Flyover Country Ch. 01

After he digested that, I guess he started checking his calendar for an open date. Maybe he even had the young woman I'd spoken to earlier check other calendars too. I didn't really know, but it was a long pause. After a while, he came back on the line and we agreed the following Thursday would be a reasonable date they could come to me and sit down with me—I'm sure that was so they could shaft me that much easier. I'd be willing to bet his idea of a "competitive figure" would be one that highly favored his firm and the oil exploration company.

I took time out to take a piss—I hated long telephone calls—before I called an attorney who handled sales of large properties and such. He was particularly well informed about the sale of land and mineral rights, and things like that. I already had him on retainer and he was set to go.

* * *

In the middle of June, the third meeting was in progress with Mr. Wingate and a slew of lawyers and gofers from the law firm representing "Sun Cloud Petroleum." Sitting beside me was my lawyer, along with an unknown number of assisting attorneys and paralegals at the other end of an Internet connection. I never saw them, but they were listening and watching through his laptop's camera. They only spoke to my guy over his ear bud.

I almost introduced my attorney as Jed Clampett to the crowd Wingate brought with him, but I figured that might be a little over the top. Similarly, I refrained from referring to the swimming pool out back as the "cement pond," but I was very, very tempted.

I refrained. Even someone as thick as Wingate might pick up on that.

The meeting was going very well, from my point of view. Through Wingate's law firm, "Sun Cloud Petroleum" oil exploration company, had made successively better offers in our previous meetings and in several phone calls.

In their last call, they'd made an offer which had Carl Patterson, my attorney's actual name, smiling happily. Carl would have cheerfully allowed them to believe he was "Jed Clampett" and was a tad put out when I wouldn't go through with that charade. Oh well!

Carl thought the figure they were now willing to deposit in my bank account was just about as high as they were ever going to go. I agreed and we set up this final meet to sign the paperwork. There were no last minute hurdles to get over and I sensed ol' Numbnutz and his people were very happy to get this deal behind them.

"Okie dokie, thar," I said rhetorically, pretending to look over the sales documents. Patterson had already okayed them and his expertise was way beyond my abilities, so I was only honing my acting skills. "Y'all air agreein' to let me set right 'chere fer one-hunnard 'n eighty-one days after this hyar day to finish a' sellin' all the farniture and other stuff, right?"

"Right you are, Matt," Wingate said reassuringly and, from his point of view, patiently, "You have six months plus one day!"

"Outstanding! Let's do this," I replied. I'd dropped the fake accent, but Wingate didn't notice.

I picked up the ballpoint offered by one of Wingate's young female assistants and signed my name with a flourish everywhere the young woman pointed to in the stack of legal documents. It took a while, there were two sets of everything and lots of signatures in each set.

Sherry Woodward was Wingate's paralegal who was helping me out. In addition to being terminally cute, I was pretty sure she was a lot sharper than her boss. Earlier, when she first came in the house, she'd begun by wandering around and looking at everything. I'd watched as she noticed all the modern appliances, how well-maintained the place was, how well-kept the hardwood floors were, and everything else. She was also impressed by the well-kept pool and deck behind the house.

When she saw my framed degree in Business Management on the wall in the living room, with the MBA right next to it, she cocked her head to one side. None of the things she was seeing fit the image of a witless hillbilly I was diligently cultivating in our clueless Mr. Wingate's mind. She moved away from the kitchen door leading to the swimming pool and deck, wetting her lips with a very pretty pink tongue.

I was pretty sure she was going to whisper a cautionary word or two in Wingate's ear when Mr. Numbnutz Wingate peremptorily ordered her to get something from his briefcase in the SUV. I didn't hear what it was, but she had orders to bring it to him, forthwith. He'd done it in an excessively arrogant tone and he used words I surely wouldn't have responded to very well, had he directed them at me. When she came back, Ms. Woodward didn't whisper anything at all in Wingate's ear.

Now, Sherry Woodward was standing with her hip and right thigh pressed warmly behind my left shoulder. She was leaning over to turn the pages and point to all the places I had to sign. Up close, she was even cuter than from across the room and even longer legged. I could see she was deliciously slender with, ah, mammary glands that made wonderful hillocks in her blouse. She smelled great, too. I really didn't mind her massaging my left side with her body. No sir, not one little bit, did I mind.

When I got to the last signature on the last page in my set of the documents, I looked up into her face and winked my left eye. Wingate and company couldn't see that from where they sat. Sherry had to stifle a grin with a fake cough. She covered her mouth with the back of one hand to keep from giggling.

It was all done. I gave the ballpoint back to her, and handed my copy of the documents to my attorney. Then I waited. We'd set it up with the Wingate crowd so that as soon as the last document was signed, they'd do a transfer of the funds to my bank immediately. It wasn't normally done, but since I was an ignorant hillbilly and uneducated in matters of business law and such, they agreed. I also had things set up with my bank to receive the funds and be ready for me to do a transaction right after they were deposited. My thought was that Wingate was stupid and just might be untrustworthy.

My attorney turned his laptop around to present me with the keyboard and screen, and I entered my password, then tapped the Enter key. The funds just deposited by the Wingate people were instantaneously forwarded to another account and the original one closed. Okay, it probably was paranoid of me. Probably, they wouldn't even think of trying to get the money back just because a senior partner was a tad humiliated. Sometimes, though, it isn't paranoia; sometimes there really are people out to get you, and you never know which time is THE time.

"Well, it's been an illuminating experience doing business with you, Mr. Wingate," I told the man I would forever think of as "Ol' Numbnutz." I offered him my hand as I stood up. "Just for future reference, Mr. Wingate, not everyone who talks with a good old Texas drawl is mentally handicapped or even slow of thought. On occasion, it is simply a comfortable manner of speaking." I watched comprehension begin to dawn in his eyes.

"And, just so you'll know," I continued, "I'd have willingly sold you the property for half the amount you just paid me, if you hadn't been such a pompous ass," I told him with a smile. I knew the word would get around in the firm where he worked. There were too many people from that firm in the room, and I was pretty sure not all of them were personally loyal to him. I knew of at least one already.

Yes, I do know it was petty, and childish too, but damn, it felt good!

They all trooped out the door to their big, black SUVs, some of them biting their lips to keep from grinning. One of the guys could only hold it long enough for Wingate to get his backseat door closed before letting a big grin spread across his face.

Sherry hung back a little and stopped just inside the door, long enough for me to whisper an invitation for dinner. She nodded and handed me a slip of paper with her phone number on it, along with the name of the hotel where they were staying.

Sherry and I had a very satisfying time that evening. I took her to the finest restaurant in town since I definitely could afford to do that now. Afterward we went to a night club I knew of in the city which had a mixture of music, including slow dancing, which was a lot of fun with Ms. Sherry Woodward. When we came back to my home, we discussed Mr. Wingate for the longest time. Well, we did that over breakfast, actually. We were too busy when we got back from the club.

End, Part 1 (of 4)