Ian felt good as he walked into his office that morning. The morning power meeting was brief and precise. He informed the team of his rendezvous with Amanda Jackson, and all in that respect looked hopeful. Just to keep things from leaking to the press, Ian referred to only a casual meeting where they playfully tossed a few ideas around.
Blake informed him there was a small change in Ian’s afternoon schedule. David Turner had requested, as the Chairman/CEO of the company, that Ian set aside time that afternoon to meet him in his office.
“His office?” Ian was shocked, usually Turner always wanted to meet in Ian’s office. “Did he say what it was about?”
“Just to be there around 1 P.M.”
“Around? Not exactly, on the dot?”
“Nope, around, nothing more, nothing less.” Blake looked up at his boss with an apology on his face.
“Well, did he say what it was about?”
“Ian, it was short and sweet…” Blake imitated the old man, “Tell Young Justyn to set aside some time this afternoon to meet me in my office, say around one, thanks sport…click.”
“Should I be nervous?”
Blake shrugged.
“Do you know what this is about?”
“How would I know what this is about?”
“Blake, you know everything. That’s why you’re here…”
“Sorry, Boss man can’t help.”
“Can’t or won’t”
“Can’t. I’ve tried every resource I know, without creating a stir. No one has any idea.”
“I just…ooohhh crap.” Ian went into his office, and flustered the rest of the morning away.
Respite came briefly moments before lunch when he was informed that Elizabeth Elysian had faxed a power of attorney to the Realtor and that the only thing lacking now was his own signature to make everything official.
It took all of fifteen minutes. He didn’t even have to leave his desk chair.
His accountant had a grin on his face that wouldn’t stop. The man picked up the huge document and copies then patted Ian on the back. “Congratulations Ian Justyn, you got a deal.”
“I am very aware of that, thank you.”
“I mean this never, never happens.”
Ian agreed. “For the first time in my life, fate seems to be stacking the deck in my favor. Every day, whenever I walk in the house I am just amazed. So, do we need to discuss some sort of budgeting?”
The accountant looked surprised. “Well, if you would like to. I’ll be happy to increase my documentation for you, but you actually spend so little. Of course, once all of this gets rolling we may want to discuss diversification and investments, but I need a little time to just to see exactly what we’ve got here.”
“If that’s what you think best. I just don’t won’t to over spend, I’d hate for the first check to bounce.”
The accountant laughed. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ve got insurance that covers all that. As soon as I get this portfolio together in more detail, I’ll set up a meeting.”
“Yes, of course.” As the balding man strolled happily out his office door. Ian wondered if maybe he should look into a new accountant. He was part of the HRT pool, but his attitude about Ian’s financial concerned seemed a little cavalier.
As the accountant jauntily meandered out of his office, Ian was shocked to see a very white, shaken Jenson Michaels just standing there…sweating.
“Jenson?” Ian looked at him.
“Uhm…hi?”
“Are you alright?” Ian asked.
“Sure?” The writer finally focused his eyes on him.
“Can I help you with any thing?” Ian asked, starting to get concerned.
“Kill me? Kill me now?”
“Okay…” Ian motioned the man to come in his office. “Blake, would you mind getting Jenson and I a couple of soft drinks?”
Blake disappeared to wherever it is Blake disappears to. “Jenson, come on in my office and we can discuss disposal of the body.”
“Yeah.” Jenson chewed on his thumb and nodded his head. “Yeah. That’s good.” He stepped into Ian’s office and rabbited to a seat near the balcony window.
Before Ian could say anything else, Blake appeared with his handy dandy little tray. Ian took it from him. “Any idea what this is all about?”
Blake shook his head. “Just got out of the elevator and planted himself right where you found him about five minutes ago.”
Ian looked at his watch. “Bad timing…it’s “around’ one. If I’m not out of my office in five minutes, call Mr. Turner explain the little emergency and tell him I’ll be up as soon as I can.”
“Got it.”
Ian took the tray and put it on his desk, double checking his watch. Jenson looked up at him.
“Why did you do that?”
“What?”
“You looked at your watch.” Jenson grabbed his stomach. “Oh, God. It’s time, isn’t it?”
“Uh…”
“Did you know about this?”
“Jenson, what are you talking about?”
“The call, did you know about the call?” He mumbled.
“Dude…get yourself together. Tell me, what call are you talking about?”
“David Turner, David Turner’s secretary called me this morning and told me to be in Mr. Turner’s office around one o’clock.” Jenson shot up from his chair and started pacing the room. “You’ve decided you don’t like it. You don’t like anything and you’re ripping up the contract and I have to give all the money back. I know it. I just know it.”
Ian tried to get the man to stop pacing. “Jenson, hold on. I got a call, too. I don’t know anything, but if you got a call my guess is it is probably something about the series…”
Jenson grabbed his head and sat back down in the chair. “Oh God. Oh GOD!”
“Calm down, calm down. Let me finish my sentence, man. I was going to say, yes it’s probably something about the series. Did Saxon Allen’s people contact you? It’s more than likely about her taking on the reins as Executive Producer.”
“Saxon Allen…Saxon Allen…someone called me, but…but…”
Ian put his hands on the man’s shoulders. “For God’s sake, Jenson, take a breath man. Take a breath. Look, if this were bad news, believe me, they’d make me deliver it. I’m the bottom of the totem pole, the big wigs don’t do the dirty work.”
“You’re sure?”
“Only one way to find out. Let’s go up there. Hey, if it’s bad news, you and I, we’re in this together.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Both of Jenson’s legs nervously bouncing. “Okay. Yeah.”
Ian had to help the man out of his office, put his arm around him and practically guided him to the elevator. The poor man kept chewing on his nails. Ian was afraid that if the elevator doors didn’t open soon that blood would start spurting from all ten of Jenson’s fingers.
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