a bag full of diapers and said 'Here. Take her to a hospital. Put her up for adoption. Do what you need to do. But I can't deal with this.' And, well, from that moment on, I became a father. My life changed. There was no way I was going to give her up."

"And Fred didn't like this?"

"Well the conflict didn't come until a little later. Here I was, just starting my own business, living in a tiny little bachelor pad. What the fuck was I going to do with an infant? I had no choice but to give Stacey to Mama and Daddy to take care of for a while . . . which believe me was the very last thing I wanted to do."

Peggy could see that this part of the story made Dave upset.

"I had to take my child back to that same damned environment—the very one I had worked so hard to get the fuck out of."

"For two years I worked my ass off getting the business off the ground, and I saw Stacey only on weekends. It drove me crazy. I wanted to get her out of there before they did any damage to her. She was all I could think about. Because, Peggy, I fell in love with my daughter. Completely and totally. It hit me like nothing else. I loved being a father. I loved being with her."

"At the end of two years, the business finally seemed to be on its feet. I bought a house. I could afford full-time help. And I was able to bring my daughter here to Raleigh to live with me."

"And that is what truly caused the rift between Fred and I. Stacey became my priority, in every single way. Fred saw it and did not like it. He was strangely angry about it, furious in fact, and resented all the time I spent with her. The money was just starting to roll in, and, I don't know, I think he had other ideas in mind than me being a father."

"I stopped seeing him altogether when Stacey was about five. But to tell you the truth, I didn't think too much about it. I was happy. I settled down—growing my businesses and taking care of my little girl."

+++

Back in Raleigh, Fred was typing away on Dave's computer and occasionally referring to notes. It was quiet.

Stacey had slouched down in the closet, and Janey was lying with her head comfortably cushioned in Stacey's lap. Stacey closed the door just enough that it became completely dark, and immediately Janey texted her:

How much longer do we have to be here!

Idk! We can't just walk out!

What the hell is going on? What was that all about? What's he doing?

Idk but it's more than I thought. I'm sorry . . . we just have to wait

Wait a minute! Listen!

Stacey once again heard the door to Dave's office being opened and someone walk in. She took advantage of Fred's distraction to creak open the closet door just an inch so they could see, though she suspected she knew exactly who it was going to be.

"Hi," Kathy's voice said quietly, for once.

"Oh, come here, babe. What took you so long?"

Kathy giggled. "Just getting ready for you . . ."

Peeking through the door, Stacey could see that Kathy was entering the room wearing a trench coat and high heels. As much as she despised her, she had to admit Kathy was a beautiful woman—curvy and voluptuous, with big turquoise blue eyes and a luscious honey blonde beauty.

"Mmmm . . . I like . . . but help me do a few things first."

Stacey saw Fred shut down Dave's computer, while Kathy used her keys to get into Dave's massive desk. There were several drawers crammed with files, and she saw Fred take the papers he'd been reading from all night and carefully put them inside. Then they did the same thing with Dave's file cabinets, as Fred pulled more documents from his briefcase.