Truth Meets Love (3 page)

I had accompanied Andrew to a business conference held in downtown Chicago a few years ago. It was during the opening social hour over drinks that he proceeded to inform me how well connected he was in the company and that he was on a first-name basis with the CEO. Andrew went on to say that we could "help each other get what we both want." He continued the sales pitch by telling me that he had gotten a hotel room at the event and if I didn't want to make the 45-minute drive home, I was welcome to stay.

Hmmm… unfortunately, I knew what I wanted and how to get it. Apparently Andrew needed some coursework in how my kind operated.

I shared this sentiment with Andy. "Oh, all that character and marketability and you still can't close the deal. Pity. I was looking forward to that 30 seconds of fame. However, I am perfectly capable of getting what I want without your assistance. I do appreciate your concern and I would suggest the next time you are presented with the urge to throw out an offer like that to a woman, just compliment her shoes instead."

I get a kick out of the idiocy of their attempts to rattle my cage and put me in my proper place. They think they are coming off as concerned about increasing my value and providing me more perceived worth by being graced with their presence in front of the right eyes. Have the right connections to drop your name and wham… you're in. Unfortunately, those antics succeed too often in the workplace. Too many make their way to the top through the air pockets they laid for themselves in the wake of the smoke and mirrors. They didn't earn their stripes; they stole the stripes, badges of courage and medals of honor from their staff or peers and took credit for saving the day. They let the people in the trenches take all the heavy fire and carry the heaviest load while they strutted their pirated decor in the boardrooms and executive committee meetings, fanning the flames and spreading their smoke.

These Mitt-Romney-Themed-Gentleman are unable to get me to buy their concern for my wellbeing and devotion to increasing my perceived value. Egos step in to man the fort, and they change tactics and go for intimidating. All are trying their hand at playing on many of my insecurities, but I don't work that way. I have worked to gain knowledge to provide me the means to exhibit a level of confidence and the clarity to make informed decisions. It is not a political or a posturing maneuver. It is scaling and envisioning, where I need to get resources and frameworks to lay the stones for that path. I research and evaluate what our strengths, weaknesses and areas of risk exposure are and plan and scale the components and milestones to reach the objectives.

I have sought out the resources that knew the battle plans drawn within the trenches and executed them. I fought alongside them. I led them into battle and we came out with only minor casualties and were stronger for the experience. We found out what we were made of and how big our brave was. I earned my stripes. I earned everything I have. I don't use people to get what I want, and I don't let others use me to execute their personal agendas. I have been fortunate to have been given some key opportunities along the way and I have had some very good coworkers and friends, my only form of family supporting me. However, I have worked my ass off in more ways than one to get to where I am in my career and in my life.

Not many know the truth behind my success and what decisions I was forced to make at major intersections in my life. They have no clue about the kind of roads I have taken to get me here. I think I may have actually even created a few not on the map. It was important to me that I made my own way and pulled from my strength and sheer will to get to where I wanted to go. The decisions that led me to this point in my life were not easy, but they were mine to make. If I set my mind, my heart and my soul to it and I didn't give in when the plan didn't go exactly as expected, I could forge my line and hold on to control of my own destiny.

She hadn't…

The people I work with are definitely not privy to the information or details regarding my previous "profession." That is probably best, considering there are a lot of stereotypes that go along with women who have worked in the "clothing optional workforce." I wasn't ashamed of my choices; I just didn't need the judgment and criticisms to obstruct my path to glory road. It was not their road to travel. They may not have been right for everyone but they were right for me. It hadn't been some mistake I made, nor some big regret I had. It wasn't some detour on some aimless road I just happened to stumble across. It was all part of the first phase in becoming "Had-Worthy." The project schedule had been scoped, planned, scaled and executed masterfully. The plan had been executed and came in within scope, on time and within budget. My inner trucker makes a grand entrance:
Not bad for a girl who used to wear nipple clamps while shaking her shit in front of toothless wonders and geek squad members holding the biggest bills out in front of sniffer's row
.

When I approach the door is already open. I peer through and I see Mr. Greyson, whom I swear, with those blue shining eyes and high cheekbones, could fall back as an Elvis impersonator with the proper sideburns and rhinestone suit. I convinced him of this theory at the Halloween Costume Charity event last year when I sewed up his costume. We were all astonished at his resemblance to the late 40-ish stage phenomenon. I had dressed as a biker bitch, which was actually a modestly modified version of one of my "stage outfits." This time I wore more than a thong under the chaps, obviously.

Dorris, or Petals, is Pug's sister. She taught me how to work the pole at age 16. Petals had specifically selected this outfit for all the riders present who would be passing through, headed to the Sturgis Bike Rally in South Dakota. Needless to say, it was a hit and an outfit I always keep with me. It made me the last $10K I needed to get off that stage and on to the next in my life.

Phase 2: College.

The University of Illinois was the first stop in Phase Two, after researching many schools that had preferred MBA programs. Phase One of the plan was complete. I had reached my goal. I had gotten my GED and I was able to save enough money to put Phase Two officially in execution mode. I recall doing a reflection on my achievements and weighing my success at that point in my life. It was a sanity check and a personal assessment of my state of wellbeing. I was still alive, unscathed and had built up some confidence in my abilities to make it out in the world all alone. I told myself,
You can do this, people do it all the time. How badly do you want it?

On the bus ride from Rapid City to Chicago I met Shelby. She was young and adorable. She has big brown eyes and white-blond hair. I was 18 when we met and she made me look old. She looked scared and alone, but a safe enough bet to sit next to. I offered her one of my steak Baja Gorditas I had just grabbed at the last top from Taco Bell. She let her guard down then.

We talked and laughed, and we became kindred spirits of sorts. I was like a big sister to her. I helped her get through high school and gave her a place to live while she was attending college and helping Tyler, Pugs and me care for Macey and Dez. She became my assistant about three years ago and met Marcus on her first day on the job. Let's just say it marked the beginning of many of her firsts to come from that point on. We have always known we had each other's back. She has always been a hard worker. Shelby has a tendency to run before she crawls. She got done with a four-year Business degree in two years. I helped her out financially and with her studies. It didn't take much, and she was up and on her own feet in record time. She blossomed into a very successful and beautiful woman. I couldn't be prouder if she was my sister or my daughter! I guess Shelby is a substitute for that great daughter I am never going to have.

Mr. Greyson greets me by motioning me into the room and standing to come around the desk to meet me. I meet his smile with a warm, excited flutter as I approach his outstretched arms. In a way it has been his leadership and guidance over the last seven years with the company that has helped mold my success and freedom to exercise my influence to achieve my dreams. I gaze up at him from beneath my lashes and wonder if he realizes that he is the closest thing to a "father" I have ever really had in my life.

My mother apparently didn't think it was important enough to remember my father's name, considering he was probably just some farm boy that didn't have any money or home to offer her. He was most likely just a moment of weakness in her quest to find her "deep pocket" provider. However, my more recurring dreams peg him as a married man with 5 other kids at home. My half-siblings.

I forged my mother's signature on the appropriate documents to legally change my name from "Harley Mason" to "Hadley Masters." I used my new name on college applications. I made the name close to mine in case I ever screwed up and I had to repeat myself to correct it.

She had kicked me out at 16 and left me on my own, after her boyfriend AJ hit me while I was attempting to protect to her from his drunken rage. She held on to a furious AJ who was coming at me, apparently to teach me the same lesson he was attempting to teach my "ungrateful pathetic and piss-poor excuse for a mother"… his words not mine. I defended myself with an aluminum bat leaning against the porch outside. Ally pressed her slight weight against AJ's flailing as he continued his drunken rant. She pushed me out the door and rushed forward. She reached under a flower pot on the front walk and pulled out a vinyl bag wrapped in plastic. She whispered as AJ threw objects at the door behind her head, yelling profanities, "Harley, take this. Call me when you get somewhere safe. I will try to get you help, but I need you to leave and never come back."

I took the dirty package and later discovered it to be $3000 she had shoved in my hand. She had instructed I leave and I was supposed to call her when I "got somewhere safe." Huh? Not a term I was familiar with.

I eventually called Mom back when I "got somewhere safe." That only took me about five years and a lot of tequila one night. It was on my twenty-first birthday in my inebriated state I called her. It was during my last year of college to finish my undergraduate degree in Finance. I also just applied for the MBA program. Things were finally looking up.

She didn't answer so I left her a voicemail from Tyler's cell phone. It was the same night Tyler and Dez met. He was a new bouncer at the club I had worked at as a bartender for the last two and half years. I introduced them when Dez and I came in to check out my employment refuge during our Birthday Bar Hopping on my night off. We were tipsy when we arrived but thankfully we had eaten loads of pasta dishes at Casanita's Italian Grill before that stop, so we didn't tip the sloppy drunk scale too soon in our evening. Once we arrived at the bar called the
Underground
we proceeded to get hammered and Tyler babysat during his shift.

After the infamous voicemail message, Dez made him take us to Coldstone Creamery, where we stumbled and giggled while talking the pimple-faced kid behind the counter into letting us come around and decorate my red velvet and strawberry cheesecake ice cream layered cake for my birthday. We took it back to my place to continue our celebration, and we must have all passed out in my bed. I woke up in the morning with a raging headache and a mouth full of awful. Once I was able to focus, I sighted a pair of hairy feet poking out from under the covers at the foot of the bed. I sobered up immediately. I was more than relieved when I turned my head and saw it was Tyler's face in my bed behind Dez's. He must have fallen asleep snuggled up to her in the spoon position.

On the voicemail to Ally I must have unloaded all my bottled-up resentment and anger. I couldn't tell ya what I said. I was a bit intoxicated--or a lot, really--and I can't remember much of that night. I do remember Dez held on to me and provided her wobbly fist pump when I said something she felt was Cloud Punch Worthy.

Mom had left a return voice message on Tyler's phone the next morning, likely after receiving mine. In the message she told me that she understood my anger with her and that although I might never understand her choices, she always did what she thought was best for me. She hoped I can forgive her someday. She also mentioned that she had met someone and was living in Monterey, CA. She provided her address and her home phone number in case I ever wanted to contact her or come visit.

My professional life started taking flight once I graduated from college with a Finance Degree a few months later. Mr. Greyson had become a huge benefactor to the University about two years prior--about the same timeframe Dez and I met. Once I completed my Bachelor's degree in Finance with a technology focus, I was awarded a graduate level scholarship and internship within his company.

It was bittersweet. We found out Dez was pregnant with Mace the same week I started my MBA courses and had accepted the internship with them. Tyler proposed the minute she told him she was pregnant and said it just gave him an excuse to do it sooner. He said he would have asked her to marry him the first night they met if he thought she would say yes. Thinking back, I actually recall him telling me that night on my birthday, when Tyler watched her dance with some guy at the club the night had they met, "I hope that little prick is enjoying that dance with my future wife because it is last one he is going get!"

They eloped to Vegas that weekend and we conducted an official Marilyn Monroe-themed wedding ceremony. Dez was adamant that they be married by a woman dressed as Ms. Monroe. I had picked out a halter top dress that flared out just above the knee. It was my attempt to keep with the theme and channel Marilyn's famous skirt flying picture in that white ensemble she had worn.

I had only been at Greyson Capital officially two months into my internship when she told me they had found a stage 3 tumor in her right breast. Life and the fucking lemons… not even worthy of the tequila!

Dez and I used to chase our tequila with pineapple wedges and sing karaoke in my living room. When we could no longer focus clearly enough to continue to read the words, we just made them up as we went along. My rendition was "Breathe" by Faith Hill. I replaced the original version with lyrics I created impromptu style that told the true story of a boy that almost suffocated me with his huge mouth in junior high during my first kiss. Dez laughed so hard her margarita came out her nose and made her eyes water. The stain is still on the underside of my couch cushion, where it will stay forever. I showed it to Mace, too. I tell her stories about Dez every chance I get.