Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are
offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go
somewhere else.
Copyright c 2002 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.
Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed
electronically or in any other manner without the express,
written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters
to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not
intended. They are all products of the author's imagination.
THE LIFEGUARD
Chapter 57
I took the report home with me for Eric to read.
After going over it very carefully, he looked up, a frown on
his face. "I don't get it," he said. "Surely some of the
reporting agencies have more than this."
"I guess he must not give them ANY information, but why? I
don't want to jump to any conclusions, but we need to have
assurance that he's capable of performing. We've got a lot
riding on this."
"I'll say! and everything hinges on getting the resin. Any
ideas?"
"Not yet, how about you?"
"I believe it's time we got the whole story. Maybe Big
George could tell us, and then we should be hustling up other
suppliers," he said.
"I don't want to go to Big George's buddies yet, not until we
know more, but I've got Bill's crew getting a list together
of everybody else in the business."
"Here's an idea," he offered. "I don't know how closely
mining and petroleum are related, but it might be worthwhile
talking to Hal."
"Good idea, let's do it first thing tomorrow."
I had just gotten a cup of coffee when Eric and Hal came in.
Eric got right to the point. "I don't know how closely
Geology and Oil are associated, but we need some help."
"They're closely related," Hal said, "at least at the
exploration level, but Petroleum exploration has become much
more sophisticated than looking for minerals. It's become a
whole separate field."
Eric gave Hal the whole background on our situation, and what
we needed to find out. "We need to know if Big George really
does have the reserves he says he does, and if his refinery
has the capability of producing what we need."
"Personally, I don't think I can help you," he said. "But, I
may know somebody that can. A guy I went to College with
went on to get his degree in Chemical Engineering, and now
works for one of the Major Oil Companies. If anybody would
know the answers, or know how to get them, it'd be him."
"Do you think he may be willing to help us out?" I asked.
"I can sure ask," Hal said. "Can I offer him a consulting
fee?"
"Absolutely," Eric and I said in chorus.
"Let me see if I can locate him. It's been a few years..."
Hal said, and rose to leave. "I'll let you know as soon as I
find out anything."
"There's something else I'd like to know," Eric said after
Hal left.
"What's that?"
"Just how far along Big George is on the resin conversion
plant. That's critical to us, and by now they should have
made some progress."
"Let's see what we can find out from Hal's buddy, then I
think we need to talk to Big George. In the meantime, I'm
going to ask Bill to check out plant sites in Texas, around
Houston."
Hal didn't get back to us until noon. "Had to run home to
get my old address book," he explained. "Found him, but
nobody was home. I left a message for him to call me when he
got in, either here at the office or at home. I should have
some answers by tomorrow."
Hal was waiting for us when we came in the next morning.
"Learned a lot last night," he said.
"About my buddy Neil," he said when we were seated. "He's a
Chemical Engineer for Shell Oil, and is completely familiar
with the whole situation. He also knows a little about Big
George Matheison, and he's willing to help us out.
"He can find out about any offshore leases that Big George
has with a phone call to somebody in Louisiana, and get his
production records with another call since all of that is
public information. He's doing that today.
"When he has that, the only way he could assess the
refinery's capability is to actually see it. That
information is NOT public. Do you think you could get us in?"
"I think so," I said, "Big George may want to go with us, but
I don't think that'd be a problem. When do you want to go?"
"Neil's free this Friday, and all weekend. We could have
most of the answers you need by Monday," Hal said.
"Should I wait until you have answers to the first two
questions before I call Big George?" I asked.
"Good idea," Hal said. "Neil said he'd call me as soon as he
had anything. By the way, he doesn't want anything for doing
this."
"We'll take care of him anyway," I assured him.
Eric and I brainstormed ways to approach Big George. Between
us, we came up with a workable scheme.
Hal came back with positive answers to our first two
questions, so it was time to call Big George.
The call started out the usual way, general pleasantries and
family. Then I got serious. "We're planning on spending a
few bucks down there in Louisiana," I said, "and hell, we
haven't even seen the place yet, so we're thinking about going
down and taking a look on Friday."
"Sounds like a good idea," he said, then went on to extoll
the advantages of locating there.
"Another thing," I said innocently, "I've never seen a
refinery up close and personal, so I was wondering if you
could arrange for us to take a tour of yours?"
"On Friday? I don't see why not. I'll make all the
arrangements, just show up at the office, they'll be
expecting you. How many will there be?"
I thought fast. "Five or six, I believe," I told him.
"No problem," he said, "just wish I could get away and join
you."
Hal and Eric were waiting. "All arranged," I told them. "Let
go to Houston Thursday night so we can have all day Friday to
look things over," I suggested. "I'm going to ask Bill to
join us."
Hal volunteered to reserve the plane and to find the airport
closest to the site. Eric would handle the hotel.
"I'm beginning to wonder if we've gotten all excited over
nothing," I told them.
Annie called to check in. She sounded deleriously happy.
She "loved" Hans's family. She and his mother were spending
a lot of time together while Hans was working, and Hans was
showing her Germany from the "inside".
She said that Hans had asked her to stay an extra week, and
wanted to know if that was OK with me. Of course.
We checked into one of our hotels. Not surprisingly, Eric
and I had the biggest suite in the place. The grin on his
face told me that he had more planned than business.
Hal and Bill brought Neil up for a drink before we all went
to dinner. Neil wasn't exactly what I expected. He was
friendly, outgoing, and had a great sense of humor. He
wasn't hard to look at, either. Dark hair, green eyes and
dimples that made you smile every time he grinned, and that
was often. Almost as tall as Hal, wide shoulders that
tapered down to a tiny waist, and not an ounce of fat. This
was one hot man, and my gaydar went into orbit the minute he
walked in.
Poor Bill, again he was the only straight guy in the group.
Neil started telling us what he'd learned about Matheison Oil.
Big George had gotten an offshore lease at auction, and had
two platforms off the coast. Each had six wells that were
pumping sizeable quantities of oil, enough, Neil guessed, to
feed his refinery, no more.
If his crude was typical of the area, the refining process
would produce an ample amount of what we were looking for.
So far, so good. Now, all we had to do was verify that all
of this was actually happening.
We took two cabs to dinner, giving Eric and me a chance to
talk. "How's your gaydar?" he asked, chuckling.
"Tilt!" I said. "Not a doubt about Neil."
"Same here," he laughed. "I wonder if Hal's picked up on it?"
We didn't talk about oil over dinner. Instead, Hal told Neil
all about the other things we were doing, mainly the Lovebird
Mine.
Afterward, Neil asked Hal to have a drink with him so they
could discuss old times, the rest of us went back to the
hotel.
"Give me two minutes, nothing elaborate, I promise," Eric
said as he went into the spare bedroom.
It didn't take long before he was back, dragging me with him
back to the room. There were a few candles burning and a
big, thick beach towel on the bed. We had a long kiss in the
semi-darkness then undressed each other slowly.
"Just lie back," he said. "I'm going to enjoy your body
tonight."
I flopped down on the towel, my hard dick pointing skyward.
He slipped between my legs and covered his hands with some
type of lotion. Leaning forward he started at my shoulders,
barely rubbing the skin, just enough to put a light coat of
the silky smooth lotion on. His feathery touch was highly
erotic, making my dick twitch.
As he worked his way downward, my whole body tingled. A
light touch on my nipples made my dick start dripping. Out
each arm he went, clear to my fingertips, spreading lotion on
every square inch of my skin. Then, across my chest and down
my abs to my navel. The feelings were intoxicating.
He stopped there and moved down to my feet. Still with the
feather touch, he worked upward, replenishing the supply of
lotion every minute or two. When he reached my balls, I
spread my legs even further. His light touch electrified
me.
With only the tip of one finger, he traced from the base of
my cock to the rim, then back down, continuing this until
he'd gone all the way around. I half wanted him to quit
teasing and get serious, but then, what he was doing felt so
damned good I didn't want him to stop.
His fingertip traced the rim and wandered all over the head,
making me arch up with the tender sensations, gasping.
Our only physical contact was his finger rubbing me. His
beautiful dick was bobbing and dripping but it never touched
me. All I could do was look at it and drool.
His finger found my g-spot under the head and gently
massaged. I was getting close, and wanted to beg for
release, but let him have his way. The pressure built, I was
getting really close to the edge, then up to the edge. He
held me there, teetering, not letting me go forward or back,
making me feel like I was cumming, but I wasn't actually
"there" yet.
"After what seemed like hours of this exquisite torture, he
took me in his fist, and with only a couple of strokes, I
went flying over into one of the hardest orgasms I'd ever had.
When I came to, he was lying on top of me, his dick beside
mine, softening, his face buried in my neck.
"Wow!" was all I could say in my semi-conscious state.
"You like?" he whispered, panting.
"Kinda nice," I giggled, wrapping my arms around him. "In a
couple of minutes, it's going to be my turn."
"You're way too late," he laughed. "I got off right after
you did. Without touching myself, I might add. See what you
do to me?"
The flight to Morgan City didn't take long. Eric had
reserved a van so we could all ride together. It was
definitely "Bayou" country with water everywhere.
The directions we had for getting to the refinery were a
little less than adequate, so several stops for directions
were necessary. We smelled it long before we saw it.
Our plan was for Eric, Bill and me to ask the dumb questions.
Any questions that Neil had would be passed on to one of us
to ask so that his expertise wouldn't be obvious. We wanted
to appear to be just a bunch of tourists.
The Plant Manager was expecting us, and after giving us hard
hats, we set off on our tour. This was all totally new to
the three of us, so we had no problem asking a lot of
questions.
The place was a maze of pipes and tanks. The tall "Cat
Crackers" were, as I understood it, the heart of the
operation. The Manager explained that they were no more than
fancy stills where various grades of distillate were pulled
off at different levels of the towers.
A big pumping station near the water's edge sucked the crude
oil out of the underwater pipeline coming from the offshore
platforms.
Every place we walked, I looked for signs of new
construction, but didn't see any. On the way back to the
office, I asked the manager where they were going to put the
conversion facility. He looked at me in total surprise.
"Don't know anything about that," he said.
Those who heard my question and his answer tried not to show
their amazement, and we calmly continued the tour.
As we neared the end of our tour, I looked at Neil. He
nodded his head and smiled, indicating that he had gotten
what he needed.
After getting a look at the area, and particularly the roads,
I had definitely decided against locating our plant here, but
since we were already here, we might as well take a look at
the proposed site. We got directions, and found it about a
half mile up the road.
As soon as we got into the car, I turned to Neil. "What do
you think?" I asked.
"It looks OK," he said, "but I'd like to work with some
numbers before I give you a final answer."
I was NOT impressed with what I saw. It was flat, but that
was about the only positive feature. The water table must be
very high because there were ponds and puddles all over it.
Site preparation cost would be exhorbitant, and we'd probably
have to sink pilings for every piece of machinery to sit on.
"We sure as hell aren't going to build HERE," I announced.
"This is nothing but a goddam swamp! Can you imagine the
bugs in the summertime?" There was unanimous agreement.
On the flight back to Houston, Neil had his calculator out
and was hard at it. We left him alone. The rest of us
discussed the surprising news that the Plant Manager was
unaware of the conversion facility that was vital to us.
"Something's fishy," Eric commented.
"I'll say so," Bill added. "If there's any hope of meeting
the deadline, they should be started by now, at least SOME
activity!"
All of the possible reasons why nothing was happening were
thrown around. No plausable reason could be found, and it
came down to the necessity for a direct confrontation with
Big George.
In Houston, we all went back to the hotel, congregating in
our suite.
"I've got some rough figures for you," Neil said. We all
nodded eagerly.
"That's a pretty small refinery in comparison to the ones I'm
used to working with at Shell," he grinned. "But, if the
crude they're processing is typical of that area, they should
produce about 70% of what you'll need."
"Only 70%?" I asked.
"That's optomistic, too," Neil answered, "and running at 90%
capacity consistently."
"Then we're in trouble before we even get started," Eric
observed. "That is, if we rely on Big George as our sole
supplier."
"And that doesn't include any expansion, which we'll surely
do," Bill added.
"Let's look at something else, then we'll come back to this,"
I suggested. "It looks like, for some unknown reason, Big
George is dragging his heels on the conversion facility.
What do you know about those, Neil?"
"Quite a bit, actually," he said. "Shell does a lot of that."
"In layman's terms, what does the process consist of?" I
asked.
"Quite simply, it's a mixing plant. Other chemicals are
added to the distillate, a reaction takes place, and the
stuff solidifies. It's then ground up, and you use the
granules to make whatever you want out of that. The chemicals
you add determine what type of end product you'll have. Some
of the formulations don't solidify, and those would be
delivered to you in liquid form."
"Is this a 'clean' operation, from an environmental
standpoint?" I asked.
"Relatively," Neil said. "When the chemical reactions take
place, some smelly fumes are given off, but, with air
scrubbers and precipitators, virtually all of that can be
eliminated. There's nothing toxic involved, it just smells
bad."
"I assume, then, that this plant could be built anywhere?" I
asked.
"Just about."
"Do you have any idea what a facility big enough to meet our
needs, with some spare capacity, would cost to build?" I
asked.
"I was expecting that one," Neil chuckled. "Shell built a
plant like that on the West Coast a year or so ago, about
twice the size you'd need. That one cost about $150 million,
so half of that would be a good guesstimate. There are only
two companies who make the machinery for these, and I've
worked with both of them."
"Hmmm. I wonder if Big George has talked to either one of
them," I said, thinking out loud.
"Like to find out?" Neil asked, grinning. "I've got
'connections'."
"That'd be a tremendous help," I said.
"I can get the numbers from my Secretary," he said, heading
for a phone.
The rest of us got into a huddle while he was calling. "It's
pretty obvious where you're heading," Bill laughed.
"We need to know our options," I told him. "And, I need all
the ammunition I can get for our confrontation with Big
George, which is looking inevitable."
"What's our legal position on the Contract you signed with
him?" Eric asked.
"I do know that we have all kinds of escape clauses," Bill
said, "mostly regarding performance."
All sorts of ideas were thrown out, Hal as big a contributor
as any of us.
Eventually, Neil got off the phone. He was grinning when he
came back over. "Neither one of them have heard a word from
Matheison," he announced.
"Are you sure?" Bill asked.
"I talked to the guys who head their sales departments, and
they assured me that nobody from Matheison had contacted
them," Neil said. "I know these guys pretty well, and have
every reason to believe that they're leveling with me. While
I was at it, I asked them what their timeframe was, and they
both said 'about 18 months'."
"Where do we go from here?" Bill asked.
"We should have known everything we've learned today BEFORE
we signed an agreement with Big George. I'm afraid that I
have to take responsibility for that," I said. "I took him
at face value, and now we're going to have to re-do the whole
thing."
"What if he's not willing to make changes?" Eric asked.
"He may not have any choice," I said. "The way he's acting
now, there is no way he can meet the deadlines that've been
set, and even then, he can't meet our full requirements as he
claimed he could.
"As I see it, he has two choices: He can either go ahead,
and pay the enormous penalties the contract calls for, or
face reality and work with us. Hell, I don't even know if
he's got the money to pay the penalties if it comes to that.
I think we all, particularly me, assumed too much."
"If you can get George's distillate, I think I can help you
find the rest of what you'll need," Neil volunteered. "With
a little time, I might be able to find ALL that you'll need."
"When do you want to go on our payroll?" I asked jokingly.
"Are you serious?" he asked.
"Definitely," Bill said.
"They pay REAL good," Hal added.
"I'll think about it," Neil said.
I called Jack on the way home, asking him to put everybody on
the Matheison contract and meet with me first thing on
Monday.
Eric, not one to beat around the bush, asked Hal, "Is he or
isn't he?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is Neil gay?"
"I honestly don't know," Hal answered. "I'm pretty sure he
is, but the subject never came up."
"Man, he's givin' off some pretty strong vibes," Eric
continued. "Both Dave and I picked up on them."
"He's turned into one hot stud," Hall commented.
"Sure did," Eric said, "but it doesn't make any difference.
I think we all agree that he'd be a helluva asset to the
Company."
"I didn't notice anything other than he's a very goodlooking
man," Bill observed.
"You straight guys don't have 'gaydar'," Eric told him,
laughing.
We didn't talk about the situation much over the weekend, but
I know both of us thought about it a lot.
Monday morning, Jack was waiting, along with 4 other
Attorneys from his office. As soon as Bill and Hal got
there, we gathered around the conference table.
I took over. "I'm assuming that you're all familiar with our
Contract with Matheison Oil." There were nods all around.
"Now, I'm going to tell you what we believe is happening, and
what I'd like to do to save our asses. After I get finished
and Eric and Bill have added their comments, you guys are
going to tell us how we're going to get what we want," I told
them, laughing.
"First, we have a Contract with Matheison to provide ALL of
our resin requirements for a plastic molding plant we're
going to build. In addition, Matheison has agreed to build a
conversion facility to turn the petroleum by-product into the
resins we need.
"We have since learned that Matheison doesn't have sufficient
volume capability to produce enough, short by an estimated
30%. And, we've learned that Matheison hasn't made any move
to start building the conversion plant. How about some
comments on that before I go on? Eric, Bill, do you have
anything to add?" They shook their heads.
"The contract specifies volume of product," Jack stated, "are
those the same numbers you used to calculate shortage?"
I nodded to Hal. "The numbers I gave Neil are the ones you
gave to me, Dave. I'm assuming they're correct. I'll get my
copy and we can compare," and he took off.
"While we're waiting, let's go to the second part," Jack said.
"How do you 'know' that he isn't working on the conversion
plant?"
"First, his refinery in Louisiana where the plant's supposed
to be built, knows nothing about it, and second, there are
only two manufacturers of the equipment needed, and neither
one of them have heard a peep out of Matheison," I told him.
"That's circumstantial. He isn't in default yet," Jack said.
"The contract calls for huge penalties if he doesn't perform
on time, but we can't do much until he fails to have that
plant up and running by a specific date."
"If he doesn't, we're left holding the bag," I said. "Do you
realize that that would virtually shut Metalco down? We
can't let that happen.
"If he defaults, and penalties pile up, I'm not even sure
he's got enough money for us to collect," I added.
"Do you have any idea why he isn't moving ahead?" Jack asked.
"None whatsoever," I answered. "My best guess is that he
doesn't have the resources to do it."
Hal came back with his copy. The numbers were compared to
the Contract and they matched.
"How sure are you of the 70% figure you used?" Jack asked.
"More than 90%," I said.
"What do you want to do about all this?" Jack asked.
"I want the contract re-written," I said. "I still want
whatever product Matheison can produce, but in its raw form.
We'll process it ourselves."
"Do you think Matheison will go for that?"
"I don't know. That's why you guys are here. I want you to
come up with some compelling reasons why he should so that I
can negotiate with him from a position of strength."
"I assume you want this yesterday," Jack chuckled.
"That would be fine," I grinned. "I'll need ammunition."
The four of us sat there in thought after the Attorneys
left. "How strongly can we rely on Neil's conclusion?" I
asked Hal.
"Just about 100%," he said. "Neil's sending us a report,
though, showing how he arrived at the numbers he did. I
expect it by fax sometime today."
"It's not that I don't trust him, but I think we need a
second opinion," I said. "Anybody got an idea where we could
get one?"
After a few moments' silence, Hal spoke up. "If they're
still there, I could talk to some of my old professors at the
Colorado School of Mines. They could either give me answers
or point me to someone who could."
"Would you follow up on that?" I asked.
"Happy to," he said. "It may mean a trip to Colorado."
"That's what we've got planes for," Bill said, laughing.
"Never a dull moment around you," Eric chuckled that evening.
"I just hope that all of this won't kill our trip to Egypt."
"It won't," I assured him. "That's one thing that's 'cast in
stone'. Maybe we'd better do a little serious planning."
"I'm ready whenever you are. It's kind of up to you since
you know your way around."
I got a pad and we went right to it. We'd start in Cairo.
It'd take at least a week to see everything in that area,
then fly to Luxor to be there on the 14th. A few days there
to see everything, then a Nile cruise to Aswan, where we'd
also spend a few days.
Altogether, this amounted to almost three weeks. Neither of
us wanted to be rushed, but even then, it'd be a full
schedule. Working around the 14th, it looked like we'd have
to leave around the second.
With this rough outline, we'd let Dan handle the rest. I
wanted to fly commercial, at least in and out of Egypt, so we
wouldn't draw any attention. The Moslem Fundamentalists were
still acting up.
Hal flew to Golden and came back with just what we needed.
Not only did a highly respected professor confirm Neil's
findings, but he put it in the form of a signed letter and
gave us permission to use it however we liked.
Hal also confirmed that there were only two known suppliers
of the equipment needed for the conversion facility. This
was spelled out in another signed letter.
Hal didn't pay him anything at the time, but asked if we'd
send him something when the dust settled.
Next, Hal researched the area around Big George's refinery to
see if there was someplace relatively close where
supplemental supplies could be obtained. There were none.
We also checked with Jack and his crew to see if outside
purchases were allowable under our Contract. They weren't
prohibited, so it would be OK if that's what Big George
intended to do.
Try as we did, nobody could come up with a reason why Big
George wasn't doing anything. Except money problems.
The way things were going, we were going to need somebody
like Neil to help us through this mess, and maybe run it if
we ended up building our own processing plant. So we'd be
ready, I had Bob run a check on him. I didn't think the
"Sensitivity Evaluation" was necessary.
As much as I hated to, it was time to meet with Big George.
I called and made an appointment for us to see him.
Now that a time had been set, Neil agreed to check with his
pals at the two equipment makers the day before our meeting
so that we'd have up-to-the-minute information.
Eric and I went over different scenarios on how to approach
Big George. The bottom line was that we wanted the
production from his refinery, even if it wouldn't meet our
total needs. What we needed was either a demonstration of
good faith on his part, or his agreement to sell us the raw
product.
We hoped that this could be accomplished as easily and
amicably as possible.
Big George was as jolly as usual when we went into his
office. Eric and I put on our cheerful faces too.
Once our families had been thoroughly discussed, Big George
asked "How you boys comin' along on your plastics factory?"
Eric, as planned, jumped in, telling him about all the
machinery we had on order, and that we were designing the
buildings around it. "Dave's other 'Son-in-law to be' is
doing the architecturural work," he added.
"How's your progress on the conversion plant?" I asked. Here
it was. His answer to that question would decide the issue.
"Runnin' into a few snags. I may've backed myself into a
corner," he said.
Before he could give an explanation, I asked "Would it help
you out if we took the stuff unprocessed?"
"Would you consider that?" he asked, almost breathlessly.
"In a heartbeat," I told him, "but we still want all of your
raw product."
"I've never backed out of a deal before in my life," he said
sadly.
"You're not backing out," I said, stroking him, "we're just
modifying it, and that'll remain between the three of us, and
our lawyers, of course."
"I thought..." he started, but I interrupted him.
"No explanation necessary. We just want your goddam oil!" I
told him, laughing.
"You write up the papers and I'll sign 'em," he promised,
rising and offering his hand, which I shook.
He offered to take us out to a late lunch, but we declined.
We had other work to do.
The minute we were in the car, Eric was calling Neil.
By the time we got back to the airport, flew to Houston, and
found the restaurant, Neil was waiting.
"We're here to proposition you," I told him as soon as we
were seated.
"Oh No! Not that!" he said, wide eyed, then burst out
laughing.
"Sorry about that, just couldn't resist," he said when we all
stopped laughing. "How'd it go with Big George?"
"Looks like we're in the chemical business," I told him, "and
we're looking for somebody to run it. Interested?"
Neil was dead serious now. "I've been thinking about it
since last weekend," he said. "What do you want me to do?"
"Build the plant then run it," I told him.
"Have you decided where you're going to build it?" he asked.
"It sure as hell isn't going to be in some swamp in
Louisiana," I said. "It'll be next door to our plastics
plant, and we're looking at sites between here and Beaumont."
"Then I wouldn't have to relocate," he said gleefully. "I
kind of like it here. But, you don't know anything about my
qualifications."
"You'd be surprised," I told him. "With your education and
experience, you've got everything you need. Let's talk
money."
He told us what he was currently making, a figure that I knew
to be accurate, and I countered with double that amount, for
starters.
"You're making it impossible for me to say no!" he said.
"That was my intention," I told him seriously.
"There's one thing you ought to know, though."
"What's that?" I asked.
"I'm gay."
"Aw gee, ain't that awful!" Eric put in then cracked up
laughing. "So are we," he said, putting his arm around me.
"Then it's not a problem?" he said, still uncertain.
"We're probably the most gay-friendly employers on the West
Coast," Eric told him. "Probably in the whole country, for
that matter."
"That'll be so nice. Shell is supposedly tolerant, but it
doesn't really work that way, so I'm in the closet at work.
I'll gladly accept your offer."
We all shook on it, then started planning.
Neil would give his notice immediately, and try to leave
sooner, but would, in the meantime, work on bids to design
and build the plant. After that, he'd come to the West Coast
for a month or two until construction started, and work with
other Metalco people. Finding a source for the other 30% of
our raw material requirements would be a priority from day
one.
We celebrated the new venture and Neil's becoming a key
player in it. In fact we celebrated a LOT. When we got back
to the plane and got strapped in, we both promptly fell
asleep.
Our hangovers were mild. A handful of aspirin and vitamins
and we were back among the living.
I called everyone involved with the project together as soon
as we got to the office.
"We're in the Chemical business," I announced. "We got all
of Big George's production of raw material in unprocessed
form, so we're going to build our own conversion facility.
Jack, will you re-write the contract to show that change?"
He nodded.
"Now that the project is entirely ours, we need an all-out
effort to get those plants up and running as fast as we can.
At the moment, we don't even have a site picked out. We are
NOT building in Louisiana, but the area around Houston looks
pretty good. Texas has their act together on the power
situation, and their tax laws, I understand, are pretty
favorable.
"Getting a site selected should have high priority.
"We've already hired someone to build and run the Chemical
operation. Neil King will be here in a couple of weeks." Hal
was grinning.
"Now, it may seem like we wasted a lot of effort over our
uncertainty about Big George. Fortunately, everything worked
out in our favor, but things could have been different. We
were prepared, that's the important thing, and I want to
thank all of you for your efforts, particularly Hal, who did
more than his share."
"Guess who came to see me today?" Eric said that evening.
"Who?"
"Spence, and was he ever full of news."
"Well, spill it," I said.
"Our cover's blown, his and mine, that is. Micron's Annual
Report is out, and it lists those who own more than 5%. It
shows I have 5.62% and he has around 19%. This is the first
public disclosure and he's already being bombarded with
requests for interviews. He wanted to warn me and get some
advice on how to handle them."
"Have you gotten any?"
"Several, lately, but I didn't know what they were all about.
I turned them down as usual."
"How's Spence coping?"
"He seems to be doing fine, ignoring the press and hoping
that there won't be any major flap until Micron announces his
stuff. He had some other news, too," he said with a big grin.
"Seems he and my cousin Dirk are an item!"
"The matchmaker strikes again!"
"Sounds serious," he said. "Spence's been to Chicago three
times, and Dirk'll be here this weekend. Spence swears that
they're still getting to know each other, and they haven't
had sex yet. Knowing both of them, that's surprising."
"I'm glad to hear that they're taking it slow."
"Spence plans on telling Dirk who he really is this weekend
before he finds out from someplace else. Too bad we won't be
here to see what happens."
"And where are we going to be?" I asked, confused.
"In New York. The Restaurant's grand opening, remember?"
"Oh shit, already? I totally forgot."
"We leave Friday. Tina and Rick and Bill and Sandy are going
with us, and, of course, Jacques."
"I guess I totally spaced the whole thing."
Dan had sent over a proposed itinerary for Egypt. That too
was closer than I thought, so we went over it.
It covered travel and accomodations. Those looked like what
I wanted.
In Cairo, Luxor and Aswan, we'd have a car, driver and
guide. Our guide would be a licensed, graduate Egyptologist
as required by law. I hoped we'd get good ones who were
interesting, not ones who recited a canned spiel.
"Won't that draw attention?" Eric asked.
"Wait'll you see the car," I laughed. "It'll be an old
clunker that fits right in. Let's face it, we're going to be
noticed regardless."
"Why?"
"Because you're a blond, and my hair's kind of light.
That'll brand us as foreigners in any case."
"Never thought about that!"
"I really don't think we have anything to worry about. We
CAN get guards if you're nervous."
"If you're not, I'm not," he said. "What all do we need to
take?"
"I'd travel light. A lot of shorts, a pair of VERY
comfortable shoes, maybe two pairs, and a couple of pairs of
long pants for evenings. I'd throw in a really light suit
and one dress shirt, and that's about it. At this time of
year, it cools off in the evenings, particularly on the
desert, so I'd throw in one sweater.
"Just a minute," I told him, and went to the bedroom.
"In my opinion, one of these is a must," I told him, showing
him my little nylon satchel with the shoulder strap. "I use
this for my camera and my water bottle."
"Water bottle?"
"The only water that touches your mouth, even when you brush
your teeth, is bottled. I carry a bottle around with me all
the time, sometimes two if it's really warm. This works
perfectly."
"Do you drink quite a bit?"
"I've been known to drink 9 2-liter bottles a day," I laughed.
"Damn! Bet you pee'd a lot."
"Hardly at all, and you don't perspire either. It's so dry
that it evaporates immediately."
"What do the Egyptians wear," he asked.
"Western clothes like we do here, but not many bright colors,
or Galabayas."
"What the hell's a Gala...."
"It's kind of like a long nightshirt. I love 'em. Buy some
new ones every trip and wear them all the time."
"Do you wear anything under them?"
"Yeah, I'd suggest Jockeys, or boxers if you're daring," I
kidded him.
"Sounds like fun. Jockeys for me. If I was flopping around,
I'd be hard all the time!"
"I'd see to that!" I giggled.
To be continued.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I appreciate hearing your comments on the
story, my writing, and anything you would like to offer -
good or not so good. Send me a message at
orrinrush@yahoo.com