Taking One For The Team

Charlie Owens walked past the reception desk in the lobby of Tyler, Dallas and Harrison, trying to look as nonchalant as he could. If the fair-haired twenty-one year old was lucky, anyone would assume he was just back from a coffee break, and not coming in two hours late. He had just about made it when Brenda Peters, the law firm's receptionist, looked up from the papers she had been reading and called out his name.

"Shit, I am so busted," the clerk thought as he came to a sudden stop.

Turning to face the middle aged woman, Charlie had to admit that he had no one to blame but himself. No one had forced him to stay out so late on a Wednesday night, and then fall into a dead sleep that a dozen alarm clocks wouldn't have roused him from.

Going out to see the new gangster film starring Marlon Brando hadn't been in his plans when he'd sat down to dinner last night, but a call from Mark Willis, one of his best friends since grade school, had changed all that. Recently back from a tour in Vietnam, Mark was one of the few people he couldn't say no to.

Then, after the film, which both of them agreed has been great, especially that new actor that had played the Godfather's son, Mark had suggested they stop at Clancy's on the way home and have a drink. Unfortunately, once the old time veterans who frequented the bar heard that Mark was recently back from the 'Nam, they insisted on buying him round after round. Thankfully they hadn't been as generous as far as Charlie was concerned and he managed to stretch out his drinks, while Mark got totally ripped. Mark, however, didn't need to get up for work in the morning.

"Oh, hi, Brenda," Charlie said, trying to sound innocent while he put on the best smile he could manage.

"Late start today?" the buxom woman said with an equally wide smile.

His first reaction was to laugh and say he'd been in for hours, but then he thought better of it. Brenda had been with the firm since before he'd hit puberty and it was generally known that she was better than a time clock in keeping track of everyone's comings and goings.

"Oh, don't worry, honey, I'm not going to turn you in," she said with a soft laugh, pausing just long enough to watch the look of concern on his face to turn into one of relief. "Late night?" she asked.

Charlie didn't answer, but the look on his face said it had been.

"I hope she was worth it," Brenda offered.

"Thanks, Brenda, I really owe you," Charlie said, his gratitude genuine as he remembered how angry his boss had been the last time he was late.

"You know, one of these days, Chuck," Brenda said with a grin that could only be described as mischievous, "I might have a mind to call you on that, and you never know what I might want in return."

Charlie smiled again, wondering not for the first time if Brenda was actually serious or just jerking his chain. Despite being old enough to be his mother, she always referring to him with terms of affection, as well as making remarks that could be considered inappropriate. He never really thought about it much at first, but noticed over time that he was the only one in the office she acted that way with. Deciding that now was not the time to really try and figure it out, he turned to head in the direction of his desk, but was again stopped by Brenda as she explained why she had called out to him in the first place.

"Mr. Harrison asked me to watch out for you this morning and to make sure that you got the message that he wanted to see you after his eleven o'clock meeting," she said, glancing up at the wall clock and noting that the aforementioned meeting had started a few minutes before.

"No problem, I'll just head over to Steve's desk now and wait for him to come back," Charlie said, still relieved that the day wasn't turning out as bad as he originally thought it would.

"I'm not talking about Steve," Brenda said, clarifying her statement. "I'm referring to Mr. Harrison, senior, and he wants to see you in his office."

"What?" Charlie said in surprise. "Are you sure he meant me?" he added, a sense of worry now back in his voice.

"He meant you, Chuckie boy. I asked him that same question," Brenda replied, "and since his eleven o'clock is only supposed to be a fifteen minute meeting, I suggest you take that cute little ass of yours over there mighty quick."

Now actually worried about what was going on, Charlie didn't even notice that comment about his ass. All he could think of as he rushed down the corridor towards partners' row was, what had he done wrong?

Brendon Harrison was the uncle of Steve Harrison, whom Charlie had met in college and had helped him get his job. One of the founders of the firm and the only name partner still practicing, Charlie had only met the man three or four times, of which two had been short introductions by his nephew. In fact, if they passed in the hall, Charlie would've bet his paycheck that the senior lawyer wouldn't have known him from the kid they usually sent out for coffee.

"I was told that Mr. Harrison wanted to see me," Charlie said as he stepped up to the desk of the partner's personal secretary, trying hard not to show his anxiety.

"And you are?" Paula Madison, who was about ten years older than Charlie, said with a look of annoyance.

"Charlie Owens," he said.

"I don't see anything on his schedule," the light-skinned black woman said after checking the appointment book.

"I was given the message by Brenda out at reception," Charlie added, as if using her name gave it more authenticity. "She said he wanted to see me at eleven fifteen."

At that, the expression on the well dressed woman turned from irritation to disapproval. In her mind, showing up at the last minute before a summons, and at his level it really shouldn't be considered anything other than that, from a man of Mr. Harrison's stature, could only be interpreted as a lack of respect.

"Why don't you have a seat, and I'll let you know when he's ready for you," Paula said coldly, instantly dismissing him as she returned her attention to the papers in front of her.

Not more than a minute later, the door to the right of Paula opened and two of the firm's other partners stepped out of Harrison's office. Neither of them took any notice of Charlie sitting there; and simply went on their way, sharing a quiet but animated discussion as they did. From what Charlie could see of their expressions, neither of them looked any too happy.

Another minute passed, after which Charlie almost jumped out of his seat when the buzzer on Paula's desk went off. She answered it, replying to the question that had been asked, and then added that Charlie was outside and claimed to have an appointment with him.

The line suddenly went dead, which surprised Paula, as she could never remember that happening before. She was even more astonished when the office door opened and out stepped Brendon Harrison.

"Charles, good to see you again," the sixty-two year old said as he approached the young man with an outstretched hand.

Charlie's first thought as he automatically reached out with his own hand was that Mr. Harrison had to have him mixed up with someone else. Then again, he had called him by name. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Paula was almost as confused as he was by the partner's behavior.

"Please see that we're not disturbed," Mr. Harrison said as he led Charlie into his office.

As he stepped into the expensively decorated office, Charlie's eyes were drawn to the large, antique desk in the center rear of it. If Steve was to believed, and Charlie had no reason not to do so, his uncle had the habit of celebrating a big win for the firm by bending miss prim and proper outside over that desk and fucking her brains out. If only for the moment, that image dispelled Charlie's worry about why he was here.

"Can I have Paula bring you in a coffee or something?" Mr. Harrison asked as he directed Charlie to one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk.

"No, I'm fine," Charlie replied as the older man walked around the desk and sat down in the large leather chair behind it.

"I guess the first thing I should say, Charles, is that you're not in any kind of trouble, so please relax," Mr. Harrison said with a laugh as he made himself comfortable. "By the way, do you prefer Charles or do your friends call you something else?"

"Most of my friends call me Charlie," he replied automatically, a sense of relief washing over him. He'd been certain that somehow he'd screwed up big time, even if he had no idea what he could've done wrong. Especially on a scale that would involve someone like Mr. Harrison.

"Charlie it is, then," Mr. Harrison replied as he picked up a piece of paper from an open folder on his desk and glanced at it for a few seconds.

Charlie took that pause to take a better look at the room around him. It was a far cry from the little cubicle he worked in.

"You've been with us some time, haven't you, Charlie?" Mr. Harrison asked as he put the paper back down. "Do you like it here?"

"Not really," Charlie said, then corrected himself. "I mean, I've only been a regular employee a bit over a year, but I was part of the college intern program six months before that. And yes, I like it here."

"Good, very good," Mr. Harrison said, after which he paused as if considering what he was going to say next. "Are you married, Charlie?" he then asked.

"No, sir," Charlie quickly answered, "I just got out of college," he added, as if that somehow negated the possibility.

"That's good," Mr. Harrison continued. "It might have complicated matters a bit if you were."

Totally at a loss as to what the hell he was talking about, Charlie considered simply asking what the senior partner wanted. Then he decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valor and whatever it was that Mr. Harrison wanted to talk to him about, he would get around to it in his own sweet time.

"Any girlfriend?" Mr. Harrison asked, which as strange a question as the first one seemed.

"No, not really," Charlie replied, again wondering what, if anything, this had to do with his job here at the firm.

"You do date girls, don't you, Charlie?" Mr. Harrison asked after what seemed a very long pause.

That, had to be the strangest question of all, and it took Charlie an even longer pause to realize the implications of it. In a very strong affirmative, Charlie said that he did, just that he didn't have anyone he considered a girlfriend. The answer seemed to please the old man.

As he had given that last answer, Charlie noticed a few framed family photographs on the desk, reminding him of something else Steve had mentioned during a night of bar-hopping. He was complaining about how his mother was again on his case about setting up his fat cousin with one of his friends. Referring to her to her as "Elsie", after the cow in the old Borden milk commercials, he'd told Charlie that he didn't dislike anyone enough to do that to them. Since Mr. Harrison was Steve's only uncle, then "Elsie" had to be his daughter.

"I'm not sure I like the way this is going," Charlie thought as, putting the questions he'd been asked in terms of finding someone to date an unwanted daughter, they now began to make sense.

"Charlie, I want to be honest with you," Mr. Harrison said, once he began speaking again, "and just lay out the situation I'm faced with, and then let you decide how you might help resolve it, and incidentally possibly also help your career here at Tyler, Dallas and Harrison at the same time."

"Shit, it has to be his daughter," Charlie thought, and that little bit about advancing his career probably means that he's talking about a lot more than just taking her out a few times. Caught in a moment of panic, he found himself wishing he could reconsider his answer on whether he dated girls or not.

"Are you familiar with Orzeskowa Industries?" Mr. Harrison then asked, unexpectedly changing the topic of discussion.

"Of course, sir," Charlie answered, wondering what that had to do with Harrison's daughter.

"And are you aware that Orzeskowa Industries accounts for almost forty percent of this firm's billable hours?" he added.

Charlie explained that he was aware that it was one of the firm's most important clients, but didn't know it was responsible for that much of their revenues.

"Well, there's actually no reason that you should know," Mr. Harrison said. "It's not like we advertise it."

"Then why mention it now?" Charlie thought, even more confused about what was going on here.

"You do know, however, that Mrs. Orzeskowa was in here yesterday evening for our annual meeting concerning our firm's representation of their interests."

That was a simple statement of fact, not a question, since Charlie, along with most of the other clerks, had spent the better part of last week doing research and assembling files for the meeting. In fact, just before he'd gone home for the day, he'd even been called into the conference room for a few moments, to bring an updated report that one of the partners had asked for.

"Well, what I am sure you don't know, because no one outside the partners have been told," Mr. Harrison said, the tone of his voice becoming much more serious, "is that yesterday's meeting didn't go very well. In fact, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it went quite badly."

Charlie couldn't imagine what had happened; his own involvement in the matter had been so minor and peripheral. What he did understand, especially since he now knew the extent of Orzeskowa Industries' value to the firm, that the loss of their account could be catastrophic.

"Without going into a lot of unnecessary detail, Mrs. Orzeskowa was unhappy with the way our firm handled what can only be described as a minor administrative matter," he said, stopping for a breath before continuing. "Then, despite the mutually beneficial relationship that has existed between our companies since the stewardship of her late husband, the suggestion was made that perhaps it was time for Orzeskowa Industries to seek different representation."

Charlie didn't have to ask who had made that suggestion, but evidently Mr. Harrison felt the need to expand on the subject.

"Sadly, Eliza Orzeskowa, who is now the primary shareholder and chairwoman of the board of Orzeskowa Industries, does not share the confidence Alexander Orzeskowa had in Tyler, Dallas and Harrison, and it's my belief that she was looking for any excuse to sever any future relationship."

Even at his level, Charlie knew a company didn't need an excuse to change law firms, but if they changed one because of some fault in their representation, it could reflect badly on the offending firm.

"Naturally, this is an outcome we would very much like to avoid," Mr. Harrison concluded.

With still no idea where he fitted into all of this, or what all that business at the beginning about his marital status had been about, Charlie nevertheless stated that of course he was willing to do anything that he could to help the firm. It was an automatic reply to an unasked question. One which he wondered if he should've been less forthcoming with, the moment he'd said it.

"I'm very glad to hear you say that," Mr. Harrison said as he got up from his chair and moved from the desk to a small cabinet a few feet away. The cabinet opened to reveal a fully stocked bar and the partner, announcing that he was going to have a drink, asked Charlie if he would also like one.

Last night being a notable exception, Charlie wasn't much of a drinker, but when the senior partner suggests something it is a good idea to follow that suggestion. So he said yes.

As he began to pour the drinks, Mr. Harrison remarked that, as little as ten years ago, he wouldn't have had to hide the bar in his office. No one would've thought anything of it being there. More deals were concluded over a shared drink than across the conference table. But the world changes, he said, and you have to change with it, dealing with the people that you had to deal with, and not the ones you wish you could.

Charlie was still having a hard time following him, but nodded knowingly as he took the drink and had a small sip.

"Now where was I?" Mr. Harrison asked out loud as he took a much larger belt of his own drink. "Oh yes, I remember."

Sitting down on the edge of his desk, Mr. Harrison told Charlie that he had used all of his powers of persuasion to try and convince Mrs. Orzeskowa to give them a day or two to fix what was wrong. At first, she didn't want to hear it, saying she was planning to fly back to Boston this morning. He pointed out that the change was so minor as to be a forgone conclusion that it could be set right, and there was no reason why she couldn't sign a short term extension there and then and an amended agreement could be sent to her in Boston by messenger.

Charlie found himself paying rapt attention to the words coming out of the older man's mouth. Not only did he hope they would finally provide a clue as to what he was doing here, but it was a glimpse into the business world that they didn't teach in college.

"I had thought that would settle it, but she said she still had some reservations," the partner continued. "But since her husband had such a good relationship with the firm, she would give us the time to correct it all and then make up her mind once it had been corrected."

Mr. Harrison paused again and took another drink of the amber liquid in his glass before going on.

"We did of course say we would pick up the cost of any additional expenses related to her extended stay in the city, including a dinner at the best restaurant and tickets for any Broadway show that she might like to see. After all, it wasn't like we expected her to spend the night in her hotel eating room service and watching the Mod Squad."

Charlie nodded his head. That was a standard practice, and not a few times he'd had to go pick up a client's tickets. This couldn't have been all about that, he knew. If it had been, he simply would've been told by someone much more junior to go and get them.

"That seemed to settle matters," Mr. Harrison added, "but then a small problem, well, not really a problem really, more like a concern, was expressed."

Charlie listened as Mr. Harrison said that, without really directing her comment at anyone in particular, Mrs. Orzeskowa mused out loud that, now that she thought of it, she couldn't imagine whom she might ask to accompany her to dinner and the theatre. Concerned that their victory might be short lived, several of the partners had quickly offered the services of themselves and their wives as escorts for the evening.

It was quickly obvious that prospect didn't appeal to Mrs. Orzeskowa at all. Not for the first time, Brandon Harrison longed for what he thought of as the good old days. Back then, every firm had its own little list of accommodating young ladies that they could set up with a client and who, surprising enough, could be written off as entertainment expenses through a bit of creative bookkeeping. After all, that was what they were. Some firms even had a similar list of young men, for clientele with atypical tastes, or for those even rarer occasions when the client had been a woman.

Not willing to let it all slip through his fingers after he had come so close, Mr. Harrison said that if she would give them a bit of time, he was sure they could find an acceptable escort.

That was at that moment that Mr. Harrison saw a smile come to Mrs. Orzeskowa's lips. One that he couldn't help but interpret as one heralded potential danger.

"You know, now that you mention it," the chairwoman of the board had said, "I do have a thought as to that."

The tone of her voice told the senior partner that his initial assessment was correct.