Alexander's Gift

The Maverick- 7

"You should really say something, Jerry. He's going to take us down for good." A ring of men huddled with poor indiscretion around Jerry Malter as Monty strode into the office. They didn't notice him enter, and continued their conspiring. "Yeah, really, Jerry, you've worked harder for this railroad than anybody else here."

"You deserve to be president," Yet another awed voice chimed in. Next to speak was Jerry himself. "That means a lot, fellas, but I don't know what I can do. After all, he is the President, and technically rightfully so." He was trying to sound humbly apologetic, but Monty could see right through it.

After a deep breath, he shouldered past them, and they fell silent immediately guiltily. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction, but it didn't help much.

In his office, he collapsed into his chair and kneaded his temples wearily. Who did this Jerry character think he was? Maybe they were right, though. Maybe he wasn't a good president. To be fair, he just entered into the railroad business while Jerry probably had been working his way up for . . . well, much longer. He shut his eyes tightly in frustration. He needed to figure this out, and he knew just who would help him. But that was partly just an excuse to see her.

###

Liz shook her head furiously as Monty recounted the problems that had gone on at the office- about him vetoing the deal, the rumors, everything. She seemed as if she was taking personal offense to everything being said- a fully developed righteous anger.

"Maybe I'm not cut out for this . . . I guess I'm more of a dreamer than-"

"No, Monty, don't you see that's just what they want you to think?" Liz burst out, leaning forward and putting her hand over his as if she could will him to understand through her touch.

"I . . . don't understand."

"I mean, it's all social manipulation. To be fair, most of them don't know it themselves, but they exile you and raise Malter on a golden pedestal for one reason: he's a team player and you're not."

"A team player . . . how am I not one?" He stared at her dumbly, the gears in his head working desperately to fit into place. Seeming to understand, Liz continued emphatically, keeping her gaze steady with his. "The world operates within systems, and there's a specific system within your railroad corporation that asks you for perfect compliance and obedience, no matter whether they're asking you to do something that's right or wrong. Jerry's willing to obey, no questions asked. But you aren't, and that's why they despise you."

"It's nothing so noble as that . . . " Monty mumbled, looking down.

"But it is! Monty, you shouldn't believe what they all say about sacrificing yourself for everyone else and giving up your happiness and your money for bums too lazy to work for their own. You chose to turn down the deal because you found something that is an end in and of itself for you, and you're not going to give it up so easily- because Monty, you have the artist's mind and heart. To be fulfilled, you need to find something to love, and appreciate it, and nourish it. To pursue that with everything you are is noble."

A little chill ran down Monty's back, and the feeling swept over him again of two souls becoming one. "But . . . well, okay. What do you think I should do, then?"

"Stand your ground. Or, better yet-" A wild look entered her eyes, and she clasped his hand tightly between hers. "Fire them all. Especially Malter."

Monty pulled away guiltily. There was so much about what she was saying that was right, but Monty knew he couldn't do this. He knew he wasn't strong enough. Not like Liz was. "I can't do that. They've all earned the right to be there."

"Yes, but you're still their boss, and that so called right can be revoked by you anytime they stop doing their job!"

"Yeah, well . . . " Monty trailed off uncomfortably. He knew he was scared, and so did she.

"At the end of the day, it's your decision, but . . . at least you know what I would do. Either way, just don't let them bully you." She smiled, the fire leaving her eyes, and in a rush of emotion Monty brought her face to meet his and kissed her. "You're wonderful, you know that?" He murmured, lips still touching hers. The car halted, and he pulled away slightly, just enough to see her face. She was smiling serenely at him, and he felt her fingers stroking the nape of his neck.

"I know. . ." Her smile faded, "Monty, there's something about you . . . " She looked at him thoughtfully searchingly, hands still locked around his neck, playing with his hair.

"What is it, Liz?"

"It's like there's always a dark cloud hanging over your head, following you wherever you go."