VELOCITY - DEE JACOB [57]
She decided it was better to keep quiet.
“I am going to give you a choice. Either tender your resignation right here and now and let me find a manager who can meet our corporate objectives. Or go back to Carolina, and find another three percent. And if I were you, Amy, if you don’t want to keep wearing that lovely pin the rest of your tenure here at Winner, I would be looking for something on the order of an extra five to six percent, if not higher.”
He paused, awaiting her answer.
Amy, sitting in fury, inhaled a calming breath. He will not break me, she said in her mind.
“Well, what’s it going to be?”
“I have to talk to my staff,” she said.
“Fine. I’ll give you two weeks to re-evaluate and resubmit your plan,” said Nigel.
Then he pivoted away from her. Looking at the other presidents, his cold, livid face abruptly changed, and Nigel lit up with big smile.
“Well! Now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, let’s see what’s in the chest for the rest of you!”
He made a show of rooting through the little treasure chest, and produced three small jewelry boxes, which he tossed one by one to the other presidents.
“Wow,” said one, as he opened his box. “Are these … ?”
“Yes! Diamond-stud platinum cuff links!” said Nigel. “Just a small token of Peter Winn’s esteem. The full measure of Winner’s appreciation, of course, will soon be reflected in your bonuses.”
When the expressions of gratitude and the little quips between the men had receded, Nigel again turned to Amy.
“And now, Miss Cieolara, I believe you have a plane to catch,” said Nigel. “The rest of us shall adjourn to my club for a few games of racquetball, an elegant dinner, followed by brandy, single malts, and cigars.”
Red-faced, humiliated, Amy removed her Underachiever pin, closed her laptop, and began gathering her things as the others stared at her. She could not bring herself to look at any of them.
“Oh, and one more thing, speaking of planes to catch,” Nigel then said to her. “The WING reports have brought it to my attention that you and your staff are using a private aircraft on a regular basis for your travels. That is over. From now on, until you have earned the privilege, you will fly commercial.”
“But we have an arrangement with the pilot–”
“Fire him,” said Nigel.
She wanted nothing more than to flee from New York, but Tom Dawson did not answer his cell phone. The original plan had been that she would stay at a hotel in Manhattan overnight, following an evening’s revelries with Nigel and the other presidents, and that Tom would meet her at Teterboro Airport in the morning. What he did in the meantime had not even been discussed. All that Amy wanted was to go home, find a hole, and crawl in.
A cursory check of flights using her BlackBerry showed every flight headed south was booked solid, and only standby was available. Even if she was lucky enough to get a seat, the closest she could get to Highboro that night was Charlotte, which meant renting a car and driving the rest of the way. She debated checking into the hotel where Winner had reserved a room for her, but the last thing she wanted was to bump into one or more of the other presidents, who would be staying there as well. So she was standing outside the Winner headquarters building, grinding her teeth in frustration, utterly unsure of where to go or what to do – when Tom returned her call.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m in New Jersey at a motel near the airport. I figured it was cheaper and less wear and tear on me and the plane just to stay over. Sorry I missed your call; I was in the hot tub.”
“Tom, could you possibly take me back to North Carolina tonight?”
“Well, this motel has great in-room TV. But, for you … all right, sure, no problem. How soon do you think you’ll be here?”
Given traffic, just getting across the