Personal Banking - 7. Chapter 7

Jose filed a complaint against Mr. Phillips?! This certainly explained the tense mood in the office.

“This is all my fault.”

Mrs. Porter shook her head. “Don’t be grandiose, Mr. Andrews. It’s partly your fault. But it started long before you arrived on the scene.” She typed at her computer as she spoke.

“But if it weren’t for my stupid idea of making Mr. Phillips jealous, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Don’t be too sure. You allowed yourself to be used, and that’s a shame. And you might have triggered this, but -- I hate to wound your ego -- it isn’t all about you. Now we have to figure out what to do about this.”

“What exactly was it that I allowed myself to be used for?”

“I’m sorry. You haven’t had all the facts. Jose Molina wants Mr. Phillips’ job. He always has. He’s been bitter ever since he didn’t make vice president. And he’s convinced that the job went to Mr. Phillips because of favoritism.”

“So he was using me to--?”

“To provoke him into an outburst, preferably violent, something which could get him fired. Jose almost succeeded. He says in his complaint that he ‘feared for his personal safety.’ And he’s going to try to paint your sessions with Mr. Phillips as inappropriate.”

“But won’t Jose get in trouble for getting involved with me, too?”

“Maybe he will, to a lesser degree. It all seems a little reckless on his part.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know yet. We’re just starting to try to figure this out. You might be called on to give your side of the story to the ethics committee. That’s Russell Mackenzie sitting with Mr. Phillips. He’s a lawyer. They’re going over the particulars of the complaint and how to respond to them.”

She had been working quickly this whole time, opening files and moving them around, copying them to somewhere. When she finished, she pulled a flash drive from her computer, took it to Mackenzie, and exchanged a few words with him.

I walked up to Mr. Phillips. “I’m so sorry,” was all I could think of to say.

He seemed to be in shock. He nodded but said only, “I can’t talk now.”

Mackenzie turned to him and said, “Come on, Nathan. Let’s go in your office.” He led him inside and closed the door.

I asked Mrs. Porter, “What’s going to happen?”

“The ethics committee will meet and ask a lot of people a lot of questions. They don’t really have the option of dismissing the matter out of hand. They at least have to consider it.”

“When?”

“Tuesday.”

“That’s hardly any time.”

“You noticed.”

“Are Mr. Phillips and the lawyer going to be working on it this weekend?”

“We’re all going to be working on it this weekend.”

“I want to be here.”

“You might end up just sitting here.”

“I want to be here anyway.”

“This is where you’ll find us. Probably all day.”

************

I dropped by the restaurant after leaving the bank. Stewart raised an eyebrow at seeing me.

“Really, Rich, you must have something better to do on a Friday night than hang around here.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

He peered at me. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Phillips is being charged with ethical violations. By Jose. Because of me. Jose was just using me the whole time that I thought I was using him. If I had a brain I would have seen it.”

Stewart whistled softly. “To recognize that you have been a fool is the beginning of wisdom, Grasshopper.”

“Mrs. Porter filled me in on what was happening. Mr. Phillips was practically catatonic, like he’d already been given a death sentence. He was talking to a lawyer. He wouldn’t talk to me. I can’t blame him.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“They’re working all weekend to prepare for the committee meeting on Tuesday. I want to be there while they’re preparing, but after the trouble I’ve caused maybe I should stay away. Maybe I should just get out of his life. I don’t deserve him.”

“Of course you don’t. As Quentin Crisp said, if we all got what we deserved, we would starve. Now stop sniveling and figure out what you can do to help.”

*****************

I sat nervously among the observers of the legal proceedings. A man holding an official-looking document announced, “Bring forth the prisoner Natan Felipes!”

The lackeys of the Inquisition dragged Señor Felipes into the courtroom, chained and manacled, disheveled and bedraggled. I don’t know what bed they had raggled him on, but it must have been a doozie. I ran to his side.

“Master, do not give up hope!”

“Faithful Ricardo, you should not have come here. You put yourself in danger of being denounced to the Inquisition as well.”

“Please, Señor Felipes, I had to come. Oh, how this sight wounds my heart, to see you in chains and almost naked, even if it is kind of hot. Besides, I have a daring escape plan.”

“Escape from the Inquisition? But how? Have you enlisted the aid of the Franciscans?”

“The Franciscans? Are you kidding? They’re more ruthless than the Dominicans. No, I have arranged for the assistance of--”

“Natan Felipes!” the Grand Inquisitor called from his high seat. “You have been convicted of heresy, sodomy, moral turpentine, and failure to pay two outstanding parking tickets. You are sentenced to be burned at the stake. Your death will be more merciful if you confess your crimes and describe this sodomy business in detail in my private chambers.”

Suddenly, Doña Anna Portero rode into the tribunal on a magnificent black steed, followed closely by Señor Mackenzie in a white Volvo station wagon. Doña Anna distracted the inquisitors by scattering Godiva chocolates on the floor while Señor Felipes and several other prisoners and I piled into the Volvo. We sped away into the night, which, allowing for the time difference, would have been sunset in Denver.

“You rescued me!” Señor Felipes said to me in awe.

“Well, I had help,” I said modestly.

“If it weren’t for these chains, I would take you in my arms and kiss you.”

“Oh, why let a little thing like chains stop you?”

“How are you doing, Mr. Andrews?” Mrs. Porter asked. “This must be pretty boring for you.”

I had sat in Mr. Phillips’ outer office half the day as he conferred with his lawyer. About the only useful thing I managed to do was get lunch for everyone. “Not a problem, Mrs. Porter. You warned me that I might end up just sitting here.”

“I’m sure Mr. Mackenzie will want to talk to you at some point. You’ll need to be prepared for any questions the committee might have.”

Mackenzie and Mr. Phillips emerged from the inner office. “Well, Nathan, the recordings were a good idea, but I don’t know how useful they’ll be. At least they’ll show what was happening physically.”

I stood as they entered. “What recordings are you talking about?”

“Nathan made video recordings of all his sessions with you, Richard.”

I didn’t know whether to be outraged or flattered. “Really?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask your permission beforehand,” Mr. Phillips said. “After what happened three years ago, I needed to protect myself.”

“I understand. I don’t mind.”

“Unfortunately,” Mr. Mackenzie continued, “the video is good but the audio is often very poor.”

“I can give you the audio.”

“You have the audio?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“I recorded all our sessions. What did you think I was doing with my phone at start of each one?”

“I thought you were turning it off, the way you promised to at the end of our initial interview.”

“Yes, sir, I was setting it not to ring, but I was also hitting the ‘record’ button. I wanted to make sure I understood everything, so I’d listen to our sessions later, once or twice. Or -- six or seven times. Or in some cases twenty. Sir.”

He stared at me in disbelief.

“I like the sound of your voice. Sometimes I put one on repeat and play it when I’m going to sleep. It’s very soothing.”

Mrs. Porter and Mr. Phillips exchanged looks that were amused or alarmed or both. Mr. Mackenzie broke the silence. “Well, it looks like we’ve got that gap filled. Richard, let’s figure out how to download that audio and combine it with Nathan’s video.”

“iMovie,” I volunteered. “No problem.”

Mrs. Porter raised her hand as if she were in class. “Mr. Mackenzie, have you looked at the files on the flash drive I gave you?”

“Yes. Those will be our back-up plan. Good work, Anna. Now, Nathan. Tell me again what happened in Jose’s office.”

Mr. Phillips rubbed his temples. “I went down to ask him to leave Richard alone. I saw his involvement with Richard as meddling in something that was none of his business, and certainly not beneficial. And I know he uses drugs. I told him several times to -- to keep his hands off him. He refused, and he goaded me, and I lost my temper. I reached for the first thing at hand, a big book on his desk, a dictionary I guess. He grabbed it too, and we had something of a tug-of-war over it. I got it away from him and threw it at the wall. I finally realized I had gotten out of control and I apologized and left.”

“So that’s what that huge thump was!” I said. “I thought you had thrown him against the wall.”

“Wait -- you heard that?”

“Yes, I was just going down to say hello to Jose and I heard you two arguing. I decided not to knock.”

“How much did you hear?” Mackenzie asked me.

“Just a minute or so. But Jose was definitely provoking Mr. Phillips.”

“Good. You’re not exactly an unbiased observer, but at least we have more than just Nathan’s word against Jose’s about what transpired.”

Mackenzie spent the next hour rehearsing with me what to say to the ethics committee and what their questions would probably be. Mr. Phillips lay down and covered his face with his hands.

I had to leave for work at four o’clock. I walked up to Mr. Phillips, who was still looking shell-shocked, pacing by his door.

“Mr. Phillips, it is not business hours, there are responsible other parties here, and this can’t put your job in jeopardy.” I put my arms around him and hugged him as hard as I could. And I found out that he can hug harder than I can.

“You probably shouldn’t hang out with someone who’s about to become unemployed and homeless.”

“You can sleep on my couch, and as long as I have a peanut butter sandwich, you can have half.”

I hope that hug did as much to lift his mood as it did to lift mine.

************

Sunday we rehearsed and prepared more. Mr. Mackenzie and Mrs. Porter worked closely together for quite a while, drafting and printing letters of some sort. I called one of the other waiters and traded shifts with him so that I could have Tuesday free.

While Mackenzie talked to Mr. Phillips again, I said to Mrs. Porter, “I guess this is deja vu for him.”

“Yes, the prospect is not pleasant.”

“Do you think he’ll lose his job?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He shouldn’t even be working in a bank. The money is good, but he’s dying inside. He should be teaching. That’s when he comes alive.”

************

The ethics committee doesn’t make decisions, only recommendations to the Board of Directors. Among the five committee members I recognized three from power lunches at Flaherty’s. They all looked like lawyers to me.

I was expecting the hearing to be held in a vast, imposing, well-appointed room. Instead the room felt more like a budget church basement, with a low acoustic-tile ceiling. Mr. Phillips and Mr. Mackenzie sat facing the committee on one side, Jose and someone else on the other. I sat with Mrs. Porter farther back.

There were many preliminaries, with everyone thanking everyone and giving mutual pre-emptive pats on the back, stating the purpose of the meeting, making sure everyone was present, and reading the complaint.

Jose was questioned first. Here’s a sample:

Committee: What were your reasons for filing this complaint?

Jose: I believe in protecting the reputation of the firm, and I believe that Mr. Phillips’ actions might compromise that. Also, I was concerned that he might be taking advantage of the customer in question, Mr. Andrews, who was in a vulnerable position.

Committee: Taking advantage how?

Jose: By imposing onerous conditions of his own devising on granting the loan, requiring weekly meetings in person about it and so forth, and misrepresenting those as the decision of the loan committee, which had merely recommended checking in with the customer frequently. I believe he has been seeking a sexual relationship with Mr. Andrews.

Committee: And what was your relationship with Mr. Andrews?

Jose: I had met him by chance at the bank, and then when I was having dinner at the restaurant where he works, he asked me out on a date. We had two dates of a romantic nature. I was very taken with him and I didn’t think there was any conflict of interest as long as I wasn’t the one handling his account. If I was mistaken in this regard, I am willing to accept appropriate disciplinary action. But even after we discontinued any romantic involvement at his request, I was still concerned about him.

Committee: Please decribe the incident with Mr. Phillips in your office.

Jose: Mr. Phillips learned that I was dating Mr. Andrews and came to my office to demand that I stop. I tried to be reasonable while pointing out that it was not for him to dictate how Mr. Andrews conducts his love life, nor how I conduct mine. He became abusive and then violent, throwing heavy objects around my office and threatening me with physical harm. I felt I was in danger. I defused the situation as quickly as I could and he stormed out.

Mr. Phillips got his chance to speak, actually making himself look a little worse than I thought he should.

Committee: How would you characterize this conversation with Mr. Molina? Was it an argument?

Mr. Phillips: It was an argument, and I did ask him to discontinue any involvement with Mr. Andrews.

Committee: Why?

Mr. Phillips: I was concerned that Mr. Molina’s drug use would have a corrosive influence on the life of Mr. Andrews, who was trying to make some significant positive changes to get his financial house in order.

Committee: What drug use by Mr. Molina are you referring to?

Mr. Phillips: Recreational. Some legal, some not.

Committee: Do you have any evidence of that?

Mr. Phillips: No hard evidence.

Committee: During the conversation in question, did you become violent?

Mr. Phillips: I became vehement. I did lose my temper. And I threw a book at his wall. That’s when I realized I was getting far too worked up. I apologized and left.

Committee: Did you threaten him?

Mr. Phillips: No, I merely called him a goddamn son of a bitch, which I think was fair under the circumstances.

Committee: Did you demand that Mr. Andrews meet with you weekly as a condition of his loan?

Mr. Phillips: I offered it as one option. We reached an unwritten agreement about certain behavioral changes and about meeting for financial counseling. He asked what would happen if he did not agree to that part but never missed a payment, and I said I would have no cause for complaint and would congratulate him. But I thought a more personal approach was more likely to ensure the success of the loan.

Committee: Were you seeking a sexual relationship with Mr. Andrews?

Mr. Phillips: No. I did nothing and said nothing to indicate sexual or romantic interest in Mr. Andrews.

Committee: Did you offer any discounts, waiving of fees, extensions of deadlines, anything like that, in exchange for anything Mr. Andrews might do?

Mr. Phillips: No.

Committee: I understand you video-recorded your weekly sessions with Mr. Andrews.

Mr. Phillips: Yes. Mr. Mackenzie has those recordings and can give them all to you.

Committee: Why did you make those recordings?

Mr. Phillips: Because after my previous experience with this committee, I wanted proof that I had done nothing wrong.

Jose looked a little surprised at the mention of the recordings.

I got my chance to speak, too. Most of what I had rehearsed with Mr. Mackenzie flew out of my head.

Committee: Did Mr. Phillips at any time seek a sexual relationship with you?

Me: No. In fact, I asked him for a date and he turned me down flat.

This made most of the committee members shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Committee: Was any of his behavior sexually suggestive in any way?

Me: Depends on how suggestible you are. I can get turned on by a grocery list.

Committee: Are you saying his behavior was never calculated to entice?

Me: He was all business. It’s my problem if I like men who are all business.

Committee: How personal were your discussions with Mr. Phillips?

Me: They got personal sometimes, just because how you handle money affects your whole life, and it’s affected by how you grew up. But everything we discussed was relevant to the financial approach he was teaching me.

Committee: I understand that you overheard at least part of the conversation in Mr. Molina’s office.

Me: I did. I was early for my appointment with Mr. Phillips and I was going to stop by Jose’s office to say hello. The door was closed and I heard their voices.

Committee: How would you characterize the conversation?

Me: It was heated. Mr. Phillips was getting angrier and Mr. Molina, it seemed to me, was taunting him.

Committee: Taunting how? Please just report what you heard.

Me: Mr. Phillips said ‘Keep your hands off him,’ and Mr. Molina said ‘He seems to like my hands on him,’ and he also said ‘I know what you did with the last one, and so does the ethics committee.’

Committee: Thank you, Mr. Andrews.

After everyone had spoken, it was announced that a meeting of the Board would immediately follow.

I asked Mrs. Porter, “Now? Do they always act this fast?”

“No,” Mrs. Porter said with a little smile. “In fact, they never have before.”

“I hope I didn’t make things worse. I didn’t realize that what Mr. Phillips did could be made to look so questionable.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Andrews.”

************

I sat with her outside the room where the Board was meeting. Mr. Phillips and Mr. Mackenzie were called in, leaving Mrs. Porter and me alone.

“What did Mr. Mackenzie mean about your files being the back-up plan?”

“Just that. Preparing for the hearing itself was important, of course, but we decided on a two-pronged approach. That’s what all those letters were about.”

“So what were these files?”

“Ammunition I’ve been saving for the last three years, ever since Mr. Phillips was dragged through the mud.”

“Ammunition?”

“Emails, memoranda, little handwritten notes, receipts, records of financials transactions, all sorts of things that people assumed were destroyed. It’s amazing what you can find in “To Be Shredded” boxes and computer “Trash” folders, if you keep an eye open.”

“But what do they say?”

“If you look at them carefully, they say fraud, misrepresentation, falsification of financial statements, misuse of company funds, financial transactions off the books, tax evasion, insider trading, little things like that.”

“Who did all that?”

“The entire senior management except Mr. Phillips. Every last one of them. Enough to keep the ethics committee in session for years -- or to make a very good news story. Mr. Phillips may be above blackmail, but I’m not.”

When Mr. Phillips came out of the Board room, he was no longer employed at Fidelity First Mutual. But he got an excellent reference and a generous severance package. Very, very generous.

************

Mrs. Porter, Mr. Mackenzie, Mr. Phillips and I were in the outer office, celebrating.

“I’m sorry I lost you your job, Mr. Phillips,” I said.

“If you lost me my job, I am eternally grateful. I am so done with this place.”

“I had fantasies of rescuing you and making everything all right.”

“I didn’t need you to rescue me, Richard. I had Mrs. Porter.”

“Is there anything you do need me for?”

“Oh, I think I can find something for you to do -- now that I’m free to ask you. But I want you to make an informed decision. Could you come into my office, please?” He led me inside and closed the door.

“I want you to see something before I say more. Something you should know. I know Mrs. Porter told you a little about it. And if it’s a deal breaker, I’ll understand. ”

He took off his jacket, turned, and lifted his shirt to show his back. He heard me breathe in sharply.

“Pretty ugly, huh?”

“No. A warrior’s battle scars are never ugly.” I tried not to cry as I ran my fingers over the maze of crisscrossing scars. “You do all this yourself?”

“Some I did myself, some I had help.”

“Just don’t add any new ones, okay? I think this is probably enough as it is.”

He lowered his shirt and turned back. “No, no new ones -- I’m done with that phase. Do you think you could bear to get naked with a man who looks like that?”

“I’d have to think about it for point zero zero two seconds. Then I’d say yes.”

“So can I ask you out now?”

“No.”

“No? I don’t understand--”

“You can’t ask me out yet, because I asked you first. And I’m paying, so prepare for a cheap date.”

I felt as if I had been waiting for years for the long kiss that followed.

************

The tour of the Denver Mint was priced right -- free. For lunch we had pizza at Benny Blum’s Slice of Brooklyn. I didn’t let him pay for a thing, but I did demand some information.

“What did you mean when you said to Jose, ‘You know perfectly well what I’m doing with him’? Did you have some sort of master plan for me? What were you doing -- just teasing me?”

“No, Richard. At least, I didn’t mean to tease you. Maybe I tried to keep you interested a little bit. I was -- observing you. Would you show up every week, or make excuses? Would you make your payments, or try to fudge them? Could you be consistent? You might say I was testing you. I was very attracted to you right away, but my gut feelings often get me in trouble. My life is planned, responsible, and not a lot of fun. I tend to be attracted to men who are the opposite -- spontaneous, fun, irresponsible. And the qualities that attract me can end up being a problem.

“I know this much: I don’t want to be on anyone’s fast-sex menu. I wanted to see if you might be the right one for something more. You’re young and that might not be what you’re interested in. The thought does occur to me that I’m probably too old for you.”

“Aw, gee, Mr. Phillips, you don’t look a day over eighty.”

“I’m forty-seven. Almost twice your age, Richard.”

“That is such a relief! I was afraid you were only forty. Forty is really too young for my taste, but I was prepared to deal with it. Forty-seven is much better. Still a little on the young side, but better.”

“Jose isn’t forty.”

“Jose is not someone I could ever have gotten serious about.”

“Does that mean you could get serious about me?”

“I am very willing to investigate the possibility.”

After lunch we just walked around Civic Center Park.

“At that first appointment, when you breathed in as I was leaving, were you smelling me?”

“That was a side benefit. You passed very close to me. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, or on a ledge outside a building, about to fall, so I sort of -- gasped. I was holding on very tight to the doorknob with one hand and keeping the other behind my back because I was trying to resist the impulse to reach out and grab you.”

“And how about dropping your pen -- was that really an accident?”

He smiled. “You really do want to take the mystery out of everything, don’t you?”

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But now we come to the important stuff. On a scale of one to ten, vanilla to kink, where would you place your preferences?

“Shouldn’t you be addressing me as ‘Sir’ when you ask that question?”

 

EPILOGUE

In spite of the fact that he could afford to take a lot more time off, Mr. Phillips is already working again, doing internal training at a credit union. He also teaches classes in financial literacy for their customers. He even gave a guest lecture at a high school about what to watch out for in a loan, using real examples of brutally unfavorable terms that people have been pressured into. The few students who attended talked it up so much that he was invited back a second and third time, speaking to much bigger audiences.

I’m looking into nursing school. Mrs. Porter quit the bank and is working at the credit union with Mr. Phillips.

Today is December 16. I gave Mr. Phillips a little present: a ring with an engraving of Saturn on it.

“What’s this for?”

“Come on, Mr. Phillips, guess.”

“Um -- Beethoven’s birthday.”

“No, sir.”

“Hanukkah. Christmas. Diwali.”

“No. Tomorrow is December seventeenth.”

“Yes -- what about it?”

“It’s Saturnalia, the day when masters and slaves exchange places.”

“Oh. Of course. And what did you have in mind for the actual festivities?”

“I think it’s about time I did more with your ass than stare at it.”

“Oh, really? Well, be gentle with me. It will be my first time -- this week.”

Pulling me close to him, he said, “Hey. Richard.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You could call me Nate tomorrow.”

“All right, but just for one day.”

“Meanwhile, it’s not Saturnalia yet.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“So how about if I get in one last fuck before midnight?”

“I’ll check my schedule.”

I fit him in.

************

Our Saturnalia celebration went so well that he decided we should celebrate it more often.

“Oh, God, I haven’t turned you into a bottom, have I?”

“No, I like fucking you too much. But I think maybe we could have Saturnalia several times a year. Maybe even once a month.”

“Any time you feel like it, just wear that ring.”

“And another thing.”

“What?”

“When are you going to move in with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”