Rooms - James L. Rubart [99]
He made himself steroid-strength coffee and pounded down two cups in six minutes. Being wide awake was essential. His sabbatical had been in effect for three weeks, and today was the day for a phone conference with his VPs to plow through everything needing his immediate decisions. He needed the call to go smoothly. He needed assurance RimSoft was still booting up without bugs. He needed a few days of normal life, please.
Shannon answered before the second ring. “This is Shannon—”
“Hey, it’s me. Everyone ready?”
“Who is this?”
“In other words, no one’s ready?” Micah chuckled.
“Who . . is . . . this?” she snapped.
“What are you doing? It’s Micah.”
“Micah Taylor?”
“Yeah. Hello. Remember me?”
“Well, hi, Micah. Good to hear from you. How’s the long vacation going?”
“It’s called a sabbatical.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, when the president of the company calls your time away a vacation, it’s a vacation.”
“Exactly. And since I’m not calling it a vacation, it’s not a vacation.”
No answer. Micah started to ask if she was still there when Shannon responded with cool professionalism.
“I like that. Ambition is an excellent quality. And if you are the president of your own company someday, you can call it whatever you like. But for now we’ll call it a vacation.”
Micah sighed and poured a little more coffee to go with his French vanilla cream. “Listen, Shannon. I’m not in the mood for a lot of humor this morning. I just want to get this conference call done and get on with the rest of my day, okay? So let’s get to it.”
Her tone changed from polite professional to ice. “Listen very, very closely. I appreciate the hard work you’ve given this company. I also appreciate that you’re one of its rising stars, but you keep acting like you own the place, and I’ll rip the remaining rungs on this corporate ladder out of your hands and put them in the shredder. Got it?”
Micah’s whole body was instantly hot. She was dead serious. There’d been another shift, and this time it was major.
“Who’s the president of RimSoft?”
“You mean RimWare.”
Micah’s head sank to the oak coffee table.
Not even the same name! RimWare? Didn’t Rick call it that a couple of times? “And my position with the company?”
“Now or before this conversation started?”
“Before.”
“When it started, I had you slated for vice president in a few years. Maybe less. But this display you just put on is not winning you any elections. I don’t have time for these games and neither do you.”
“Listen, I’m really sorry about this.” Micah swallowed hard and dug his knuckles into his forehead. “Just testing out some new ideas I read about on social, uh, trying out ways to influence people and—”
“You’re a strong asset to this company, Micah. But you keep trying that kind of nonsense, and you’ll have more time to relax than you want. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine. No harm done, but lay off the Carnegie crap and enjoy your vacation, okay?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“You’re back when?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Micah heard keys being punched through the phone. “Looks like next Tuesday. Have a different attitude when I see you next.”
Micah’s head reeled. “Can I take one more minute?”
“One.”
“I was just curious about RimSof—uh, RimWare’s stock options.”
“Who have you talked to?”
“No one.”
“Then how do you know I’m taking the company public?” He heard her tapping a pen or pencil with a rapid beat.
He slid to the floor. “I have no stock,” he whispered to the waves outside his window.
“No one has stock. Yet. But if the Wall Street rumors are true, the IPO could rocket out of the gate. The board could easily vote up to five thousand shares for employees of your level, which means based on conservative early estimates, on paper you could be worth as much as $550,000 instantly. You probably wouldn’t vest for a year or two, but that’s relatively quick.”
Micah had a hard time breathing and said nothing.
“Are you there?”
“Um-hmm.” He didn’t trust his voice.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I have to go. See you next Tuesday.”
The phone went dead. Setting it back