Show Her The Money. Stephanie Feagan

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СКАЧАТЬ my mom? “What’s he going to do, exactly?”

      “Trace assets in divorces, testify in court, look into bad oil deals, and things like that.”

      I was beyond surprised and almost shocked. Mom is hip and modern in a lot of ways, but old school when it comes to business. Forensic accounting sounded very glam for someone like my mother. “And you want me to work for Sam?”

      “That’s the plan.” Mom looked like she did the year she gave me a calculator for Christmas, when I was thirteen. I wanted a padded bra and I got a calculator. “Isn’t it exciting?” She looked ready to whoop it up and start clapping.

      Compared to her penthouse enthusiasm, my excitement was in the basement, but I was definitely grateful she didn’t expect me to do tax returns, because I’m not a tax accountant. I’m an auditor. Not the sort of auditor the IRS hires to scare the hell out of people. Not the sort who pokes around a company, looking for pilfering employees. Most people think companies hire us to seek and destroy embezzlers.

      They’re wrong.

      All we do is look over the financial statements and make sure the company isn’t lying their ass off so people will be suckered into buying their stock and the price will go through the roof and all the Big Dog executives can make off like bandits when they sell their stock options. Companies can’t claim to have oil reserves worth eighty bajillion dollars when really they have maybe forty or fifty million bucks worth. They can’t claim to have a few measly million dollars of debt, when in fact, they owe so much to every bank on the planet, even God couldn’t bail them out.

      As an auditor, it was my job to make sure everything was clean and tidy at the companies I audited. If things weren’t clean and tidy, Lowell Jaworski put his foot down and demanded things get fixed, or he’d write a bad opinion and every investor out there would dump their stock. All in all, a pretty good system. Until the Marvel Energy fiasco.

      Nothing was clean and tidy at Marvel Energy, but for fifty million dollars worth of consulting income, Lowell decided he didn’t care. Which unfortunately signaled the ending buzzer for my career as said auditor.

      Now, Mom was opening a new career opportunity for me, and maybe I wasn’t as over the moon about it as she appeared to be, but I was glad to have a job doing something useful, something I had a prayer of understanding. The myriad tax laws were my worst nightmare. “I’ll do my best,” I told her.

      She hugged me again, which surprised me. Mom seemed more sentimental than usual, and her usual doesn’t lean toward mushy.

      “I’ve never wanted anything but for you to be happy, Whitney, and I feel bad for you because this has all been so awful. You deserve a break, and a fresh start.” Dropping her arms, she stepped back and gave me a funny look. “You don’t seem very fired up about this.”

      Sighing, I shoved my hair behind my ears. “I’m sorry, Mom. This is really great of you, but it’s a crummy feeling to know the only job I can get is a mercy job with my mommy. It’s humiliating. And it makes me so mad, because I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, yet I’m being punished.”

      “It won’t always be like this. When you’re all done with the finance committee and everything’s over, people will begin to see you in a different light. You’ll be able to get back the respect you’re missing right now.”

      I mustered a smile and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I love you, too.”

      She patted my arm, then nodded toward the doorway. “Come on and meet Gert. She’s the senior manager in charge of staffing and human resources.”

      We walked across the hall and she introduced me to a dumpy woman who didn’t smile and stared at me like I was something she’d scrape off her shoe.

      “Gert will get you all set up,” Mom said as she turned to leave. “Come see me when you’re done and we’ll talk more.”

      The woman continued to stare at me hostilely and I sat down, trying to think of something personal to say to make the awkward moment go away.

      I was forming a few questions in my mind, like “Hey, Gert, how long you lived in Midland?” or “Yo, Gert, love that blouse, you clever thing, and I’ve always wanted a blouse with little numbers printed all over it,” when she asked in a husky, manly voice, “What do you know about forensic accounting?”

      I looked at Gert, in her pathetic blouse, with her pathetic glasses and mousy hair and grim reaper face, and thought, no way in hell she was gonna treat me like a first year staff, like a newbie, fresh out of college, without a clue.

      Sitting up straighter, I cleared my throat and gave Gert my very best I’m A Professional With Balls Of Steel look. “Having worked as an auditor the past eight years, I can’t think forensic accounting will be much of a stretch.”

      Gert made an odd noise, a cross between a grunt and blubbery thing with her lips. Obviously, she had no faith in my abilities. “Jane needs someone to work with Sam who is dedicated, fair and honest.”

      Her emphasis on the word “honest” made me mad, but I had a feeling she intended it to, so I calmly nodded and agreed with her. “No doubt, that’s why she hired me.”

      “All of her reasons to the contrary, I believe she hired you because you can’t get a job anywhere besides Burger King.”

      “Why is my employment here any of your business? Did my mother make you a partner in this firm?”

      That hit a nerve, and it dawned on me, she was afraid Mom would eventually make me a partner and leave her in the dust. A part of me felt sorry for her because she saw me as such a threat, but another part of me thought Gert needed a few lessons in diplomacy, politics and the subtle application of cosmetics. No doubt she was freaking brilliant, or Mom wouldn’t hold her in such high regard, but if she wanted to run with the Big Dogs, she was going to have to make some changes.

      I’d known lots of accountants just like Gert. Miserable, bitter people, always clawing for a leg up, never getting that old saying that one wins flies with honey, not vinegar.

      With her lips pursed together as if she’d just swallowed a cup of vinegar, she stared at me with blatant dislike. “We have a very strict policy about time. Jane doesn’t like to eat time. If we can’t bill it, she eats it.”

      “Yes, I’m aware of billable time.”

      “And we expect you to be punctual. Office hours are eight in the morning until five in the evening, except during tax season, when everyone stays until eight and works Saturdays.”

      Remembering some audits when me and my staff stayed at a client’s office for four days straight, around the clock, I almost laughed at Gert, sounding so, “Hey, this is a tough job and you’re obviously a wuss and a Mama’s girl, so you better get ready for some long hours.” Almost laughed. Maybe I would have, if I hadn’t been ready to chuck an eraser at Gert’s head.

      “And lastly, you’re to have no contact with clients unless you okay it with me first. You may say something that the firm could be held liable for.”

      Okay, that was it. I’d had enough. Standing, I looked down at Gert and said, “Should I raise my hand when I want to go pee? Do I need a permission slip to leave for lunch?”

      Gert narrowed her already СКАЧАТЬ