Chapter 4 #2
When we arrived, the avian-looking hostess eyed me up and down and I could tell she was trying to figure out if I was someone famous.
Only a very famous person would show up at Michael’s in clothing so carelessly uncurated.
I spotted Margie across a sea of power lunches, already working on some appetizers.
She wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin and waved us over.
“Betty and Veronica,” she called out. “Over here.”
We walked toward her with our heads down, sat, and waited.
“Glad you could make it.” Margie gestured to the appetizer plate in front of her. “Oysters and littleneck clams on the half shell. Help yourself.”
A waiter wearing a black tuxedo jacket approached us and leaned in closer to me than any waiter I’d ever known.
He had obviously been given instructions by the hostess to figure out if I was anyone worth sneaking a photo of.
Emily and I each ordered a glass of wine and a house salad without looking at our menus.
Margie laughed and leaned back in her chair. “Would you believe I’ve eaten here only once before? Fancy place like this. Can’t afford it. But today’s a special occasion because I figure you’ll be expensing this meal. Both of you.”
There it was. She knew everything.
Her eyes bounced back and forth between Emily and me, eager for a reaction.
I didn’t know what to say. But Emily as self-righteous WASP would not go down without a cornea-scratching, ponytail-pulling fight like those witnessed on field-hockey grounds across New England.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Margie,” she said. “Do you care to tell us what this is all about?”
“You’re not sure what I mean.” Margie cocked one eyebrow up and looked at me. “She’s not sure what I mean. Ha.” She slammed one massive hand down on the table, causing all the glassware to rattle. “I mean you girls are stupid! How stupid can you be? And you just kept going.”
“We were about to stop,” I blurted out.
Emily shot me a look that promised she would murder me in my sleep later that night.
“We were just trying to pay off our student-loan debt,” I said. “That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Margie tilted her head.
The waiter appeared with our wine and some more appetizers. Grilled asparagus and an avocado salad.
Margie pulled both plates closer and dug in. “It’s partly the generation you were born into, I don’t envy you that. But you don’t expect me to just turn my head and pretend I don’t know what I know, do you?”
Emily uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “Okay, Margie, fine. What do you want then? You must want something or you wouldn’t have brought us here.”
“Do you even know what I do for the company?” Margie asked, ignoring Emily and pointing at me with her fork. “Aside from the general accounting. Aside from keeping the books clean and making sure nobody’s stealing.”
For a moment I thought Margie might spontaneously stab me in the face with her fork, and I was totally okay with it. I wanted her to, to take me out of this misery. What other way out was there?
“I also oversee all of Titan’s charitable donations,” she said, and then paused to slurp an oyster.
“For tax breaks, that kind of thing. I used to be a grant writer, back when I thought all it took to change the world was to get enough good people to do something good. My parents instilled that in me; they were career activists, so it goes without saying they retired frustrated and penniless.”
I wondered where Margie was going with this. Emily was right that she must have wanted something, or else we would have already been dragged out in handcuffs.
“Cut to the chase, Margie,” Emily said. “How much will your silence cost?”
Margie cracked up laughing loud enough for a number of finely groomed heads to turn and stare. “This one watches too many cop shows.”
She leaned back in her chair again, then rocked herself forward and brought her voice down to a mannish whisper. “I don’t want any money and you don’t have any to offer me, princess. All you’ve got to offer is access.”
The salads arrived, and for Margie, the waiter set down a grilled lobster.
“Ah, lobster,” Margie said. “They say they’re the cockroaches of the sea, but man-oh-Manischewitz are they delicious.”
Emily and I left our salads untouched.
“First things first,” Margie said. “I’m not part of this. I have enough hard evidence to put you both in jail tomorrow, so don’t fuck with me. Being pretty isn’t going to help you here. Understand?”
For a split second I was actually distracted and flattered by the fact that she’d implied I was pretty.
“You’re not part of what?” Emily asked.
Margie smiled wide. “There’s an assistant in Accounting, her name doesn’t matter. She’s the best kid I’ve ever known, smart as a whip. Works really, really hard, never had a break in her life. You’re going to help her pay off her debt just like you’ve helped yourselves.”
“How much?” I asked.
“Eighty thousand; a real bargain, considering she had no help from her parents. She’s been dutifully making payments since graduation.”
Emily’s neck was speckling with hives as pink as her dress. “You’re insane. You think Robert Barlow isn’t going to notice all this money disappearing?”
“You weren’t so concerned about that when it was for your own benefit,” Margie said.
“I was.” I raised my hand. “That’s why we were about to stop. I think Emily’s right, this is going too far. And Robert doesn’t deserve this.”
“Robert,” Margie said, “is a warmonger, neoconservative imperialist. He’s a bully with no interest in helping anyone but himself. And more than all that, he’s a thief. A bigger thief than any of us in a million lifetimes could ever be. Trust me, I know. I keep his books.”
“I think you’re exaggerating just a bit,” I said, offended on Robert’s behalf.
“Oh, you think so? You think I’m exaggerating?” Margie slid her plate in closer and cracked open her giant lobster. “Want to talk about his tax shelters?”
“Not really,” I said.
“I didn’t think so.” Margie was acting smug, but she was wrong. In spite of what Robert’s most vocal critics claimed, all of his island accounts were perfectly legal. He was just smarter than everyone else, and people resented him for it.
“Do you honestly think a man like Robert would do something as dumb as cheat on his taxes?” I said. “With so many people watching him?”
But Margie was finished with that argument. “Look,” she said. “This is the deal I’m offering you. You do this for me or I turn you in. It’s as simple as that.”
I turned to Emily and had never seen her looking so pale beneath her suntan. “I really don’t understand,” she said. “Making us do this. What’s in it for you?”
“Nothing,” Margie said. “Can you imagine that?”
“There has to be something,” Emily said. “Your assistant can’t be that good.”
Margie looked directly at me. “Because the game is rigged and nobody does anything about it; not to mention, I know you can get away with it. And I guess the honest-to-God truth is, I’ve always dreamed of being a class hero.”
Then she let out a roaring burp for all of Michael’s to hear.