Arriving for the start of another day at work, I glanced at my watch before entering the Centennial Bank's Headquarters. I was right on time despite near gridlocked traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway. The drive from my home in Willowbrook, an upscale community west of Chicago, had taken an hour to complete.
My high-heels clicked noisily on the terrazzo floor as I paced briskly towards the bank of elevators. My corner office on the twenty-first floor seemed more like a second home than a place to work. Putting in long, tedious hours and working weekends had become second nature.
For the past twelve years, I worked hard to attain the position of Vice-President of Centennial Bank. But it hadn't come without costs. The financial rewards and perks of my position weren't worth the loss of a marriage, a marriage to someone I still often thought about. But it was too late to turn things around. My ex-husband, Rick had remarried and was about to become a father for the second time. Admittedly, I still loved him.
Stepping off the elevator, I scurried down the corridor towards my office, stopping briefly at the coffee bar to fix myself a cup. Coffee and cigarettes, along with a steady diet of fast food, had become my mainstay. I rarely cooked. It was something I never quite got the knack of.
"Morning Valerie!" Emily Hanks greeted, peering over her glasses. "How's my favorite Vice-President this morning?"
"Morning Emily!" I responded, forcing myself to smile. "I'm alright I guess."
Emily Hanks, a woman in her mid-sixties, had served as the personal secretary to the Vice-President for the past twenty plus years. She'd seen three of my predecessors come and go. To me, Emily was more than just my secretary. She was my confidant, someone who knew me better than I knew myself.
Tossing my purse and tan leather attaché onto the credenza behind my desk, I booted up my computers. While they connected with our networking system, I walked over to the full length windows. The sun rising in the east cast a long shadow over the adjacent office building
"You look very nice today." Emily stated, entering my office with a handful of documents in her hand. "Is that a new suit?"
"No. It's one I haven't worn for awhile." I replied. "I just had the hemline shortened a little."
"You don't think it's too short, do you?" I asked, hoping she'd say no.
"Not with those legs!" Emily laughed, setting the papers on the corner of my desk. "Those girls down in Accounting wear their skirts a lot shorter than that!"
"Yeah but they're ten years younger than me." I countered, grinning.
"So what?" Emily asserted. "Age doesn't mean a darn thing. If you've got great legs, there's nothing wrong with showing them off a little."
My legs were probably my best asset. Standing five foot, eight I still had a great figure. Granted, it wasn't as good as when I was in college but thirteen years since then hadn't taken their toll on me. My butt was still quite shapely and my breasts were still firm. Not that it mattered much. I wasn't seeing anyone nor had I since my divorce. It wasn't that I wasn't interested in a relationship. Men seemed to shy away from career women for some reason. At least, that was the conclusion I'd come too. I'd even taken to having my dark brown, shoulder-length hair highlighted with blonde streaks to draw attention to myself but without much luck. Guys noticed me but kept their distance. Maybe it was my gradient tinted eyeglasses that kept them from approaching me. They shaded my bright green eyes but they were necessary to keep eye strain to a minimum.
It was just about noon when Burt Wheeler came barging into my office. Glancing up from my computer monitors, I could see he was upset about something.
Burt was the grandson of the bank's founder, Trenton Wheeler, which was probably the only reason he was ever promoted. He didn't know squat about financial matters, relying on his subordinates to make the majority of his decisions. Rarely in his office, Burt spent most of his time on the golf course at the Sandstone Country Club.
As usual, Burt was casually dressed. Instead of a suit, he was wearing Docker dress slacks and an Izod Polo shirt. Overweight by at least thirty pounds and balding, he didn't exemplify what you'd expect for a man in his position.
"What'd you do this time Burt?" I questioned, continuing with my work.
"I just got a call from the Chief Financial Officer." Burt disclosed, flopping his fat ass down in the chair in front of my desk. "He informed me that I don't have the authority to authorize a five-million dollar loan."
"That's right. You don't." I affirmed, leaning back in my chair. "Any loan over a million dollars has to go before committee for review."
"Well that's bullshit!" He exclaimed. "As president of this bank I should have the authority to do anything I want!"
"Your grandfather set the rules." I responded. "I didn't."
"Besides, it's good banking business to have more than just one person responsible for loaning out that kind of money." I explained. "If you want to change the rules, go talk to your father."
"I did." Burt countered, leaning over my desk. "And he told me you have the authority to sign loans for any amount. Why's that?"
"Maybe it's because I've got great legs and you don't!" I laughed. "Or....maybe it's because the bank trusts my judgment and they don't yours."
"I need you to review the Thunder Bay loan documents and put your signature on them." Burt asserted in a commanding tone. "I expect to see the loan approval before the end of the day."
"There's no way I'm approving that loan!" I countered, rising to my feet. "I denied that loan weeks ago. I'll be damned if I change my mind!"
"I'm giving you a direct order Ms. Marlowe!" Burt shouted, getting in my face. "I can have you fired for insubordination if you don't follow my instructions!"
