The Party: Chapter 13 – Andy McGuire – Flash Fiction Friday Post

Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 13: Andy McGuire

“Andy McGuire, for Admiral Page, please.” Andy paused
as the secretary, a Seaman Secore, he noted in his contacts, asked him to wait
a moment.

“Admiral,” Andy said as the general picked up. “I just
wanted to give you a heads up. Orders will be coming down today for the next
destroyer class ship to be built by Omega Corporation.”

Andy waited as the Admiral objected. “I know it seems
that Norfolk should be the spot for the ship’s construction.” He listened a
moment. “Yes. Seaway Industries has done a fine job for years. But there has been
some extenuating information that makes Omega the better choice.”

Again, he listened. “I understand, Admiral. Portsmouth
has traditionally been repair and refit docks. But there doesn’t really seem to
be any issue with building a ship there, is there?”

It took a minute or two for the Admiral to wind down. “Yes,
Admiral. Some personnel movement and housing accommodations will need to be
made. We understand that.” Andy closed his eyes while the Admiral ranted some
more. “I understand, Admiral. It is likely to affect the Norfolk area
adversely. We have taken that into consideration.”

When the Admiral slammed the phone down, Andy sighed
and hung up. He didn’t understand why he was the one having to make these
calls. It wasn’t his fault that Omega Corp was a member of the elite class now
and that Seaway wasn’t. He knew for a fact that the owner and CEO of Omega
pitched a fit when the contract for the destroyer was slated for Norfolk. He
pitched a fit to his buddies now running the company and they’d directed the
ship go to Omega. And, he sighed, that’s how business was done now. If one of
the elite wanted something, they just told their buddies and got it. No matter
if they had any experience with it or not.

He typed a text to his boss, Duncan Angelson, with the
news that the Admiral had been notified, and then stood up. He needed coffee. In
the break room, Andy started for the mugs.

“I’ll get that for you, Mr. McGuire.”

Andy stepped back. “Of course, Mrs. Olsen. I saw you
setting up cookies and didn’t want to bother you.” Andy smiled at the older
woman. One of the very few left on the floor. Safe enough to have here because
her job was to keep coffee and hot water for tea ready at all times and to set
out little snacks like cookies and fruit throughout the day.

“No problem, Mr. McGuire. I enjoy helping out.” She
poured coffee into a mug for him from the 32-cup pot and handed it to him. “I
hope your day is going well?”

“Well enough,” Andy said as he walked to the creamer
and sugar area. “What cookies do you have today?”

“Oh!” She beamed at him. “I brought in those oatmeal
chocolate chips you like. You know, from Busters, over on 9th
street. They make the best ones in town. At least in my humble opinion.”

“Great. Could you get me two of them?”

“Of course.” She selected a small dessert plate from
the stack on the table and after putting a paper doily on the plate, used tongs
to gently set two cookies on the plate. “Anything else, sir?”

“No. I should have these. But thank you for asking.” He
stirred his coffee. Two sugars and creamer. He took the plate she offered. “How
are you, Mrs. Olsen. Your new apartment okay?”

She nodded. “Different from the big house my husband
and I had for so many years. But yes. I’m getting to know the neighbors and the
area. It will be fine.”

He gave her a smile. Her husband had died from a
stroke a year ago. As a widow, it was easier to convince management that it was
their civic duty to help her financially. Her husband had been playing fast and
loose with his boutique stockbrokerage client money. He’d left the brokerage in
shambles, and his wife penniless. Andy felt very bad for her. None of this was
her fault at all. “Glad to hear it.” He picked up the mug and the plate. He
raised the plate in a salute. “Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. Olsen.”

“Mr. McGuire. Glad to be helpful.”

Back in his office he ate the cookies with his face
over the plate. He didn’t need chocolate smudges all over his white dress
shirt. He had a meeting with Duncan in half an hour. More adjustments to government
contracts, he supposed. The whole lineup of elites were grabbing everything
they could at full speed. The entire constitution was down the drain and ethics
were a thing of the past. He drank half of his coffee in a gulp and forced the
anger down with it. He wondered if he shouldn’t be lining his pockets as well.
At his level, he knew what was going on and where to get it.

He ate the last bite of cookie. No. No. He couldn’t do
it. It wasn’t his money. You’re a fool, he told himself as he drank the last of
the coffee. Everyone else is doing it. You’ll be a laughingstock and die
penniless.

Andy put the mug on the plate and set it on top of the
bookshelf by the office door. Mrs. Olsen would be around later with a cart to
pick up dishes. So what, he thought. At least I’ll have my honor and my
dignity. He went back to his pad to prepare for the meeting. He idly wondered
when this new brand of mob bosses would start a war over the spoils. Probably
not long, he thought. There were billions out there. Billions.

Thank you for reading.