Everything at Dominex Pharmaceuticals was back to normal. The management team was having a pre-celebratory breakfast at the downtown Hilton Hotel in honor of the end of their study. The insanity was over and the newspaper lawsuit was fading into a bad memory. “The great thing about the public,” Pratt said, setting down his coffee mug, “is that people don’t seem to have much in the way of long term memory. Once we get our final approval from the FDA, no one will remember that story in the paper.”
“Let’s hope so," Sam agreed.
“We should be hearing something from Manning sometime this week," Jeff interjected, “and we’ll have Suprame on the shelf within a month."
“I’ll drink to that," Charles said, holding up his bloody Mary. No one else at the table was interested in alcohol at ten o’clock in the morning, but the CEO had developed some interesting new habits since his pending divorce. Besides his alcohol consumption, he had also started openly discussing his private life. Maybe the added alcohol contributed to his new open door policy.
“I got another letter from the bitch’s lawyer," he announced, slurring the word “bitch.” Everyone looked at Charles for the continuing saga. “They want half of my assets, including half of my Dominex holdings." No one knew exactly what to say to him. He held up his glass for the waitress to see. “One more, honey."
Pratt caught the glass as Charles attempted to set it down, missing the table entirely.
“No more for him," he told her. “Come with me, Charles," the attorney said, helping Charles to his feet. “It’s time we took care of your little problem.”
Charles allowed himself to be led out of the banquet room.
“Good thing he’s got a chauffeur," Jeff remarked.
Paul Pratt led the CEO to his car and got in after him. “Dominex Building," he instructed. As the car pulled away, Paul leaned over and said, “Now listen to me. In a few days, this company is going to be worth a lot more than it is right now."
“But she has no right…” Charles began.
“Right has got nothing to do with the law," Pratt said, interrupting him. He was tired of hearing the same tirade. With all the fires out, he was going to make it his personal business to end this today.
“I’m telling you man, settle right now, before the FDA approval comes through."
Charles opened the mini bar and got himself a shot of brandy. Pratt didn’t stop him. Maybe he’d be a little easier to deal with this way. “When we get back to the office," Paul continued, “I’m going to contact her lawyer."
“Good” Charles said. “Tell him to give her a little message for me."
“No," Pratt said firmly. “I am going to tell him that we agree to their terms, but that the final figures will be based on the numbers before us today and that the offer is only good until five PM. Charles began to protest and the attorney grabbed him by the arm. “Look at me," he instructed. Charles turned and stared at him with blood shot eyes. “I’m saving you a bundle. If you wait any longer, you stand to lose a whole lot more than you will today. This company is so far in the red right now, she’ll end up owing you money."
“Owing me money," he repeated. He slammed down his shot of brandy decisively, and said, “Let’s do it.”
David Manning was seated in the FDA conference room, listening to five simultaneous conversations. They had abandoned the goose chase and were calling from the real list of volunteers. The calls were going somewhat differently today. The two-minute conversations of generic babble had turned into twenty minute long tirades. Some of them were still so irate at the way Dominex had casually turned them into walking vegetables that they were demanding to know what the FDA planned to do about it. A few of the FDA team had gotten so flustered with heated calls that they had handed the phone over to Manning. He assured each one of them that their report was being taken very seriously and that the FDA was going to take action.
By lunchtime, they had contacted a third of the people on the list. The number of volunteers that had not had a bad experience could be counted on one hand. David could see a pattern forming. The only ones that did not experience extreme discomfort were the ones that had only been on the medication for a very short time. Six months or more seemed to be the kiss of death. “We’ll continue this after lunch," he announced to the weary staff. “Continue to keep tabs on the length of time these people were on the drug before termination.” Everyone began to shuffle out the door. “Oh, and you are all doing a great job," he added. A few of them gave him a tired smile as they walked out the door.
Michelle Roman had been trying to find a job. She really didn’t need the money. She had a very respectable savings account that had grown from years and years of living with an oblivious and unavailable husband. She had wanted a job so that she could stay busy. So when the phone rang, she hoped it was a response from one of her interviews. “Michelle," the caller began. Her shoulders slumped a little. No job related caller would have addressed her in such a familiar way. “This is Mark Randall." Her disappointment immediately changed to embarrassment. She hadn’t seen her attorney since their lunch date. He had attempted to meet with her a few times and she had always found a convenient excuse. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to lie to him again today.
“I just got a very interesting call," he continued. “Your husband’s attorney has agreed to all of our terms."
“That’s great," Michelle said excitedly.
“But there’s a catch," he continued.
Michelle listened while her attorney explained the conditions of the agreement.
“That doesn’t really sound like much of catch to me," she reasoned.
“I’m sure they were hoping you’d see it that way. But what they are asking you to do is to settle based on the companies worth today, rather than after their new wonder drug goes on the market. And I’m guessing that they expect it to happen very soon. That’s why the offer is only good today. They’re in a hurry to get this done.”
“Oh, I see," Michelle said thoughtfully. She knew the company was in serious financial debt. She also knew that, weighed against its other long-standing assets, the numbers would still come out in her favor. “It’s a gamble," she speculated.
“In what way?" Randall inquired.
“Charles is sure that this drug is going on the market. I am not so sure."
“Well, I did read that article in the paper," the attorney agreed, “but do you really think the company could be in that much trouble?"
Michelle thought for a few moments. The fate of the company was largely in the hands of a very weak minded individual with an over inflated sense of self-importance. “Tell them we’ll take their generous offer," she instructed.
“You know something, don’t you?"
“Let’s just say, I know the person behind the wheel intimately. And if I had to place a bet on him…”
“I’ll take care of it," the attorney concluded. “Maybe we could have a drink to celebrate."
“Let’s wait and see if there is anything to celebrate first." She knew her resistance was obvious. She would eventually have to see him and set him straight about her dating rules. Married men were not on her approved list.
“I’ll be in touch," he said and was gone.
Sheila entered the Dominex building two hours late and quietly made her way to the tenth floor. People were used to her odd hours. Since she had been promoted, no one had ever questioned her late arrivals or early departures. Sheila walked into Jerry’s open office and announced, “Mission accomplished."
Jerry told her to close the door.
“You’re going to have to give me a little more information than that."
“There’s not much to tell. He was not happy with the current outcome. After I gave him the real data, he was so elated, he hugged me."
“No shit," Jerry interjected. “The FDA guy actually hugged you?"
“Yeah, and I think I saw his feet lift up off the ground a few inches."
“So now what?"
“We wait," Sheila instructed. “After the FDA completes their evaluation, Dominex is in for a serious wake up call."
“Guess I better start looking for another job," Jerry said.
“Depends on whether or not the FDA goes after any legal action against us."
“Manning," Jerry stated, “are you kidding? After what they tried to pull on him…"
“He’ll be after blood," Sheila agreed.
“Maybe we’ll try a new city," Jerry said, as Sheila came around the desk and placed her arm around his neck.
“Hawaii," she said invitingly.
Jerry pulled her around and placed her on his lap.
“How about a honeymoon in Hawaii?" he said as he nuzzled her ear.
“It’s possible," she said, and gave him a long passionate kiss. They were still locked in the embrace when the door opened abruptly.
“I thought I’d find you here," Charles said, swaying back and forth in the doorway.
Sheila quickly stood up, and said, “You found me Charles. What can I do for you?"
“Well, for starters," Charles said, placing his hands on his hips, missing one hip entirely, “you can get off this guy’s lap and get back to work."
“Sure, Charles," she said, and breezed by him in the doorway.
Jerry remained stuck inside his office with an intoxicated and jealous CEO. It was a very bad combination. “So how are you?" Jerry said, awkwardly.
“Notsogood," Charles said, running all the words together into one slur. “You should have left that one alone," he continued, indicating the hallway where Sheila had been. “She’ll break your heart." Jerry didn’t have a clue how to respond to this guy without insulting him, and for Charles, insults were redundant. “It’s not too late," he continued. “Take it from me. You can’t trust a woman."
“Thanks for the warning," Jerry improvised. Charles nodded as if he had just completed an important mission and turned to stagger back down the hall. They really need to do something about him, Jerry thought.
Charles continued down the hall and found his way back to his own office. “Nap time," he announced to no one and lied down on his couch. Thirty seconds later, he was out cold.
Down the hall, Paul Pratt was on the phone with Michelle Roman’s attorney. He had the call on his speakerphone and his feet propped up on his desk.
“We will expect the final papers in my office by five PM," Mark Randall said, his voice carrying throughout Pratt’s office. Paul looked at his watch. It was already one thirty, but the agreement was a simple fifty-fifty split and did not require any itemization.
“You’ll have it," he concluded, and disconnected the call.
Pratt did not usually handle divorce cases. His entire practice was devoted to corporate law, but in this case he had made an exception. He hit the intercom button and asked his secretary to come into his office. He knew she would not be pleased about having to type up a divorce agreement, but also knew that she would not argue the point with him. With Charles’s divorce finalized, perhaps they would get their CEO back. Pratt hoped so, because the alternative was to begin the process of removing him from his position. They couldn’t continue to have the man stumbling around the building in a drunken stupor. The door to his office swung open and the plan that would restore Charles Roman to his former self was dictated.
David Manning’s crew had made enough contacts for his final conclusion. Ordinarily, he would have simply required the drug company to adhere to stricter prescribing guidelines and print the appropriate warnings about long-term use. But in this case, the drug company in question had lied about their study results. They had provided false documentation and they had made David’s life a living hell.
So, Manning intended to press their asses to the wall. The drug would be denied FDA approval and David intended to shut them down as a result of their little indiscretions. The FDA supervisor looked at the forms spread over his desk. Six of the forms were required to either recommend Washington approval or to deny approval of a specific drug. Denials did not have to be submitted to Washington. An additional form was going to be used to begin the process of new FDA requirements for all sedatives containing benzodiazepines. Every drug company that manufactured sedatives was going to be required to provide very specific warnings about long-term use. David had seen and heard enough in the past twelve hours to convince him that all of the drug companies in question had been literally getting away with murder and was sure Washington would agree with his findings.
The final paperwork would begin the process of prosecuting Dominex Pharmaceuticals for legal and ethical violations. Since the denial was a shorter process, it would be received by Dominex within five working days. The new FDA requirement and the notice of disciplinary action would take longer. David didn’t care. The denial was good enough for now.
Finishing the paperwork, David carried the packet to his secretary. “This goes to the U.S. Attorney General’s office," he said, handing her the last two forms. “I’ll take care of this part myself." Dominex’s refusal and the recommendation for the new FDA requirement would be handled internally.
Manning trotted down the hall to the elevator, and punched the button for the second floor. The denial papers had to be stamped with an official FDA seal, and then processed by the Food and Drug approval department. A letter would then be generated to the company that had submitted the request for approval. In this case, it would be a letter of refutation. There would be no extended research option and no stipulation on the existing product for the company to comply with. No adjustments, no contingencies. A flat denial.
David was elated. He spent the rest of the day walking his papers through the process. At the end of this long paper trail David would fill out one last form. He would finally be able to give his two-week notice and begin the happy road to his retirement. He was ready. This had been a very difficult last year.
Michelle Roman signed the last page of the mini novel that made up the thick divorce packet. She had never read so many “wherefore”s and “here in”s. The whole thing was gibberish to her, but she knew what the bottom line was. She was free of her biggest past mistake.
Sitting across the desk from her was the future mistake she fully intended to avoid. His presence filled the entire room, along with an intoxicating aftershave that was making her crazy. “Are we done?" she asked nervously, handing the papers back to her attorney.
“As far as the business part of this visit. Now we really do have something to celebrate."
Michelle shifted in her chair and wondered how in the hell to get out of Mark Randall’s office without getting into an in-depth conversation about his apparent tendency towards infidelity.
“I really do have to go," she said awkwardly and stood to leave.
“Michelle, what is bothering you?" Mark said, as he grabbed her hand to stop her in midflight. She was trapped. She sat back down reluctantly, avoiding eye contact. “You have been avoiding me for weeks," he continued.
“What gave you that idea?" she said, cringing at her lame response.
“I don’t know," he answered humorously. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that every time I mention getting together, you practically hang up on me."
“I don’t…"
“Michelle," he interrupted. “Tell me what is bothering you."
She met his glance and took a deep breath.
“Okay, here it is," she announced. “I have been through hell."
“No doubt," he interjected.
Michelle held up her hand to stop him.
“No, let me finish. I have made stupid choices because I’m such a romantic idiot." She paused, waiting to find the courage to finish her thought while he continued to stare at her. “And even though I am definitely attracted to you, I can’t make another stupid choice."
“I’m confused," Mark said. “How would going out with me be a stupid choice?"
Michelle looked at him as though he had just slapped her.
“What?" he responded defensively.
“Hold out your left hand," she commanded.
Mark obeyed, and held out his left hand.
“What’s that?" she asked, pointing to his ring finger.
All at once, his expression changed from total confusion to one of relief. “Oh this," he said, and started laughing. Michelle looked at him, trying not to smile as he continued to laugh at her. After he composed himself he announced, “This is my protection."
“Your what?" she asked incredulously.
“My protection. You can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be a divorce lawyer. I have newly divorced and desperate women coming at me every day."
“Sounds painful," she said sarcastically.
“No, I mean it." He was no longer laughing. “It’s absolutely terrifying to find yourself suddenly alone." Michelle nodded her understanding. “I am the first single male person these women come in contact with. I am their first hope for salvation and they are not rational people, believe me."
“Did you say that you are the first single male they come in contact with?"
“That’s what I said.”
“And it’s true?" she asked in amazement.
“Cross my heart," he said, making the gesture with his right hand.
“So, what you’re telling me, Mark Randall, is that I have spent weeks obsessing about a problem that didn’t even exist?"
“Does this mean that you’ll go out with me?" he asked evasively.
“I guess so," she said, feeling her indignant stature melting away.
“Now?" He came around the desk to meet her.
“You‘re pushing your luck," she said, trying to remain annoyed at the situation.
“Great, I’m done here today and I know a great place to have dinner," he said taking her arm. Just before they made it to the door, she reached over with her free hand and punched his arm. “Ouch! What was that for?"
“That’s for making me think you were married," she said, hitting him one last time. “And don’t be a baby. You got off light."
It was almost dark outside when Charles Roman awoke from his drunken stupor. He peered through the open blinds to see the last sliver of sun behind the treetops. The hot afternoon had given way to a cooler and beautiful southern dusk. All was quiet around him. Atlanta commuters had long since completed their evening battle with the brutal traffic and were home in front of their TVs eating dinner.
The building had been cleared out for some time. No one had wanted to disturb the sleeping CEO and, in fact, things were calmer these days when he was “unavailable.” He sat up and ran his hands through his rumpled hair. His suit was a mess and he looked as though he had been asleep in it for a week. Groaning, he got up to find a river to drink. He was totally dehydrated and a little queasy from the afternoon’s binge. He finished two large glasses of water before he noticed the envelope with the note attached to it sitting on his desk.
Here is a copy of the final papers. Your wife agreed to everything. The original copy went to her attorney’s office this afternoon. Congratulations - you’re a free man.
Charles read the note twice, trying to merge both sets of words into one. Sitting down heavily, he let out a long breath. It was really over. He felt terrible, although he really wasn’t sure why. He had never actually loved her. Hell, he really didn’t have a clue as to what the word even meant. She had provided him with an attractive finished product, sort of like a nice accessory. I guess what bothers me the most is that she was the one who ended it.
It hadn’t been his idea. He had not been in control. For the first time, he had to admit that someone else had been the stronger and more confident one in the encounter. “Hell,” he announced to no one. “She’s not the only thing that’s been beating my ass into the ground lately.” Charles knew that his drinking had gotten way out of hand. He didn’t feel too much remorse about having an “emotional drop off.” But doing it in front of his colleagues and subordinates was another matter. Charles picked up the bottle of scotch he had been drinking that afternoon and carried it to the sink. He was going to be fine, he thought, as he poured out the remaining fluid down the drain. He had never been without female companionship. Now he wouldn’t have to sneak around in motel rooms. Women would still be attracted to his position and his power. Charles straightened out his tie and his posture. With aching head held high he left the building, a new man.
Tuesday morning, bright and early, the mailroom clerk punched in for his workday. Everyone had to start at the bottom, he was told at his interview two weeks earlier. But James Douglas was not a mailroom flunky. He was a Dominex Pharmaceuticals employee that was temporarily on assignment at the FDA’s office. He was there to screen the mail and any other occurrence that might be related to the company’s interest.
He had not been expected to do anything for the past two weeks except get oriented to the building and become a familiar face. Technically, today was his second day on alert. The study data had been turned in on the previous Friday. He had reported the unexpected visit by Dominex’s beloved Sheila Montgomery. They had not seemed happy about this information and told him to continue monitoring any other interesting traffic.
James began sorting through the outgoing mail as he had done every morning. There were two envelopes that caught his attention. One was addressed to Dominex Pharmaceuticals, the other to the United States General Attorney’s office. He normally wouldn’t have flagged the second piece of mail, except that it was being sent directly from David Manning, and on the same day as the other related matter. He pocketed both envelopes and trotted off to deliver the in-coming mail from the previous evening. His stack was light. He would be free to deliver his findings by mid-morning.
After completing his deliveries to the first two floors, James decided to take a short bathroom break. In the privacy of the stall, he opened the first envelope that was addressed to Dominex. After reading through the first paragraph, he let out a soft whistle. His job here was pretty much done. He needed to get this delivered to Sam Reynolds immediately. Taking a gander at the second letter, he became more alarmed. “Holy shit," he said out loud, as he exited the stall and raced out of the building. The remaining mail did not get delivered.
Paul Pratt was reviewing the signed divorce documents when his intercom buzzed. He glanced over at the phone with a few choice words. He hadn’t even finished his morning coffee. “Yes?" he answered, conveying his annoyance.
“Paul, it’s Sam. You better get up here."
Pratt picked up the remains of his morning motivation and headed to Sam’s office.
The room was buzzing with the entire study team when he arrived. Sam motioned for everyone to settle down. This can’t be good, Pratt thought, taking the couch.
“We have a situation," Sam announced.
“We have defeat," the CEO corrected him.
“This letter was intended for delivery," Sam continued, holding up the battered piece of paper. “It was brought in by our staff member this morning.” He hesitated while everyone found a place to sit. “It’s from the FDA and it is our official denial for Suprame." No one said a word. Everyone just stared at him in disbelief. “It gets worse," Sam said. “The denial is final. There is no contingency."
“Can they do that?" Jeff asked incredulously.
“They just did it," Charles stated. The room became alive with a thousand conversations. Sam went to his desk and sat down.
He knew that things were pretty much over. He had not shared the contents of the other letter, because being reprimanded or even shut down by the US Attorney General’s office would have been redundant. That is, if it had actually made it to its destination. Dominex Pharmaceuticals, as they knew it, was officially at an end and it was due to one person. He should have fired Sheila the moment she had stepped out of line, no matter how much Charles had defended her.
He waited for the noise to die down. All he wanted now was for everyone to finish up this pointless meeting and leave him to pack up his office. His wife had nagged him for years about his insane work schedule combined with his high blood pressure. Well, this was her lucky day.
“There’s no point in damage control," Pratt said loudly over the multiple conversations. Everyone stopped in mid-sentence. “What we need right now is a new plan, and I’d like to discuss this with Charles alone."
Everyone slowly shuffled out of the room. Clearly, there was nothing left to discuss. Charles, Sam, and Paul remained.
“It’s over," Charles repeated and sat heavily in the nearest chair. He looked like hell. He was sweating profusely and his stomach was in one giant knot.
“What is wrong with you?" Pratt interjected, noticing his condition for the first time.
“I obviously picked the wrong day to stop drinking," Charles said, as he raised a shaky hand to bring his coffee cup to his mouth.
“You should get yourself into detox," Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “and by the way - I’m really proud of you." Charles gave him a weak smile.
“Right now, I think death would be an improvement," he retorted. Sam did not have the heart to confront Charles about bringing in the Trojan horse. His infatuation with Sheila had been the kiss of death.
“Hang in there," Pratt said, patting the other shoulder. “If you want, we can deal with this whole issue later. Believe me, there’s no rush, and this problem isn’t going anywhere."
“No," Charles said, “anything besides the pounding in my head is a welcome diversion.”
“Here," Sam offered, fishing a handful of Tylenol out of his desk. He handed them to Charles with a glass of water. Charles downed them both.
“This is the drop-dead emergency plan," Pratt said, pulling up a seat next to the CEO. “The company will have to basically start over."
“This time, I think we should sell real estate," Sam interjected, humorlessly.
“No, we’re still in the drug business," Pratt continued. “With our current products and income, we can stay alive, but with only about a tenth of the corporation.” Both men looked at Pratt, exhausted. “Hey, it’s do-able, but it will require some sacrifice. That means one-tenth the manpower and one-tenth the overhead. This building is a giant liability, but we can rent out most of the space and use the income to rebuild.”
“The construction on the new building…?” Charles interjected.
“We write it off as a loss," Pratt explained.
“What about my personal assets?" Charles inquired reluctantly.
“That’s up to you," Pratt said, “but keep in mind that you will have a considerably smaller paycheck for a while."
Charles did the math in his head and groaned.
“I guess a smaller house wouldn’t be so bad," he sighed.
“Maybe your wife would like the house," Pratt offered. “I’ll tell her attorney you had a change of heart, as long as she continues paying for it."
“She’d never go for it," Charles said. “We were killing ourselves just trying to make the payments as it was."
“We should just sell off what we can," Sam added, including himself in that plan.
“Now, as I understand it," Pratt continued, “all sedatives are pretty much the same.”
“That’s right," Sam agreed. “The difference is too miniscule to measure. The primary difference is how long they take to activate and how long they remain in your system.”
“Fine," Pratt said, “then we simply change the structure of Suprame and it becomes something else. We won’t have to spend years developing it. We simply change the ingredients slightly, along with the name, and resubmit it for approval.”
“There’s just one problem with that," Charles interjected. “Manning. As long as he reigns, he’ll make sure we’re out of the sedative race.”
“And if my sources are right," Sam said, coming alive, “his reign lasts for two more weeks."
“Is this true?" Charles asked.
“It is," Pratt agreed. “Manning only remained on board this long to take us down. I’m guessing his replacement will be as e