59 comments/ 60190 views/ 97 favorites Air Possum By: qhml1 Here I was, fifty years old and in college. Quite a life change. I never intended to end up here, but life has a way of bouncing you around like a pinball when it takes the urge. I had a good job in middle management with a company that had employed me nearly thirty years ago. The economy tanked and dragged us down with it. In eighteen months we had downsized by sixty percent. Suddenly there was a surplus of older middle managers. I was out. I saw it coming but didn't say anything to Sherry because I didn't want her to worry. She had her own problems. She owned her own small real estate company. She did really well during the good years, but the last few had been a struggle. She averaged one sale every two months. She told me that was a lot better than a lot of her competitors. When the axe fell I wasn't surprised. The parachute wasn't gold, more like copper, but it was still more than I expected. I hung around until noon my last day, mostly saying goodbye, until I couldn't take another handshake or hug. Despite being unemployed, we weren't in bad shape. The house was paid for, as were two of our cars, my motorcycle, and her sailboat. She grew up sailing, but I got queasy out of sight of land so I didn't go with her much. Her friend Barb loved to sail also, so she had a sailing partner. It was at a marina on a nearby lake. I decided to surprise Sherry, take her to a nice lunch to soften the news. She had three showings that day, the most she had in months. She was bubbling the night before. "Things are getting better, babe, I can feel it." She wasn't at the first house I checked, but I found her car at her most expensive listing, a four thousand foot plus estate with an equipped gym in the basement, a huge kitchen, and an Olympic size swimming pool. Her commission would be very nice. She turned her phone off when she was with a client so I hadn't bothered to call. I eased the door open slowly so as not to disturb her. I'd just catch her eye and nod my head, then wait outside. We'd done it before. I found them in the kitchen. He was leaned up against an island counter, his pants around his ankles. And Sherry, my Sherry, was on her knees, his cock in her mouth, bobbing with gusto. The guy was talking. "Damn, this feels great! How did you get so good?" She pulled off and looked up at him, smiling. "Lots of practice. Still on the fence about this place?" Hmmmm. She didn't practice with me, said she didn't like it. He put his hand on her head, guiding her back. "I think my wife will really like this place." She paused before she went back to work. "Just think, if you buy this place, every time you see her working at this counter, you'll grin. Maybe you can get her to recreate the scene." "Damn, that would be hot!" he said, as she wrapped her lips around his cock again. I was so shocked I just stood there for a second, then took my phone out and started recording. I got some good video and the last part of the conversation. When I had enough I let my rage explode. They still hadn't seen me so I angled until I could come up behind him. Sherry wouldn't be be able to see me over the counter. I grabbed his collar and yanked him over the island, hitting him as hard as I could, catching him on the ear. It split in an explosion of blood. "What the fuck", he managed to yell, as he went down. He instinctively covered up, so I kicked him in the stomach and ribs a couple of times before he managed to roll over. I kicked him in the ass a few times. He was gonna have some hellacious bruises. Sherry finally popped up. Apparently he was just finishing when I interrupted them, and she got it all over her face. Her blouse was open and her bra was gone, if she had even worn one. I stopped kicking him and snapped a few more pictures before starting around the island. Her eyes were huge. "Run!" I screamed in rage. She took off, leaving her blouse open and her bra on the floor. I heard that Mustang she was so proud of burning rubber a few seconds later. The guy was still down, moaning, when I bent over. He started begging me not to hit him again. I reached into his pocket, took his wallet and removed his license. "I'll give this back when I make a copy. I'll need to know where to find you for court." He started begging. "Please! I'll lose my family. I'm not the first, my friend told me about her. I couldn't believe it, but it didn't take much. Please!" I got him to give me his friends' name, telling me if he was lying his wife would get a very interesting set of pictures. I never talked to her again except in court. She sent me a long letter that I let lay around for almost a year before I worked up enough interest to read it. She was sorry. She didn't mean to. She did it to save her business. I stopped reading after the first page and threw it away, not caring what the next six pages were about. I tried to keep it civil until she realized I wasn't coming back and turned into a bitch. We met with her lawyer. Until then I had kept the photos out of it. I gave him a set. "Tell her if she fights me these go public. He's not the first, I've tracked down two more men who experienced her sales techniques. This is still an alienation of affection state, the wives could bury her with lawsuits. It'll all come out in court. She'll most likely lose her real estate license and if she didn't no one in this area would ever consider hiring her. The deal isn't that bad. This is her only chance. I want a decision by the end of the day." He called back five minutes before the deadline. It killed her, but she really didn't have a choice. I would never live in my house again, so she had to buy me out or put it on the market. She nearly blew a gasket when I let her know if it went up for sale I refused to let her handle it. The icing on the cake? She had to sell her sailboat and the Mustang to raise the money to buy my half. Despite keeping it quiet, rumors circulate, and she was soon having a very hard time getting listings. Too bad. I moved away when the divorce was final. There was nothing holding me there. I found a nice place, a foreclosure. Thanks to Sherry, I knew a good bit about real estate and got a really good deal. In a rural setting, it was a three bedroom with nine acres. There were several out buildings, even a small barn. Way more than I needed but such a good deal I couldn't resist. Besides, If I held it a few years and decided to sell, I could probably make a nice profit. My employment counselor laid it out for me. "This is an even tighter market than the one you moved away from. And your lack of a degree is killing you. We have a program you should take advantage of. You've got enough credits from when you left college that you only need about a year and a half to get your degree. It's been a while, you'll have to audit a few classes, but you could still be done in less than two years. The program pays for the books and the tuition, and you still get full benefits." What did I have to lose? I went to a community college that had a deal with a university. I could take their classes and still get a four year degree. One thing I liked, about half the students were older, either unemployed like me, or going part time to better their lives. I made a few friends. College is a target rich environment, and I dated often, some were as young or younger than my two sons from my first marriage. Caught her cheating too. Luckily the boys were in their middle teens, and it didn't hurt as much as it would have when they were younger. She moved halfway across the country and I only saw them for a while in the summer and winter holidays. We still had a good relationship. It was fun, I got laid pretty often, but I wasn't looking for another life mate . Been there, done that twice, done with it. I needed one more semester to get my degree, and was taking some fairly advanced classes. I was taking a workshop that was designed to encourage small businesses. It would be good for me, I was leaning towards some type of franchise. The idea of being my own boss appealed to me. We had gone over the material, and our final assignment was to create and market our own fake business. Our instructor put together two person teams, trying to match the people least likely to have anything in common. Said it heightened creativity. My partner was a fashion major, about twenty years old. Smart enough, but lacking any real world experience. We eyed each other warily. I invited her and three other teams out to the house for a brain storming session. The instructor encouraged it, saying it would expand our horizons. I ordered pizza, and we shared ideas until our heads hurt and still hadn't come up with anything of real merit. We stopped trying. It was a Friday night, so we began drinking in earnest. I took the keys away, a couple of spouses showed up to pick up their less than better halves, and I tried to get the rest situated. Gail, my partner, hadn't had a lot so she helped me. Between air mattresses, the fold out couch, and the two spare bedrooms, we had everything situated. We sat down for a second, and I was listening to her give me some fashion history. "It's all about exposure and branding. You're probably old enough to remember Members Only jackets. They were were cheap and ill made, but they made a fortune for somebody." I grimaced, trying to remember if I still had mine. "And Izod. When those shirts with the long tail first came out they were marketed towards tennis players and were a complete flop. He was about to discontinue them until a professional golfer wore one a friend had given him. Suddenly they were very popular." She sighed. "It's all about finding the right niche and a good marketing strategy, combining it with an appealing product, and you're laughing all the way to the bank." I was eying Jamie and his girlfriend Alice as they snuggled together on the fold out couch. As country as they come, he was an agribusiness major and she was in the nursing program. Both about thirty pounds overweight, and desperately in love. "Yeah, about the only group not targeted are rednecks. Redneck chic. How does that sound?" She was giggling. "We'd have to brand them, though." I was looking at his sweatshirt. Aeropostale. "How about Air Possum?" She was snorting because she was laughing so hard. Alice had rolled over on her stomach, giving us a view of her broad rump. "Yeah, and we could have a line of jeans, Lardashe." We laughed back and forth for awhile, until she went into her bedroom for the night. The first thing I thought of when I woke was the conversation from the night before. I had it. Our fake business. My administrative and marketing skills would compliment her fashion savvy and production skills. I made a pot of coffee and Gail helped me with breakfast. Soon the ones fit to eat a meal were up, and the others drank coffee and juice while they moaned. I asked Gail to stay behind when everyone left. I outlined my idea. She grinned broadly. "I've been thinking along the same lines." She designed a logo of a cute[as cute as a possum could be]possum and showed it to me. I frowned. Something was missing. She agreed. "I got it!" I yelled a few minutes later. "She needs wings! After all, it is Air Possum." She agreed, making adjustments. It looked much better. She designed the Lardashe logo, the letters shaped like two large butt cheeks in pink. It would be small, and on the right rear pocket. So, we had the design, the business plan, the marketing strategy. Time to implement. I thought the product had real possibilities. Gail had no money, but she had talent. She would be in charge of the actual manufacturing. I could handle everything else. I asked her one night after we were done working. "Gail, you know what would look better than the computer graphics? A real product. What do we need to accomplish that?" She obviously had been thinking about it. "For the shirts and caps we would need a professional, programmable monogram machine." "How much would that cost?" "Depending on the amount of thread it could handle and the speed it could operate, you could spend tens of thousands. Melcro and Brother make really good machines in the midprice range, going from seven to fifteen thousand new. You can look around and get a good used one for half that, especially if you find someone going out of business and trying to unload equipment." Wow, that was a bit more than I thought. Still, it would give us a reasonable start up point. "Gail, I have a proposition for you. Let's really do it. I have some money I'd be willing to spend to start us up. You handle design and manufacture, I'll handle everything else. Think about it." She did for about thirty seconds. I got a lawyer, told him what I wanted, what I thought was fair, and turned him loose. He called us into a meeting and laid it out for us. The company name would be Redneck Chic Clothing Company. It and Air Possum were trademarked to me. Gail got the Lardashe trademark. Since I was putting up all the money and paying the bills until we turned a profit, I got sixty five percent and Gail got thirty five percent. She didn't like the split, but came around and signed, knowing full well I could replace her and own it all. We got lucky and found a used Melcro. Twelve thousand new, the owner was desperate to sell and we picked it up for four thousand, and had it delivered to my garage. We paid a company representative to come in for a one day training seminar, hinting if this worked out we may buy more. Gail was like a kid at Christmas. We went out and bought six dozen assorted tee shirts, three dozen men and three dozen women. The mens' were black and dark red. the womens' were pink, yellow, and light green. All were large to three x. We also bought two dozen black and white mens' hats, and two dozen for the women in pink or white. It took her half a day to program our logo through trial and error, but it came out exactly like we wanted. Soon all sixteen needles were whirring, creating our design. We made the logos small but noticeable, small because the threads we used were expensive. It was a blend of greys, white, silver, and black, the wings being all silver. She had programmed it so they had a gossamer look. We got Alice, Jaime, and four of their friends, all big people, to model our product for our presentation. Gail insisted we get an overlock machine for her to sew the prototype jeans. It was nowhere near as expensive as the monogrammer. We even got some of the guys in the television and radio program to do a commercial for us. It showed Alice in the work version of the jeans and wearing our shirt and hat, helping Jaime around the farm, then later on, wearing the dressier version and a pink collared shirt with the Air Possum logo prominently on the pocket. For a large woman, she smouldered with sexuality, and had great eyes. She looked at the camera and smiled while her voice did the overlay. "Lardashe jeans. Definitely not for little girls." The instructor was stunned. We aced the course, but more importantly, we were getting requests for product. We built up quite a following locally. I had definite ideas about the business, and so did Gail. Not all were agreed on but a lot were. I had a metal building on my property, forty eight by thirty six. We applied for a zoning waiver as a cottage industry, got it, remodeled the building, insulating it, adding a heat pump. Built a two stall bathroom and a small breakroom. Then we installed twelve brand new Melcro machines and advertized for employees. We were lucky. There had been a large textile presence in the area, and there were many skilled sewers in the area. There were nine hundred applicants for the twelve positions. We carefully screened them, making them actually use the machine before we considered them. Most were hesitant, having never used that type of machine. The ones that showed promise we set aside for consideration. In a week we had eleven. I hired the last one without Gail. She showed up, unannounced, without an application. "I heard there were some sewing jobs available." I looked her over. She was black, overweight, and had to be in her sixties. I thought I'd talk to her, let her off easy, and send her on her way. "Do you have any experience?" "All I've ever been is a sewer. I started out when I was thirteen, fifty years ago. I've sewn shirts, upholstery, leather, sails, and mattress covers. If you can get a needle through it, I can sew it." She paused to draw a breath, "I need this job mister. My husband died last year, we wuz never much for saving, and I got two grandbabies I'm helping raise. My unemployment is on its' last emergency waiver. I'll have to go on Welfare, something I swore I'd never do. I never missed a day of work in my life except when I had my babies. Please mister." I could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. "Do you know anything about this type of machine? It's not actually sewing, we monogram premade shirts and hats, right now." "Not a thing. But if it uses needle and thread, I'll figure it out." I held out my hand. "Can you be here Saturday around nine? I'll have my partner give you a little training." The tears flowed unchecked as she shook my hand. "I'll be here. Thank you mister, you won't regret it." She turned to leave and I stopped her. "A couple things you need to know. There's only going to be a dozen of us, and I'm not a real formal kind of guy. I expect you to call me by my given name. It's Zachariah, but I prefer Zach. And if you're going to work with me, it'd be nice if I knew your name." She put her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "Mavis, Mavis Turner. God bless you, Zachariah." For all the years I knew her, she never called me Zach. Gail wasn't too happy when I told her about the hire, but was very impressed with how sharp Mavis was, mastering the basics in three hours. We decided to pay them minimum wage plus production. If they could operate the machines at eighty percent, they averaged nine dollars an hour. Not a fortune, but better than unemployment. We were too small to offer insurance right now, but I did work out a deal that allowed them four doctor visits a year for twenty dollars, plus up to three generic prescriptions paid for. I know, it wasn't much, but I at least made an effort. The women seemed to appreciate it. Most were middleaged, relics of the textile trade. Mavis became the unofficial floor manager, acting as a grandmother and cheerleader. The first thing I had each employee do was make a shirt in all five colors with their names monogrammed on. That became the uniform. Monday was red, Tuesday was blue, etc. They appreciated it, and became walking billboards in the community. They voted, and worked nine hours a day Monday through Thursday, and four hours on Friday, If we were behind, which was almost all the time, they could work all day on Friday, but never on Saturday. Most all took advantage of the overtime unless they had family business. You got a party on your birthday, and could take a day off with pay or take the extra money. And we always got them a nice gift. Mavis got a nineteen inch flat screen with a bluray player, and a year of Netflix paid for. She cried for an hour before she finally gave up and went home. Gail grumbled a little. Money was starting to blind her. We went like this for a year. We added a minishift, college kids working four hours a night five days a week and Saturdays, and still couldn't keep up. We had made the spare bedrooms into offices. Finally I walked into her office and flopped down on her couch. Air Possum "I'm exhausted. We need to expand, take it to the next level. Plan on doing nothing next week but looking for a larger facility." She pushed the glasses up on her nose. "How big?" she asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. I had been going over figures and projections for a month. "Big enough to hold a hundred machines, minimum. Plus room for you to add your jeans line. We may have to look at two buildings." She jumped over the desk and hugged me, scattering paper every where. She never was the neatest person. Gail had been grumbling because we had been tied up with the shirts and caps and hadn't had the time or the opportunity to develop the jean line. It was time. We found a pretty nice facility at a reasonable rate. We had plans to bring in the new machines twenty five at a time and getting them up and running, projecting to be done in a year. There was a smaller building nearby, walking distance. We leased it and Gail shopped overlock sewing machines. She planned to start with twenty and go from there. The operation had gotten too big for us. We were working sixteen hour days and making mistakes. We needed a plant manager, a production manager, an office manager, an HR department, a controller, an in house accountant so costs wouldn't get away from us. We ran ads in the paper and trade magazines. Our original group heard about the expansion and got nervous. They liked the informal setting and didn't want to change. I didn't either. I trusted them and wanted to use them as our experimental shop. We held a little meeting. "First, we're not moving you. You might find yourself doing different things, but your jobs aren't in danger. I'll be in my home office half the time so you'll still see me. We need a manager and I'm pleased to announce Mrs. Mavis Turner will take over the day to day operation effective Monday." There were actually some cheers and clapping. Mavis was a pretty sharp old girl, and she handled a lot of floor problems before they got to me or Gail. She was a natural leader. It shook her at first that anyone would have that much confidence in her. She took a little convincing, but when I doubled her base pay she came on board. I also gave them all a bonus check, two weeks pay, as a thank you. Gail objected, saying I was babying them and giving them unreasonable expectations. "I'm investing in the future. You can't put too high a price on loyalty. Of the original twelve, ten are still with us. One had to quit when her husband got sick and they moved, and the other just didn't work out. Every woman out there could unlock those doors, go to work alone, and still maintain her productivity. How many employers have that much trust in their people?" "You reap what you sew, Gail. Get it? What you 'sew'? Well, I thought it was funny." She hadn't smiled. We finally got our branding break, from Mavis of all people. Her great nephew drove race cars, and had just moved from ARCA to the Busch series. It was kind of like going from single A to triple A in baseball, NASCAR being the majors. A lot of NASCAR drivers still ran in the Busch series. It was unusual, there just wasn't that many black racers on the stock car circuit. Mavis came to me all excited one day. "Zachariah, Zachariah! My nephew is coming for a visit. Can I have Friday off?" She had never asked for time off, so I had no problem. "I might bring him by, the girls have never met a real live race car driver before." My ears perked up. What's more associated with racing than rednecks? Nothing. I saw a golden opportunity. "I tell you what Mavis, I'll give you the day off with pay if you'll bring him by at lunchtime. I'll spring for lunch for everybody if I can have a few minutes alone with him." That suited her just fine. I went back into the office and did a search. An excellent driver with a good record, on and off the track. Married, he had one child. I was pleased to see his wife was a little on the plus size. Mavis brought him in, bursting with pride. He was personable, had everyone smiling, posed for endless photos, laughed and joked while he ate lunch. He made a dozen dedicated fans that day. I finally got him alone and into my office. "How'd you get into racing?" "My dad was a shadetree mechanic, ran the dirt tracks some as a driver. Pretty good, too, but he liked making them go fast more than driving them. I started out at ten, racing gocarts. When I was fifteen I was driving on the dirt tracks, little four cylinder cars. Not to brag, but I was good. Graduated to the ARCA series, then this season I'll be in the Busch series, running with the big dogs." Impressive resume. "How do you think you'll do?" "If the sponsorship comes through I should do all right. We're operating on a shoestring right now." I sat back and grinned. "All right. Let's stop the dancing around. My company is in the same phase of life as you. Good, getting better, not quite there yet. Send me some figures, let me see how much it's going to cost us to paint a possum on your car. In the meantime, how about doing some ads for us? You and your wife. We'll pay you the going rate your popularity warrants as endorsers. If the sponsorship thing happens we'll work that into the contract. Think about it, talk to your people, and let me know. Regardless, good luck on your season." ................................................ I was in over my head and knew it. We had gotten too big, too fast. I dropped round to see my old professor, the one that started me on this path. He was happy to see me, even had me come to one of his classes so he could tout me as one of his success stories. It was kind of embarrassing. Later, over coffee, I hit him with why I came. "Is it true you're retiring after this semester?" "Yes, I'll miss it, but I put my time in. I'll take my retirement and look around, maybe do some consulting work." I grinned at him. "No you're won't. You'll be taking your new job as Vice President in Charge of Development at the Redneck Chic Clothing Company too seriously to look around for anything else." He sat, coffee halfway to his lips, in shock. "Are you serious?" "You bet I am. I need help. With your contacts in the academic and business world, you're perfect for this job. I want you to put together a team, as soon as possible. We'll talk salary later, but I'm sure Gail and I can make it appropriate." I had talked to Gail and she was on board with it. Then again, she was so consumed with the jean factory set up she would have agreed to just about anything. We got lucky with a few employees. My oldest son had just gotten downsized, and he was an accountant by training. I offered him the job of controller. He jumped at the chance. He soon arrived with his new bride, and she was four months pregnant. They hadn't told me. She needed a job, so I hired her as my personal assistant. I had leased a house for them, out of my personal accounts, as a signing bonus, for a year. I was hoping by then they would be ready to buy. Gail brought a woman by to talk to me. It was her aunt, a very attractive woman, forty six but looking thirty six, long black hair, dark smoky eyes. She was tall at five seven, and you could tell she knew the way to the gym. The only way to describe her was 'tight'. Neat, professionally dressed, but it didn't hide her shape. I realized Gail was still talking and tuned back in. "...even though she is my aunt." I just nodded and Gail smiled. Apparently I had just hired her as office manager. "You won't be sorry," she said, shaking my hand. I sure hoped not. Even if she wasn't very competent, it would give me something nice to look at for a while. I know, sexist pig. Get over it. I had to look at the resume she had shoved into my hand just before she left to get her name. Amaryllis, apparently her mother was a big flower fan. There was a note saying she preferred to be called Amy. And she was very skilled. We got my youngest son to join us. He had a degree in materials management and warehousing. We hadn't needed a warehouse yet because as soon as the product was finished it was shipped, but knew bigger things were coming. We held a meeting. Gail, Amy, Ralph[my old professor]Barry[our lawyer], Greg, my oldest son, and Jerry, my youngest. This was the team that was going to take us national. There was a lot of ground to cover and chain of command had to be established. We decided I would be CEO, Gail would be Vice President in charge of the Jeans division. Ralph would be Managing Director of the Tee shirt plant among other things. Greg and Amy would head the office staff, and Jerry would look into streamlining our handling of materials and any warehouse issues we may have in the future. Debbie, Greg's wife, a pretty smart cookie in her own right, would assist me on my expansion projects. Salaries were hashed out. Ralph, Gail, and I would get company cars and a few minor perks. There would be no ownership options, but there would be profit sharing. It was a bit rough, but I'm sure over the coming months we could tweak it. Where was all this money coming from? We couldn't get the product out fast enough. Our first twenty five machines came on line and we were actually ahead of schedule, for about four days. We didn't have a plant manager yet, but I brought one of the women from the original group in to head the section. Betty wasn't Mavis, but she was fair and kept efficiency up. I gave her the same pay I gave Mavis. Barry was after us to incorporate, and maybe go public in a few years. I wasn't keen on the idea. One of the things I hated about our business was we didn't actually make the shirts. They were decent quality, but foreign made. Lately we had been having a little trouble out of the suppliers. Jerry came to see me. "Pop, how do you feel about using foreign made shirts?" "It sucks. But what can I do about it?" His eyes were gleaming. "You can make your own. There's empty factories all over the country, especially the South. There's still a lot of workers around with the necessary skills. They may a bit on the older side, but that could work for us. All kinds of government incentives to hire older workers. Think about it." I did, for about thirty seconds. "If I'm guessing right, you've got everything researched already. Get me a hard cost analysis and we'll put it to a vote." We looked at the numbers. It would cost about seventy five cents more a shirt to make them. Gail said no immediately. Barry didn't think it was a good idea, but both sons and Amy thought it was worth looking into. Ralph was ambivalent, then decided we could work the 'made in America' angle and agreed. Debbie had just had her child, my first granddaughter, a month before. She was destined to be the most beautiful girl on the planet. I had her picture on my desk. It kept Debbie from making the trip, so I took Jerry and Amy. Gail didn't want to go, too busy. I loved the area. Rural, but forty miles from the biggest city in the state. I was saddened by the rows of empty buildings, once bustling manufacturing centers. The unemployment rate was staggering. The county, state, and federal governments were offering grants and incentives to lure us there. We had already visited two states and nothing appealed to me more than this area. We found one midsized building that was perfect. It was a shirt factory back in the nineties, and some of the equipment was still in the building. It was outdated and would have to be replaced, but it spoke of the history. We brought our findings back and Gail fought it tooth and nail. "We need to concentrate on our core business. You know, our profits would almost double if we were to move the operation to China. Something we need to consider." I was furious. "It's not just about the money. This company will never move out of the country. It's a pride thing." It steamed her, but I still owned sixty five per cent so there wasn't a lot she could do. Jerry brought up another point I hadn't considered while I was having dinner with his family. "You know, even though they'll be sewn here, the fabric will still come from China." I hadn't thought of that. "You wouldn't throw that tidbit out without an alternative. Spit it out." He grinned. "Got a cloth plant already lined up. The product will be one hundred per cent American. They'll have to add a hundred and twenty people over a year to meet our needs as we transition over, if we guarantee them a two year contract, renewable. It's forty miles from the sewing plant, so transport costs will be minimal. One drawback, it'll add about fifty cents per shirt to manufacture. Can you absorb that and still make a profit?" I had to think on it. Together with the sewing plant it raised the cost to a dollar twenty five more than buying the shirts flat out. I talked to Ralph and Amy, they thought it was doable. "We can raise the price if we have to, see if the market will bear it. You're pretty established now, and it will be a higher quality product." Gail objected again. She was buying all her denim from Malaysia for a fraction of what it would cost domestically. Her projected profit margins were impressive. We were starting to disagree on just about everything. I took a close look at her. She was almost twenty four now. She wore designer fashions, expensive jewelry, used a high end stylist for her hair and makeup. She was pretty enough but didn't look anything like she used to. Looking closer, I was pretty sure she had gotten a boob job. Her company car was a Lexus. By our in house estimates, she was worth about two million now. Money had definitely clouded her vision. Since Debbie did a lot of errands for me, I had given her my company SUV and drove my truck to work. Ralph had chosen the same model SUV, saying we could get a better deal if we got two. Amy called me. She had taken over Human Resources when the woman we hired originally got caught in a drug sting. She was my age, fifty three. We didn't see that coming. Amy had the right training and degrees, so she was the logical choice. She had her hands full. Between the sewing plant, the jeans plant, and the monogramming operations we now had two hundred twenty five hourly workers, and forty salaried. Time to get a health plan. She wanted me to come down to the sewing plant. She had been there six weeks staffing the plant and interviewing salaried personnel. The were set to produce their first shirts the next week. They were still only half staffed, but she was working on it as hard as she could. I arrived on Friday, planning to spend the weekend reviewing progress with Amy and watching the operation Monday. She picked me up at the airport, giving me a big hug and grinning like an idiot. Damn, she felt good. I sat and reflected as she drove. It had been four years since Sherry and I had split, three years since we had started the company. I hadn't dated in almost two years, hadn't made love to a woman even longer. Just never seemed to have the time. I looked at Amy with appreciation. I needed to change that. She caught me looking at her chest and grinned. "What are you doing?" I know I was flaming red. I decided to be honest. "Enjoying the scenery." She grinned wider and took a deep breath, straining the buttons on her blouse. "Good. Some of us thought you might be gay." "WHAT!?" She was still laughing when we pulled into the parking lot. It was filled with cars, and tents had been set up across the grounds. "What's going on?" "You'll see. Come on." She led me by the hand to the tent. I could see the grounds were covered with people of all ages, kids running everywhere, cookers going in the back. I guessed now why she scheduled a midafternoon flight for me. Picking up a microphone, she called for their attention. "Ladies and Gentlemen, gather round. Welcome to the first annual company picnic. Now, I want you to meet the man responsible for this get together. Everyone, this is Zach Bivens, founder and CEO of the Redneck Chic Clothing Company, your boss." I looked around and saw my sons and family, Ralph, Barry, everyone but Gail. Everyone was clapping. I was humbled. I didn't make a speech. Instead, I made it a point to speak to each and every employee and their families, thanking them for coming to work for us. There was a little ceremony when the oldest lady we hired, a 67 year old grandmother of nine, presented me with the shirt she had sewn, the very first shirt to come off the line. I took it home, had Mavis monogram it for me, framed it, and hung on my office wall. Our company was growing leaps and bounds. Greg made sure of our cash flow and debt load, and we were very comfortable. Mavis and the girls were working on some designs for new product. We were introducing collared shirts, an upgrade from the tees. They even had a new logo, the same possum, but larger, with a tail that came halfway down the shirt. Dubbed the 'long tail' line, it showed great promise. We were also looking at offering jackets with an even larger logo. Mavis, just for fun, sewed a stuffed toy possum, wings and all, for her three year old granddaughter. I saw it one Friday afternoon, when I had reached my stress limit and had decided to take half a day off, rare for me. I always stopped to say hi to the girls, and saw the toy lying on her desk. She grumbled because she didn't get to actually sew much anymore, but took great pride in her job. She had turned sixty five the month before and I asked when she planned on retiring. "When you run me out of here. I'm happier right now than I've ever been in my life. I'll always be grateful for the chance you've given me." She hugged me, hard. The emotion almost overwhelmed me. "Well, if that's the case, you'll probably outlast me." I was enthralled at the stuffed doll. I had Mavis make one for my new granddaughter. It was to become her favorite toy, she slept with it until she was five, and then retired it to a shelf and refused to get rid of it. She made one for me that I kept on my desk at work. I looked at it off and on for about a year before the idea that nibbled around my consciousness gelled. You couldn't find a company that made stuffed animals in the U.S. any more, they were mostly Chinese and Malaysian made. I put Jerry on it. A month later he came back with a plan. There was a small building near the shirt factory, and he had lined up the specialized equipment, used, at a good price. I told him to run with it. It took five months to set the place up. It only had fourteen employees to start. The old machines weren't very fast but made a high quality product. Gail had a fit, thinking it was a waste of money. The jeans had taken off, and she was producing at capacity on two shifts, adding equipment and sewers until she didn't have any more room in her building. To keep peace, I had Barry set it up where the stuffed animal plant was completely autonomous, owned solely by me and manufacturing under the license of Redneck Chic. That seemed to placate her. Since Mavis designed the stuffed animal, I gave her twenty five cents for every toy sold. The quarterly checks were almost as much as her salary. I hardly saw Gail now except for staff meetings. She had her office at the jean plant and spent most of her time there. Greg told me she had a new boyfriend, and it looked serious. He didn't think much of him. ............................................... We worked out a deal with Will Turner and his wife to do some endorsements for us. His racing career was doing well and he had won two races so far. I really liked his wife. Open, friendly, she was a bit reluctant at first. Air Possum "You're admittedly marketing towards rednecks. Do you really think a black couple is a good choice?" I laughed. "You've never met a black redneck? Racing is racing, and everybody loves a winner. You're perfect, the wife of a race car driver and a plus size woman, the market we target." We sent her several pair of jeans and a dozen shirts and caps. She called back the next week. "I'm sold. They fit great, they're American made, and they're good quality. What do you want me to do?" She and Alice, the woman from school and our original model, became our spokesmodels. Will took a few cases of the shirts and hats with him to the track, and after his crew was taken care of he gave the rest away to other drivers and friends. He launched our 'long tail' line, appearing in print ads in racing magazines, with his wife most of the time. Alice did mostly farm magazines and stuff like Good Housekeeping, often with Mary, Will's wife. Sales dropped slightly when we went all American and raised the price two dollars a shirt. I went on the internet, on youtube and our website, and explained why the price went up. We showed group photos of all our plants, then I apologized for the price increase, explaining why. I said something that became a catch phrase for a lot of people. "How much is your country worth to you?" Sales picked back up and kept growing. The little stuffed possums became really hot. I got Amy, Will, Mary, Alice, and Debbie to accompany us down to the 'Animal Factory', as it got dubbed. Will had CDLs, and we rented a little ten wheeler and stuffed it with possums. We went to the sewing factory and the cloth factory, and gave each employee an animal. The we went back, loaded up again, and made trips to local hospitals, giving each sick child one. It went over so well we had two truckloads delivered and had volunteers from our factories deliver them to all the hospitals in their area. We usually kept a low profile, but ESPN was doing segments on up and coming stars, and they caught up to him as he was handing out the animals and signing autographs at a hospital. They dubbed him the "Possum Fairy", a nickname the other drivers teased him unmercifully over. He even had one of them sitting on his dash. People got to see it every time the dash cam was used. You wouldn't believe how expensive even a partial sponsorship in the Busch Series is. It took us a long time to decide to do it, but the rewards were tremendous. The possum really did get painted on his hood. It gave him a tremendous fan base among children, and he always had a box or two of the stuffed animals around to give out his fans, young and old alike. The stuffed animals became a fad, and the little factory couldn't keep up, so we bought more machines and doubled production. Our company was outgrowing us again, and I was back to sixteen hour days, no social life to speak off, and a lot of stress. It came to a head when I collapsed after a week of less than four hours sleep a night. My doctor gave me hell. "You need to exercise and relax. What good does being rich do you if you're dead? I got some words I want you to integrate into your vocabulary. Exercise. Relaxation. Delegation. You're working your way up to a heart attack or stroke if you keep going." The boys, Debbie, and Jerry's girlfriend Maria were in the room with me later, while Ralph, Barry, and Amy were waiting to get in. I had a feeling Maria was prime daughter material, and about all Jerry could get out while she was around was "Yes dear". I loved it. Debbie and Maria raked me over the coals. Debbie told me I needed to live at least long enough to meet my grandson, due in six and a half months. Maria whispered in my ear that he wouldn't be the only new arrival in the next seven months. She held up her hand, showing me the ring. "You got a lot to live for, old man." They talked it over and decided what I needed was a woman, more specifically a wife. "Someone who'll keep you alive long enough to nag you to death." was how they put it. Amy was peeking in by then, so they left the room. Ralph and Barry gave me hell about laying down on the job, and told me in no uncertain terms I was allowed to work half days, after two weeks off, for the indefinite future. What really surprised me was the way Amy acted, crying all over me. "You're an asshole. Think about how many people depend on you. It was all I could do to keep the management of the shirt plant from coming up here. I had to stop most of the locals from flooding the waiting rooms. Mavis is out there and refuses to go home until she sees you. You have no idea what you mean to these people." If she wanted to shame me she succeeded. Mavis hugged me so hard I almost lost my breath, crying like a baby. I had to swear on the lives of my grandchildren present and to come that I would take care of myself. Amy put a note from me on all the bulletin boards asking them not to send anymore flowers, the room was full and I was sending the overflow to the childrens' ward. They kept me three days. I went by the office after I got discharged and production stopped instantly. I don't think I've ever been hugged so much. Not surprising, eighty per cent of our workforce was female. Amy decided I wasn't smart or capable enough to take care of myself, and she and Mavis worked out a schedule. I would work until lunchtime at the office, and go home to rest and relax. Mavis would pop in every hour or so, to make sure I wasn't working. Amy got into the habit of eating lunch with me, as she put it, "to make sure you actually eat something healthy". My Double Whopper addiction was well documented. I could sneak one in every week or so, if they weren't watching too closely. I came to enjoy the lunches tremendously. Sometimes we would eat with the women in our experimental shop, but most times we were alone at the kitchen table. I actually started enjoying salads. Despite working together all this time, we never really got to know each other, we were always too busy. I told her about my marriages, and how they both collapsed due to cheating. I was surprised at her response. "I despise cheaters with a passion! I was married before, thankfully just once. I still remember how devastated I was the first time I caught him. When I caught him the second time, he was history. I cried for days anyway. It didn't seem to upset him that much. My cousin told me his third marriage just ended, due to his cheating again. I'm glad to be rid of him." She had divorced him six years ago. I asked if she had anyone now and she laughed. "I don't have time for a relationship. My boss is a slave driver. If he didn't pay me so much money I would have left a long time ago." She said it with a grin, letting me know she was kidding. "How come you don't have a relationship?" I gave it back to her. "I don't have time. Somebody has to crack the whip, or the slaves revolt." She was laughing now. "Besides", I said, "I'm getting picky in my age. I often thought I would never marry again, but lately I've been rethinking it. Just because I failed the first two times, doesn't mean there aren't still good women out there. The law of averages say I eventually have to get it right." The look in her eyes changed. Before I could figure it out she changed the subject. "Gail is making noise about moving the jean shop to China again. I think she's trying to take advantage of your diminished presence. She spends a lot more time at the main office, and I know she has lunch with Barry once a week. There's not really much she can do because of being a minority owner. She's engaged now, I don't think much of him." I grunted. "Why would she want to move? Is the money really that important? She has to be worth a few million now." "She feels frustrated, Zach. Remember, she wanted to be a fashion designer, but for the last few years she had to be a business owner, and that came first. Plus, she has always held a bit of resentment towards you for not going fifty fifty when you set up the business." I was surprised. "When I had Barry help me set up the business structure, Barry suggested only twenty five percent. I came up with the concept, the name of the company, all the money. She helped, but a lot of the groundwork was done by me. I was generous giving her thirty five per cent. Part of the deal was she handle designs, something she hasn't done much of. Maybe it's time to part ways." Amy looked surprised. Gail was her niece, after all. "I don't think that's a good idea. She needs your guidance. To be honest, I don't think she would do nearly as well on her own." I grunted. "Just talking. But take her this message. No company of mine is going to China or anywhere else. We're making good money. Three hundred Americans directly depend on us for their livelihood. That doesn't even account for jobs of suppliers that we use." "I'll tell her. But if she pushes it, you need to do what's best for the company. I trust you to do the right thing." She was holding my hand by then. I was surprised how good it felt. She realized what she was doing and released her grip, sliding back a bit. ........................................... We promoted Jerry to help handle day to day operations. Ralph took over some of my duties. Since I was on half days and couldn't keep Debbie busy, she became his assistant. I knew something was off when Greg called and told me he wanted me to come by for lunch Sunday. Maria and Debbie were both getting heavy. Debbie was seven and a half months along, Maria five and a half. The Bivens clan was really starting to expand. Maria had, of course, come to work with us. She was invaluable with our Hispanic workers. She was floor manager in charge of twenty five workers. Her production was always higher than the other three sections, a source of great pride to her. It was a solemn meal. I held out for as long as I could. "All right, what the hell has got you guys looking like somebody ran over your dog? Somebody better start talking." The girls got up and left, leaving me with the boys. They hemmed and hawed before finally coming out with what was on their mind. "Dad, Mom is in bad shape. She got downsized, and caught her new husband cheating. She's a wreck, broke, her house is in foreclosure. Can we help her?" I eyed them, not liking what I was thinking. "Define help." Greg took the lead. "Jerry and I found her a nice little apartment in a good building. We'll pay for the first year, including utilities. Jerry is putting her on his phone plan." He paused for a breath and Jerry jumped in. "She needs a job, Dad. Something to occupy her and give her some money. She needs to be able to stand on her own in a year." I really didn't like where this was going. "I suppose you boys got a plan for her being gainfully employed. Spit it out." "Gail needs a new assistant. Her old one quit the other day, didn't say why. Refused an exit interview with Amy. Everybody knows what a bitch Gail can be. We figure with her being your exwife and our mother, she'll be a little more polite. It works out well for all of us. Plus, she'll be in the jean factory most of the time, you'll never see her except maybe for weekly staff meetings. It would mean a lot to us." This sucked. I was over her, hell, I'd gotten married and divorced again since I had been with her, but I still didn't need old wounds opened. Still, she was their mother, and she did need help. They were literally holding their breath. "All right, I'll go along with the deal. As long as I don't have to spend a lot of time around her. Make sure she understands that." They were both smiling. "You got it, Pop. You won't even know she's here." We'd see. The girls came in and hugged me. "We knew you would go along. You're a good man, papacita." Maria was smiling that thousand watt smile. It was easy to see why Jerry loved her so much. Debbie whispered in my ear. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. At one point they wanted to move her in with us. We both know how that would end." Debbie didn't like Rosalind much, never had. Never bothered to hide it. It made me love her more. ................................................. I told Amy about it at lunch Tuesday. She didn't seem pleased. "Are you sure about this? I don't think you need anymore stress in your life right now." "I'll make the best of it. She is the mother of my children, after all. I'll still have to put up with her. Besides, I gave her to Gail. It's not like she's on the gravy train. She'll earn every dime she gets." Amy actually laughed. "Gail didn't take it very well. It took all my HR skills to get her to listen to reason. But I talked to her yesterday, and she had settled down a bit." Rosalind arrived the next week, and immediately started complaining. Her apartment was too small. She didn't like the commute, it was too long. And she didn't like Gail. Other than that, things were perfect. Greg and Jerry had a little talk with her. "We're doing the best we can here, Mom. If you don't like the apartment, move. Just know, if you do you have to pay your own rent. Gail can be abrasive we know, but we're hoping you'll be a good influence on her. But if it bothers you too much, find another job. We'll help you look." That shut her up. She knew she wouldn't find another job that paid as well, and the thought of paying her own living expenses didn't sit well. I saw her for the first time two weeks later at our weekly meeting. She had put on a few pounds, her hair was shorter and a different color, but she still had those killer blue eyes. She spoke first. "Zach. How are you?" "Oh, I'm just fine, Ros. How have you been?" I saw her eyes tighten, she had never liked me calling her Ros. She took two deep breaths to relax. "I've seen better days. Thank you for your help. I appreciate it, and I know the boys do. So, how do you like being a rich business owner? Quite a bit different from what we envisioned all those years ago. Then again, I didn't expect to have a crowd of grandkids, either. I can't wait to see our grandsons." I actually smiled. Maybe she'd changed. Before I could answer Amy came over and put her hand on my arm. Something went on between them, some mental catfight men couldn't understand. I wasn't sure I wanted to. "Time to start the meeting, Zack. Don't let it run too long, I want to try that new Mexican place on fifth for lunch. Rosalind." She said it like a dismissal and I saw Rosalind tense up. I tried to diffuse the situation. "She's right, time to get down to business. I'll talk to you Sunday, over lunch at Jerrys' house." When I said that Amy gripped my arm a lot tighter. I don't think she realized it. Now, being a man, I'm of course clueless when it comes to women, but experience had taught me a little. Was Amy jealous? Why would she be? Definitely food for thought. She caught me looking at her a few times over lunch. "What? Do I have food on my blouse?" "No, I have a few questions, mostly non business. We still contribute to the Giles Center, don't we? If we do, can you get me two tickets to see Jersey Boys? I've always wanted to see it, and this is supposed to be the best touring company in America." She thought for a minute. "I'm sure I could arrange something." "Great! Now for a business question. If I take, say, an employee as a date, what kind of trouble could I get in?" She stopped eating and stared at me, with a sad expression on her face. "I wouldn't advise it. If you have a relationship with an employee and it ends badly, you could open yourself up to all kinds of litigation. Don't fish in the company pond, Zach." I tried my best to look sad. "Too bad. I was really hoping you'd go with me. I know how much you enjoy musicals. Never mind then." She actually choked on her tea. When she recovered she saw me grinning. "Asshole. Here's what's going to happen. You will pick me up at six, and we're going to a really nice restaurant, that I will pick. Then, strictly as two officers of a corporation that helps fund the Center, we will attend the performance, just to show our support. This will be a public relations function for your business, and will in no way be considered a date. Do you understand?" "So I take it that's a yes?" "Of course. Now eat your lunch, and if you touch that salt shaker it'll be hard to applaud Friday with a broken hand." I sent her flowers Friday morning. The card read 'in appreciation of a loyal employee'. Strictly business, of course. Debbie got wind of the flowers and was in my office within forty five minutes. "So, Amy? Flowers? You romantic dog." I tried to brush it off. "Just a gesture of appreciation, don't make a big deal of it." She was about to say something when Maria came charging into the office. She looked at Deb. "True?" She nodded. Then she turned to me grinning. "Well Pop, just thought I'd tell you. Don't try to get hold of her, she took a half day of vacation. So did I. So did Maria. We're all going for a spa treatment, followed by a little shopping. You better appreciate this." I held up my hands. "Now just a minute, this is getting..." Maria cut me off. "Give it up, Pop. I shouldn't tell you this, but she's been hot for you for about a year. She nearly collapsed herself when you got sick. Men really are clueless. And I've seen you look at her when she's not looking. You want her just as bad." Debbie jumped back in. "Don't you dare screw this up. If you do, lunch will be served very cold Sunday. Whether you know it or not, you need her, and she needs you. We could use a new mother. The one we got now is not that great." I gave up. "Anything else I need to know?" Maria looked at her watch. "Yeah. Greg and Jerry will be by in about twenty minutes to take you shopping. When was the last time you got a new suit? Give it your A game Pop, you'll like the results. And I know you plan to drive your truck. Big no no. The limo will pick you up at six. Good thing you're rich, this 'non date' is going to cost you a bundle. You're welcome. Damn, parents are so hard to raise, aren't they Deb?" She was trying to hold the laughter in. "Yes, but they're so cute at that age, aren't they?" Greg and Jerry caught the last of the conversation and my office rang with laughter from everyone but me. I just glowed. "Give it up, Pop, make life easy on all of us. Now let's get you a new suit, on that actually looks like it came from this decade." .............................................. I sat in the back of the limo, feeling like a fifteen year old being driven by his mom to his first date. I was way out of practice. Normally a pretty self possessed person, I was all to hell. I had never been to her house, and admired the groomed lawn and carefully placed flowers beds. It looked like her. Neat. Attractive. Well presented. Beautiful. When she opened the door I knew I should have said something, but all I could do was gawk. The perfect little black dress, conservative and sexy at the same time. Knee length, it molded to her curves, letting you know there was a woman, a very well shaped woman, underneath it. Her hair was perfect, upswept into a semi bun, again understated but sexy. She let me squirm for a couple of minutes before blushing. "For God's sake, Zach. Say something." Knowing honesty was the best policy, I finally managed to blurt "You're so beautiful!" She flushed deeply, then giggled. "Thank you. I'm glad to know the efforts of your daughters weren't in vain. I feel like I'm a princess." I finally recovered. "They just got upgraded in the will. I'll say it again, you're beautiful. Come princess, your carriage awaits." Air Possum She wrapped a black shawl over her shoulders and her arm around me, and we were off. We went to the new Thai restaurant near the Center. Amy loved spicy food, as did I, but my stomach didn't. She got two sample platters, one spicy and one mild. She gave me small bites occasionally, and as I would wipe my brow I wondered how she could stand it. We were a block away from the venue and it was a warm night, so we strolled over. I was getting very used to the feel of her hand on my arm. The performance was very good. We were in a box, some of the best seats in the house. Her hand was in mine and I don't think she let go the whole performance. "Thank you so much for tonight! I really loved the show." I was sad. "As did I, and the company. Too bad it's over." She stopped dead on the sidewalk. "Over? Who said it was over? I plan on keeping you up past your bedtime. If you're very nice and very lucky, I may tuck you in." I flamed red again and she laughed. Boy, did I like that sound. She gave an address to the driver, and in due course he delivered us to a club that catered to our age. They had a Beatles tribute band playing, quite good. They even wore the suits and had the moptops. "Order us a pitcher of something light, darling. Excuse me for just a second while I powder my nose." She came back five minutes later. Her hair was down, the first time I had ever seen it like that. I couldn't believe how long it was. We sipped a glass and listened to the band. She was squirming in her seat. I sucked at dancing but wanted to please her. "Wanna dan..." was all I got out before she dragged me onto the floor. For the first time in my life I understood the expression 'poetry in motion'. As foolish as I felt, the slow dances made up for it. She molded to me, pressing more of her body than I thought possible into me. Her three inch heels put her at the perfect height. I had an instant erection, I know she felt it, and when I tried to apologize she shushed me and pressed a little harder. We took breaks occasionally so I could get my breath. She took pity on my condition and just danced the slow ones for awhile. A friend and her husband stopped by to say hello and check me out. I had noticed them, an attractive couple that really knew how to dance. We invited them to sit and I got them a round of drinks. Their names were Jerry and Skye. The band started "Twist and Shout", and Amy started squirming. Skye was complaining about some ankle pain and didn't want to move for awhile. I got his attention. "Jerry, would you do me a favor and dance with Amy? I'm recovering from a health issue, and Skye wants to sit this out." Amy looked at me and I nodded, and they were on the floor in a second. I watched her shimmy and shake, happy she was happy. They stayed on the floor for two more fast ones, but when a slow one started they came back and got us. "Thank you. Most men I'm with get jealous if I dance with others." "They're your friends. I suck and he doesn't. I want you to enjoy yourself." I paused. "But if he had been a stranger, I would expect you to say no. If you're with me, you're with me. Understand?" She giggled in my ear. "I'm with you, honey." Well, that could be interpreted to mean all kinds of things. We had a coffee with them when the club closed, and I praised their abilities. Skye smiled and handed me a card. They owned a dance studio. Before we left we were signed up for lessons. "I don't think you need lessons." I told her in the limo. "I used to be a part time instructor for them when I was younger. Can't hurt to brush up on my skills. Plus, if you're with the same partner all the time, it makes you both better. It'll get you in shape, and it beats the heck out of bowling." I didn't screw it up by trying to come in after I walked her to her door. I got several very nice kisses, though. It was enough, for now. ................................................. Of course I got the third degree Sunday before Ros got there. There was a lot of oohs and ahhs from the girls. The guys just wanted to know if I scored. Their wives pummeled them good, laughing while they did. Ros came in and saw the smiles. "Well, it's nice to see everyone smiling. Anything special to spark it?" Jerry laughed. "Pop went on his first date in over two years. Apparently he had a REALLY good time." It was a lie and everyone knew it, but nobody corrected it. For some reason Rosalind didn't think it was funny. Her presence put a damper on the proceedings for awhile. It only lightened up when Ashley, their two year old, woke up from her nap. Debbie brought her in, still clutching her possum. It was her safety blanket. Rosalind commented on how cute it was, and how it looked familiar somehow. "It's our company logo, Mom" Jerry explained. "We manufacture them at a facility located near our shirt factory. We sell them online and in certain retailers that carry a lot of our clothing. We've sold quite a few." She rolled her eyes. "Great. Something else to swell your coffers." This offended Jerry greatly. The toy line was his project and he was proud of it. "Well Mom, so far we've sold over five hundred thousand, at a profit of a dollar fifty each. It isn't part of Pop's other businesses, it's a stand alone, charitable foundation. Every dime after expenses goes to the Wounded Warrior Foundation, to held disabled veterans resume a normal life." "They build ramps, make houses handicapped friendly, pay for guide dogs, private counseling, anything that can make it easier for them to live normal lives." I wish he hadn't told her that. We didn't do it for publicity, we did it because we wanted to. Jerry's best friend lost both legs to an IED in Afghanistan. It shook Jerry to see how hard his life was. He came to me to see if we could help, and we built ramps for his house. It got me thinking, I really didn't need the money as much as they did. Gail had insisted I make it a separate business, so she wasn't losing anything. Bob, his friend, went to school and finished his accounting degree, and we hired him the day he graduated. Part of his duties is to oversee the donations. I liked him, but he made me nervous. Not because of his disabilities, but because he kept thanking me. Rosalind was suitably chastised, and apologized. All told, it wasn't a bad afternoon, compared to, say, a root canal. .................................................. Monday morning I got an email, with a detailed list of functions I would be attending to represent the company. Looked like my Fridays and Saturdays were going to be tied up for awhile. I was still going home at lunch time. I liked it, and was seriously considering making it permanent. Amy had lunch at the house with me and Mavis, and didn't mention the past weekend. She did ask if I got the memo about more community involvement, to which I assured her I did, and it sounded like an excellent idea. Mavis was a pretty sharp old bird, and when Amy kissed me good bye and called me honey, her eyes got huge. Amy didn't have her car door shut before she was on me. "So, you and Amy. About time. You're too good a man to be single. You need someone to love you, and she does." I held up my hands. "Whoa there! We're just friends. Nobody has marriage in mind." She just looked at me with her hand on her hips. "Ummm huh. If you say so. Well, when this wedding that nobody is talking about happens, I expect to be sitting on the grooms' side of the church." I just looked at her as she walked back to the shop, smiling. ............................................ Mavis told me she and the girls were working on something, but they would only tell me when it was ready. She made sure Amy was with me Friday at lunch. I knew something was in the wind, they had been whispering and giggling for days. Mavis asked me to come into the shop after lunch. All the girls were grinning when we came in. "You told us to experiment, and we did." said Mavis. "Get ready for a fashion show. Bring them out, girls." It was mostly grandchildren, ranging from eight months old to six years. All wearing bright clothes, all with our logo. I had often thought about launching a childrens' line, but never had the time to develop it. Mavis beat me to it. I was really impressed. When I looked closely at the logo on the jumper of the eight month old, I noticed it was wearing diapers. One six year old had a dress on that had a mother 'possum with four juveniles hanging onto her back. Debbie was there with Ashley. She had on a little pair of red overalls with two 'possum heads sticking out of the bib. Baby Possum was introduced on the internet, with a limited run. We sold out in two weeks. Everyone was happy except Gail. She stormed into my house while Amy and I were having lunch. "You asshole! I'm supposed to be the designer here!" We sat there with our mouths hanging open. I tried to be reasonable. "Nobody is undermining you here, Gail. If you remember, I asked you two years ago about a childs' line. You wanted to concentrate on your jean line. You got it up and running, now design to your hearts content." She ranted a little more and then stormed back out. We looked at each other. "She's losing it." said Amy. "That husband of hers is spending money they don't have on foolish things, and she doesn't know how to say no. He knows she has millions, but he doesn't understand the difference between working millions and spending millions. To top it off, he talked her out of a prenup." I sat up straight, feet hitting the floor. "Is she insane? There's a clause in our partnership agreement stating that if either of us marry their spouse has to sigh a prenup excluding the business. It was for her own protection. What was she thinking?" I knew that Barry was going to have a field day with this. ................................................ Things progressed between Amy and I at a nice pace. We went to concerts, plays, sporting events, anything she could fit in to 'company functions'. I wondered how all the romantic movies she made me go to fell into that category but wisely kept my mouth shut. We had rights to the owners' box during race season. I wasn't much into racing per se, but Amy really seemed to enjoy it. Mary and Alice were almost always there, Jamie loved racing. They were often called on to help distribute goodies to the crowd, especially kids. We had added kid size t shirts, a big hit. Will was winning and placing in the top ten on a consistent basis. The principal owner wanted to jump to NASCAR next year, and we were along for the ride. Will was a lock for rookie of the year if he kept his pace. We had to add another building of monogramming machines and expand the shirt factory, which meant our cloth supplier had to expand. Forbes Magazine did a story on us. We were on the cover. Jerry, Greg, Ralph, Amy, Debbie, Maria, Mavis[at my insistence], and of course, Gail. The caption read "Grinning like a..., the Redneck Chic Clothing Company story, a true American success story". As things got better between Amy and I, they degenerated between Gail and her new husband. I could see storm clouds on the horizon. ................................................ We had gone South as a family to attend the shirt factory annual picnic. The food was excellent, the meats and side dishes done professionally. The desserts were made by the employees. Eighty percent women, the competition was fierce. The desserts were divided into categories. Cakes. Pies. Cookies and Brownies, and another for anything stray that didn't fit anywhere else, like refrigerated items. First prize in each category was one hundred dollars, second fifty, third twenty five. Overall winner two fifty. Bragging rights, priceless. I knew better than to be on the panel of judges. We invited the local mayor and county commissioners, and pressed them into being judges, along with a half dozen employees chosen at random. We enjoyed the games for the children, Ashley was old enough to participate for the first time. Horseshoes, badmitton, and other games were played by the adults. It took three hours during the festivities to judge the desserts. The winners were announced at the end of the night, and the cash was awarded. Grand prize was a coconut cake made with freshly shredded coconut. The woman, in her forties, cried like a baby. They all got their pictures in the local papers, along with the politicians, of course. There were more pictures of the event throughout the event, highlighting local people. There was a couple of Amy and I, goofing around. In the first, I had just shoved a piece of coconut cake into her mouth, smearing the icing all over her face. In the second, they captured her revenge, locking me into a big kiss while she rubbed the icing all over my face. The photo identified us as the principal owner of the company, and his wife. The kids got a real kick out of it. I got a surprise when we went to check in to our hotel. We had gone straight from the plane to the event, and when we got our keycards they handed one to me and one to Amy, with the same number. Before I could object she thanked the clerk and hustled me off while the kids snickered. "I got tired of waiting. If it was up to you, you wouldn't make a move until we were in walkers. Now be quiet, and don't screw this up." It had been a long dry spell, as I said before. Amy tried to catch me up in one night. I was fifty five, and she only got two performances out of me, three if you count the one that happened at six a.m. I'm glad she made me take those dance lessons, it got me into better shape. Both my former wives were pale shadows compared to Amy. I had never had a woman throw her body and soul into our mating like she did. Fifty now, she was still trim and beautiful. She made me wait in the living room of our suite while she changed. I don't know why it took so long. A sheer teddy under a sheerer robe, and high heels. She twirled, enjoying the sight of me with my mouth hanging open. "Do you like this on me?" By the time I regained my ability to speak she was on my lap. We kissed and stroked each other for a few minutes before I drew back. "I can think of only one thing that would make it look better." She had a questioning look in her eyes before I laughed. "As good as it looks on you, it would look even better off you." She giggled. "Well, I did all the work putting it on, so it's only fair you take it off of me." I was all about being fair. She had great breasts. Full,supple, with just a bit of sag brought on by maturity. She blushed while I praised them, in between nibbles and sucks that had her nipples standing straight out. She stiffened when I went farther down, grabbing my head. "You don't have to, you know." I kissed her hard before answering. "Oh yes I do." That's when I discovered she was multiorgasmic. When she finally begged me to stop I couldn't stand it any longer. I entered her soaking, closely trimmed bottom slowly, trying to will every nerve ending I had into my dick. She sighed, happily, then started making little eeks and groans as I gained speed and force. At the end she was crying begging me to stop and go faster in the same breath. I did both, pistoning until my climax left me light headed. I collapsed onto her for just a second before slipping sideways and gathering her in my arms. We lay there quietly until I felt her tears. "Are you all right? You're not hurt are you?" She thumped my chest lightly. "Shut up, you idiot, and let me be happy." I shut up. We dozed. I woke up spooned to her, her hand reaching back, stroking me to erection. "It wasn't fair, you know" she finally said. "What?" "You got to play with me, and I didn't get to play with you." I smiled in the darkness. "I apologize. I had an urgent need to take care of. If it makes you feel better, I promise to make it up to you later." She shoved me onto my back and rose above me, grabbing me and guiding me in. When she was fully seated she smiled down at me. "I'll hold you to that." I let her set the pace, until the urge hit me and I grabbed her hips, slamming upwards. She gave a little squeak and slammed back. I came right behind her second, and she collapsed on me. I held her like that, refusing to let her move, until she fell asleep. At seven the next morning I awoke to her washing me with a warm cloth. When she saw I was awake, she tossed it to the floor. "Good, you're awake. My tun to play with the toys." Twenty minutes later it felt like my head imploded. I lay there gasping while she giggled. She tried to get me up to take a shower, but I held her for a few minutes until I got my breath back. We took a shower together. Washed each others' back. And fronts. And everything else we could reach. With one arm locked around her waist, I found her g spot and stroked her until she squirted all over the shower. She told me later it was the first time she had ever done that. We made it to the dining room in time to have breakfast with the family. Debbie grinned and told Amy she was glowing. Greg told me I looked like shit, I must not have gotten enough sleep last night. They all giggled and snickered at my expense for the rest of the meal, while she just smiled. I surprised them by announcing we were staying down for a few more days. I wanted to visit the toy factory and the cloth plant. Mostly what I wanted was to get Amy back in bed. I'm proud to say I accomplished my goal. We didn't talk about the future until we were on the plane home. I didn't dance around. "So, how long do you think it'll take you to close out your apartment before you move in?" She took my hand. "I intend to spend a lot of time in your bed, but I'm not moving in right away. We need to get comfortable, make sure there's no little quirks that will drive us apart. And just so you know, while I'd love to live with you, I'm an old fashioned, marriage kind of woman. Does that scare you?" I took her hand. "The only thing I'm afraid of is that I'm not the one you want. I'll be more than happy to live with the rest." It must have been the right answer because she never let go of my hand for the rest of the flight. I was miserable the first night at home. After spending four nights with Amy, I would wake up reaching for her, until I remembered. She didn't look like she got much sleep either, the next day. We struggled through lunch with Mavis. She looked back and forth between us before breaking into a grin. We were in the bedroom before the door closed behind her. Later, as we cuddled, she told me she would be back with a suitcase later. "Just so I have a change of clothes if I decide to stay over." She went back to her apartment a week later, to get more clothes. ................................................. Everyone was happy with our relationship except for two people. Gail and Rosalind. I was surprised at both. Rosalind showed up at my office just as I was going to lunch. "Can we talk?" I glanced at my watch. "I'm due somewhere in just a bit, but if it won't take long I'll wait." She sat and fidgeted for a few minutes before I finally spoke. "You're running out of time, Ros. Spit it out or I'm leaving." She took a deep breath, drawing my eye to her cleavage. That was a really lowcut top to be wearing to work. And the skirt was kind of short, I could almost see the top of her stockings, I was sure it wasn't pantyhose. I got a really bad feeling. "We were good for each other for a lot of years, weren't we? Right up until I did something stupid. You've changed, I've changed, do you think we might..." Air Possum I stopped her. "By stupid you mean fucking your boss for a year before you got caught? Telling your friends I was a no talent loser who would never amount to much? How much better in the sack he was? By trying to rape me in the divorce? If I hadn't threatened to file suit against your company and get you both fired, you would have succeeded." "Or how you tried to rub your new husband in my face, bragging about the money he made, how well he was hung, how happy you were?" I paused while she reeled under my onslaught. Once started, I couldn't stop, having held it in for years for the sake of my children. I eased off a bit. "I'm sorry your life didn't turn out like you hoped for, Rosalind. Really. But too much water has flowed under the bridge, and we can't go back. You're still attractive, you have a decent job now, and you're close to your children. Count your blessings." Before I could say more the door flew open and Amy walked in. She eyed Rosalind coolly for a moment before turning to me. "Lunchtime, honey. Do you want Mexican, or should we just have a salad and save the Mexican for dinner? I'll have it delivered to the house, so we'll have more time to...relax. Sound good?" Rosalind sat with her mouth hanging open. I have to admit I enjoyed the look on her face. I rose, taking Amy by the hand. "Ros and I were just talking about old times and I was just about to tell her how rosy my future was, but that can wait for another time. See you Sunday." We were out the door before she could recover. Amy saw the look in my eyes at lunch. "What? Everybody knows we're together. Your door wasn't shut good before I knew she was in your office. She needs to learn I don't share my toys, if she thinks that she needs to find another sandbox. I protect what's mine." My face almost disappeared under my smile. "Am I then? Yours, I mean?" Her face got soft. "Yes, you're mine. You have been since you were in the hospital and I realized I was falling in love with you. Can you handle that?" "I doubt it, you're way out of my league. Won't stop me from trying, though. Might take me years to get it right, but I'll never stop trying to make you happy." She jumped up and ran to the restroom with tears flowing down her cheeks. Apparently I had messed up again. The kiss she gave me when she got back told me I was still doing something right. ................................................ I was seriously looking for the perfect ring, she was talking about changing drapes and carpets. I told her anything she wanted was fine with me, as long as she left my office alone. She was happy. I was very happy. What could possibly screw that up? I was in my office two weeks later looking at honeymoon brochures, when my secretary called. "Boss, there's a lady here to see you?" "Who is she? Does she have an appointment?" "No appointment. She says she's your wife." I wondered who the heck it was. Everyone knew Ros by now, and Amy hadn't said yes yet. I thought it might be a joke. I nearly fell out of my chair when Sherry walked in. "Hi, Zach, surprised to see me?" She was smiling, dressed to the nines, showing her assets without looking slutty. "No, more like disappointed. Why are you here?" The smile left her face. "I'd like to start by saying I'm sorry. Remember what I said in my letter?" I actually enjoyed the look on her face when I told her I never read past the first page. "Why didn't you read it?" I decided to be honest. "Because I was in too much pain. After Rosalind, when I found you it made me believe in love again. Six years, I thought you were mine alone, then I find out you've been performing sex acts for profit for almost a year. And for what? To make your sale, get your commission. Know what a lot of people call a woman that has sex for pay?" She was struggling to hold her temper. Whatever she wanted, she must want it awfully bad. I decided to make the conversation brief. "What do you want, Sherry." She hung her head. "I'm broke. I sold the house to keep my business going, but I lost it anyway. I know you didn't tell, but word got out about what I had been doing. All I got was perverts wanting to sample the 'incentives' I was giving. I lost my listings, then my business. No one in town would let me anywhere near their offices. I wasn't run out of town, but it was close." She slumped into a chair. "When I said I was broke, I mean really broke. It took the last of my money to get here and rent a room for three days. Help me, please, if I ever meant anything to you. I don't want much, and I won't stay here, but I need enough to last a few months. I've got a friend on the west coast who said she could maybe find me a position. Please." While a small part of me enjoyed seeing her broken and begging, a bigger part felt compassion and regret. I leaned back and sighed, then got out my checkbook. "This is all I'll give you for the good part of our lives, and you do have to leave town. Soon. I really hope you have a good life, I couldn't enjoy mine more. I'm going to propose to my girlfriend today. She's a good woman, and I love her with more passion than I ever believed possible. When I look back, I'm going to try to remember the good times, and believe what you did was done in desperation and clouded judgement." Her eyes got big when she saw the check. She tried to thank me but I cut her off. "Just take the money. I won't miss it, even I don't believe how much I have now. And I owe it all to you. If you hadn't betrayed me, I would have never moved here, met the people who helped me get started, and steered me to success." She stopped snuffling. "Could I please have a goodbye hug?" I thought about it. "No. Don't make me explain why, you wouldn't like it." The door opened without a knock, and Amy strolled in. "Hi, honey, I just need...." She saw Sherry. "Sorry honey, it can wait." I caught her hand as she turned. "No, I'll try to never make you wait. Miss Myers[I made her take back her maiden name]was just leaving." I turned, my hand on Amy's waist. "Good luck, Miss Myers, on your future endeavors. Please excuse me, my secretary will show you out." I walked out with Amy, enjoying the look on her face. I never saw her again. We turned a corner and Amy slammed me against the wall, covering my face with hot, smouldering kisses. "I know who she was." she said. I started explaining but she put her hand on my lips. "Hush. If you don't know by now, I can be a really jealous bitch. You're mine, and I don't like trespassers. Anymore exwives I don't know about?" I shook my head no. "Good. By now, you must know I have spies everywhere. I trust you completely honey, but you're a sucker for a sob story. You're too good a man. Thank God you've got me to keep you on the straight and narrow. And just so you know, I'm not above listening in on private conversations." "Now, you have something you want to ask me?" Well, it wasn't the way I had envisioned it, but I dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring in my pocket. People were walking by, secretaries and assistants on their way to lunch, floor managers bringing paperwork in. They all stopped and stared. "As you pointed out, I would be lost without you. I think I need a bit more close supervision, and the only way I can get it is to have you with me always. Amy, love of my life, it took me two tries to get it right, but I believe I'm now with the woman I was destined to find. Please baby, marry me." Not the romantic smaltz I wanted, but I made my point. I think everyone in the hall held their breath, as she knelt down to my level. "Yes." Plain. Simple. And the word I wanted most to hear in my life. People clapped, they cheered, but neither of us cared. We stayed on the floor, kissing for almost five minutes. Long enough for the kids to come thundering down the hall. Maria and Debbie pulled Amy up, and they were in a three way hug, dancing round in a circle. The boys just stood grinning. "Quit smirking and help an old man up" I told them. They pulled me to my feet, and the girls grabbed me, while Amy hugged Jerry and Greg. It was all over both plants in forty minutes. Mavis called me an hour later. "Remember, I sit on your side of the church." I wished I could have seen her face. "You're not going to do a lot of sitting. My parents have passed. You'll have the position of mother of the groom." She couldn't talk anymore, so she hung up. ................................................ The date was set. Amy was in my house full time. We had a long talk about the future. "I think I'm going to retire. The boys have come along nicely, and Ralph will still be there to guide them. I'll stay CEO, but I'll only step in when they're deadlocked or need advice. If I retire, you retire, all right. Please honey." She smirked. "Like I'm going to let you wander around on your own. I'll have a new full time job, watching over you." Everyone was happy about the engagement but Gail. She wasn't happy about anything lately. She finally put a halt to her husbands' spendthrift ways. She told him he needed to get a job if he wanted play money. He had stopped working the day after they married. He went into a rage and left, pulling every dime he could get his hands on from their accounts. Then he sued for divorce, wanting alimony and half her part of the company. Barry earned his money. He brought up the partnership and corporation paperwork, that plainly excluded the business from community property. It was a grey area, but Barry told him plainly he would drag it out for years, and he would be paying his own fees until then, if he couldn't get a lawyer to take it on contingency. Barry had a good reputation, and lawyers were leery. In the end, Gail had to pay him a million and a half to get him to go away. The drawback there was she didn't have the money. She came out to the house, and had lunch with Amy and I. "I want out of the company. I want to take the jean company and the brand. The rest you'll own free and clear. Can we work something out?" Amy and I talked it over. She said it wasn't her call, but I reminded her we were going to be life partners, and every decision we made from here forward would affect both of us. We talked to Barry, who got an independent company to come in and value the company. In the end, we split the company like she wanted. She got the jean company, and retained the Lardache label. I had to pay her two million cash to buy out the rest of her equity. Amy tried to keep her with us, but she was adamant. "I've learned a lot. It's time for me to move on, follow my own vision." ................................................. As soon as the ink was dry, she closed the factory and moved the business to China. The locals were devastated. When I found out, I was furious,but there was nothing I could do about her decision. What I could do was buy the equipment and restart it, under another name. Amy came up with our new logo, Livin' Large, with two big L's in red on the pocket. We sent out memos, and went on our website and youtube to explain the change. We didn't slam Gail, didn't say where she went, but word got out. Regardless, she did well for about three years, before selling the company to a Chinese syndicate, and opening her own design house in LA. Everyone in the company knew I rewarded innovation and paid for designs. Maria came to me with an idea. I got her together with Mavis, and magic happened again. Maria had a bunch of ten to sixteen year old nephews and cousins. She asked why they didn't wear our clothes. "Lame" said one. "Ain't got no skulls or chains on 'em." said another. They called Amy and I into the experimental shop. Mavis was seventy by now, and had decided to retire at the end of the year. It was her last effort for the company. Maria had the kids who gave her the idea model them. The Punk Possum line. It wasn't the cute cuddly logo everyone was familiar with. The possum had black, batlike wings, and red eyes. The wings were outlined in silver, giving them a skeletal look. We started out on hoodies and tees, giving out models the first ones, to get the look out into the community. We married, and I met her son for the first time. She had him late, and he had just graduated college. Of course, we brought him in. It was a family business, after all. Greg took him under his wing, and Jerry helped. Rosalind met a man and it turned serious. Before we knew it she was married and moved away. Although the boys would never admit it, they were relieved. Our Sunday dinners have developed into quite a gathering. Amy and I don't work anymore, except for a monthly board meeting. Our honeymoon was a world cruise. We liked it so much we made a cruise an annual event, dragging along the grandkids, to give the parents a much needed break. It's been a good life so far. ................................................. Oh, Mavis did retire, for six months. Then she called me up. "You know who Ozzy Osbourne is?" What an odd question from a seventy year old black woman. "Yes Mavis, I do." "Good, because I'm about to quote him. RETIREMENT SUCKS! When can I come back to work?" "Just as soon as you can walk through the door." She's still going strong. ................................................. As always, thanks for reading. Votes appreciated, comments encouraged.