Taking the Lead(36)

Gwen wasn't buying it. "Riiiight."



       
         
       
        

"Axel is great. And I have a date for him to come over Saturday for tea."

"Tea."

"We have a lot to talk about," I insisted. I found myself in downtown traffic and looked for the entrance to the freeway. "Anyway. Your text said you heard from Schmitt?"

"He has the worst timing. You know how he keeps putting off meeting with us?"

"Yes."

"He sent a message saying that tonight was his only chance this week, when he knew perfectly well we would both be at this fundraiser. It's frankly a lame attempt to make it look like it's our fault we haven't had this meeting yet when he's the one dodging us."

"I agree. What do we do about it?"

"Well, here's the thing, I told him we could video conference as soon as you get home. But if you're still in town maybe you could pull over at a coffee shop or a hotel and get on their Wi-Fi or something like that. Do you have your tablet with you?"

"No, why would I bring my tablet to a fashion show?"

"I brought mine!"

"Why?"

"In case I needed it," Gwen said primly. My sister did like her high tech toys.

"Gwen, I don't think it's such a good idea for me to be talking about sensitive subjects on Skype in a Starbucks."

"Hm, true."

"Besides, if I'm going to do it from my phone I don't need Wi-Fi." I pulled onto the freeway, where the traffic was very thick but moving along at a moderate crawl. That was better than a dead standstill, anyway. "Look, tell him we need to see him for breakfast first thing in the morning tomorrow, no excuses. Not about the club, about family business."

"Oh shoot, that's him calling now on the other line. Hang on."

"Great. Tell him now."

He works for us, dammit, I thought, not the other way around. I was already looking forward to putting the The Rough CD into the car stereo and cranking it up to eleven. I had my finger poised on the play button, waiting to say good-bye to her, when the next thing I heard was Schmitt coughing through my car stereo speakers. She must have conferenced him in instead of telling him to buzz off. Sigh.

"Girls, girls, I do hope we can have this discussion at a convenient time-"

I was tired of his bullshit. Without knowing what Gwen would say, but hoping that she would back me up, I cut him off and said, "There is no better time." I decided I wasn't going to wait until morning, either. "We've been trying to buttonhole you for a reason, Conrad. I'm revoking your license to invite members to the club."

"What? Rickanna, surely you didn't just say what it sounded like. It sounded like you said you do not want me to recruit new members?" 

"That is exactly it. We've already disagreed on the subject of Grant Randolph."

"Well, that is absurd. His father, Milford, was a member before you were born."

"And membership in the club is not a hereditary right! You know what is a hereditary right? Me getting to decide who sets foot in my own house. Randolph was completely inappropriate. Not only did he make an utter fool of himself in front of me and the media on Grammy night, he is also in the management chain above me at Blue Star!"

Gwen put in what she thought was a supportive word. "No one wants to see their boss's hairy ass."

Schmitt cleared his throat, which was a completely disgusting, wet sound when heard in stereo through my car's subwoofer. "I do apologize then, for overstepping my bounds. But you must realize, ladies, that I am accustomed to quite a bit of leeway in the club's operation."

"Get unaccustomed," I growled.

"Surely you realize Randolph cannot simply be un-invited."

"I do realize that, which is all the more reason to stop you before you make another irrevocable mistake."

"My dear, I think perhaps you have forgotten the terms of your grandfather's will. It's necessary for you to keep the club in operation."

"I'm well aware of that."

"You don't sincerely expect to maintain it without my help?"

"Are you saying you'll quit if we don't let you invite whoever you want?"

"No, no, of course not. I merely am saying  … " He cleared his throat again. "You are correct; I do need to become accustomed to working with a three-person management team. In the future I will vet any future candidates through you both before extending an invitation. I apologize for my outburst: I thought you were saying you wished to be rid of me."

I do wish to be rid of you, I thought, but of course now that he had caved so politely I felt conciliatory. "No, no, Conrad, that isn't what I meant at all. Is that what I said?"

Gwen piped up again. "You actually said 'I'm revoking your license to invite members to the club.' That was all."

"Again, my apologies, ladies. Was that the only matter you wished to discuss?"

"Yes." I again poised my finger to hang up.

But Schmitt had other ideas. "Well, there was one matter I wish to bring up to you two."

"Sure," chirped Gwen.

"But it is a rather sensitive matter. Rather. Sensitive."

More sensitive than what we just talked about? I wondered.

"Perhaps I should come by the house for us to continue this conversation."

"Tonight?" I tried not to sound like a petulant schoolgirl being asked to do extra homework. After all, I'd just asserted myself like the adult head of household that I was: I didn't want to dent that reputation so soon.

"Yes. I'm only a half hour away after all."

"I'm probably forty-five minutes away," I said.

"It won't take but a few minutes, I believe."

"Fine. Gwen?"

"Come on over, Mr. Schmitt."

"See you soon," I said, and hung up before either of them could say anything more. I cranked up the music as loud as it would go. What the hell could Schmitt want now?

* * *

I was going to insist we meet in the office because I wanted to sit behind Grandpa Cy's desk and impress on Schmitt that I was in charge now. But he had apparently already insisted on the office himself and by the time I got there he and Gwen were already ensconced by the fireplace in chairs. Mina was just bringing in a rolling tray with tea and cookies on it.



       
         
       
        

Fine, so I wouldn't sit behind the desk. Not right away, anyway.

I realized as I looked at the plate of cookies that I'd had Axel instead of dinner.

Mina caught me looking, gave me a little raise of the eyebrow, and then swept out. I hoped that little look meant she would be back with some real food. I took the seat directly under the looming oaken eagle sculpture. It had to have come from a movie set. The iron claws were outstretched like it was swooping on some prey and it had an iron band over its shoulders with a ring hanging from the center. Had it been a tasteless lamp at some point?

"Okay, Schmitt. Say what you have to say," I said, taking a cookie and nibbling on it to keep from wolfing the whole thing down. It was chocolate-dipped and deserved to be savored and I didn't want to look like a heathen in front of Schmitt. It was obvious to me he'd insisted this meeting be at a time of his choosing specifically because he was trying to assert his control over us. I didn't want to give him any ammunition he could use against us.

"Well, girls, I should begin by asking if you have read the club's bylaws."

Gwen let me take the lead. "Of course we have. But remind me again why a super-secret club where almost nothing is written down has bylaws." In fact, it was in the bylaws that only the bylaws could be written down.

"Because we are not a criminal underground," Schmitt said, as if he'd answered that question a million times before. I wondered suddenly whether Cy had been for or against having bylaws. "Now. Everything is in coded language of course, but the members certainly abide by the interpretation that we have given them."

By we he meant himself, of course. I wondered when he was going to get to the point.

"At any rate, one of the tenets, as you may remember, regards-ahem-minimum participation."

"If this is about Grant, are you saying there's a loophole we could use to get rid of him?" I could be such an optimist sometimes.

Schmitt chuckled and picked up the teapot. "This has nothing to do with Grant Randolph." He fussed about with the tea things and I realized watching him, that he hadn't poured any actual tea into his cup. So his fussing was all for show  … ? A delaying tactic while he made us wait to hear what he had to say?

He even made a show of tasting the tea, then adding cream and two lumps of sugar and tasting it again. Unbelievable. At least he actually poured the cream and I heard the sugar cubes go plop.

"You may not realize how important the participation rule is, since you are both still so new to participating in the world of bondage and domination. Watching one another is of course part of the allure. Otherwise people would merely stay at home to do it. But one must be on guard against voyeurs, those who are not true members of the lifestyle and who simply want to watch. They cannot be trusted, for they do not risk themselves, and it is the shared risk that forms a strong bond of trust."