The Unicorn

We went back to the backlog of rockers, by now almost a year behind. Six months later a magazine was couriered to us, Architectural Digest. The cover was Alison's bedroom and the article was about Jack's mansion. There was even a shot of Alison holding the dragon and princess. Jack went into detail about how the famous former model Jen Foster and her fiancé had designed and built every piece, making it one of a kind. He mentioned the purchase of one of our rockers and how it had led him to us.

Our business phone lit up like the Christmas tree in New York. Everyone from the royalty of Europe, to Sheiks of the Middle East, and half the millionaires in America, wanted a custom designed bedroom.

"Just excellent, Jaime. I'm pretty sure this will be passed on to daughter after daughter long after you and I are gone. I can't tell you how much I envy you."

I was surprised. "Me? You're a self-made man. You have the personal numbers of leaders across the globe. If you sneeze, Wall Street jumps fifty points. Why would you envy me?"

"All that I've done, all that I will ever do, it will be abstract, all coming down to numbers. I admit I'm a bit of a savant when it comes to money, but fortunes are made and lost every day. Long after anyone remembers either of us, your rockers will still be here. And while everyone wants money, you can't rock your child in it, you can't snuggle the love of your life with hundred dollar bills. More love will come across the seats of your creations than will ever be achieved by money, mine or anyone else's. Jen was right about you."

"Jen's pretty much right about everything. Why is she right about me?"

"She said you were the most genuine man she'd ever met. A man who could stand by his convictions no matter what the cost and still sleep at night. A man who would always protect and put his family first. You're a unicorn, brother. You don't exist."

For some reason, that conversation stuck with me for the rest of my life.

Jack surprised the shit out of me by asking if Jen and I would take him and his daughter fishing. The next weekend we had them on the boat. Jen was well past the cork and splash stage by then, but she had a ball teaching Alison. She beamed with pride when she hooked and landed her first fish. Jack was a pretty quick study and managed to catch a few, himself. He ended up buying a medium-sized pontoon boat. He could fish off it, but more importantly it would hold Alison and six of her friends. Jack spent almost every Saturday on the lake, often in the company of one of the mothers. He seemed to favor one, a widow his age who had a daughter that Alison loved like a sister. She was nowhere near as rich as he, maybe being worth 20, 25 million tops. Jen grinned and said we may end up having to do another bedroom soon.

Then winter came and fishing season was over unless you were a diehard, and much as I loved fishing, I wasn't doing it in an insulated snowmobile suit and a full face helmet. I had two friends who did that, often having to stop and break the ice off their lines. No thank you.

Jen insisted we take a vacation in January, flying us to Vail for some skiing. We took Mom and Aunt Beth along, skiing while they shopped. The condo was really, really nice. Usually I didn't bring it up, but curiosity got me and I asked how much it cost a night.

"Nothing. We own it honey."

Well then. Jen giggled at the look on my face. "It's an investment, baby. I have a management company rent it out for us when we don't want it. It's actually returning a pretty good dividend. We donate all profits to several local volunteer fire departments. We even let firemen stay here free during the off season. All tax deductible, of course."

Jen had found an upscale country western club online. One night found us at the club. Jen had gotten Mom and Beth cowgirl outfits complete with hats. It's kind of hard on a guy when he realizes his mother is a bit of a fox. Didn't bother any of the guys who asked her for dances, some as young as 25, some in their sixties, but she could have been on the floor for every dance if she had wanted. Beth wasn't as pretty, but she was still a decent looking woman so she didn't lack for company. We all went home exhausted and Jen burst out laughing in the bright lights of the condo living room. She was sure Beth had a bra on when we left and now she was sporting the natural look.

Beth fled to her bedroom while Mom grinned. "Don't be hard on her. This is the first time she's gone out in four years, since her husband died. So what if she got a bit naughty? Good for her."

Jen couldn't help a little teasing. "Did you get a little naughty with her, Mom?"

Mom grinned. "I didn't lose my bra, if that's what you're asking. I'm going to miss those panties, though. They matched the bra. Goodnight, kids."

I sat with my mouth open while Jen rolled around on the floor.

*****

March came, and Jen had been looking at the seed catalogues I always ordered, planning our flower beds for the season. By the way she ordered, I was going to have to expand my plot. A lot.

Mom and Beth had bonded after the vacation, and they joined a book club, which led to a more expanded circle of friends, that led to occasional girls' nights out. Jen went to a couple and came home giggling at the antics of the group, but she never made it a regular thing.

One of Jen's Christmas presents to me, well to both of us, was a really nice computer with CAD capabilities. It was to help us design furniture and it really was a boon. I wasn't as computer literate as I needed to be but that problem soon went away.

There was a knock on the door of our shop and Jen answered, thinking it may be a customer. We kept the doors locked to keep distractions down. I saw her take a young woman into the cubicle we laughingly called an office. They talked for twenty minutes before they stood and shook hands. Jen brought the woman to me and introduced her.

"Honey, this is Molly Graham. She's the very first employee of J&J Custom Furniture."

Molly was a junior in college, majoring in interior design and minoring in furniture. She was looking for a place to intern over the summer and we were her first pick. She seemed surprised no one else in her school had thought of us.

It turned out she was there on a scholarship and needed part-time work, so we gave her twenty hours a week to see if she could fit our system. She didn't fit, she improved it, throwing out ideas I'd never even thought of. With her helping, we could get out almost two rockers a week.

The only clash we had was when she wanted to mechanize a lot of the work. I shot it down immediately. "If we mass produce, we wouldn't stand out from any of our other competitors. As it is now, every customer knows their rocker is hand-made, every spindle turned by hand, every seat contoured to their bottom if they gave us specs. They had options in leg and header design, making each piece truly one of a kind."

She didn't approve but understood.

The custom seat was Jen's idea. She'd bought a bicycle once, six thousand, and it came without a seat. You had to order the seat to your exact bottom dimensions for another fifteen hundred. I was amazed at the price. "Do you still have it?"

"No, I got bored with it and gave it to some street kid who needed a bike. The point is, we could offer the same thing."

So we did. We bought what amounted to sealed pouches of foam. All the customer had to do was shake it vigorously for two minutes to activate the gel. When it was fully inflated they sat on it for five minutes, making a permanent impression of their butt. Then they sent it to us. We would scan the impression into our CAD system, and it would activate the machine that cut the general dimensions into the thick oak seat, and I would do the finish work. It was a very popular option. Of course that particular option came at an extra five hundred, but very few opted not to do it.

Molly had a friend who also needed to intern for his studies, and soon Zack joined us. He proved very adept at fitting the finished pieces, making the same small adjustments I would have made, and production went up again. I focused on carving and Jen handled finish. By spring we were ahead of orders by three weeks. It was a good thing, because we scheduled two weeks for our honeymoon. I had no idea where we were going, Jen begged me to let it be a surprise.

By then, we were already a married couple. We slept together, we worked together, we played together. Jen still did some volunteer work and still spent time with her investors, but not nearly as much as before. Jan and the girls stayed close, and there were two girl weekends to different spas.

I used the time to go hunting. I enjoyed the solitude and found over the years I didn't want to kill as I had in the past, so I carried a really nice camera and used it more than the rifle. I would still shoot, getting two nice deer and a good sized bear during the season. I sent them to a professional butcher shop to be processed. Jen was a little leery and didn't enjoy deer but she loved bear, especially bear sausage. She made me promise to take her next year.

Things were barreling right along. During the first of April, Jen got approached by some old business associates wanting to use her to brand their new perfume. The pay would be very nice and the schedule would be light, filming most of the commercials at the same time, only going back for seasonal pitches.

She didn't say anything at first, having her lawyers vet it to make sure it was kosher. Then she thought about it. The money was a little over a million a year and they wanted a three year contract, with bonuses built in if the brand took off. Overall, it amounted to five million for roughly five commercials a year.

Then she brought it to me, showing me all the paperwork. I read it and thought about it for a few days. I knew she wanted to do it and realized that somewhere inside, she missed the life.

"Do it if it makes you happy. I will admit that it makes me nervous. You'll be going back to the life of the rich and famous, the pampering, the ass kissing, the wild parties if you choose to go. I'm afraid you'll wake up and realize life with me was just a fantasy, just a taste of how the other half lives. I trust your love enough to believe that it will never happen."

She wrapped me up, nuzzling my neck. "THIS is my life. It's the life I want, the life I choose. Let me tell you why I'm doing it. Part of it is a favor for some of my mentors. Part of it is it can be fun now, not the deadly serious game it was before. I'll go in, do about two weeks' worth of shoots and come back to my real life. Then, maybe four days, twice a year, for the holiday and summer seasons. Three weeks, honey, for five million. The best part is all the money will go to the charity that outfits hazmat vehicles for fire departments. We could save lives, honey."

She gave me a big kiss and giggled. "Besides, I want to have your Mom and Aunt Beth with me. I also want you to spend a few days with me. I think it will make you understand me better and realize this could never be any kind of threat to us. It's only maybe seven to nine weeks over three years. I think we can handle it."

Then she sighed. "I want to get the first one out of the way. In ten more weeks we quit playing house."

I grinned. "We've never played house. I consider us just as married now as I will in June. It's perfect the way we've done it. We've debugged the system, honey. It can only be smooth sailing from here."

I ended up eating those words.

*****

Jen got her old agent back, saying she needed his insights. She still had her lawyers from her career, so there were no problems there. In two weeks, she was flying to New York.

I was going to be with her the first three days, then I had to come home and run our business. I was going to fly back for the weekend, then she'd come home the following week. Mom couldn't stay the whole time, but would be with her as much as possible. Aunt Beth was in for the whole time.

It didn't take me long to figure out I'd never make it in the modeling business. Most of the people she worked with were decent people, but some of the other, more powerful, ones were arrogant asses. I heard a director dressing down one of the bit players in the first commercial for no reason at all. I listened for a while before I snapped. "Listen, asshole, I think she got it the first five times you said it, once she filtered out all the profanity. Why don't you do us all a favor and quit harassing the poor girl and let us enjoy some peace and quiet."

The set went deadly quiet. It took a moment for the director to regain his powers of speech. "Who the hell are you? It doesn't matter. Off my set! I mean right fucking now! You're banned from any stage I'm on."

"If you knew how badly that didn't bother me you be even more pissed. I think I like it here. Mind if I pull up a chair beside you and watch a genius at work? I've never been this close to a real God before."

One of the sound men lost it, running off the stage while his screams of laughter floated behind him. The director glared at everyone who dared make eye contact before grabbing a chair, intending to fling it into the set people. I grabbed his hand. "You need to stop and think about what you're doing. Is this considered professional behavior in your world? Look at those people. I bet half of them would murder you in your sleep and smile while they did it. Now put the chair down and park your ass in it, or I'll be doing the chair tossing, only it will be with you in it."

"Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here? Doesn't matter. I pay top dollar for security and I'm going to make sure you fall down a lot on the way out. Try to get back in and I'll have what's left of you arrested! Somebody call Security!"

Everyone just looked at him and nobody moved for a while. Finally one of his assistants scurried out of the room. I grinned. "Looks like we have a little time to kill. I'm going to enjoy fucking you up."

I don't know where it would have gone if Jen hadn't walked on to the set just then. She smiled and spoke to a few people she remembered working with before as she walked towards me. Before anyone could say anything she wrapped her arms around me, giving them an eye-full with the kiss she laid on me.

She pretended to notice the director for the first time. Her voice was definitely cool when she spoke. "Hi, Bob. I heard they hired you for this shoot. Just so you know, I had a clause put into my contract that if I felt like I couldn't work with anyone on the set, they were gone, and that includes you. I better not hear about one temper tantrum or instances of you being a jerk to anyone. Are we clear?"

Before he could calm down enough to speak she grinned. "Oh, before I forget. This is my husband and I love him very dearly. Any slight or disrespect he's given, if it comes back to me, whoever it was, is gone. We communicating clearly here? Understand, or do I need to use smaller words? Or better yet, I'll let him handle it. He was a soldier, Bob, and he spent a year getting paid to kill people. Just thought you should know."

Instead of answering, Bob stormed off the stage, screaming for someone.

She kissed me again. "I see you met Bob. He's an asshole, but he's a really good director. It's well known in the industry that we don't like each other, but we're both professionals. If he keeps his mouth shut and does his job, we'll be fine."

I had a really bad feeling about the whole situation.

*****

The perfume, "Seductive Whisper," smelled surprisingly good. "You better like it," Jen whispered. I'm getting an extra two-hundred grand to wear it exclusively for the length of the contract. Wouldn't do to have the spokes-model be caught wearing Chanel, now would it?"

I watched as she filmed the first, her in a very flattering evening gown as she walked through a room of people. Everyone just stopped and stared, especially the men. She reached the doorway and looked back, winking at the camera. "Never underestimate the power of a Seductive Whisper," she smirked, crooking her finger at the most handsome man in the room. He almost ran to her, and the next shot was of him with his coat off and his shirt open, hair tousled, as Jen ran her hand up his chest and whispered in his ear. He looked like he was about to faint.

It took eight takes and was filmed with five cameras. The editor spliced it together and we watched it with the producer and owner of the product. They were well pleased. Bob, of course, objected, saying she should be in lingerie. The owner snorted.

"It's named Seductive Whisper, not Screaming Slut. It's much more powerful this way, hints instead of statements. I like it."

The producer immediately said he'd have it polished for final approval by the next day and could hit television, cable, streaming, and even movie trailers by the next week. Bob stomped out, pissed. Jen just smiled.

I had to get back to the business. It wasn't that I didn't trust our interns, no, that's not quite true. I didn't trust Molly. She was always pushing for more automation and shortcuts to increase volume. I finally had to explain to her that when she owned a business she could call the shots. Jen and I had agreed to let her work through the summer if she behaved, and then replace her.

*****

I was right. Molly had taken advantage and pushed out more chairs than was possible under our business model. I inspected them, and two needed to be taken apart for rework, something terribly irritating after the glue had set. I would probably end up rejecting them, instead of selling them. I'd fix them up and donate them to a hospital somewhere.

Molly blew up when I confronted her, saying it was time to get out of the Stone-age and join the real world. I fired her. She couldn't believe it. "You'll have a hard time replacing me! I'm damn good at what I do."

"That would probably explain why I'm forced to eat ten thousand dollars' worth of production. I really am sorry, Molly. You'd make a damn fine craftsman if you could discipline yourself. You have to want that, and you don't. You want the quick, easy, so what if the customer gets an inferior product way. Let's just agree to disagree and get on with our lives."

She immediately filed a complaint with the state labor board, claiming sexual harassment and creating a hostile workplace. I called the local office and told them I would show up for the appointment with video of every moment she had spent in my building, including audio, and was going to insist that every second be watched. I also told them I intended to sue Molly for false accusations, creating a hostile workplace for me and the rest of my employees, and damaging my professional reputation.

Then I had my lawyer serve Molly for slander, libel, and as many other charges as my lawyer thought would stick. She called him two days later and offered to rescind the complaint if I would drop the charges. We let her twist in the wind for two weeks before agreeing, if she issued a public apology. It ate at her, but she did it.

I had wired the shop because of attempted break-ins, trying to steal any finished furniture. If anyone tried to enter without the safety code, an alarm would trip in my house as well as at the local Sheriff's Office. They managed to catch two, but not a third one. I figure he would be easy to identify if he went to a hospital. He'd be the guy getting rock salt out of his ass.

While all this was going on I didn't get to return to New York. Jen was due back in two days when Beth called. "You need to get up here. Something has happened and Jen looks scared to death most of the time. She won't let me out of her sight, and your Mom is already on the way."