The everyday normal life of a college coed.

Cometh the Hour Cometh the Woman: Part 16

[***][***][***]

My household expanded, and so did my waistline. JoAnn and Laura Katz were two very athletic young woman that had the bad grace to arrive just when I was starting to notice the pounds, so I didn’t take to them at first, if you get my meaning. However, the cousins were such nice girls that it was hard for me to hold a grudge. After a day of moving, where yet more fathers were drafted to act as draft animals, us girls hit the town for a night out. We were all underage, so we couldn’t go to any of the ten thousand trendy bars that were downtown, but we had a hell of a time out west at Village Pointe Mall with its restaurants and accompanying Movie Theater. I can’t remember what we saw, some summer comic book popcorn feature that was interchangeable with any other. Think of the last superhero movie you saw and slot that in if it makes you feel better.

We hit the shops afterwards, and it was a tossup which of us was more uncomfortable, Caroline or me. The other girls had all been told, of course, and they were a bit wary, at first. But Caroline just worked so HARD at being a girl, so hard you had to work even harder to find anything masculine about her. So soon enough, no one paid it any mind. Which didn’t mean of course that Caroline herself was willing to brave the harem’s quarters that is the women’s changing room of at Francesca’s Collection. I begged off of swapping in and out of outfits by saying anything I bought wouldn’t fit me in about a minute anyway and Caroline decided to keep me company in the chairs outside the main room.

Periodically, the girls would exit with this bit or that bit of new wardrobe and asked our opinion. Caroline gave insightful and useful suggestions of what worked, what didn’t and where she had seen something just like it on sale at another store for half the price. Me, I judged the clothes by a complicated mathematical formula based upon how much skin was shown. But no one seemed to catch on. We got back home after 11: P.M. but stayed up until the wee hours of the morning watching bad movies on DVD and eating worse junk food. It was just so nice and comforting to be part of a band of brothers again even if we were all women.

[***][***][***]

Summer session had ended, and I had exactly one week worth of break until fall semester began. I also now had several strange women running around my home. But since they all basically had their own bathrooms, I never got to see them in a state of undress, and was not sure what I would have done if I had. I DID get to see them in swimsuits on a regular basis, that kept me going for a while, but it wasn’t quite the same. As a guy, I had sort of imagined girls living alone together always went around topless and practiced kissing each other all the time but it would appear some legends are not true, we live in a fallen age.

For myself, I didn’t look quite as good in a swimsuit as I used too. By early August, I was showing if you knew what to look for. The girls having convinced me to try one of my bikinis, you didn’t have to look very hard. My boobs had got bigger, while my bladder smaller, and my ankles were starting to get out of hand. I thought about changing footwear to surplus pair of combat boots just for the support offered, but the first time I appeared in public with them, I was scolded from five different directions and shoved back upstairs to change. I would have put up a fight, but they outnumbered me, and it didn’t matter much anyway since the boots disappeared the next day.

Somehow…

I sort of went a little crazy on classes for fall, I had seen several I needed to take all lined up in a row, back to back to back Monday — Thursday. I had signed up for all of them while there were still slots. It added up to 21 credit hours, the only way my adviser would geek to it was my promise to drop a class or two after the first week, once I got a good idea of how I would like each. Of course, if I liked them all, I was going to have to go back on that promise. From everything I had understood about college, the fates seldom aligned like that and I didn’t know how many classes I would be able to take once the baby was born.

Naturally, the downside to this was that I had to buy books for seven classes. It wasn’t the expense, though that was plenty, it was the weight that had almost caused me to cry. My previous trip to the U.N.O. bookstore had meant a total of 4 books easily carried in two bags. Now I had more bags than I had fingers, and I couldn’t say exactly how many were actually inside. I had just given my class list to one of the student workers, and had tried not to look too irritated when he smirked at me. U.N.O. parking is legendarily bad, I had only been able to find a slot half a mile away, had to pay $2 for the privilege. At certain points, it would be a shorter distance to just walk from my front yard, then drive and park on campus. But lugging this many books, I wanted as much vehicular transport as I could get. There was no way I was going to be able to make it all in one trip. I was gathering up my courage to ask one of the cashiers if she could watch my bags for a bit when a husky masculine voice cleared his throat behind me.

“You look like you’re a little overloaded, Miss,” he said with a gesture at my collection of bags.

“Um, yea,” I said trying not to sound like a ditz in front of a man whose build and manner I had once pulled of convincingly. “I’m taking 21 hours and the books… they just sort of got out of hand.”

“Could you use some help?” he asked me concerned. He was a tall Hispanic, but with enough blanco in him to have light brown hair and grey eyes. He was wearing one of the digicam backpacks the Army liked to give all their soldiers that, since they were personalized in fit and decoration to each individual, they didn’t have to give back when they left the service. He was likely here on the G.I. Bill after doing his hitch on active duty. Which meant he was probably at least 22, and a bit out of my demographic, even if I was looking for a man, which I most certainly wasn’t. He wasn’t a complete shlub, however. He had three school tabs sewed on the pack in what the Army was pleased to call “The Tower of Power.” Ranger, Airborne, and Special Forces. Which, if he didn’t just buy the badges in the PX on the way out the door, meant this guy was one seriously bad motherfucker.

“I… could,” I said admitting to needing help though still trying to understand the situation. “But I’m… I just want you to know I’m not looking for anything romantic.”

“Ha!,” he grunted out. “Don’t worry, Ma’am, I think pregnant woman are sexy, but I’m not interested in moving in on someone else’s action. And if the guy is out of the picture, damn fool though he would be, I’m not interested in any sort of instant family. This is just a soldier helping out the damsel in distress. Nothing more I promise,” he said winking at me rakishly.

“You can tell I’m pregnant? Not many can, or at least I thought they couldn’t. My friends helped me pick out some loose clothes specifically for it.”

“Not many maybe, but that’s my superior military training shining through.”

“Well,” I said, trying to prove to him that I wasn’t completely ignorant of the military. Even such things that an Army puke would hold sacred. Pointing to his badges on the rucksack I shouted. “Rangers lead the way!”

“Damn, Ma’am I’m kind of sad that I didn’t get here sooner. I would like to have met you before whoever he was got in before me. Not many girls would know what those mean, or know the motto.”

He then went about packing his rucksack with as many of my books that would fit, then hefted it onto his shoulders. He grabbed two plastic bags in each hand, leaving me only two of the lighter bags to carry for myself. I didn’t really care for my new gender role, having to require the help of some testosterone filled muscle bound megaman to carry my gear. But as long as my own musculature was underpowered, I guess it paid to have a pleasing female appearance.

“Ready to go?” he asked when he got the weight situated.

As much as I hated to actually say it, straight lines like this don’t come along every day, and in a fit of whimsy I decided to play it up a bit.

“I’ve,” I said holding my head in my hands with an affected southern accent. “Always depended, upon the kindness of Rangers.”

[***][***][***]

Going to school was a whole different proposition during the fall when the population expanded fivefold. It was a novel and unsettling experience for me, particularly when combined with my new shape and size in comparison to all the well fed Nebraskans passing around me. I also tried not getting all riled up about the large packs of Chinese exchange students walking about. Also tried not suspecting them of going to U.N.O., and not other, better known American universities, because of its proximity to the U.S. Strategic Command, but I resolved to keep my eyes on them regardless.

The West Dodge Campus of U.N.O. was about a mile long on a quarter mile strip facing the street, which meant of course that if I had a class at one end in the morning, fate had put my afternoon class on the furthest section away. U.N.O. parking was terrible, midtown. Manhattan terrible when you had all these commuter students and so few spaces available. Complicating matters was that campus security put some secret police forces to shame, and was able to zero in on an expired meter or out of zone permit with unerring accuracy. They even had an army of paid informants among the student body.

Dozens of seemingly normal looking kids who were on work study would be walking past cars apparently on their way to class and suddenly pull out a pad and write a ticket. It sort of screamed to me a system that was rife for scandal and abuse, but apparently it worked well enough that no one had abolished it, yet. I could have walked from my house to all my classes, a couple of months ago, I would have done just that, but I was five months gone now, and things were only going to get worse from here.

I sorted it out with the girls, and we rigged up a schedule that would count towards their rent hours. I would be picked up and chauffeured around campus by a changing series of my roommates, after a rocky start at first, where I had to send a couple of reminder phone calls, it smoothed out into a well running system. It put a lot of stop and go wear and tear on the cars, and Rachel, bless her little mercenary heart, slipped in compensation for the mileage. But I, and my swollen ankles were glad to pay it. I was sitting in the passenger seat of Melanie, Joann’s car being in the shop at that point, when I got a call from the Governor of Nebraska.

“Katie!” he said enthusiastically over my cell phone. “It’s Bob Pilsner. I hope you haven’t forgotten me over the summer.”

“No sir,” I said slightly started by the phone call. “I just wasn’t expecting your call, not many people have my number.”

“And you were wondering how I got it?” he chuckled at me. “Don’t worry, I didn’t send the CIA or FBI after you. I doubt they would do any favors for a Nebraskan, anyway. The DeGeas gave me your number.”

“I must remember to thank him next time I see him,” I said squinting my eyes at the implications.

“Oh, don’t take it out on him; I sort of had to call in a favor. By the way, I heard you are going to the University of Nebraska-Omaha. Congratulations! I know you had better offers available.I think it’s great that you are staying home for school. You’re father would have been pleased.”

“I’m not really sure what my father would have been pleased about… he died when I was very young.”

“Yes of course…it’s about him that I called you today, or rather about his legacy to you. One of the nice things about being a chief executive is that as many problems as you have. And we get more every day! When you get enough of them together, sooner or later they combine with each other and sort of solve themselves. You may not know this, but the Scott Company they are… well they are being unfriendly toward the state. Even talking about moving the headquarters down to Texas. May God have mercy on their souls.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that Governor, but I have no authority over them,” I said and I actually WAS sorry to tell him. Bob was a nice guy, and I wasn’t very fond of people that weren’t playing nice with him.

“Yes, you explained that over the summer, and DeGeas filled in between a couple of the lines. But it happens… I know a man. He’s trying to do business with the Scott Company as well, and they are being unfriendly toward him too. I thought that maybe the two of you together might just be able to be unfriendly toward them right back. I’ve spoken to him already presuming upon your support. He thinks there are possibilities there. Wants to meet you, 2:00P.M. tomorrow, if you need an excused absence note, I’m sure I can scare up a university chancellor or two to write one.”

“I would miss a class, yes, my intro to civil engineering. I like it a lot and would hate to miss out.”

“It’s important Mrs. Ryan, and if you tell him why, I’m sure your professor would understand. Half of them were put through school with money from the Scott foundation.”

“Just who is this man, who you have already presumed to make a meeting for me,” I asked angrily.

He told me.

“No shit?” was my entirely demure and virginal answer. And then I agreed to the meeting and ended the call.

“What was that all about,” asked Jo Ann, confused as she finally wound around a stopped car that was holding up traffic while the driver was on the hunt for an open parking spot.

“Were going to need to rearrange the schedule when we get home,” I said by way of answer, still a little bit dumfounded by the surprise phone call and all its implications. “I have been summoned to an audience tomorrow, with the Oracle of Omaha.”

[***][***][***]

The Oracle has offices in a few rooms leased to him by another company near the Mutual of Omaha Insurance headquarters. It was the corporate equivalent of crashing on your buddies couch, and typified the man. He only needed a secretary and a couple of phone lines to manage one of the largest going concerns in human history, so why go in for all the gaudy trappings of your own skyscraper? He wasn’t the richest man in the world, any more, partially because he didn’t take the large risks of the current one. But mostly because for the last several years, he had gifted away his fortune annually in five billion dollar blocks. But make no mistake, he still had enough power and influences that most mere presidents of countries and companies were envious of.

He wasn’t infallible, The Oracle was famous for missing out on the vast fortunes of the tech boom in the nineties. But if he didn’t go to the party, he didn’t get the hangover either and was still chugging along, gaining wealth while dotcom billionaires were now turned busboys. He was an old man… and looked it: Hair was thinning and totally white, skin sagging and glasses thick enough that the Coca Cola Company, which he owned a big piece of, could have used them for bottles. But if the eyes needed some heavy equipment to see, there was still a bit of fire in them. And even if he looked old, he had enough energy for two younger men. He was up out of his desk chair in a flash when I was let into his office and he crossed the floor quickly to offer his hand.

“Jessica!” he welcomed me enthusiastically. “No pardon me, Bob said you want to go by Katherine now. I knew your grandmother Katherine who you were named for. I’m sure she would have been pleased how you turned out.”

“You mean a pregnant high school dropout?” I asked dismissively to a man worth more than some nations.

“Huh,” he grunted smiling. “Well I did hear about that. But also that you somehow managed to do so and still be admitted as a second semester sophomore to my old Alma Mater. And you’re married too? Is he worthy of you?” he asked as he walked to the comfortable chairs facing his desk and indicated I should sit down.

“No one else seems to think so, but I do.”

“Well, you’re the only one that matters in that sort of thing. Don’t let anyone else push you around the subject. I let society dictate to me for almost twenty years before I married my Astrid, and I don’t regret a day since. Can I get you anything to drink? I don’t have any hard stuff, but plenty of the rest.”

“I would like a Coke if you have one,” I said keeping a straight face.

“I’m sure I can find one somewhere around here,” he said smiling broadly, as he brought one forth from a little micro-fridge next to his desk. “You’re no doubt curious as to why I asked to see you?”

“The Governor mentioned something about the Scott Company, but as to specifics yes I’m curious. DeGeas says there is very little I can do about over there.”

“Well that’s true enough… for now,” he agreed as he opened a can of his own and poured the dark liquid into a tall glass on his desk. “Did you happen to look up when you entered this building?”

“I did,” I said remembering the midsized skyscraper had a yellow logo and the words “Scott” up in big lighted letters on the top corner.

“What did you think of it?”

“It’s looks like a very… functional building,” I hedged magnificently.

“It’s an ugly damn building is what it is, and I’ve seen ugly buildings all over the world. It’s worse than Israeli architecture, but at least they have the excuse of needing their business district to be a fortress as well. I scolded your grandfather at the time, but it was the sixties, and everyone thought the future was now and went all post modernist crazy. But it’s an efficient building, done before time and under budget. You’re people were always fine engineers, so I was happy enough to take a few rooms for my own needs. Your grandfather and I made that deal, and neither of us ever regretted it.”

“Is that why I’m here?” I asked taking a sip from my can. “Are you in trouble with your landlord’s?”

“Ha!” he barked out defiantly. “They would like it if I was gone certainly, and could charge a higher rate, but I have 19 years left on my lease so they can lump it. And if the situation ever got to uncomfortable for me, I could be packed and out of here in under an hour. Plenty of office space to be had for me in THIS town.”

“No doubt,” I agreed grinning.

“No I’m afraid we're bumping heads over something else entirely. I’m not sure how much, if anything you know about what has been going on in your company.”

“I know they have been issuing shares so that they can take away my majority, one that I can’t even use,” I said trying not to let the anger in my voice.

“Yeah, they tried that for a while.” He said while scratching his chin ponderously. “But it was taking too long. The last few years when a partner was feeling antsy, he would find a nice little bit of the company: maybe a mine, maybe a construction unit, and exchange all or most of his shares back to company for it. Seldom to the companies benefit. The other partners let this happen because they expected to do more or less the same thing when it was their own time. Trouble is, soon enough all the really profitable or valuable pieces of it got ate away. And the younger generation of partners that got left holding the bag are starting to get desperate.”

“Are they,” I asked not at all feeling sympathy for them.

“Yup, one of the last of the crown jewels is your fiber-optic cable. It was too big for any partner to exchange for, except maybe you, but no one asked. Back in the nineties when the internet was the ‘next big thing’, telecommunications companies were laying out all sorts of wire anticipating the capacity would soon be needed. They went to your daddy to build a lot of it for them. He did a good job, better than most, HIS cable certainly didn’t need to be re-dug or checked for breaks every five feet. But people overbuilt like crazy, the market just wasn’t there at the time. Many of the companies that paid to put all that cable underground couldn’t actually afford it. After a few years of court cases, by this time your father had passed away, the Scott Company held the pink slips for a good portion of this nation’s bandwidth. They didn’t want it, didn’t know what to do with it, and no telecommunications company wanted to buy it from them… at the price it was worth anyway. So they leased out the capacity and were content with what little revenue it brought in.”

He got up and walked to the corner of the office to bring closer an old fashioned wooden easel with a map of the United States on it.

“I generally stay out of technology stocks, I don’t understand all this internet gobbledygook. But I understand supply and demand just fine. Bandwidth demand has increased exponentially, but because of all those people that went out of business laying cable, not many people are eager to do it again. We have been living off our savings, so to speak, the last few years, with very little capacity being added. Many of those people that first built these networks were not as capable as your father. They are more expensive to maintain, have less capacity for mile laid, or are generally unreliable. And look here, computers on the East coast have to talk to computers on the West coast and much of it needs to travel on cable laid here in the Midwest that you own. Or rather that the partners control.”

“It sounds like they should be making a lot of money then?” I asked uncertain.

“You would think so wouldn’t you, but remember all those profitable pieces being nibbled away. The cable is one of the only things left, and they tried to use it to pay the way for everything else. So they upped the rates… a lot. Those customers that could find alternatives left, there is still bandwidth to be had for now. It’s already in the ground, so they can’t run the cable division into it, but they certainly did their best. Sorry, I know that’s a bad joke, but it had to be made. So… they don’t derive much cash from it now, but it still holds value. As more and more Americans become wired and wireless it will only increase in value.”

“And you want it?” I said confidently.

“Indeed I do, their rates are holding several of my concerns hostage,” he replied easily with a tilt of his head. “And they’ll sell it to me too… for more than the whole company is worth combined.”

“Ouch,” I grimaced at him.

“Hmm,” he agreed. “I don’t mind overpaying for an asset if I can get control of something now that I think will be worth much more later, but I do have my pride! I looked at the numbers, all those aging partners who are getting older by the second. I intend to counter with an offer for the whole shooting match. I’ll probably get an answer back when they have argued it all out in a year or three… so if I want to get any sort of fast response, I need to force the issue, which is where you come in.”

“How?”

“My lawyers, who are better lawyers than most, think that partnership agreement can be fought in court, specifically the provision about voting rights. The ‘new’ one is after all 75 years old. They talked with your lawyer DeGeas, and he agrees. The trouble is it would be an expensive court case, costing you in the many millions which I gather you do not have?”

“No,” I answered coldly.

“So what I propose is very simple. I agree to totally fund your lawsuit against the other partners in exchange for your agreement to sell me your shares when I make my offer. With your majority there is no need to put it to a vote, offer and sale can be done in a day. When they realize that my money is behind the case they will most likely give in. Trying to keep a Scott from getting inside the Scott Company is a losing proposition in front of an Omaha jury. I guess I’ll get my own skyscraper after all…”

“How much?” I asked trying to appear calm and uninterested.

“A hundred million dollars,” he said like it was nothing.

JESUS TAPDANCING CHRIST!!!!

[***][***][***]