Chapter 32: Paper Towels Are a Health Hazard in Case You Didn’t Know

When Raemon Kentworth uttered the last words of his speech, the entire room erupted in applause, all rising to give him a standing ovation.

As he made his way off the stage at the front of the hotel’s grand ballroom, he returned the room’s enthusiasm with something similar to a smile; it was a look that said, “I’m not angry,” in the very least.

Octavia was standing and clapping along with the rest of the room and wearing her brightest smile.

While the other conference attendees were no doubt marveling at Raemon’s eloquence or musing over the poignancy of the topics he covered in his talk, Octavia was enthusiastic for another reason.

His had been the last speech of the day. After sitting through hours of various speakers droning on about topics that would have been interesting if not for their method of delivery, Octavia was ready to call it a day.

It was only day two of the conference. She had managed to survive day one somehow.

As she sat next to Raemon at a table with a large white placard reading “Icarus Tech” and kept her laptop open to take notes, sleep inevitably overcame her.

She had her note-taking program running, recording, and processing everything that was being said (she’d been sure to carry along a long-range microphone).

She had nothing more to do once the platters with doughnuts, muffins, and fruit salad were wheeled off with all the dishes.

Octavia twiddled her thumbs, counted the crystals on each of the three chandeliers overhead, and stared intensely at some of the people in the hall to see if she secretly had the power to read minds.

Tragically, none of this was able to keep her brain from switching off to sleep. Her eyelids kept drooping, even as she steeled herself to keep them open.

She only managed to get through the day by playing a private game of her own called “Statistical Dirty Thoughts.”

She would choose someone in the room and ask herself a question about them like, “What is the probability that he/she waxes his/her butt crack?”

She would then create a probability equation taking in relevant factors—height, weight, attire, probable income, and so on.

At some point the question “How big is so-and-so’s penis?” came up, and as she was moving from male to male within the room, she happened to glance at her boss.

He was looking toward the stage with a calm but detached face. Suddenly she didn’t want to play the game anymore.

In the end, she slid her portable Nintendo console in between the pages of her binder and discreetly worked her way through the worlds of the Mario Brothers while the day dragged on.

But now the hard part was over. Day three was the “socializing” event. A day of activities and networking brunches, lunches, and dinners. Mr. Kentworth did not plan to attend any of them, thankfully.

Octavia watched her boss make his way through the crowd, stopping every three steps to shake hands with some person who rushed up to him and engaged him in as long of a conversation as they could manage.

“Octavia Wilde, as I live and breathe,” a voice said behind her.

Octavia turned to face the speaker. “Mr. Mackenzie!” she said, her surprise evident on her face.

There stood a middle-aged man, only slightly taller than Octavia with dashes of gray sprinkled across the short brown hair on his head.

He wore a cream suit and patterned blue shirt with no tie, and an easygoing smile to match his casual but sophisticated look.

“Oh, come on now. You know it’s always been Phil. Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said, clapping Octavia gently on the shoulder.

“I didn’t think I’d see you,” she said, “…Phil.”

“Octavia, I’m not your boss anymore, you can say my name!” Phil said with a smile. “And you know I always had everyone call me Phil back at Alta anyway.”

Octavia smiled. “I know. It just feels kinda weird.”

“What brings you here?” Phil asked. “Or more accurately, which company snatched up my number one software designer? I’d like a word with whoever you’re working for now.”

“Um…it’s no one, really.”

“If you’re with any one of the companies at this event, it’s not ‘no one,’ Octavia,” Phil chided. “Come on, who is it?”

“Well…not that it matters, but it’s just—”

Raemon’s voice cut her off. “Everything all right here, Octavia?” He appeared before them suddenly, having finally broken free from his flock of admirers.

He stood next to Octavia, towering over both her and Phil, whom he eyed with a cool, impassive glance.

Phil’s eyes did widen some at the sight of Raemon, but then his face went right back to smiling. “Mr. Kentworth,” he said, “Icarus Tech? I should have guessed it.”

Raemon regarded Phil calmly. “And you are from Alta Solutions.”

“That’s right,” Phil answered. “I’m flattered you know of me and my tiny, little operation.”

“I’d hardly call your tech firm a ‘tiny’ operation, Mr. Mackenzie.”

“Compared to Icarus, it sure is,” Phil said.

Raemon made no move to dispute this.

Phil continued amicably. “I’ve lost some good talent to you, Kentworth. It’s totally understandable, given what kind of reach Icarus has. Still, I hope you’re treating my people fairly.”

“I’m sure if I didn’t, I’d lose the talent you so graciously bestowed on me,” Raemon responded.

Phil did not seem affected by Raemon’s words or intimidated by his cold, though civil, expression.

Phil turned to Octavia, who had been looking between the two of them nervously.

“Look, Octavia, if you ever get tired of working at the biggest tech company in the world, come on back to Alta. There will always be a place for you,” Phil said with a warm smile in her direction.

“Uh, thanks,” Octavia answered. She wasn’t exactly sure what the proper response was when your old boss offered you a job in front of your new boss.

Phil then looked to Raemon. “This young lady was one of the best—no, THE best—software developers I ever had.”

Raemon now turned an almost curious eye to Octavia. “Really?” he said with an air of disinterest, though he was eyeing his assistant intensely.

“Incredible designer,” Phil continued. “It was awful when she left us. So much of Alta’s products in our beginning stages—the things that put us on the map, it was her genius behind it.”

“Well…um…,” Octavia stammered, “it was a…team effort, you know.”

“Oh sure, sure!” Phil agreed. “All the same”—he looked at Raemon—“I hope you know what a gem of an employee you’ve got here.”

Raemon’s eyes didn’t leave Octavia’s face. “I should hope so, Mackenzie.”

Octavia frowned and pushed her glasses up her nose. It was time to end this little chat.

“Great seeing you again, Phil,” Octavia started.

“Great seeing you,” Phil responded, shaking the hand Octavia had offered.

“Listen, we should get together for lunch or something. I want to know what you’ve been up to since you left Alta. Didn’t you have some big project you were going to work on?”

“Oh, yeah. It was actually—”

“We’re leaving,” Raemon said abruptly.

Octavia looked up at him in surprise. “Huh? Wait, why?”

“I have a meeting. Let’s go.”

“Oh, um…I can always catch up with you later—” Octavia started.

“No. I’m leaving now. Let’s go.”

As if to further demonstrate his resolve, Raemon moved past Phil toward the exit.

Octavia gave Phil an apologetic look. “I gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Phil’s cheery face looked uncharacteristically shrewd. “Not a very flexible guy, is he? Well, what could you expect?” He gave Octavia a final smile.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again. And remember”—Phil lowered his voice in a conspiratorial whisper—“if you ever get tired of where you’re at right now, just say the word. You could be back at Alta in seconds.”

Octavia gave him a rueful smile. “I won’t forget it.”

“Assistant!” Raemon called over his shoulder.

Octavia gave her former boss a hurried final goodbye, then dashed off after her new boss, who was just reaching the grand doors of the ballroom entrance.

“I don’t see why you had to leave all of a sudden,” Octavia said once she caught up to him.

“I don’t appreciate people poaching my employees right under my nose,” Raemon said, barely glancing down toward Octavia.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Octavia said, fumbling with her backpack and the laptop she was trying to cram back into it. “It’s not like I’m suddenly deciding to go back to Alta.”

“No?” Raemon said with a small sneer. “Even though that insipid Phil would just die to have a gem like you working for him?”

Octavia grinned. “If you’re going to get into a mood about this, maybe I will go back to work for him.”

The high, arched ceilings of the ballroom opened out into the exquisitely tiled foyer.

Raemon continued to make his way through the space, oblivious to the people who ducked their heads and scurried out of his way.

“If you’d rather work for someone more dedicated to flattery than intellect, I wouldn’t stop you,” Raemon said briskly.

“You know, being mean isn’t a prerequisite for business acumen,” Octavia replied.

“Being a pretentious flatterer is a sure way to lose whatever business you have.”

“Okay, whatever. I still don’t see what the rush was.”

“I have a meeting with the CEO of Walter Corporations.”

Octavia pulled a tablet out of her backpack and tapped the screen to bring up his calendar. “That’s not till seven. It’s only five thirty.”

Only then did Raemon stop and turn to face his assistant. “What?” he said, his voice hard.

Octavia crossed her arms and matched his expression. “Now which one of us didn’t go over the itinerary?”

Raemon regarded her through narrowed eyes as if he were about to respond with his own scathing reply. But his face relaxed, and he looked across the foyer blankly.

“So it is,” he said, “Just as well, I’ll need to go over the production information for all the attendees anyway.”

“Great. I need a nap,” Octavia said.

Raemon looked back to her. “That will have to wait. I’ll need you with me.”

“Do I have to?” she whined. “Haven’t I been bored enough today? I could barely keep my eyes open in there.”

“I noticed,” Raemon said. “You can get a coffee from the lounge restaurant.” With a gentle but firm hand on her arm, he steered her toward the restaurant that was on the edge of the foyer space.