 
### BlueBalance

Phil Wohl

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2007 Phil Wohl

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

#

# Table of Contents

Prelude

Focus Group

BlueHeaven

Nina

BlueEducation

SVPs

Comfortable

Block Island

Release

Breakthrough

BlueWorld

BlueWeekend

BlueWrap

Prelude

There is balance in everything, from the ultra-conservative executive to the checkout girl at the grocery store. Yet, we usually only see one side of these people's personalities, unless the office Christmas party gets a bit out of hand.

With every plus there must be a minus; with every tear there must be a smile; and for every skunk there must be a fragrant flower. We live our lives in fear of dying and we overlook the simple truth that living is all we can control. Never too high, never too low will get you stuck in the middle of the road. A sense of equilibrium is needed to see life as it is, not what you would like it to be.

Task Force

When Lou Graves got the bad news about the first quarter earnings, he knew that BlueWorld Corporation would have to undergo some changes. Being the president and CEO of a Fortune 500 company had it perks, but facing the swirling cauldron that is Wall Street was not one of them.

There was only a week until BlueWorld was scheduled to announce its quarterly results to the public and the investment community, all of which had come to expect only sparkling outcomes from the company.

Graves called a meeting of all of the senior vice presidents for 2:00 pm that Friday afternoon. He knew his best minds would come up with a solution that both he and the company's investors could stomach for the long haul.

"I've called you all here today because we've run into a bit of a roadblock," Graves said after everyone settled into their ergonomically-designed chairs. He looked around the huge, recycled blue glass table and continued, "Our first quarter earnings aren't quite what we expected. In fact they're a few cents off most of our projections."

A faint grumbling could be heard in the room—with bonuses tied to corporate performance, this was not the start to the year that must of us had anticipated.

I could see the calm strain in his face—like any good leader, Lou Graves had gotten to his position in life by coolly reacting to adversity. He had started a multi-billion dollar company from his garage, with only the courage of his conviction and about a thousand dollars in his pocket.

To say Lou liked the color blue would be like saying that Gulliver could have played center on the Lilliputian basketball team. He was always calmer around blue things, and felt this reaction was reinforced by the many studies focused on color being a key determinant of people's moods.

When Graves slipped on his first mood ring in the 1970's he thought the simplistic idea had some merit. He wasn't alone in his thinking because the public bought more mood rings than Ring Dings at the height of its popularity. Edna Graves told her son "Selling blue things is both short-sighted and too simplistic." Lou felt "The simpler the better" and he always dreamed of working around things that he loved.

Graves looked around the large conference room, which was decorated with a contemporary blue flair. He took a deep breath and continued, "All of you have had a hand in lifting this company to its current heights. I need you to put your heads together and guide us through this bump in the road."

I wasn't sure whether we'd spend the week meeting at the home office in BlueTown, Michigan, or if Graves had something else up his sleeve. It seemed he always had something different bouncing around his brilliant mind. Starting a line of exclusively blue products didn't seem like such a risk in University of Michigan country, where the chant "GO BLUE!" can be heard at the 'Big House' and around the world courtesy of the school's loyal fan base.

The local business seemed a natural fit for the blue-focused residents of Ann Arbor. Graves was even able to extend the companies reach to alumni and the parents of students around the country the first few years. This expansion more than tripled the sales base of the then Blue Products, Inc., and gave Lou a reason to expand out of his garage and into a storage facility. When manufacturing costs started eating into his bottom line, he decided to buy the manufacturing company and do everything in-house. That's about the time I joined the company.

"I've given this some thought and come to the conclusion that it would be more effective if you all got out of here," Graves said while stroking the goatee on his chin. That is why the task force is headed to my house in Mackinac Island for the week. A couple of helicopters will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up."

The room got a little noisy from the immediate reaction to the news, and then Graves waved his hands and yelled, "When you come up with your brilliant solution in time for next Friday's first quarter conference call—and the stock goes up on that day—next weekend is on me for you and your families at The Grand Hotel!"

My name is Brandon Soul and I am the Senior Vice President – Discovery for BlueWorld. There is no written text on file that describes my job, because words would merely serve to limit my contribution. I always have my eyes open, my ears poised to hear something unique, and the rest of my senses are razor sharp for observation.

I've seen Graves utilize focus groups quite often to gauge the effectiveness of a product, but this is the first time in a few years that he has roped the entire third floor into an isolated group focused on one goal. It was also unique that he was sending us to his house without being on-site himself. Although Graves is known as an innovative and hands-off leader, he nonetheless has his guiding hand in just about everything we do.

My life's pursuit has become the breakdown. I'm not talking about the losing control of your faculty's kind of breakdown - it's just my way of figuring out people and situations in an orderly fashion. I get the feeling that Graves has me around so I can keep an eye on people when his vision is elsewhere. The funny thing is that I'm not sure everyone else is fully aware of my role in the company. Yes, they know that I come up with the most of the concepts in our BlueStrategy, but they really don't know how deep I am willing to dig to find the truth.

It's not my job to develop, market, and monitor the products; I guess you can say that I'm the spark that ignites the flame. Just about every product line and development project has started with me - I have no clue how to manufacturer, or fully develop, these products - it's a hunch, a gut feeling, that leads me from observation, to brain flash, to blue ignition.

Assembling a task force of this size and stature led to some extension preparation. Knowing the players would not only assure us of success during the week, but it also would give me the necessary insight into their beings. If the eyes are the window to the soul, then past is the road map to the future. It should be an interested week.

##

## Blue Heaven

My boss has a unique way of keeping everyone loose around the office. He never really gave us a chance to slip into relative obscurity and wish we were working somewhere else. Hell, most of the time it didn't feel much like work, anyway.

I was sitting quietly in my office early Friday afternoon when a heard faint knock on my archway. I said, "C'mon in" as I slowly wrestled my focus from the text I was writing, to the person at the door.

"Please wait for instructions," the slender Asian woman said as she smiled at me. Just then a flat screen television emerged from my desktop, an experience that was also shared by the other SVPs in their offices. We had our own floor, which was the third of a three-story building, and it had all of the creature comforts of home. BlueWorld International's 4,000 employees were housed in three connected buildings on a 200-acre campus.

In the beginning, Graves was poking around Ann Arbor, Michigan one afternoon when he took a few wrong turns and stumbled on a farm with a big sign that read, "FARM 4 SALE—OWNER RETIRING!" He jumped out of his car on the dirt road and when the dust settled, the future was revealed in an instant. In front of Lou Graves stood an environmentally-friendly version of corporate America staring him straight in the face.

Once Graves got back to our moderately-sized facility, we quickly changed the company's name from Blue Products, Inc. to BlueWorld Corporation. Within a month, he met with a team of engineers and developers, and they formulated plans for the new corporate headquarters. Lou Graves was not a small thinker - he always took his vision and ran with it. The result was a connected, three-building complex that he affectionately called BlueHeaven.

It took almost a year for the headquarters to be built, and then the company went public on the Nasdaq Stock Market under the ticker symbol "BLUE" six months later. That was 10 years ago, and I had joined the company a few months before Graves spotted the 'magic farm.' Many Wall Street analysts had poked fun at our company calling it "Little Blue," which was an affectionate comparison to "BIG BLUE," IBM.

The three massive buildings that comprised BlueHeaven were the manufacturing facility, the distribution center and the corporate headquarters. A common area, called the Aqua Dome, which was enclosed entirely with blue-tinted glass, joined the three buildings. It was quite a sight to behold from either the ground or the sky. The initial plans for the buildings called for a transportation system that would be the common thread between the buildings. Graves quickly squashed that concept when he realized that people would become lazy and disconnected from their work environment.

Lou Graves does not believe in limiting the creative and intellectual capacity of his BlueNation. There are no set hours of operation in the BlueWorld Complex, except for the somewhat rigid manufacturing schedule. People are free to come and go all day and night as long as their work gets done. Although some people initially gravitated toward working during traditional business hours, because they have families and were trained to think that way, within a few months their perception of work was permanently altered.

BlueWorld also has one of the lowest turnover rates of any public company in the U.S. This place is not for the pinstripe suit, scotch on the rocks, platform tennis crowd. In fact, I can't remember the last time I wore a suit? Oh yeah, it was a year ago at my cousin's wedding. I'm pretty glad I don't have to tie that noose around my neck every day.

Pictures of the corporate headquarters have appeared in architectural magazines, and have been the topic of conversation in many engineering and architectural schools worldwide. It is also quite a sight to behold, not only when you first see it but also when you walk through it every day.

Graves really understands people and their needs, both at work and at home. The most stressful part of most jobs is often the pressure to secure affordable housing and live comfortably. Your every need and want can be satisfied on the 200-acre site: there are BlueSchools for the children in the education corridor, which also includes a corporate training and adult education center; the BlueWellness building houses a small hospital, a medical facility, a few dentists, an optometrist, two psychiatrists, a physical therapist, and a veterinarian; the BlueClubhouse is one of the busiest facilities at BlueWorld - this building, which is shaped like a huge ball, is a game-playing and active lifestyle dream. A health club and Namaste center - for more spiritual pursuits - complement gymnasiums, an ice rink, and a video/game center.

BlueHome is probably the most ambitious section of Lou Graves's vision. Graves knew that much of his sizable piece of land would be wasted if he didn't fully utilize it. A few months after I started at Blue Products, Graves called me into his crowded office for a little chat. My former bosses would always close the door when they had something important to discuss with me, but Graves made everyone around him feel so at ease and he didn't even have a door to his office.

"You have become my most trusted employee and confidant. I feel like we've known each other for years." Graves asked me as I sat down.

At the time Graves was a young 35 and I was all of 30 years old. "I hired you because I needed someone close to me that could expand my thoughts," he stated. "Well, the truth is that I didn't exactly hire you..."

I squinted at him and thought for a moment, "I hired myself," I said nodding my head in understanding. "My father worked for your father when they were at Nabisco. They were the ones that came up with the idea for the Oreo cookie."

"And Chips Ahoy. You know those were your dad's ideas. My dad told me that if I ever amounted to anything, I should look up Mark Soul's boy. It took Oprah and a little digging but I found you," he said.

We talked for a few minutes about our parents and then got down to this business at hand.

"I saw this property today that I want to buy for the company," Graves explained. "I'd like to take you to see it."

We jumped into his Ford Bronco and drove down the road to the farm. We walked some, drove some, and then sat on the porch of the old farmhouse.

"So, what do you think?" he asked.

"You're thinking that you have all of this land but no real connection to your employees," I said. "What if you built everything from A to Z to accommodate your employees and their families? In turn, this would return an unprecedented level of employee loyalty, satisfaction and productivity."

Lou's eyebrow raised and he smiled, "Like a Blue Village?"

I nodded in agreement and then said, "If you branded everything and attached a Blue name to it, then it would become ingrained in people's consciousness. We want our Blue world to be a state of mind for employees and customers alike."

"You know, my dad told me that he thought your dad was crazy when he suggested putting a cream filling between two chocolate cookies," Graves proudly stated. "This is the kind of dialogue I've been looking for... I must have been going crazy the past few years making all of these heavy decisions myself.

I replied, "You have a great concept and you're a dynamic leader. As long as we keep it light, tight, and upbeat anything can happen."

What was most extraordinary about the BlueCampus grounds was that there was never a reason to leave. Underground walkways that were open to the sky linked BlueHeaven to BlueHome, the residential community. This 50-acre developed stretch of land was set on an area named BlueTown, which also had its own post office and zip code. All of the employees working at BlueHeaven lived in housing provided by the company. The company maintained the exterior of these homes, but the employees paid the subsidized mortgages and rents.

BlueHome was a combination of apartments, town houses and single-family housing; no building was more than two stories above the ground, which ensured unobstructed views and helped to fully leverage the solar energy technology utilized by the entire BluePower system.

Not only is Lou Graves ambitious, he is also a visionary. A friend of his, Arnie Jamison, was a scientist that specialized in Solar Energy research at the University of Michigan. Jamison's research grant had expired a few years before the BlueWorld campus was built, and he was struggling with his own company called Solar Energy Resources.

The three of us went out for drinks at a local bar one late Friday afternoon. Graves and I had just spoken about the BlueCampus concepts and we were starting to look for contractors and ideas for building materials.

"I tell you, people are blind to the future," Arnie said.

Graves replied, "I hope not! If that's the truth then we're about to step into a huge blue hole."

"So, what are you working on, Arnie?" I asked

"I have developed this glass with built-in solar panels. It's sort of like a car windshield with the antenna built in," Jamison stated.

I stepped in, "Have you tested it on a bigger scale?"

"Yeah, you should see his..." Graves said as the light flashed in his head.

I had seen Jamison's house as I drove by it a week earlier. The two-story, 3,000 square-foot house was surrounded by all glass. It was one of the coolest and imaginative things I had ever seen. I threw a $20 bill on the bar and we piled into Arnie's truck and drove five minutes to his house.

Lou and I stood in front of the house with our mouths open.

"I just finished it last month and I'm very pleased with the results," Jamison beamed.

Jamison took us through the house and explained how everything worked. "I have never had a power loss in all of the years I've been doing this. Since I am the power company, my heating, cooling, and power expenses have gone away. I even power the barbeque through the solar panels. Solar energy is the cleanest and most efficient power source known to man. Even if it's cloudy for an extended time, I have developed a stored power reserve so none of that golden sunshine is wasted. We stare up at the sky, but people never connect the dots with that most potent force."

I looked at Graves and then asked Arnie, "Can you make the glass in blue?"

So it came to be that Graves hired Jamison and opened BlueSolar. Arnie had his own building and was able to make as much solar powered, shatterproof glass as we needed. The glass panels surrounded all of the buildings on the BlueCampus. It was amazing how Lou's "no boundaries" approach resulted in hiring his solar friend and also me. There were no secrets on the BlueCampus and every problem that we encountered was worked out within the BlueFamily. There wasn't a traditional wall to be found on the entire 200-acre property, because everything was transparent and it opened up the ability for unlimited sight.

Nina

I had been compiling mental files on most of the key employees at BlueWorld for years. But my focus on the other six people I would share a week with on Mackinac Island would have to wait a few minutes. An Asian woman was still standing in my office, and I was waiting for the television that just popped out of my desk to talk to me.

I sat back in my comfy chair, smiled at the woman, and then turned my attention to the screen. Graves came through from a live feed in his office:

"You all have a demanding week ahead of you, so I thought I would help you relax and clear your minds." Graves closes his eyes and took a deep breath. He then smiled and opened his eyes, "I know you all will make me proud." The screen went blue and the BlueWorld logo flashed before the console disappeared back into my desk.

The lights dimmed on the entire third floor, and my masseuse, Keiko, offered me a choice of music as she set up her long blue table. "You extra-long," she said to me as I stood up from my chair. "I open extra panel," Keiko said as she reached underneath the end of the table and opened an extra cushioned panel so my feet would only marginally hang over the edge.

I turned the blue privacy glass on in my office and stripped down to only my most essential elements, a towel and my birthday suit. Before I stretched out on the massage table, we squared off and Keiko and I bowed to each other.

"My name is Keiko. Please tell me if you need anything, Mr. Soul."

I replied, "As long as I have peace and quiet, Keiko, everything will be all right."

I selected a Japanese Ocean Sampler, and within the first few strokes of Keiko's magical fingers I was elsewhere. Being somewhere between semi-conscious thought and deep sleep is a floating existence that acts like a stress eraser. Although the life at BlueWorld cut most of life's stress, most of us still had been unsuccessful at clearing away the erosion of our past. Our great company took care of most of life's pressure, including money, housing, bad bosses, annoying co-workers, crime, and many other daily annoyances you can think of.

The only thing I heard during the 45-minute session was Keiko gently saying, "Front, please" when she wanted me to turn over. I had this half-daydream, half-sleeping dream that I had gotten hard when she was rubbing me down. The only twist was that Nina had taken over and was working her sexy magic on me. The next thing I heard was the gentle sound of a small gong. I slowly opened my eyes and immediately looked down, expecting to see a tent forming from my towel.

I looked at a smiling Keiko who said, "You smaller now. Having good dream?"

I smiled and replied, "Yes, I had a good dream. Smaller now."

She handed me a blue robe and I watched her fold up the massage table. Keiko did everything with such grace and skill - she took pride in every movement, every breath - I could identify with her sense of purpose. After all, my life over the past 12 years had changed radically from the previous twenty-eight.

I was 28 years old and living in New York when my 'life earthquake' occurred. I was working in Midtown Manhattan for a well-known publisher and was experiencing some success in my career despite yearning to venture out on my own. I had read so many books that it left me feeling empty and wondering if I could put words and stories together to fill that void.

I remember thinking how irrelevant the daily grind was. Once I met Nina the previous year, nothing else in my life seemed to carry the same significance. She was an unknown author and I was assigned to read her book quickly and then politely shuffle both her words and her being out the door. She called me a few times at the office but my secretary brushed her off with the usual, "He's in a meeting" excuse.

I was in the office late one night when I saw her message sticky note sitting on the corner of my desk. I sat back in my chair and dialed her number to set up a time to meet after I had time to read her book.

"Hello," the woman said on the other end of the line.

"Is this Nina Bradley?" I asked.

"Yes, this is Nina."

I was in a playful mood, "The same Nina Bradley that wrote the book, Heart Strong?"

"Yes, that's me. Who is this?"

"I'm sorry. My name is Brandon Soul and I work for Freedom Publishing. I was calling to set up a schedule for you to drop your book off and for us to meet."

I could sense that my bullshit was starting to clog up the line, but my corporate rhetoric was so ingrained in my speech by this point that I couldn't turn back.

"Look, we could go through the motions and you can pretend to read my book - then we could meet and you can give me a short speech about how the book was good, but it wasn't a fit with your company's style - or you could just come clean now and save me some unneeded heartache," Nina said almost in one breath.

I paused for a minute to decide my next move. While it was almost customary to hear people protest and question our book rejections, this was the first time I had ever encountered an author that was willing to "cut to the chase."

"Why don't you tell me what your book is about?" I asked pulling my guard down just a little.

"I can't do that over the phone," she replied.

"Why not?" I questioned.

"You'll understand it when you read the book," Nina stated.

"I don't usually do this but... do you want to meet me now?" I asked.

"Ugh. What time is it anyway?" she said sounding awkward.

"It's 7:30. I'm at the office but I could meet you by 8:00."

Nina took me to task, "What are you doing in your office at this hour? Don't you have anyone to go home to?"

"No, I'm not married," I responded.

"No, I meant like a dog or some fish?" she panned.

"Let me see, you live on the West Side and I live on the East Side," I said trying to figure the plans out, and move on from her dig.

"You live on the East Side? I thought only old people live on the East Side?" she kidded.

"Why don't we meet at the Starbucks on the corner of 79th and Broadway?" I suggested.

"I don't drink coffee," She quickly replied.

"Then I'll get you some hot chocolate and a few chocolate covered graham crackers."

"I'll see you at eight," Nina said as she hung up the phone.

I was initially intrigued, because someone had actually had the guts to take a legitimate stand; that, and the fact that I couldn't stand spending time in my tiny apartment and was looking for just about anything to do.

While the title "Heart Strong" really didn't give me much of a clue what I was up against, it was obvious that the night would prove interesting. I handed the cab driver $15 and told Mr. Anwaari - I couldn't pronounce his last name because it had more vowels than consonants - to keep the change.

Walking into a place like Starbucks, where the undead hooked tubes of caffeine into their veins was a much different experience at night than in the morning. Morning drinkers needed their initial fix in order to function until the next cup cleared their lips and began to erode the inner lining of their stomachs. The night customers were much more laid back and introspective. The urgency of the day had melted away like a windshield defogger finally melting the ice in its path.

I was obviously looking for a woman with a handful of papers. After doing a quick lap around the dimly lit place I decided to get a cup of coffee, a hot chocolate and a few chocolate-covered graham crackers. I found a few comfortable chairs in a remote area and sat down in one chair facing the door.

Ten minutes after I sat down, a woman looking like she had just run five blocks, walked in carrying a large envelope. It was a chilly October night, so the woman had a long coat on and a pair of mittens. She looked around for a few seconds and then spotted me waving, so she walked toward me. She handed me the envelope and said, "Sorry I'm late. I just wanted to make sure everything was in there," she said looking at the envelope.

"You must be Nina. Hi, I'm Brandon Soul," I said as I extended my hand.

She unbuttoned her long overcoat to reveal what looked like pajamas. She sat down ignoring my corporate gesture and focused on the hot chocolate and graham cracker, "Oh, is this for me? Thank you."

I thought about opening up the envelope but I had to ask an important question first. "Are you wearing pajamas?"

"That depends how you look at it," she replied. "I knew I couldn't change and put make-up on in the time that you gave me, so I opted for the face paint instead."

I didn't know what to make of this woman besides the fact that she was a little off-center and extremely cute in a pajama-wearing way. If her objective was to bring my guard down and walk me out of the doors of corporate America, then she had succeeded. I was now relaxed and ready to read her book.

I looked across at her and said, "This will take me about an hour, so I hope you brought something to do."

She smirked as she pulled a small notebook and a pen out of her jacket pocket and said, "Buckle up, Brando."

I honestly had no idea what to expect when I opened that envelope, but the experience instantly changed my life. I read the first page and could feel the layers of my New York City armor peeling off my body. This woman was undressing my mind with her words and I wasn't sure how to react. When I finished the first chapter I looked up and asked her, "Is this fiction?"

She stopped writing and let the question wash over her like a waterfall. "Why? What does it read like?"

I held down my emotions and replied, "Pain. Excruciating pain."

I then excused myself and went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror after I splashed cold water on my face and wondered who the hell was staring back at me. Had I become that distant from my past? Was it possible that some of these things could have happened to another human being besides me? Had this woman crawled into my head and scribbled down every last thought she could suck from my memories?

I sat back in my chair, picked up her manuscript, and locked eyes with her. She really didn't give a crap if I liked her book. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was looking to see if I was a human being, or just another corporate robot.

Two hours later I was about halfway through the book and an hour after that I hit a big bump in the road. When I read, "Every time I was with a man, thoughts of my father's hairy, thick hands would permeate my soul and cloud my thoughts," tears started streaming down the sides of my face and I buried my head into my left hand. I had never been impacted by words to this extent in my life - at least not since Turk Grazier, the neighborhood bully, told me that I was "worthless" every time he made me touch his penis. But that was when I was a kid, when my world seemed to bind me to a dark cave. I never told anyone about Turk and the two years of abuse I suffered through when I was eight years old and he was 12.

Nina was deep in thought and hadn't bothered to pick up her head until she heard my sobbing. Without hesitation she crawled over to me on her knees and took me in her arms. My emotional dam had finally given way to a woman that knew what my pain felt like.

I was so taken by Nina and her book that I gave everything of myself to her after that night. Within a month, we were living together at her apartment on the West Side and I had endured many battles with my company to publish her book.

As I went to work each day, I could feel myself sliding further and further away from corporate America. No longer was I a quick-talking, non-feeling cog in the machine, because being an individual with thoughts and ideas was a much more fulfilling existence.

Six months after we met, I decided that spending the rest of my life with someone as wonderful as Nina could not wait any longer. I planned on inviting her up to my office, so I could present her with a copy of her published book and also ask her to marry me. It would be a day that neither of us would ever forget.

I planned on taking Nina to lunch at a quiet, romantic restaurant down the block from my office. She was supposed to come up and get the book first, and then we would walk to the restaurant for the "proposal."

I looked at the clock on my desk and when it struck twelve my heart started pumping a little faster. About ten minutes later I expected Nina to walk through the door. She was always at least 10 minutes late to every appointment, which was her way of not being restricted by time.

When 12:30 came and went I started to get a little worried; 20 minutes was usually Nina's outer boundary for lateness. I couldn't call her on a cell phone because she refused to get one. She would always say something about the cell waves giving you brain cancer.

It became completely uncomfortable as 12:30 melted into 1:00 p.m. My big day was apparently unraveling before I even had a chance to get the party started. I figured that my nervous energy would be better served if I left my office and hit the streets to search for my Nina. I put my suit jacket on and got one foot out of the door when my phone rang on my desk. I rushed over and picked it up:

"Brandon Soul," I said in my usual greeting.

"Mr. Soul? Are you Nina Bradley's boyfriend?" the male voice said on the other end of the line.

I started to feel numb as I said, "Yes. Who is this?"

"My name is Dr. Nesbith. You're girlfriend had been in an accident. You better get to the Saint Vincent's Emergency Room..." I dropped the phone and stood motionless for a few seconds. Within minutes I was in the emergency room of Saint Vincent's Hospital. I alerted the nurse that I was there and she told me that I would be able to see Nina in recovery in a few minutes.

I saw two EMT's walking out of the emergency with blood on their shirts, so I followed them onto the street.

"Excuse me. Were you the guys that brought in Nina Bradley?"

They turned around and I kept talking, "What happened to her?"

This one guy who looked like Alec Baldwin turned started talking, "Are you her boyfriend?" I nodded. "Yeah, we found your name in her purse. Those fuckin' bike messengers are more dangerous than the mother fuckin' taxi drivers!"

"Is she going to be all right?" I said in a scared tone.

"Guy, she was hit pretty hard and lost a lot of blood. We'll be praying for her."

I walked back inside and my surreal journey began. I don't know if you've ever had an out-of-body experience before, but it feels about as strange as lying in a dentist's chair after inhaling gas.

I saw the doctor coming at me, but I really didn't hear what he said. I could tell by the look in his eyes that my life would soon be turning. He patted me on the back and pointed me toward the recovery room. I was informed later that Nina had just had emergency surgery, but the doctors couldn't stop the internal bleeding. Before I walked into see Nina, I made one quick call and then hustled to her side.

She was still pretty groggy from the anesthetic but when I held her hand she squeezed my fingers. I sat there for an hour, stroking her hair, arm and face. She finally awoke and I was happy to have the opportunity to be with her.

"There's my girl."

"I'm sorry I was late," she said with a slight smirk.

"I had a special day planned for you. First I was going to give you your finished book..."

Her eyes lit up as she said, "And then?"

I got down on one knee and reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the box. Tears started streaming from her eyes and I started crying too. Just then the curtain opened around her bed and a familiar voice said, "Am I in time?"

I called Judge Melvin Carter before heading into the recovery room. Judge Carter had written a book that I had backed and subsequently published and he told me that "If I can ever repay the favor, give me a call."

I slipped the ring on Nina's finger and she nodded "Yes" and within minutes we were married. Judge Carter had also brought a notary and a clerk with him so they could both legally and spiritually complete the task.

They left the room and wished us "God's speed." My last few minutes with Nina were as memorable as the first time we met. Only I count those moments as a bad versus a good dream.

She was having trouble breathing, so I had to put my left ear right next to her lips in order to hear her.

"You made my life worth living. I had never known true love until I met you. You have made me the happiest person in the world. I have been blessed to have known you," she whispered in my ear.

I could sense the end was near when she said, "It's not so bad."

"What's not so bad, my love?"

"Dying. It's like walking in a store and all of your favorite things are free. I'll get us a cart."

Before I could say another word my Nina was gone. What was supposed to be the greatest day of my life turned into one of my sweatiest nightmares. We had taken a vacation a few months earlier in the Hampton's, and Nina told me that when she died she wanted her ashes spread across the ocean. Since she was estranged from her family because of her sick dad and a mother in denial, holding a funeral would only have been a symbolic gesture without meaning.

I rented a car a few days later and took my Nina dust to the Atlantic Ocean's Jones Beach and tossed it into the breeze, effectively carrying my life out to sea. I stared blankly into the rolling waves for hours until the sound of my cell phone brought me back down to earth.

That night I was on a plane to Chicago and the next day I was taken by limo to the Oprah Winfrey Show. I didn't see or hear anyone talking to me until I was sitting across from Oprah and the cameras were tuned on. Watching the playback of the show years later is a difficult task. There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, and even Oprah had to take a commercial break to compose herself. I recounted my life with Nina and our impromptu ceremony at the hospital.

Near the end of the 30-minute segment, Oprah pulled out Nina's book and I started crying. When I got myself back together, I had an incredible moment of clarity.

"Oprah. I am going to donate all of Nina's proceeds from this book to K.A.S.A., which stands for Kids Against Sexual Abuse. We had become active in this organization, because we both were the victims of abuse when we were younger. "

It was a good thing that the show was over because Oprah hugged me for a few minutes and then walked off the stage holding a box of Kleenex.

I stayed in Chicago for a week and my boss came to visit me at my hotel. He told me that Nina's book had gone to the top of the New York Times Bestseller List in just two days. I, in turn, replied, "Thanks for the news. I'm sorry, but I will not be coming back."

BlueEducation

After my appearance on "Oprah," my hotel room phone was literally ringing off the hook. Not only was I getting requests to appear on other talk shows, but calls were also pouring in from women offering to help ease my pain. By the end of my week in Chicago, I was receiving telegrams, letters and packages from people from all walks of life.

I looked through all of my messages, but didn't call anyone back. One voicemail message did latch on to my ear, though:

"Hello, Brandon. I'm sure that your life has taken turns that you never would have imagined. My dad often told me that your dad was always there when he needed him. I would like to return the favor. Why don't you hit the open road and come see me in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I faxed directions to the front desk, and have reserved a car for you at the Hertz counter in the lobby. Hope to see you soon."

I picked up the fax the next morning and saw the following letterhead:

Blue Products, Inc.

Lou Graves, President

The last name sounded familiar, but my brain was still pretty melted down. I ate some breakfast at the hotel restaurant and then checked out at the front desk, leaving all of the junk I had received from strangers behind in my room. I walked over to the Hertz counter and the attendant asked me, "Is this one way or round trip to Ann Arbor?"

I thought for a moment and replied, "One way."

My dad was still alive back then and living in Portland, Oregon with my mom. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed their number.

"Hello," my dad's upbeat voice greeted me.

"Dad, its' Brandon," I stated.

He sarcastically replied, "How do I know you're really my son?" He yells into the next room, "Honey! There's a young man on the phone that claims he's our son!"

My mother replied, "Doesn't our son live in Hollywood?"

I smiled for the first time in weeks and then said, "Okay! Okay! I give up!"

My father's voice changed to a more serious tone, "How are you doing, kiddo?"

"I'm getting through it dad."

"You heading back to New York?" he asked.

I replied, "That's why I called you. I got a call from a Lou Graves in Michigan."

"Hey, that's Bill Graves' boy! You guys used to help us test cookies in the tasting lab," he beamed.

The light came on in my head, "Oh, 'Blue' Lou! Remember when he accidentally used blue dye on his hair instead of shampoo?"

"His mom was making tied-dye shirts in the shower and she forgot to take the bottle of dye when she was done," dad explained.

I said, "He liked the color and wanted to keep his hair that way, but they wouldn't let him back in school."

"He cried the whole time the barber buzzed it off," my dad concluded.

My mom picked up the phone in the kitchen and chimed in, "How are you doing, Brando?"

"I have to say that I've been better, mom."

"We've watched that Oprah show a few times and still can't believe how proud of you we are," my mom said as she started crying.

My dad took over, "We are so sad, Brandon. Here we thought all these years that you had a normal upbringing."

"It was Turk Grazier, the neighborhood bully," I said with tears running down my cheeks.

I heard my mother gasp as my dad dropped the phone to run and comfort her. I found some tissues in my jacket pocket and used them to dry the flood coming from my eyes and my nose.

Once my mom calmed down she said, "I feel so bad that I made you go out and play all of those times. You kept telling me that you would rather stay inside, but I wouldn't listen to you!"

"Mom, listen to me. You did absolutely nothing wrong! You two were the best parents anyone could ever have. Please don't beat yourself up over this - what's done is done."

We all composed ourselves for a moment and I said, "I'm getting in the car and driving to Michigan to see Lou Graves."

"Tell him we said hello. Son, we love you and are here if you need us," my dad said.

The land between Chicago and Michigan was about as flat as a slice of New York Pizza. Chicago pizza, on the other hand, was as cushiony and dense as a firm mattress, and made me quite sleepy from its sheer weight.

I arrived in Ann Arbor at about 4:00 pm after making a few stops along the way to eat and stretch my long legs. It was a quiet Friday afternoon and fall was working its colorful magic on the sturdy Michigan landscape. I parked my rented Ford Taurus in a space right in front of a blue building with a basic sign that read, "Blue Products, Inc."

I walked in the front door and the security system loudly beeped, signaling my arrival. I then strolled through a carpeted corridor and looked in the five or six offices to each side of me - I peeked into a few empty offices and said, "Hello," but nobody was home. A steel door in front of me led me to the warehouse and manufacturing part of the facility. There were a few guys on high-low trucks pulling boxes from the huge metal shelves, amidst this one familiar voice giving directions.

"Pull one and three and ready them for shipping. The address is on the computer," Lou Graves said.

He walked a few steps away from the action and toward the offices until he saw me standing there. I think he was about to say, "Can I help you," but he already knew the answer to that question.

"Brandon Soul! I'm so glad you made it!" Graves said walking quickly toward me.

We shook hands and hugged like two lost friends. Graves was about 6'1" but had an aura that stretch far beyond my 6'5" frame. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it, "I'm sorry what happened to you my friend."

I nodded my head in thanks and then Graves continued, "We were just finishing up here. I usually give my staff the afternoon off most Friday's, but we received a big order and my guys wanted to get it out."

A half-hour later he locked the place up, and we got into his Bronco and drove into town. I was surprised how cool Ann Arbor was and how much action emanated from the University of Michigan. We ate dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant where they knew Lou by name, and then we strolled around the quaint city as the sun set.

"You know, Brandon, I always sensed a sadness and distance in you that I could never put my finger on until I saw you on Oprah. You weren't the only one that went through some abuse as a kid."

"It wasn't one of your parents, was it?" I asked hoping not to hear an affirmative answer.

"No, it was my babysitter. I was seven or eight years old when she started working on me."

I should have been more serious but I think I had finally cracked. "My nightmare was administered by a gay neighborhood bully."

I looked at Graves and we both started laughing. We stopped walking and he looked me straight in the eye, "Life isn't worth living if you can't turn clouds into sunshine."

I replied, "The difficult part for me is that I was finally just starting to live before Nina's accident."

"The minute I saw you on TV I knew that I had to contact you. My wife died two years ago from an aneurism."

I shook my head in disbelief and said, "I'm sorry to hear that, Lou." We started walking again and didn't say a word to each other for the next ten minutes. Then Lou broke the silence, "Observation is one of the gifts we are given we come into this world. It's one of the activities where we can utilize all of our senses in order to come to a conclusion, or a discovery. I would love for you to be my right hand man and be my senses for me."

We stopped in front of a Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream shop and I said, "Buy me a cone with chocolate fudge brownie ice cream and you have a deal."

We shook hands, hugged, and then walked into the store. There's nothing like ice cream when it comes to sealing a deal.

Being connected by abuse, loss and our fathers was a strong foundation for us both. Having another person we could confide in meant everything. While it was always business first, there was always time for a little mutual therapy every now and then between us.

With my background being in publishing, my BlueEducation was ongoing and pretty overwhelming at first. Graves made good on his offer and named me Vice President - it's not as if there was so much competition at that level in those days, anyway. He had sales, accounting, manufacturing and shipping personnel that all had defined roles in the company. The only thing he didn't have was a person that refined his concepts, but I guess that's why I came along.

Graves said to me, "This will be the lowest pressure, but most demanding job you will ever have in your life. That being said, the way you look at things from this point will never be the same."

He picked up a blue train, "When I show you this, what do you think about?"

I quickly replied, "A cute blue train." I looked at him and questioned, "Why? What do you see?"

"I see mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. I see adults trying to recapture their youth. I see Santa Claus, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, anniversaries, and birthdays. I see interaction, not the product. The product is the end result of the relationships."

I sat and thought for a moment and said, "Then everything has a balance."

He smiled and nodded, "Exactly!"

Life had been a one-dimensional existence for me to that point. I had been angry with Turk Grazier for years without even taking into account that his father had abused him, and he was simply passing on the pain to me. I am not the abusive type, so the way I dealt with it was to internalize my pain and shut myself off from truly feeling love in other relationships.

It took me about 20 years to come up against another soul, in Nina, that was able to unlock my torment and help me love again. And then hooking up with Graves helped me take my life skills to the next level.

Lou Graves came from a family that always let the air out of tense situations. When he was 12 years old, he was finally able to realize what his babysitter had done. He sat his parents down and spilled all of the beans. His parents were outraged to hear that the seemingly innocent 16 year-old honor student had repeatedly paddled their son's butt and also fondled his genitals for nearly a year. He was seven or eight years old at the time, and took her threats of "getting in trouble if he told" very seriously.

I said to Graves, "I bet her father did that to her."

He nodded in agreement and replied in a British accent, "My dear Watson, I think you've got it."

After a month of hanging around the office and becoming more familiar with the product line, it was time for me to get out and sharpen my people senses. Graves wanted me to be completely in tune with the consumer, which meant that I had to be in tune with myself. Lou suggested a combination of therapy/meditation/tai chi, as this was the "health cocktail" that he lived by. I learned early on that if something was good enough for Lou Graves, it was good enough for me.

Since both Lou and I were the only children in our families, he naturally became like an older brother to me. He was my mentor, my best friend and he was family. We even spent the holidays together, and often gathered our parents when they were able.

The major part of my BlueEducation was picking Lou's mind in order to strengthen my own. It seemed that he always had a head start on me when dealing with major events in life. This forward thinking gave me a view into what I'd be facing, as I tried to put the pieces back together after Nina's tragic death.

"You ever think of your wife?" I asked Lou.

"Her name was Shari and, yes, I do think of her often," he replied.

"Do you flash back to happier times or more painful things?"

"Well, there are days when I bask in the love, there are days when I wallow in the pity, and there are more days than not that I just miss her," Graves stated.

"How long has it been since the accident?" I inquired.

"It will be two years in a couple of months, but who's counting," he said with a wry smile.

"Has it gotten any easier?"

"A little."

"Have you gone on any dates yet?" I asked.

"Well, if you call a few weekends at The Bunny Ranch a date, then yes, I've been on a few dates."

"You paid for sex?" I questioned refusing to back up.

Graves looked me over and replied, "You'll be surprised what you'll do when the pain gets real bad. I went twice within the first six months, and then I woke up and took a few thousand showers. You have the advantage of being able to talk to me - I had no one to guide me - I was pissed off, so I acted out a little." He looked down at his penis and said, "Still hasn't fallen off."

"I didn't mean to judge you," I said in an apologetic tone.

"That's all right. Just be aware that the pain will get worse before it gets better," Lou stated.

I kept at it, "Do you think you'll ever get remarried?"

Graves took a deep breath, "I'd like to think that it's a possibility, but I've put all of my eggs in the Blue basket right now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

"The only thing I know for certain is that there will be a lot of Blue in our future," I stated.

Graves concluded, "Just make sure you keep a good balance between the blues and the Blue."

I thought for a moment and replied, "It's all about one word: BlueBalance."

SVPs

Lou always had a knack for detecting wounded lambs in need of a supportive family. I never realized how we all fit together like a puzzle until we went away to Mackinac Island for our week of deep collective thought.

All of the senior vice presidents at BlueWorld had been with the company at least eight years. There were six of us and I was obviously the first to be named an SVP. I was having a rough time with Nina's loss one day - just as Graves predicted - until I came to the most sobering discovery: she was only gone in flesh, not spirit. I talked to Lou about my realization and he sat and thought for a moment, and then replied, "That is why you are my Senior VP of Discovery."

I loved the title from the moment it was placed on my broad shoulders. I was making great strides in my "second life," which was surprising for a guy who always had trouble fishing out the prize from the bottom of a cereal box. It was like a tale of two lives for me... I had been reborn the minute Nina came into my life, and then it became my job to keep the fire burning. Admittedly, there were a few days when I thought the flame would go dark, but as long as there was still a flicker of hope I was going to press on... for me, for Nina, for both of us.

There was a listing of the helicopter assignments for the senior vice presidents on the huge digital bulletin board in the BlueHeaven lobby. The board was split into two groups:

BlueCopter 1: BlueCopter 2:

Arthur Bradley Zoe Schiller

Dalia Breston Brandon Soul

Natalie Evans Chef Michael Young

Jorge Manza

Graves and I talked the night before and came up with the groupings for the helicopters. Although all of the SVPs got along, there were still mini-divisions in our personalities that were primed for potential conflict.

"Conflict brings about radical change," Graves said.

"Yeah, and it also leads to cuts, bruises, and house damage," I said laughing.

Graves thought for a few seconds, "You should do some one-on-one sessions at your house, too."

Whatever was good for Lou Graves was good for me. A few years after the company started rolling, both Lou and I bought houses on Mackinac Island. We didn't live next door to each other like we did in BlueTown, but we were only four houses apart up north.

"Any specific pairings you would think would work?" I asked.

"No. Use your judgment."

"Why aren't you coming with us?" I asked him.

"I have some properties I need to check out," Lou answered.

I looked at him for a moment and knew he had another agenda. "You know it would be easier if you just came with us."

Graves smirked, "Then, what fun would the adventure be?"

We all needed to get out of the office and band together - you didn't have to be Lou Graves to see that. He had a rough idea what our next step might be as a company, but wanted us to smooth out the crumpled edges. As a leader he felt it was necessary to stay in tune with his skill people, but there were times when he had to take a step back and let the process occur naturally.

We always acted responsibly when Graves was away, but I had a feeling that this trip would be different. It's easy to play the adult when things are always going your way, but adversity is the real measure of a person, not success. I always see success as a natural extension of almost fucking up. Would the trip be business as usual, or would the students act up once the teacher left the classroom?

To acquire a better understand of my other five senior vice president counterparts, the following are bio's that I stored in my mental database:

Arthur Bradley – Chief Financial Officer

Age: 47

Social Status: Married with two kids

Strengths: Financial vision, structure, attention to detail, tennis backhand

Weaknesses: Tennis forehand, lack of emotion, unwillingness to let go

Likes: Predictability, missionary position, vanilla ice cream

Dislikes: Pornography, change, dirt, tiebreakers

Favorite Food: Chicken

Picking My Brain: Arthur, not Artie or Art, is a throwback to a day gone by, but he has been able to adapt to our radical culture. He is probably one of the most competent and accurate people I have ever met; this being said, the man needs to find his groove and shake things up a bit.

Dalia Breston – Chief Accounting Officer

Age: 35

Social Status: Heat-seeking missile

Strengths: Balance, looks, personality, memory, liberation

Weaknesses: She's an accountant

Likes: Variety, debits, credits, shopping, walking around without a bra

Dislikes: Boundaries, imbalance, bras, conformity

Favorite Food: Lobster

Picking My Brain: Dalia once walked in my office and saw I was a little down. She said, "Would it help if I gave you a blow job?" and I replied, "Yes, but that's okay." She is great at sensing the needs of both people and being in sync with the flow of the numbers; she is very in tune with herself and what she wants to accomplish.

Natalie Evans – Marketing/Sales

Age: 37

Social Status: Divorced

Strengths: Bubbly personality, gets her point across, great memory

Weaknesses: Never forgets a thing; most emotional of the SVPs

Likes: People that listen, open-toed shoes, hot chocolate

Dislikes: New Jersey, cheesecake with fruit, sauerkraut

Favorite Food: Anything green

Picking My Brain: Natalie's got some deep, dark shit floating around in her head. You can tell by looking at her that her bright, cheery exterior must be hiding the haunted house that's inside. One of the best salespeople I have ever seen, because she offers genuine knowledge, not sales gimmicks.

Jorge Manza – Technology

Age: 42

Social Status: Married; no children

Strengths: Creativity, passion, great hair, incredible dancer

Weaknesses: Temper, ability to work in groups, not a great listener

Likes: Hot summer nights, golf, being in control

Dislikes: Authority figures, ice, baseball, waiting

Favorite Food: Pizza

Picking My Brain: Jorge and I have clashed on a few occasions. His upbringing in Spain has done little to discourage his hot Latin temper. Despite this, I consider him a good friend and often spend time with him and his wife, Carmen.

Zoe Schiller – General Counsel

Age: 33

Social Status: Single

Strengths: Social consciousness, blue eyes, good listener

Weaknesses: She is a lawyer

Likes: Getting her own popcorn at the movies, wearing pajamas to work, sleeping until 11 on Sunday

Dislikes: High heels, abuse of any kind, burnt popcorn, cell phones

Favorite Food: Anything chocolate

Picking My Brain: Zoe is one of those people that have a special quality about her (despite the fact she is a lawyer!). She has always been the one person I can talk to about my problems, despite the fact that she rarely ever endorses my ideas professionally.

Brandon Soul – Discovery

Age: 40

Social Status: Widowed

Strengths: Open mind, clear vision, team player

Weaknesses: Broken heart, social blindness, watches instead of participates

Likes: Peace and quiet, flowers, games with balls, bread, the beach

Dislikes: Phony people, vegetables, traffic, German Shepherds, bullies

Favorite Food: Spaghetti with Meatballs

Picking My Own Brain: I am about as closed off as a nun at a bachelorette party. Love is the thing that set me free in life, but it also the thing that I am the most afraid of.

It's always good to evaluate yourself every now and then. Life makes it so easy to pick out other people's flaws, and when it comes to self-reflection, people fool themselves by just scratching the surface and burying problems that impact their psyche.

The more I dug into the SVPs backgrounds, the more I started to believe that we had more of a common thread than just our good looks and impressive work credentials. While I thought the chain of abuse had begun with Graves and ended with me, my gut told me that my other colleagues had similar experiences.

My gut feelings are usually right, although I was way off base that one time when I thought it would be a good idea to remove some leaves from the roof of my house. That day my gut told me that I should climb up a ladder and sweep off a bunch of leaves that had accumulated on the roof. Why it mattered that leaves were up there in the first place I'm not really sure, but I knew they had to come down. I got up near the gutters and straddled one of my legs on the roof while trying to maintain my balance with my other leg near the ladder. I was about 20 feet off the ground and when I looked down, my confident gut feeling turned into fright and panic. Needless to say, I managed to get back down the ladder, and when I got out of the bathroom, I went back up and used my garden house to spray off the leaves.

What if it was true that the other SVPs had similar experiences to my childhood nightmare? I know from being around Graves that he researches everything... but how would he know that these horrible things even happened? It wasn't like any of these other people had made appearances on Oprah, but he could have secured a list of people or met them through KASA, Kids Against Sexual Abuse.

I hadn't even heard of K.A.S.A. until I was well into my 20's; the organization was holding a fundraiser in New York City and I attended the function more to hook-up than to support a worthwhile cause. I was so blocked off in those days that I wrote a check for one hundred dollars and then left the event after about 45 minutes. It was another five years, at least, before I even thought about K.A.S.A. again; after I read Nina's book we talked about it and decided to become active in the group. We volunteered our time to help kids gain confidence and manage the pain of abuse.

If it were true that the other SVPs had also suffered from child abuse, then I would consider using that as the tie that bound us in case trouble arose on the trip.

Comfortable

The helicopter ride from BlueTown to Mackinac Island was noisy but smooth. We were all wearing headsets and communicating like we were truck drivers on CB radios in my copter. The other copter was much more subdued with Dalia and Natalie talking most of the way, Arthur was his usual quiet self, and Jorge went to sleep a few minutes after takeoff.

Nobody was sleeping in our domed cruiser. My initial feeling was that Zoe was going to get lost amidst us boys, but she handled herself surprisingly well. Chef Michael was giving us a crash course on some of his favorite recipes and we made plans to cook with him once we got to the house. It was as if the Food Network had come to BlueWorld.

My plan was to sleep in my house, because I was more comfortable there. My house had four bedrooms and Lou's house had six, so there was plenty of room for everyone to have their own space. Both houses overlooked the water but my house was more of a modern contemporary, and Lou's palace was more of a traditional monstrosity. Solar panels were utilized throughout the houses, as well as the latest voice recognition technology. All you had to do was say a word and the associated object would react. You could walk through the garage and say "Garage door, kitchen light, kitchen TV" and before you knew it the garage door would close and the lights and TV would turn on in the kitchen.

I spent most weekends of the year at that house, except during the months of January and February when I usually stayed home and gave into the snow and cold. I worked out a lot of problems in that weekend house, when I was initially trying to get comfortable in my life without Nina. A few months after we purchased the Mackinac houses, there was a faint knock on my door.

Normally I wouldn't respond to a knock on my door at 11:00 pm, but I must have been in an adventurous mood that night. I was in the den watching some TV and I said, "Front door video," on the way through the kitchen. A picture of two scantily clad women flashed across my kitchen TV, so I pressed on.

I stopped walking when I reached the front door and said, "Who is it?"

One of the women replied, "Special delivery from Lou Graves."

The two ladies giggled as I opened the door, and one of them held a rather large box in her hands.

I said, "Here, let me take that box from you. Come on in, wouldn't want you to catch a cold out there."

We walked into the kitchen and I was more than willing to play along. "So, you ladies from around here?"

One of the women put her hand out and said, "Yes, we live down the road on the other side of Lou."

I looked at them with a familiar glance and stated, "You must be the Delancey sisters. Lou has told me all about you. I'm Brandon... Brandon Soul."

They introduced themselves as Kim and Kathy and I assumed that they were in there late 20's and staying at their parents' house.

Kim was about 5'4" and was built like a brick shit house; her sister Kathy was at least 5'10" and had the brightest red hair and bluest eyes you have ever seen. They were both wearing bikinis, sheer covering over their bottom, and flip-flops on their feet.

They opened the box and removed a covered chocolate cake, a bottle of tequila, and two canisters of whipped cream. Lou told me that he looked out of his bedroom window one day when he heard a couple of women talking and giggling next door. He peered out of the window and saw two beautiful topless women having a water fight with a few huge squirt guns. He then pulled a Lou Graves by walking straight outside and onto the deck to talk to them.

"Hey, can you girls keep it down. I'm trying to watch the Playboy Channel."

They thought he was serious at first, but then they saw him smile and the wet battle ensued. They came firing at him with all guns ablaze and chased Lou into his garage. A few moments later, he came out with a vengeance with his hose spraying all over their retreating bodies. Then he came over with a few towels and beers and they walked over to Lou's deck and sat down facing the water.

The girls still hadn't put their tops back on and Lou felt as comfortable as they did. Why wouldn't he? It's not every day you get to talk to a couple of pretty women without their tops on. Lou first thought he'd make a move for a ménage, but he quickly switched gears when he remembered that their parents were major supporters of his company. When they said "Kathy and Kim Delancey," Graves quickly replied, "Are you Barb and Fred's daughters?" They quickly went from sexual prey to friend's daughters in a few seconds.

Lou immediately thought of me when the target moved out of reach. He showed them around his house and they stopped at the bedroom. The girls acted like they had been in that situation a few times, and Graves knew he was running out of time. He said, "Brandon on Oprah," and the big screen television in his bedroom turned on. Kim and Kathy simultaneously said, "Cool," but their rosy mood was quickly dampened by what they saw and heard. Once the segment finished playing Graves said, "TV off" and the TV went dark.

He let the Oprah appearance set in for a few seconds and then he said, "Y'know he lives a few houses down from here." The girls said, "No way!" and then Kathy said "We have to go over there!"

I think Lou sensed that I was getting restless and could use the company. At the time I really wasn't sure how I was going to break out of it. Paying for a hooker was out of the question, and getting involved in a serious relationship was still off the emotional radar.

Back in my kitchen with the girls, Kim was busy making a huge batch of marguerites. We ate some of the chocolate cake and drank enough to bring all barriers down below the curb. Just as the mood was started to get steamy Kathy said, "We were sorry to hear about your loss."

My broad smile quickly turned into a frown as Kim gave Kathy a dirty look. After a few moments of awkward silence, Kim burst in and said, "But we were so touched by the way you handled yourself on Oprah."

She quickly turned the mood back around, and then I asked, "So, what's with the whipped cream?"

Kathy replied, "We thought you'd never ask."

These girls obviously loved to have fights with all sorts of shooting liquids. They went after me when I was completely unarmed and I had to think fast, so I thought of the one edible thing I could use and then lick off, icing. Chef Michael and I talked often and he had given me about a dozen tubes of icing in all different flavors.

Instead of running, I stayed and took a beating until I could get the frosting uncorked. An all-out food fight then ensued in my kitchen and we all wound up on the floor in a complete mess. Kathy and I started kissing, as Kim said she was going to take a shower. The girls seemed to be very territorial with their men and it seemed that the taller Kathy wanted first crack at chopping down the big tree.

After about twenty minutes of heated floor action, Kathy and I were both naked and heading for the shower. By that time, Kim was already cleaned up and lying on my bed watching TV. She smiled at us as we slid into the bathroom for a mind-blowing shower. I've never been so clean inside and out in my life. After the shower we all climbed into bed and Kim instantly picked up the mood by saying "Spice Channel." Two sets of hands were all over my body before I even knew what was happening. It felt good to be bad again.

Kim and Kathy usually made an annual pilgrimage over my house to check up on me. Kathy and I saw each other every weekend for years, as the two of were very sexually compatible. The weird part of having sex with the girls, and some other fans of my Oprah appearance, was that I never had sex in BlueTown. So it was no wonder that I went up to Mackinac almost every weekend to release, as my life had been split apart by business and pleasure. Being so active on the weekend away from my co-workers made it so much easier to relax and focus on business during the week.

I wasn't alone in my life split, either. In fact, Lou lived a similar existence, and that's why he was able to be such a successful leader. The morning I left for the SVP retreat, we had the following conversation:

"So, what are you really doing this weekend?" I asked Lou

"Why? Do you think I'm staying behind for a reason?" he replied.

"No, I don't think you're staying behind for a reason, I know you're staying behind for a reason," I stated.

"Oh, you do. Is that right? What are you basing this deduction on?" he asked.

"First of all, it's my job to see things that other people miss. Secondly, I've known you over 10 years and this is the first time I've even smelled a hint of cologne on you. So, I figure that you've either become a cologne tester on the side, or you have finally found someone you really like."

Graves nodded his head and smiled, "You are good."

"So, who's the woman?" I said refusing to back up.

Graves had been sitting in a comfortable chair across from me, but then got up and started pacing nervously. Not only did he look nervous, he was also beginning to sweat. I had seen Lou speak in front of thousands of people and not even break stride, but my question seemed to be causing him some angst.

Graves stopped pacing for a second and said, "Her name is Margaret."

I looked at him like he should continue talking, and he said sarcastically, "Is her name Ann Margaret, or does she have a last name?"

"Margaret Davis" he replied.

I took a minute because I didn't want to attack my good friend. Then I said, "She must be someone special because I've never seen you act this way."

Graves picked up his head and looked me straight in the eye, "She's the one, B."

Graves usually called me 'B,' which is short for Brandon, when we were alone. In turn, I called him 'LG.' "Are we talking about the same 'one' here? So, how long have you been dating her?"

"Do you remember that woman we met at the tailgate party at the Michigan-Ohio State game last year?"

I replied, "We met a lot of people. Can you narrow it down a bit for me?"

"We were eating hot dogs and this woman came over to us and introduced herself," Graves explained.

I thought back to the tailgate party and taking a bite of a hot dog, and then an attractive red-haired woman came over to us and introduced herself. "Yeah, I got a picture. Was she a redhead wearing a big M on her sweatshirt?"

"Yes, that was Margaret's sister."

"Her name was Denise, right?" I asked.

"Yes! She walked up to us and said..." Graves said before I flashed back to my New York roots and finished his sentence.

"Would you guys ever consider making products in pink or red?"

Graves continued, "And then we went back and forth with witty banter until she said 'I'm married but you would love my sister.'"

"Did you meet her that day? That was, what, five months ago?"

"She gave me her sister's number but I never called her. Do you know how many women give me their number or the number of someone they know?" Graves said.

"Yeah, about as many people following the Oprah appearance" I countered. "You're like the Brad Pitt of corporate America."

"Okay, okay. Settle down now! Graves said trying to slow my roll.

"So, how did you meet her?" I asked.

"You're going to like this story. Better get comfortable," Graves said as he sat back down in his chair.

"I was driving home from Chicago last month and it was late... it must have been about 1:00 am by the time I crossed the Michigan border. My eyes were starting to cross, so I turned off into a rest stop that had gas and a Dunkin' Donuts. I was on line to get a cup of coffee and a donut when this woman walked through the door looking pretty upset. The woman was about 5'7", had a medium build, and was wearing a pair of jeans, a University of Michigan fleece sweatshirt, and a Detroit Tigers baseball hat. She came up close to me and whispered, "I'll buy you a chocolate glazed donut if you take a look at my car." I turned and looked at her and replied, "Make it a cruller and you have a deal."

We walked out to her car she told me that she was coming home from the Cubs-Tigers pre-season game, and her car started making noise so she pulled over; she then called AAA but she said, "Everybody must be sleeping over there because the phone kept ringing."

Her car was a navy blue Ford Mustang convertible; I said to her, "That's what you get for buying an American car." She was about to gun me down for making such a statement but I quickly said, "That's my car next to yours."

I interjected, "Don't tell me it was the same car?"

Lou kept talking, "It was not only the same car but they were successive serial numbers. I opened the hood of the car and it seemed to be a computer problem more than anything. When I tried to turn the engine on the dashboard went a little haywire. I offered her a ride home and she replied, "Thank you, but after we eat some donuts." We talked for an hour at the Dunkin Donuts and then another hour on the way home. She lives in Ann Arbor."

"If you tell me that she's a Professor of Psychology at U of M I'm probably going to wet myself," I said.

"No, Sociology," he replied.

"Even better!" I excitedly stated.

"The truth was that I saw her at the game at the concession stand. She was talking to a Cubs fan and holding her own while applying mustard to her hot dog. I wanted to approach her, but someone recognized me and stopped to ask me if we made Cubs items. So I told him that we had a license with all of the blue Major League Baseball teams and that he should check out the concession stand, or our web site, for a more varied selection. By the time I refocused my attention on the woman she was gone."

"Does she have red hair like her sister?" I asked.

"No. Strawberry blonde,"

I said, "Nice. How old is she?"

"Old enough to know the difference between love and like, I hope. She's 41."

"Divorced? Never married? What?" I inquired.

Before he could say anything I noticed a somber change in his face, so I quickly said, "Widowed."

Lou shook his head in agreement and said, "She lost her husband five years ago to Lou Gehrig's disease."

I bowed my head in sympathy and then asked, "Any kids?"

"She has a son that is graduating from the U of M business school in May. I think you know him better than anyone," Lou said with a smirk on his face.

I thought for a stunned moment and then replied, "It's not T-Rex, my intern last summer?"

"Yeah, Terrence Rexwell is Margaret Davis Rexwell's son."

"That's weird," I said.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he replied in agreement.

"The kid absolutely adores you. That was the reason he took the internship in the first place," I said.

"Linda said I'm the first man since his father that he's given a chance. He usually very protective of her," Graves said while closing his eyes to relax.

I was going to speak but waited for a moment because my gut was telling me something. "You're going to ask this woman to marry you, aren't you?" I asked.

He blushed for the first time I had seen since we were kids. "You know what I get like when I feel sure about something..."

I agreed, "Yeah, we really don't waste time when our minds are set. Do you think the boy will have a problem with it?"

Graves sat back in his chair and smiled, "He's the one that gave me the green light."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, we went out to dinner one night, just the three of us, and Linda excused herself and went to the bathroom. I tried to make some small talk but he came out and said, "Are you going to marry my mother?"

I thought about giving him a vague answer, but I came right out with it, "Yes, as long as you're all right with it."

He cocked his head to the side and said, "As long as I'm all right with it? This might be one of the best days of my life!"

"So T-Rex is going to be my permanent assistant?" I asked Graves.

"Do you think that's the best thing?" he asked me.

"To be honest, I think the kid has a real head for numbers. He would be best utilized under either Bradley or Breston. If you want him to learn put him with Bradley, but if you want him to stare at Dalia's breasts and daydream all day, then by all means send him to accounting," I said with a smile.

"Okay, finance it is. Thanks for listening, B." Then he stood up and we hugged.

"I'm just glad that you're happy, big guy. Does this mean that I should be walking down that road pretty soon?" I asked.

Graves thought for a minute and then replied, "Yeah, now that Kathy Delancey is married, it could be time to get serious."

Maybe it was time to get serious, but I wasn't really sure where all of that love would be poured. If life had taught me one thing, it was that nothing ever stayed the same for too long.

Block Island

To say that Mackinac Island is a beautiful place for a retreat is like saying that the ocean is wet and salty. However, as you gaze at the jagged rocks and beautiful water, it becomes increasingly difficult to find your focus. Vacation destinations are for leisure and play, not work.

I sat on the back deck of my house overlooking the water and work was the farthest thing from my mind. My head turned toward Lou's house as I heard some loud talking coming from his deck. The other SVPs were already as loose as a spaghetti noose, and all of the potential for ideas had literally floated out to sea. They motioned for me to come over as I said to myself, "Welcome to Block Island."

We planned to meet at two o'clock that Saturday afternoon, but the BlueCopter 2 group went into town to go food shopping with Chef Michael. Then the meeting was bumped back to 5:00 and then after dinner at 7:00 pm. We were usually a pretty diligent group, but a feeling of complacency had swept over us like a cool breeze off the water.

Our meeting that night was somewhat productive, as we decided to split up into smaller groups, or teams, and then come back together to report on our findings Sunday night. Before I even had a chance to talk, Arthur and Dalia, the two financial gurus, paired off and took over the den at Lou's house. Natalie and Jorge decided to work together on the back deck. With everyone paired off, I was left to work with Zoe. I turned to her and said, "Let's go over to my house."

The one thing I learned from spending the day with a lawyer is that we spoke completely different languages. Zoe liked to explain everything from about ten different angles, and I preferred a more visual approach and to simply show people. I was the listener of the duo and attempted to take it all in before offering my own input.

Zoe's idea was that the company should think about introducing new colors. She said, "Could you take some of our existing products and see what they would look like in different colors?"

I nodded "Yes" and then left the kitchen to work in my den.

I looked at Zoe and asked, "Have you ever been in my house?"

She quickly responded, "No, you never asked me over."

"Well, let me take you on the nickel tour then," I stated.

We went from room to room and I didn't get the feeling she was too impressed. Zoe was a tough New York girl, and she had so many layers of armor around her that it was tough to see through her most of the time.

"This is my favorite room in the house," I said as I walked up the stairs to my attic, water room.

"Wow! I can see why you like it so much here," she stated.

The water room was painted blue and the wall facing the water and the ceiling was totally exposed. Thanks to an excess of blue solar panels, I was able to line the ceiling and also use some clear solar panels on the wall facing the water. It's good to be friends with people in the business. I lined the floor with recycled rubber, which gave it a soft cushy feel like sand. The ceiling was also not a traditional, sloped attic ceiling. When I bought the house I had the roof raised three feet and angled it so I wouldn't bang my head on the corners.

We took a seat on the two white, cushioned Adirondack chairs that faced the window and put our feet up on the ottomans.

"This isn't half bad, Soul," Zoe said.

"You mean you actually like something that has to do with me?" I asked.

She responded with a surprised tone in her voice, "What do you mean? Are you saying that I always shoot down your ideas?"

"The words 'shoot down' may be a little harsh, but you are one of the SVPs that is always lukewarm to my concept introductions," I stated.

She was astonished, "I don't do that!"

"Then name me one thing that's come out of my mouth that you've liked!" I challenged.

She thought for a minute and then slyly replied, "I agreed when you said this was your favorite room in the house."

I quickly countered, "Why do you give me such a hard time at work?'

She put her head down for a moment in a rare retreat. "I don't know."

"I do."

She looked confused, "You do?"

"Yeah, and it's been weighing on my mind for some time," I said.

Just then the phone rang and I got up to answer it. It was Lou on the line sounding all excited.

I said, "Let me call you right back." I turned to Zoe and said, "I'm sorry, Zoe, we'll have to finish this later." I walked out of the attic and down to my bedroom, where I called Lou back.

"Hey big guy, what's going on?" I asked.

Lou said, "I just picked up the ring and I'm getting a bit nervous. I wish you were here."

"You want me to come home? When are you going to ask her?" I asked.

"Yeah, could you? I'm going to ask her tonight. I'll have a helicopter there in 20 minutes."

"Why don't you have them pick me up at the Mackinac Airfield just outside of town? I don't want the others seeing me leave," I said.

"Okay, will do," Graves stated.

"All right, I'll see you in a few minutes," I said as I hung up the phone.

I walked back into the hallway and Zoe was coming down the stairs.

"Do you want to finish that conversation now?" she said.

"No can do. As much as I'd love to do that, I have to cut out for a few hours. I'll be back in time for the meeting. See you later."

She looked puzzled and muttered, "I can't pin that man down."

I sped to the Mackinac Airfield and jumped on the BlueCopter that had just touched down. While flying back home, I thought about why I kept most people at a comfortable distance. Was it a natural evolution from my disturbing childhood, or was it my way of protecting my heart from being broken again?

Going to see Lou in his time of need definitely brought things into perspective for me. He made the transformation from widower, to sexual deviant, to responsible adult and loving partner. I was still working on the loving partner thing, but I definitely had the other stages down to a tee. My BlueTown demeanor was so pristine that I never slept with anyone inside of town. Hell, I was such a boy scout that I hadn't even been on as much as a date.

The same could not be said of my life up north at the weekend house. I was much more relaxed and had as many as two or three partners per year, although there were a many repeat customers such as Kathy Delancey. The vacation house was not a reality-based existence - making a commitment in a utopia such as that would be like being dropped on the top of Mount Everest and feeling a real sense of accomplishment.

Helping Lou get through the jitters of his marriage proposal to Linda Rexwell was also his way of showing me the light. There were very few things that Lou Graves did without a purpose. He was the kind of man that would bring his lunch and dinner leftovers to the local homeless shelter. Waste is not part of his life, and I think that has been the key ingredient to our success at BlueWorld. We even recycle our own materials in-house for paper and plastic products, and I'm sure that he is working on a way to efficiently reuse garbage.

My copter touched down at BlueWorld and Lou was waiting for me in the lobby. He shook my hand and said "Walk with me back to my house."

The usual cool Graves had sweaty palms; I wiped the excess liquid off on my shorts and saw sweat dripping off his body. "I hope you just worked out, or else you're a mess," I said trying to help him get a grip on the situation.

He looked at me like I was crazy, "Yeah, of course I just worked out. I had to take all of this nervous energy and convert it to positive energy."

"You do have a thing about waste," I said smiling.

"Don't you?" he asked as he started walking faster.

"Yeah, I'm starting to wonder if I'm a two-headed coin." I said looking for some help.

Lou thought for a minute and answered, "You mean your BlueWorld head and your weekend head?"

We approached his house and he continued, "Being professional has nothing to do with being in love."

"But being in love has a lot do with being professional," I added.

He smiled and said, "I wanted to ask your opinion on something."

I was expecting him to ask me something that required a thoughtful answer, but instead he coyly said as we walked into his closet, "I'm deciding between the blue or the white shirt, and I have no idea what tie I'm going to wear."

I expected Carson Pressley to bust through the door with the rest of his Queer Eye for the Straight Guy team. I shot Lou a puzzled look and replied, "You wanted me to come all the way back here so you could ask me about your wardrobe for tonight?"

He looked at me the way experience looks at wet behind the ears; although we were best friends, Lou was definitively the big brother in the relationship. "You're trying to feel secure in your personal life and I'm trying to settle into putting a ring on someone's finger."

I looked down at the ground and he kept talking, "This is a special moment in our lives and I wanted to share it with my best friend."

I picked up my head, smiled, and then we met in a thunderous hug. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world, big bro'," I said as we were still entangled.

"It's funny how things worked out," he said as we separated.

I was still smiling and replied, "What do you mean?"

"One day I was content being a bachelor and the next moment I was staring at my present and future at a baseball game," he stated.

I said, "It must be that destiny thing rearing its multicolored head again."

Lou looked me in the eyes and jabbed his finger lightly into my chest, "Keep your head up, B. Your future could be staring you in the face and you might not even realize it."

I chewed on that one for a few seconds as Lou walked into the bathroom. He yelled, "Could you get me a towel from the linen closet, please. I'm going to take a quick shower."

I replied, "Yeah, I'll be right there."

I walked down the hallway, opened the door to the linen closet, and pulled out one of the large Carolina blue towels. Just about as I was going to head back into the Lou's bedroom, I saw a huge map of the world spread on a wall in one of the bedrooms. I walked into the room and stood directly in front the huge map, with blue circles around Argentina, Israel, Sweden, New Zealand, and Greece. I had seen this map before when Lou was planning to buy properties in these locations about seven years earlier. I think we both had figuratively put away these inexpensively-purchased properties, which had blossomed into multi-billion holdings over the years.

I carried the towel back into the bedroom and tossed it near the shower in the bathroom. "I forgot about all of those properties. Thanks for showing them to me," I said.

Graves stepped out of the shower and replied, "I wasn't talking about the map."

I took my leave shortly after that and wished Graves luck. He said, "Luck doesn't have anything to do with it" in a sarcastic voice. In fact, the only thing surer than Linda saying "Yes" was the fact that my head would be filled with more than just buzzing on the flight back to Mackinac Island.

Once I stepped back in the helicopter, my mind literally went on autopilot. I was thinking less about the map of the world and more about the map of my brain. I thought to myself, "What did Lou mean about my future staring me in the face and I might night even realize it?"

I was so blocked up by the time I got back, that the island seemed to be spinning. Driving quickly back to the house and stepping inside with a few minutes to spare before the meeting was a nice bonus. Too bad I went back to my house and everyone else was at Lou's house. I sat in my den in my favorite chair facing the water and just stared into space until I saw a body in front of me on the deck blocking the sun.

"What are you doing?" Zoe said through the glass of the patio doors.

I slowly broke out of my daze and got up from the chair and let her in the house.

"We're about to start the meeting," she stated.

She didn't know what question to ask next, so she decided to merge a few together. "Where did you go and why are you acting so weird?"

I tried to remove the cobwebs by shaking my head back-and-forth a few times. "Wow. I don't know where I just was?"

"What the hell happened to you?" Zoe said in her usual abrupt tone.

Just then, the strangest thing happened, I started crying. I have no explanation why this occurred. I fully realize that there is no crying in business, so it must have purely been an emotional release at my emotional release location.

Zoe stood there watching me bury my head in my hands and bawl my eyes out like a kid that just skinned his knee on the concrete. She didn't know what to do at first because her position with me had always been so standoffish. Never seeing the "human" side of me left Zoe protecting the tender side of her.

"Hey, hey, it's going to be alright Brandon," Zoe whispered as she slowly bent over to comfort me.

Crying is the body's way of releasing excess water. Okay, that's the real man's version... the truth is that tears flow in extremes for most people. Joy and pain have a way of amping up the old emotional meter at times. I'm not sure what the hell I was feeling other than numbness, proving that shutting down your heart is probably the worst thing you can do in life.

I picked up my head and looked at Zoe through tear-filled eyes, "I just can't move on."

She replied, "Are you still pained by the loss of your wife?"

I nodded my head in agreement and said, "That's not all. There is something else that never seems to leave me."

"Everybody has things that pain them," Zoe stated like she wanted to talk about something herself.

I wiped away the tears with the back of my right hand and then she reached and got me a few tissues from her pocket. I looked at her wondering why she would carry so many tissues in the pocket of her shorts.

"I have allergies, so I carry them around," she explained.

"What kind of pain do you have?" I asked.

She replied, "You have to tell me your deep, dark secret first."

I shot back, "You know my story. Didn't you watch the Oprah show?"

"Yeah, I watch Oprah. What are you talking about?"

"You never saw me on Oprah?" I asked.

"Get the fuck out of here! You were on Oprah?"

"Yeah, I was on Oprah. Why don't you go back to Lou's house and walk into his bedroom and say, "Brandon on Oprah. Let's go to the meeting and we'll talk later.

I washed my face and wondered for a split-second why Zoe came to get me? We walked back to Lou's house and the other SVPs were waiting for us in the dining room around a huge oval table. I could sense before I even sat down that the ideas would be as off-key as a middle school orchestra.

It didn't take long for alpha male, Bradley, to jump into the deep end of the waterless pool. "I think Dalia and I have come up with a conservative, yet effective solution."

The numbers group must have been crunching all day. The only crunching I had done was eating a bowl of Sugar Pops for breakfast.

Dalia took over, but I honestly didn't hear a word she said. "We see a quick solution to our earnings shortfall to be a 5% reduction in staff." There were rolling eyes and deep breaths all around the table. BlueWorld is a growth company, not an organization that fires people. Graves never believed in retreat, and he would always go on the offensive at the hint of trouble. Besides Dalia's skimpy bikini, which revealed her ample assets, the financial group's contribution was a complete bust.

The Sales/Marketing-Technology connection was up next, and their presentation was expected to be colorful and interesting.

Jorge took the lead, "We think there is room at the top and the bottom of the market."

Natalie continued, "Our idea is to introduce a premium and discount line of products." She then whipped out some boards and she and Jorge explained the different product line variations. At least it was an offensive step in the right direction, but we were already doing some variations on our product lines. It may be narrow-minded to think that I come with every idea at BlueWorld - and no, I am not an accolade hog, I'm a direction person. The individual ideas and decisions come from the separate departments. If BlueWorld were a ship, I would be the guy that charted the course and reported to the captain.

My group was the last to present and once Jorge hooked our laptop up to a projector, Zoe took the lead in explaining our vision. We had flirted with mixing other colors into our blue scheme in the past, but never actually released products into the wild. I had not seen any of the work that Zoe produced and was just as eager as the other people to see what she came up with. Her three-dimensional presentation was entertaining and started with a twist.

"We decided to explore other colors, so we came up with a line of products with a twist," Zoe proudly said. All of the blue products had a burst of color running through the middle, or a "twist" as she called it. She seemed to strike a balance between completely abandoning our blue way of life and revolutionizing our cozy niche. Not bad for a lawyer.

Since I was basically the second in command, the group usually looked to me for some clarity. Zoe was sitting next to me and said out loud, "So Brandon, what do you think?"

I stood up and looked at all of the ideas again and then replied, "These are all great ideas, and I really appreciate all of the work that went into them, but I think we are still lacking a single idea that Lou is looking to have a significant impact. Don't get me wrong. These are all ideas we will use in the future, except, hopefully, cutting staff."

I looked at Dalia and Arthur, "Sorry guys. It does make perfect sense financially, but I don't think Lou ever wants to back up."

I continued, "What we need is an idea that makes shareholders and analysts immediately take their eyes off of the earnings shortfall. Any ideas?"

"We could paste a picture of Dalia in that bikini on attach it to the release," Natalie said.

I had a similar thought, but expected one of the guys to come up with it.

The SVPs had come up with their best shots and were now shooting blanks. Graves had scheduled a videoconference with the seven of us for Tuesday at noon, meaning that we only had a few days to piece together brilliance.

I was still reeling from my afternoon rendezvous with Graves and subsequent talk with Zoe. My business head would be stuck with everyone else's, on Chopping Block Island, until it was time to make some magic happen.

Release

We agreed to do some thinking on our own for the afternoon and then meet up at a local bar and dance club at night. I went home to brainstorm and possibly take a little nap in my hammock. Since I hate bugs, the hammock was stretched across the attic just under the dolphin-shaped ceiling fan.

About 45 seconds after I nestled into the hammock and it started to sway back and forth, my eyes shut and I was fast asleep. It didn't hurt that I slipped an ocean waves CD into the player before I got comfortable. The nap was one of the most peaceful rests I can remember, except the dream I had near the end about walking down the aisle with resident bully, Turk Grazier. It was wrong on so many levels, and I was still having the nightmare when I felt someone sitting on my lap.

"What are you dreaming about," the female voice purred.

I slowly opened my eyes thinking that I might still be dreaming. It's not every day that a vivacious woman in a bikini goes spread eagle on your lap.

"Dalia, am I still dreaming?" I said.

"Well that depends on your next move, B?" she replied.

"I was having a bad dream," I said.

Dalia finally calmed her libido down to normal levels so we could talk. She dismounted off of my lap and put her head next to my feet and her feet next to my head. We were literally two people facing in different directions... or so I thought.

"What's troubling you, B?" she asked while looking up through the clear ceiling and to the blue sky. "You know that bad dreams come from bad experiences," she theorized.

"You ever have any bad dreams, Double D?"

She started laughing, "I always did like that nickname. How come you never let me have my way with you?"

"Do you always talk about sex to avoid talking about painful things?" I asked.

"You know sometimes I don't even talk about it, I just do it," she said as she ran her hand up my leg.

"You would never have it so good," I replied.

She then sat up and said, "Does this body look like I haven't had it good?" She reached her arm to her neck and untied the top of her bikini. She then threw the skimpy bikini top on the floor and let her incredible 36DD breasts do the talking. I, or course, sat up to take a look and she started rubbing the bulge that was growing in my pants. Just then, someone came bouncing up the stairs:

"Brandon, are you up here? I watched the Oprah show. Do you want to finish that talk?" Zoe said as she stopped in her tracks upon entering the room. Her mouth opened wide at the sight of a topless Dalia and the bulge in my pants. Dalia looked at Zoe and then the bulge in my pants and said, "See Zoe, I told you he had a big dick."

Zoe turned red and then abruptly left the room without saying a word. I was about to get up but I decided to let the wind blow out my sails first.

"Now, where were we?" Dalia said as she started rubbing Mr. Happy again.

I put my hand over Dalia's hand despite the fact that all the blood in my body had rushed to the center of my universe.

"Now that you proved that you can get me excited, and simultaneously embarrass Zoe, let's get back to the pain," I said as she removed her hand from the region of pleasure.

"You're no fun, Brandon. If you show me yours, I'll show you mine," she said.

"We're talking about pain, not body parts right?' I questioned.

"Yeah, Boy Wonder."

"Well you know the story about my wife..."

"Yeah, who doesn't" she quickly replied as she rested her head back near my feet.

"Right, so I was molested repeatedly when I was a kid by the homosexual neighborhood bully."

She sat up quickly, "Are you gay?"

Just then Zoe was walking up the stairs and heard Dalia's question. She chimed in, "You're gay?"

"This is not my day," I said to myself. "Holy crap! Zoe, do you ever knock?"

"There's no door to this room," she replied.

"Zoe, I'm in the middle of talking to Dalia. I'd be happy to continue our conversation later when my erection subsides and I'm not thinking gay thoughts."

She started blushing again, but I could sense some relief in her face as she walked back downstairs.

"She likes you, B," Dalia said with a smile on her face.

"Stop trying to change the subject, Miss Thang," I replied.

"First answer my question," she stubbornly said.

"Do me a favor and rub me again," I playfully stated.

She sat up and started manipulating me again and I got instantly hard. I said, "Would a gay man get hard that fast if a beautiful woman was rubbing his penis?"

Dalia thought for moment. "So you're not gay. How come you've never slept with me or any other woman at BlueWorld?"

"Because I have respect for each and every one of you, and I try to keep business and pleasure separate," I replied. "You don't think that I've sat in meetings with you and fantasized about making sweet monkey love to you?"

"Oh, that's good to know!" she exclaimed as she went back on her knees and straddled me again. "You're not my type anyway. You're much too sweet."

"So tell me about your experience," I said.

She still had no top on, so it was difficult to divert attention away from my swollen member. She rubbed against me and said, "First it was one football player, and then two, and then the entire offense took turns on me against my will."

She stopped grinding and my erection subsided like a turtle ducking into its shell and away from danger.

She continued, "I was 14 and pretty developed back then. The team's quarterback kept flirting with me, and what freshman wouldn't want to be with the star of the football team?"

She started to cry as I let her fall onto my chest and into my arms. "My mother nearly passed out when she saw me walk through the door that afternoon. It took her a good two hours to get the truth out of me, and then she sped me to the doctor so I could get an exam to make sure I was all right. I think I was in shock that night and then the next few weeks, because I don't remember much more than the football coach and team pleading with me to keep it quiet. Once my parents went to the principal, it wasn't long before they were all expelled and sent to military school."

She paused a second and asked me, "So, what did your parents do when you told them about the gay bully?"

I took a deep breath and replied, "I never told them. They found out when they watched Oprah, like the rest of the country."

"Wow! Your poor parents," she said as she sat back up and straddled me.

She slowly got up from the hammock and said, "I have to pee. I'll see you later, B." She reached down and picked up her bathing suit top and put it on in front of me. She then bent down and kissed my briefly on the lips and walked out of the room.

I rocked back-and-forth in the hammock for a few minutes before dozing off. My house was finally empty and I needed a little rest. It was exhausting dealing with all of those personalities in such a tight space. Little did I know that the real action of the retreat was still a ways down the road.

When I have to dig up emotions about my past it usually drains me. I must have been sleeping for at least an hour when the smell of Chef Michael's barbeque invaded my senses. I awoke to see a plate of chicken and ribs staring me in the face on a table across the room. I initially thought the smell was so strong that it wafted all the way from Lou's house to my house, but was happy to discover that the food had made its way to me.

The sun was setting and my co-workers had started drinking before leaving for the nightclub. I took a long shower to try to wake up a bit, and stepped onto my light blue bath mat. Jorge walked in and handed me a towel. "Dude, you better get over there. The drinking games have gotten out of hand."

"I'll be there as soon as I get dressed," I replied.

Jorge left and then I took my sweet-ass-time getting dressed. If there's one thing I know about people getting drunk, it is that they never go anywhere fast.

The last streaks of day were fading fast as I walked down the beach and up onto Lou's back deck. I was greeted with, "Where have you been Brando?" by a sloshed Natalie Evans.

I walked through the back door and into the kitchen, where Jorge was adding to the fray by pressing buttons on the blender to create the perfect margarita. Zoe and Dalia were doing shots of tequila. The problem being that Zoe wasn't much of a drinker, and Dalia looked like a college senior messing with a freshman.

"Why don't we have a little talk before we go out," I said to Dalia, as she handed me a shot and I powered it down.

Zoe was having trouble putting her words together and she yelled, "Okay everybody, let's do this thing!"

I escorted Zoe over to a chair and Jorge handed me a tall glass filled with slushy poison piled to the top. Dalia and Natalie found their seats and then Jorge sat down next to me and whispered, "Just in the nick of time." I looked around the table and said, "Where is Arthur?"

Jorge shook his head like I was about to walk over a land mine. Dalia and Natalie started giggling and Zoe blurted out, "He's watching a porno!"

I started laughing, never thinking that she might have spoken the truth. Jorge poured the rest of the margarita blend into my half-empty glass and said in his Latin accent, "It's true my friend. Arturo has been the life of the party."

I shook my head in disbelief and stood up from my chair. Everyone pointed toward the den and I said, "Den it is."

What I saw next might have damaged me for life. Arthur Bradley, CFO and straight shooter, standing a few feet away from the big screen in his boxer shorts gyrating and yelling at two people having sex on the TV.

"Give it to that bitch! Yeah, that's right. Take all of it."

I didn't bother to say a word, because that would have generated another five years of intensive therapy if I saw him flopping out of his boxer shorts.

I walked back into the kitchen and poured myself a shot of tequila and poured it down my throat. "That was both unexpected and quite disturbing," I said. "Let me just throw this out there. Is there anyone here that has been sexually abused?" I raised my hand and then everyone else in the room followed.

We went around the room and I said, "Gay bully," then Dalia said, "Football team," Jorge said, "Fourth-grade teacher," Natalie said, "Brother," Zoe slurred, "Girls at camp," and then Arthur ran through in his boxer shorts and said, "Priest!"

I asked, "Did any of you know that we all had this in common?" A unanimous "No" was heard.

Dalia said to me, "How could you not know. It seems you know everything." Before I could respond Zoe blurted, "That's not true! He doesn't know that I love him!"

I looked at Zoe and then everyone looked at me for a response. I nodded at Jorge to hit me again with another shot. Zoe rested her head on the table and then I said, "Why don't you guys go ahead to dinner. I'll bring Zoe back from the dead and I'll meet you at the club later."

I got a bunch of pats on the back as I picked up Zoe and carried her to the couch. Arthur came running through again and Dalia yelled to him, "Hey, Art! We're going out! Get dressed!"

He yelled back, "Can I see those Double-D's later?"

"Yeah, if you get dressed in the next 30 seconds!" she replied.

Twenty-eight seconds later Arthur Bradley was standing at the front door like a kid waiting for the bus on the first day of school. Jorge came over to me and handed me a bucket, so I would be prepared in the likely scenario that Zoe's lunch came back up. I picked up the bucket and said to Jorge, "I think I'm going to take her out to the deck. It will be a lot easier to hose it down then trying to clean this carpet."

"Good idea. We'll see you later," Jorge said as the five of them, including Chef Michael, left the house.

Zoe was barely conscious by the time I placed her in the Adirondack chair facing the water. It was 8:30 pm and it appeared the night ahead would be as long as Zoe's legs. I never realized how long her legs were- pants or long skirts always concealed her 5'9" frame, but the shorts she was wearing definitely made me see her in a different light. I had never looked at Zoe that way before; being so guarded at work always prohibited me from gawking too openly at the women in the office. It was pretty impossible to avoid Dalia's jiggling breasts, but everything else remained in the dark.

My old college roommate, Ralph Wojowski, always said that you had to wait for the clean-out before you could resurrect the alcoholically impaired. Zoe's head was moving randomly like a bobble head doll as she tried to talk to me. "Brandon, is that you?"

I replied, "Yes Zoe, it's me."

Her eyes were barely open as she smiled, "I knew you would take care of me."

Before I even had a chance to respond she bowed her head and threw up in the wastebasket. I grabbed the back of her t-shirt, which read BlueJew, so she wouldn't fall forward. When she was finished, I sat her back in the chair and went inside to get a washcloth. Once I found the washcloth in the linen closet, I wet it with so cool water and walked back outside.

"I think I drank too much," a pained Zoe said.

I threw a pad on the floor and knelt down next to her. It was apparent by her smile that the cool cloth was soothing her uneasiness. She extended her right arm up and cradled my right hand in her hand.

"Have I told you that I love you?" she asked me.

As I was about to respond she started spewing her guts into the bucket again. That ended any speculation in my mind about washing the bucket out and using it again.

With all of her meals in return-to-sender mode, Zoe appeared to be finished throwing up. I got a big garbage bag and then disposed of the contents down the backyard sink. I then sprayed down everything with disinfectant and hosed it down with water before depositing the blue garbage bag.

Zoe looked a little green, but I thought her best bet would be to clean up. She was wearing flip-flops, which also went into the garbage. I decided to put her right into the shower so that she would feel even better.

So, in we went me with my shorts on and Zoe apparently feeling better as each minute went by. While she was still weak I could see that light returning as I scrubbed her down with liquid soap. While I thought the shower would be more effective with her clothes off, there was no way that I would initiate that process while she was under the influence. It's not my thing to take advantage of people... where's the challenge in that?

Lou had a large seat built into his glass shower so he could sit down when the steam was on. I took the liberty of putting the steam on after a few minutes so Zoe could sweat some more of the alcohol out of her system.

As the steam filled the shower we were only able to see vague images of each other.

"You can take the rest of my clothes off," Zoe said in a faint voice.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes. Thanks for being such a gentleman," she replied.

So I slowly took off her drenched shorts and panties and then removed her t-shirt and bra. I put the wet cloths in a towel and placed them in another garbage bag.

"Before you come back in here take off your clothes, too," Zoe said with, I'm sure, a smiling face.

I took my shorts off, put a pad on the shower seat and then sat down. I could feel the heat of Zoe's body approaching me as I squirted some soap into my hands. She leaned up against me as I started washing her from head to toe. She then sat between my legs with her back to me, as I shampooed her hair a few times.

I couldn't help but be excited throughout the shower. We never kissed, or talked, but we both did plenty of washing. It was the most erotic experience of my life. Near the end of the shower we were both so excited that all it took were a few minutes of manipulating for us both to release. Zoe collapsed in my arms and I carried her exhausted body out of the shower. Once I dried her off, I put her in bed, and she fell fast asleep.

Before dozing off, she opened her eyes briefly and said, "Thanks for taking care of me."

I put the covers over her, turned out the lamp on the night table, kissed her on the forehead and replied, "You don't have to thank me." She hugged me and I hugged back, and then walked out of the room. As much as I wanted to stay with Zoe, I couldn't help but see what was going on at the club.

It took me a few minutes to get dressed and then another ten minutes to be driven to the club. It would have been stupid for any of us to try to drive, so we had a hybrid limo waiting to shuttle us to and from the club at our request.

It was about 11:15 pm when the bouncer checked my name off, unhinged the red rope, and opened the door to the club. There was a line around "The Bar," but pseudo-celebrity obviously had its privileges. The music was thumping as I walked through the main room and to a private room that was reserved for us. What I saw next changed the way I thought of my fellow SVPs forever...

I turned the corner and saw Arthur dancing on a table with his overexposed boxer shorts still on. He had a tie knotted around his head as a headband, and his moves were surprisingly rhythmical for a rigid white man.

My eyes panned over the other side of the room where Dalia, Natalie, and Chef Mike were intertwined in a ball of hands, lips, and tongues. "Yello!" is what I said when I saw that threesome going at it like they were trying to remove the filings from each other's mouths.

Jorge was salsa dancing with one of the waitresses and simultaneously giving her a lesson when I walked over to talk to him.

"How is Zoe feeling?" he asked.

"She's fine! What the hell is going on?" I countered.

"It's just nature taking its course, my friend," he replied.

"Yeah, nature." I said to myself.

"So, do you feel the same way about Zoe that she feels about you?" Jorge inquired.

I must admit that the combination of the erotic and disturbing behavior going on around me was clouding my judgment a bit. That, and the fact that I wasn't used to talking about my personal life with co-workers, was throwing me off a bit.

"What do you mean, do I love her?"

He looked me straight in the eye and stated, "You've been in love with her for years now."

I started laughing because I initially thought he was kidding. "What?" I said acting a bit confused.

"Are you serious?" Jorge said in his best Latin accent. "It was obvious to all of us that you two would be together one day. Hey, you're not the only one that sees things."

The tables were turned and I was being observed for a change. It felt a bit weird at first but I was happy to release the burden of discovery. The reason my personal life had suffered after Nina's death was because I failed to strike a balance; balance is everything in life and every being has two sides. Responsible people have to put all of that structure somewhere. Blowing off steam by dancing in your boxer shorts, or going to strip clubs, or even eating bad food, is often waiting on the other side of the pendulum.

Jorge was a study in balance, but he was never really got too high or too low. To say that he was a picture of cool would be like saying that Shaq is a tall guy; I suppose some things are just that obvious. His balance came in the form of always being true to himself. He was never afraid of making a fool of himself, because fear is what makes the fool, not the act.

Looking at Arthur dance the whole night, I couldn't help but think that we all had been set free from our burdens. That we were finally being released from years of torment. It was so much easier sharing your pain with others with similar aching. When trust is destroyed like smashing a sledgehammer into a pain of glass, moving on with your life and putting the pieces back together becomes an impossible task. It takes a strong person to stand up and move on, but it takes a village to ease the pain.

After three hours of dancing, a sweaty Arthur stepped down from the table. I handed him a bottle of water and a towel and he took a deep, long breath.

"You were really getting your freak on, Art," I said as I was unsure what kind of mood he would be in.

"Thanks. I haven't danced like that in years," he replied.

It was obvious that had sweated out the majority of the alcohol he consumed. For the most part, the Arthur I knew was back but with a slight twist.

"I never told anyone about that priest before tonight," he said as he wiped his face with the towel.

"Wow! Don't feel so bad... when I came out, about a billion people new about it," I said. "How old were you when it happened?"

"Well, I was an altar boy from the time I was nine until my early teens," he replied.

"It must have been difficult to carry that around all of these years," I stated.

"Damn near ruined my marriage," he said as he started crying. "How am I going to tell my wife?"

I patted him on the back and said, "The same way you did tonight, but I would probably wait to put the porno's on until after you have told her," I said trying to cheer him up.

"How come none of us ever knew that we all had suffered through abuse?" Arthur asked.

I thought for a minute, "You know Lou. He likes to let us figure things out. He also went through some things as a kid."

The light went on in Arthur's head and he replied, "Everything happens for a reason."

"Yeah, even you gyrating like you're mixing chocolate milk up in there," I said as I pointed to the table where he was dancing.

The steam had dissipated at the Dalia, Natalie, and Chef Michael party that was going on. Mike got up and went to the bathroom leaving Natalie and Dalia still sitting arm-in-arm together. I walked over to them after Arthur left me to find his clothes.

"So don't tell me that you three are an item now."

"Dalia replied, "Nah, Natalie and I have been together for a few years now."

I started laughing, then abruptly stopped when they both looked serious. "Really? That's interesting."

"How come you never let us play with you Brandon," Natalie asked.

When I looked at the two women, Natalie a beautiful chocolate sister with clear skin, long legs, and full lips, and Dalia, the full sexual package, I had absolutely no idea why I had avoided such pleasure.

"Because I just let the pussy come to me," I said with a straight face.

They both fell off the couch they were sitting on, and I sat in the spot they vacated. They got up of the floor and sat on either side of me.

"We've always wanted to take the big boy down, D," Natalia said.

"Yeah, I checked him out earlier and he is really packing," Dalia replied.

"Let me see," Natalia said as she rubbed my crotch.

Dalia also assisted in the excitement process, and before I could stop them, they made me proud.

"That tree's gonna make Zoe real happy," Natalie said as she shook my manhood."

"Yeah, B. If you and Zoe ever split up come by and give us a turn on the ride."

They removed their hands and then kissed me on both cheeks. I waited a few seconds for my erection to subside and said, "I'm gonna' go and check on that woman."

They both slapped me on my butt and yelled, "Good luck!" as I walked out of the club. The limo was waiting for me outside and I was home within minutes. Zoe was still in Lou's house and I knew that I had to spend the night with her, so I changed my clothes and walked over there.

Lou's house was eerily quiet and dark when I arrived. I walked in and said, "Front hall lights," so I could see where I was going. I thought I had put a few lights on when I left earlier, but apparently that wasn't the case. I walked into the room that Zoe was sleeping in, and got under the covers and slid behind her. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and rested my head on the pillow nest to hers.

"Is that you, Brandon?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" I whispered.

"Thanks for coming back," she said.

I started laughing, "I need to be with you, Zoe."

I hugged her tight and she snuggled into me.

"Get some rest. I love you too, Zoe."

I wasn't sure at first if she heard what I said. She was so tired that I felt that there was a good chance that she faded off to sleep before my words came out. I waited a few minutes before I went to sleep so I could unwind the day's events in my mind: Zoe and I almost had "the big talk" early in the day when she was inside my house for the first time; Dalia rode me until we had a sincere talk about our difficult pasts; Lou was going to propose to his girlfriend, Linda; Arthur watched his first porno and apparently liked it; we discovered that all of us were sexually abused; Zoe told me that she loved me; Jorge is still the best dancer in the company; I wasn't sure why I didn't sleep with both Natalie and Dalia; and I told Zoe that I loved her, too, but I wasn't sure if she heard me. It was quite a day.

Breakthrough

I had fallen asleep without incident and had one of most restful nights in recent memory. The last dream I can remember had a real interesting twist; it went something like this:

I was at the Mackinac house stretched out in my hammock, when I heard someone coming up the stairs. It was Zoe and she had a microphone in her hand...

"Let me first introduce our stripper for this evening," she said.

I yelled out loud, "Dalia!"

When Arthur Bradley walked through the door in a G-string, I knew I had to dig deep and alter the course of the dream.

Bradley jumped out of the window after he yelled, "My wife will never believe me!"

My focus then shifted back to Zoe, who then said, "Dalia the belly dancer."

I could feel the center of my body rising as Dalia seductively danced in full belly-dancing garb.

Zoe then said, "Natalie."

Natalie was wearing the same outfit as Zoe and had a surprisingly kick-ass body.

Zoe continued, "Mike and Jorge."

When the guys rolled in with genie-looking outfits I started laughing. Jorge went off by himself and danced in the left corner of the room; Mike, Natalia, and Dalia walked over to the right side of the room and started to undress each other.

"And last but certainly not least..." Zoe said in an elevated tone. "Your future wife, Zoe!"

Zoe was wearing a robe and she slowly unraveled it as she stepped closer to me. The next thing I saw was a bright flash of white light and then Zoe was kissing my neck and rubbing my solid manhood. It was morning and the sail had all the breeze it needed to maintain a steady course.

I wasn't really sure if I was still dreaming when my eyes opened a crack and saw a naked Zoe doing the same thing that she was doing in my dream.

She saw me open my eyes and said, "Good morning. My, you're up this morning."

I rubbed my eyes and replied, "I thought I was dreaming for a moment. Morning."

I could tell by the way she was kissing and rubbing me that she either heard what I said the previous night, or just woke up horny and needed some action.

Before I could say another word, Zoe was working her way down my body with her tongue and then started working on the big guy. I almost exploded when she first made contact with the mother- ship.

A few minutes later I had shaken the cobwebs from my eyes and decided to turn the tables. Zoe was on her back and I was between her legs within moments. Her body was so soft and smooth, and she tasted like the sweet nectar of the gods.

Zoe was not shy about positioning my head in just the right place, either. Her breathing picked up and she stopped me before she went over the edge. I slithered back up toward her and we kissed for the first time; a few minutes of passionate kissing developed and then Zoe made the move to be on top. I'll never forget the feeling of euphoria when I entered her for the first time— honestly thought I would explode on the spot!

Although I had been with other women in my life, none had made me feel as much as Zoe. The sensation was incredibly dizzying every time she would grip me going up and then coming down. Once I started to push into her and hit her back wall, her breathing picked up and didn't stop this time. When she started moaning I knew she was climaxing and I could control myself no longer. She let me stay inside of her, as she bent down to give me a few kisses. We were both sweaty and breathing pretty heavy, and it felt great to be making love again.

A few minutes after my trip to heaven, my phone started vibrating on the night-table near the bed. I looked at the number and said to Zoe, "It's Lou." She gave me a kiss and said, "Meet me in the shower." She got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom in all of her naked glory; I almost missed Lou's call as the sight of Zoe mesmerized me. She closed the bathroom door and I picked up the phone.

"Hey big guy, what's up?" I said

"Brandon! Brandamundo! Good morning! Is it a good morning for you?" Lou said in the most upbeat voice.

"Yeah! It's been a real breakthrough weekend! How was your night?" I replied.

"She said yes!" Lou beamed.

"Congratulations, Lou! You deserve to be happy! Tell Linda I said congratulations!"

Lou turned and said, "Brandon said congratulations."

She took the phone from Lou and said, "Hey, Brandon. I bet you were as surprised as I was?"

"Hi Linda. Yeah, I just found out yesterday, too." I stated. "I look forward to meeting you when I get back."

"Same here. Nice talking to you," she said as she passed the phone back to Lou.

Linda said in the background, "Meet me in the shower when you're done."

Lou waited a second and said, "Did you hear that?'"

I replied, "Yeah, and I have somebody waiting for me in the shower, too."

"What? You sly dog!" he said as he thought for a moment. "You finally hooked up with Zoe, didn't you?"

"How the hell did you know?' I inquired.

"Everyone in the company could see it but the two of you," Lou joked. "What pushed it over the edge?"

"You never told me that we all were abused."

Lou responded, "Yet another thing you all had to figure out on your own."

"It was some night. I'll have to fill you in on the details when I see you," I said.

"So, everything is going all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, we've come up with a few ideas but I know I have the answer to our little snag," I confidently stated.

'Great! Call me with the gang tomorrow at noon and we'll iron out the details. Congratulations, Brandon. I'm happy you're in love again!"

"Thanks, chief. I couldn't have done it without you!" I replied. "Congratulations to you, too, and let's hang up and get really clean."

I hung up my cell phone, tossed it on the bed, and then hustled my way into the steamy bathroom. Zoe opened the door and pressed her soapy body against mine. I exhaled and thought briefly about how much my life had changed in the past few hours. Our bodies and lips melted together like a marble sculpture within seconds, and we went at it for a good 40 minutes until our hands were all wrinkled and all of vital fluids had been exchanged.

By the time we got dressed and left the room it was about 10:30 am, and only Jorge and Arthur were in the kitchen. Arthur was reading the paper and Jorge was assisting Chef Michael in making pancakes and omelets.

"Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes," Jorge said as he flipped a pancake.

"Good morning guys," Zoe said in the most relaxed voice I had ever heard from her.

Mike nodded at me and I returned the knowing look with a smile.

Arthur said, "Morning," as he picked his head up for a moment.

He looked completely doomed and I knew I had to do something. "Hey Arthur, you want to help me hose down the back deck?"

I gave Zoe a kiss and winked at Mike who said, "Bacon and cheese omelet for you, B?"

"That sounds great, Mike. We'll be done in a few minutes."

Arthur and I walked out to the patio and the chill of the morning air filled our lungs.

"I love this time of year out here, because the air can really clear your mind," I said to Arthur as he handed me the hose.

"Did I embarrass myself last night?' he asked.

"Are you serious?" I replied. "If anything, I gained a whole new respect for you."

"Really?" he beamed.

"Yeah, you had to let all of that out at some point! It must have been hell on you keeping that inside all of these years," I stated.

He started to cry so I said, "Let's sit down for a minute,"

"Things happen in life that we have no control over," I said. "The fact is that you have a wonderful, supportive wife, and two great kids. What else really matters?"

He picked his head up and smiled through his tears, "You're right. I'm going to call my wife right now."

"Are you sure? Don't want to do that in person? She's going to want to be with you," I said guiding him.

He thought for a moment and then said, "You're right. I'll just call her and tell her how much I love her."

'That's a great idea," I replied as I patted him on the back and walked back in the house.

Arthur grabbed my arm in solidarity and then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Hello Tricia..." was all I heard as the back door closed.

A few minutes later Arthur came in with a smile on his face and said, "You guys are good friends. Thank you."

We then took our breakfast and headed out to the deck to eat. There was a big chair on the side of the deck that had Zoe and my name all over it. I sat down with my legs open and Zoe quickly filled the space, and my world, as she sat down on me. Jorge came outside with us and was drinking some coffee. He asked, "How have you two stayed apart for so long?"

I looked at Zoe and said, "I was in another world. What's most important is that we're together now."

Zoe snuggled next to me and said, "My big teddy bear."

Just then Dalia squinted while looking through the glass from inside of the house. She opened the door and said, "Well I guess you love her too, Brandon."

Natalia was stretching and yawning, wearing a half-shirt and a pair of panties. She asked, "Are we going to meet today?"

I replied, "Only if you promise to wear that all day."

Everyone laughed as Jorge asked, "Would 12:30 be good for everyone?"

12:30 it was for a meeting that I already envisioned and completed. As SVP of Discovery, it was my foresight that fueled the company and sparked everyone's talent fuse. I never saw this creation origin as a burden because the flow of the company made so much sense to me.

We finished eating and Zoe and I were sitting alone on the deck. It was obviously too cool outside for Natalie and Dalia, the barely clothed, to expose themselves to the elements.

I put my arms around Zoe as she leaned on me.

"You already know what we're going to do, don't you?" she asked as she looked out to the water.

I started laughing. 'Yeah, I have a pretty good idea."

"When did you know?"

"I wasn't sure until I went back to BlueWorld the other day," I replied.

"That's where you were. I was wondering where you went off to," she said.

"I was there in support of a friend," I said.

"What was Lou up to?" she asked as she giggled.

"He was nervous because he was about to propose."

She sounded confused, "Propose what?"

I started laughing and replied, "It wasn't really a 'what' as much as it was a 'who'?"

"Are you saying that he asked someone to marry him?"

"He not only asked the question, he also got the answer he was looking for," I said.

"Wow! I never knew Lou when he was a married man. Of course, it's not like that will make much of a difference. He always been such a gentleman," she stated.

I said, "Yeah, I came along shortly after his wife died. We've really helped each other get through some difficult waves in our lives."

"It was obvious from the first time I saw you guys together that there was something special between you."

"Did you know that our fathers worked together?" I asked.

"I think I heard Lou mention a few times that your dad was the one that came up with the concept for the Oreo," she replied.

"Yeah, he always did have a thing for mixing chocolate and vanilla frosting." I lowered my head, "I wish you could have met him."

She looked up at me "Ah, you big lug! You can meet both of my parents. They are as much fun as being sprayed by a skunk."

"That's okay, let's just go smell-free for a while."

"You got it, B.S.!"

"I could see how that nickname will come back to kick me in the ass from time to time."

I was amazed at the change in Zoe's demeanor. She had never given me an inch in the years that I had known her. A few cocktails on a corporate retreat flipped what was previously a solid brick wall. By the looks of things, though, we really cared for each other without even consciously knowing it.

There was no sense for Zoe to go off and brainstorm for the meeting, so we took a long, slow walk on the beach.

"Did you know all this time that you had feelings for me?" Zoe asked.

I kept walking and replied, "No. I think everyone knew but us." I thought about it for a second and then continued, "Come to think of it, I have had daydreams about you during meetings."

She stopped walking and then questioned, "What kind of daydreams?"

"Well, not the kind of sexual daydreams I had about Dalia, where I was doing all sorts of things to her in the conference room..."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Oh, did that just come out of my mouth? I have to work on filtering some of the things that pop up in there," I said almost thinking to myself.

"Have you had any other fantasies during meetings?" she asked.

I knew I had to turn the tables fast, "Why, have you?"

She turned red and I said, "Uh-oh, this is not going to be good."

She held my hand and we both sat down on the sand. "You're not going to believe this, but..." she started as she tossed her dirty blonde hair back. She continued, "I once got so deep into a daydream that I actually came."

I stuttered a bit, "C-C-Came? As in showed up, or released?"

"Oh, I released all right!" she beamed.

"When the hell did that happen, and how did I miss that?"

She answered, "Believe it, or not, it was the first day I met you. Do you remember that?"

"Like it was yesterday," I replied.

"Do you remember what I was wearing?" she inquired.

I looked up at the sky hoping to find the answer, but it wasn't hard to remember that day.

"Holy crap! I got hard when I saw your nipples pop under that green sweater you wore."

She started rubbing my crotch as she said, "You kept rubbing your leg against mine and it was driving me crazy."

"That was your leg? I thought it was the table!" I stated.

"You were bouncing your leg up and down and the vibration was making me wet," she said as she put her hand down my pants.

"I thought you were just being enthusiastic when you pounded your fist on the table and said, "Yes!"

"Man, you are in another world most of the time aren't you?" she said. "So how come you never made the moves on me?"

"I always drew such a heavy line between my work life and my personal life that I was able to resist all temptation in BlueWorld."

She pulled my pants down and started licking my manhood. "What if I licked that line away?"

I sat back on moaned, "Yeah, that would be good."

The fact was that I was the one who recruited Zoe to BlueWorld after Graves showed me her resume. She must have passed his initial "abuse screen," and must have had a hunch that we would be compatible. I can remember walking through the BlueWorld lobby on the day we met. She was wearing a white collared shirt under a light green sweater that seemed to highlight all of her upper body curves. I was instantly fixed on her bright blue-green eyes, as I have been since that time. No matter how much of a hard time she gave me, I would always focus on her eyes and what I saw in them. You see, eye color is just eye color unless there is something significant behind them.

Zoe's eyes always told me to see beyond her words of displeasure, so I rarely got upset at what she said because I knew that she always liked me. There must have been a subconscious level inside her brain that knew how much I cared about her, too.

While Zoe was on top, riding me like I was her favorite horse, I couldn't imagine my life without her. All of the years of confusion and piecing together my shattered heart had come to a logical conclusion: the solution was right in front of me the whole time. We caught our breath for a few minutes and then gingerly walked back to my house with wet clothes. It was noon, so we had time for a quick shower and then we had to head over to Lou's house for the big pow-wow.

BlueWorld

Arthur greeted me at the door and said, "Can I speak to you for a minute?"

I replied, "Sure," as I patted Zoe on the butt and then nodded at her that I would be back in a flash.

"I'm going to tell my wife everything! It has been a huge weight on our marriage!" he said as he gave me a hug.

I felt a little awkward at first when I replied, "Gee Arthur, I didn't know you cared."

He pulled back from the hug, looked me in the eyes and said, "Thank you for being a real friend."

"So, when are you going to tell her about the porn?" I asked trying to keep the mood light.

He smiled and lifted his eyebrows, "No, I think I'll save that one for a weekend when the kids are with their grandmother."

"It's all going to work out," I stated, shaking Arthur's hand.

"I know. Hey, it looks like everything finally worked out with you and Zoe," he said.

I shook my head in disbelief, "Wow! Even you knew."

We walked out of one of the smaller bedrooms and into the kitchen/dining room area. Catered food was just delivered and Chef Michael said to me, "Before, during, or after, B.S.?"

As nicknames go, B.S. definitely lacked the credibility of just about any other nickname, but it seemed to suit me. After all, I hated bullshit and all of its vagueness. My nickname was akin to calling a giant, Shorty, or a weak person, Hercules. I looked back at the chef and replied, "During will work, Miguel."

We all assisted Chef Michael in setting the table and then carrying the platters in, so he could set everything up. BlueWorld employees were notorious for their cooperative nature even though, as executives, we tended to be pulled in separate directions. Lou was right in sending us away for a few days; breaking our routines helped us get back to basics and break down the walls that were rising around us.

I waited a few minutes for my colleagues to pile food onto their plates, before dropping a bomb that would send them scurrying like ants from a drop of water.

I looked around at each person at the table and smiled. Then I said, "These past few days have been some of the most important moments in my life, and I have all of you to thank for that."

"Us too" and "Me too" could be heard through all of the food munching. "With that being the said, I am hoping that our personal and collective breakthroughs will be the springboard for this BlueWorld vision."

My fellow SVPs were sitting on the edge of their seats as I started to unfold my game plan, although I think Arthur was sitting forward because he had a little gas.

"Has anyone ever thought about our corporate name, BlueWorld? Lou's concept for a world where blue is the norm - where the soothing and powerful color that we all know and love would have a prominent place in all of our lives. When I came aboard, the name BlueWorld meant so much more to me than just people identifying with a color. The vision I had was not just focused on North America, it was for the entire world of blue."

I could see the lights slowly illuminating over each of my colleagues' heads, so I continued.

"It has been about seven years since Lou and I had a talk about preparing for global expansion. You know how he is... after our talk he went out and purchased five properties strategically located throughout the world."

The concept called for expansion into Latin America, Europe, the Middle East, and the Australia/New Zealand territory.

"The straight shot is that we own sizable properties in Argentina, Israel, Sweden, New Zealand, and Greece that have appreciated in value and have had a positive impact with their appreciating valuation on our books."

Arthur and Dalia both gave me the thumbs up. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but our results have leveled off a bit because our growth in the U.S. has reached its peak."

Jorge replied, "Right on, Brando. "

I continued, "It's not like our company is going down the toilet. We need something to not only supplement our current growth, but give us a real opportunity to spread our wings. It took a little research to find countries with predominantly blue flags. Otherwise, why would there be a need to sell products in an area that wasn't blue crazy? So, this is what we need to do... we have a conference call with Graves tomorrow at noon to outline our plan. Let's break up into groups. Dalia and Arthur, do your magic with potential sales and earnings growth potential; Jorge and Natalie, work on product positioning and technology demographics for our presentation; Zoe, we need the quick and dirty on the legal ramifications; and last, but definitively not least, Chef Michael, would you like to go into town with me to shop for dinner? And do you have any more of those chicken egg rolls?"

There was an audible buzz in the room after the waves of applause and high-fives. I gave Zoe a kiss goodbye and headed out into town with Michael. He was an interesting guy not only when he talked about food, but also when he talked about his paintings. His first love was being an artist with paint and canvas, and this love obviously spilled over into his food creations as well. Making money as an artist is probably as easy as opening a can of tuna fish with a fork. When a friend of his suggested going to cooking school to become a chef, Michael knew it was time to separate job and love. Much to his surprise, though, he quickly grew to love working with food and creating his form of edible art. Believe me, his food looks as good as it tastes!

We walked over to my house and jumped in my car. Before I turned the engine on I asked the question that had to be asked, "So, we you abused as a kid, too?"

"He looked over at me and replied, "It took you stuck up bitches long enough to ask me!" I started cracking up as he continued, "Lunch lady, fourth grade, school cafeteria."

I couldn't stop laughing, "Dude, did she have a mustache?"

He wasn't amused, "Did the gay bully?"

"Oh shit! We're going to throw down! Right here, right now!" I said with laugh tears streaming down my cheeks.

We started wrestling briefly and then we slapped hands. Michael was probably my best friend in my Blue world besides Lou, although Mike and I rarely talked about work when we hung out.

Mike had his connections in town and always seemed to be able to have access to better quality food than the average consumer. The doors always seemed to be open for this beloved chef in Michigan. Although he worked for BlueWorld full time, he was often a guest chef at area restaurants, so the common folk could get a taste of the good stuff. Restaurateurs had tried in vain to lure him away from the world of blue bliss on many occasions, but he would never entertain the thought.

The reason that BlueWorld worked so well, was as much a function of the people as it was the cooperative environment. We were all subliminally in need of comfort in the form of a functional family, a lot more than most people yearn for money. I see money as one of those necessary evils, but not a measuring stick of my relative happiness. You might say, "Hey! Guy with two houses! What the hell do you know about wanted for things?" That is your opinion mother-fucker! You people do really come up with great questions from time to time! Keep 'em coming.

If money is truly connected to happiness, then the reverse must be true: happiness must be linked to money. I tend to be a real tornado when I am happy and connected to my work. Money is not the motivation - satisfying work is the ultimate driver. When I am reacting, not thinking, that is when the money pours in like it's coming down from a waterfall. So, in my world, money is only a function of motivation, which is such a pure catalyst.

Mike was a similar being. He was given free rein in BlueWorld to create whatever culinary masterpiece that was rolling around in his brilliant mind. As Executive Chef, he oversaw the menu for the entire complex, while simultaneously running the four-star restaurant on site called Aqua. There were times, like our retreat, when Mike would venture out of the campus; he would also travel to different countries every other month in search of new dishes that made your taste buds sing.

Mike had a way of walking through a market and letting the ingredients jump in his basket.

"Dude, do you come into a store with an idea of what you're going to make?" I asked him as we strolled through one of the aisles.

He looked at me with his typical 'I'm Mike and these are my big brown eyes look' and replied, "What are you in the mood for, Brando?"

"I'm sorta' feeling like pasta," I stated.

"Well you sure don't look like it," he said with a grin on his face.

"Yeah, that's a good one, but what do you do if everyone isn't in the mood for pasta?" I inquired.

"See, that's the beauty of it. Ingredients at the root level can be divided into a number of different dishes."

I kept it going, "What do you mean?"

"Okay, you ready for this junior?" I nodded my head like a good student. "Since you have pasta on the brain, let's start with that. I'm thinking about a pasta bar with about five different choices. For an appetizer we could go with cold sesame noodles because I'm not afraid to cross the streams of taste. The dinner selection could range from dishes prepared with lobster, vegetables, veal, chicken and your favorite, meatballs."

"Oh yeah!" I exclaimed. "Mikey's gonna' make me meatballs!"

I was dancing in the pasta aisle until a woman turned the corner and caught me doing the white man's cabbage patch. Mike shook his head and said, "You do that again and those meatballs are going to roll right down the aisle."

"C'mon Mikey, don't you want to dance with me?" I said trying to lead.

He backed up and replied, "I don't know what the cross-dressing bully taught you, but my lunch lady was strictly meat and potatoes."

My eyes widened as I came back toward him, "Yeah and you probably can't sleep with a woman since then without having them wear a hair net."

He nodded his head and laughed, "It does keep hair from getting in my mouth."

We gathered all of the ingredients and went to the check-out counter. The girl at the cash register couldn't have been more than 20 years old, but she instantly beamed when she picked up her head.

"Hey, aren't' you Chef Michael? The guy on the cover of this magazine?"

She snatched a copy of Michigan Gourmet from the magazine rack and flopped it in his face. "I've never had a person on my line that was on a magazine cover before!" she exclaimed. "Can you sign this copy for me?"

He was a bit embarrassed but said, "Sure! I'd be glad to sign an autograph for my only fan."

I couldn't resist teasing him in a falsetto voice, "Oh, Chef Mikey! Can I have your autograph, too?"

He glanced back at me with a "Hey, give me a break" kind of look so I backed off for the time being. It's not every day that you get to go food shopping with a celebrity.

My job is so rewarding because I'm able to move on once the idea is hatched. I'm not one of those people in a meeting that likes to let ideas linger—maybe it's the speed-of-light New Yorker in me, or maybe it's a product of my no-nonsense approach—reveal, process, get out!

When Michael and I returned to Lou's house, it was as quiet as an elementary school library. I left him to cook his butt off and returned to my house with a few bags of groceries. When I walked through the door, I was greeted with the intoxicating smell of baked goods. There are a few quick ways into my heart: one of them is good sex, and the other is mouth-watering baked goods. Oh yeah, those meatballs can roll to a short-cut too.

"Hi honey, I'm home!" I said in a cheery tone.

Zoe came walking out of the kitchen with a pair of jean shorts and a flour-hit blue t-shirt. She replied, "How was your day, dear?"

We hugged and then kissed in what seemed like one of the most natural actions of my life. It wasn't so long ago that I was "content" with being unattached. In those days, my personal and business lives were as separate as white and colored laundry. I didn't reply to Zoe right away and held onto her extra tight.

"I love you," I said whispering in her ear.

She started to cry and replied through her tears, "I love you, too."

It was the first time in her life that someone had uttered those three little words outside of the bedroom, and she felt the same way. It's one thing to love, but it tends to be a lot more meaningful, though, when your feelings mirror your partner's. A few more hugs and kisses and then I had to walk straight into the kitchen and eyeball everything on a cookie sheet.

"All set for the meeting tomorrow?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded, "Yep. Just have to type up my notes and I'm good to go."

"Didn't you do some work on foreign expansion when you first started worked at BlueWorld?"

She stated, "Yeah, that what got me the job. I had written this white paper for one of my U of M graduate courses, and Lou had gotten his hands on it from my professor. He had me conduct a similar study, which I downloaded from my database this morning. A lot of that stuff hasn't changed."

I walked over to the stove and asked, "So, what do we have here?"

"In door number one we have chocolate chip cookies", she said as she opened the right oven. "And in door number two we have double chocolate brownies with walnuts."

I know your mouth is watering right now, so put the book down and go into your own kitchen. I won't continue until you get back.

You still have a little chocolate on the corner of your mouth - no, the other side - yeah, you got it!

I'm surprised I didn't go into a sugar coma right after those brilliant delectables came out of the oven. We made love and showered, and then we were off to pasta heaven at Lou's house. It's always funny the way people talk about either having sex, or making love, like the distinction really makes a difference. Sex is the act and making love is simply a subset of the act. For example, simply "having sex" is an act where you get your rocks off, while "making love" implies some sense of connection - other than releasing - of the people involved.

It's amazing what an eye- and heart-opening experience will do for your psyche. While we all were very productive at work at BlueWorld, the level of personal stress that we were operating under was always quite great. You see, that's the real difference between a productive person and on that calls themselves a workaholic.

What the hell is a workaholic, anyway? Workaholics were always those people that never seemed to leave the office. When I'm in BlueWorld, I rarely ever leave the complex. Between gourmet food, a state-of-the-art gym complex, medical and dental facilities, showers, and comfortable couches that pull out into beds in the TV room, there really has been no reason for me to go home.

Being in my BlueWorld house was about as appetizing as being molested by a gay bully. Being alone with my thoughts was a deadly pursuit. The only thing worse than being alone with those thoughts, was simply being alone. Living life solo is like getting used to losing—the pain is a lot duller when you simply accept your fate and get on with your life. Nobody likes a bad loser; in fact, what good is a person that takes losing in stride? I don't accept losing and I certainly won't have to be alone anymore now that I have Zoe.

Once we stepped into Casa de Graves, the mood was quite festive for a work night. My mind needs as much rest as it can get between ideas, but the other SVPs appeared to work non-stop on their projects. I suppose that being less detail-oriented person has its advantages, although the initial pressure to start the ball rolling is usually in my court. Chef Michael took everyone's order, including Zoe's favorite Tortellini ala Pesto, and plated all the dishes up.

I walked by him in the kitchen and said, "What happened to the pasta bar idea?"

He pointed to his watch and replied, "Your people want to get back to work, Brando."

I put my arm around him and stated, "Everything looks great, Mikey."

Most corporate dinner tables require name tags to identify where people should sit around the table, but the dishes were quite identifiable for all of us. Here is a list of the dishes and the eaters:

Dish Eater

Spaghetti and Meatballs Me

Tortellini ala Pesto Zoe

Angel Hair Pomodoro Dalia

Lasagna With Spicy Sausage Jorge

Fettuccini Alfredo Natalie

Macaroni and Cheese Arthur

The house smelled like home, and we all knew that this would be closest thing to home that any of us could ever duplicate. There was fresh baked bread, grated cheese, and olive oil as far as the eye could see. If anyone was under the impression that they would get work done that night, all hopes were abandoned by the second bite. The food was as heavy as it was colorful; the green pesto blended with the white Alfredo, which mixed well with the red sauce and the pink lobster cream sauce, and orange three cheeses melted on top of the elbow macaroni. I'm salivating just thinking about it!

I walked around the table and poured white and red wine based on people's preference. Then I picked up my glass and said, "I want to make a toast to seven of the people I hold most dear in my life. It's good to be out of the shadows."

Everyone was talking it up and clanking glasses as I nodded and smiled. Then I put the fingers of my left hand to my lips and kissed them for Chef Michael to see. The man is a modern culinary master and a great friend.

I have never been the type of employee that checks up on his co-workers. Gossip at work is as toxic as eating soy or tofu for me - if I ever want to create a flash flood in my system and out of me, then those two are a must for the menu.

If I were ever running an organization there would be a zero-tolerance policy for people that talk badly about other people in the organization. The best thing you can do with a negative, or a personality conflict, is to address it head on. When you have more than two people in a company, odds are that there will be some friction at the office. After all, most people would rather be sleeping or shopping, or even watching Oprah then going to work every day. That is why our work situation is so unique: no boundaries equal fewer conflicts.

Instead of going out to a club, which would be spotty at best during the week, we decided to make a bonfire on the beach. Although I am the idea man, I couldn't take any credit for this one. Mike was the man who had the marshmallow plan.

Sitting there with Zoe watching the fire burn bright into the night, I couldn't help but get caught up in all of the symbolism. After all, my internal fire had always been a flickering spark until I first met Nina. That only lasted a few years and then I was back to a match instead of a raging inferno. Zoe made me feel whole again. She buried all of my worries away about commitment and loving again, proving that it is "better to have love and lost than not to have loved at all."

BlueWeekend

Lou is the kind of leader that rarely gets angry with the people that work for him. Well, there was that one time when he hurled a couch through a blue window, but in that case he was trying to prove a point more than reacting angrily.

We were about two years removed from the completion of BlueWorld, and all of the employees that worked on a specific project had congregated in the South Employee Lounge. The early days of the company were very much like survival in the jungle. We were all feeling our way through a new experience, and there were some growing pains that proved to be quite painful.

There were many times in the first few years that I would come up with what I thought were good ideas. The problem with some good ideas is that they are reduced to brain blasts that fizzle into the night without the proper execution. It's like the beauty queen that never leaves her house and wonders why no one has ever asked her on a date. My ideas only go as far as the people that catch the pass from me. It's up to me to throw an accurate ball but it's their job to take it all the way down field for a touchdown.

There were a few guys arguing about shipping some couches out to the west coast, and one guy was saying, "The couches are ready to fly," while the other was stating that "These couches couldn't fly, they had to be trucked." In those days, our Employee Intervention System had not been yet implemented, so the rest of us just sat there and waiting for the heated discussion to stop.

Lou appeared out of nowhere and picked up the nearest blue couch and hurled it out of the window. It took him a few moments to catch his breath, but then he turned to the crowd and said, "This will be the last argument, disagreement, or fight of any kind to ever take place in our Blue world." He then looked over at the two men that were fighting and asked, "You guys have a problem with that?"

The two guys shook their heads, "No," and then Lou said, "You all did a great job on this project. I want everyone to take tomorrow off and think about what I just said. Look deep down into yourself and discard any sense of confrontation you have in your heart. If we are going to succeed as a company, we must work as one to accomplish each goal."

That was the last time I saw him get publicly angry at BlueWorld. It took the burden off of Lou to disseminate all of the day-to-day management issues directly on the employees. It probably added years to his life, too. It's like being a parent and closely monitoring each and every move your kid makes. It not only drives you crazy it also disables your kid... responsibility is about as contagious as having no control.

My parents started as control freaks but eventually moderated and turned the controls over to me. I remember the day that I totaled my dad's new Toyota Camry. His initial reaction and I could tell by the bright red color of his face, was to go ballistic and read me the riot act. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm not mad at you. Insurance will pay for another car, but that is the last time you will ever drive one of my cars. From this point on you are on your own. That means you buy your own car and pay for your own insurance, gas, and repairs."

I looked at him and had trouble forming a response that would cover all of what I had just heard. Being 16 and having that kind of responsibility was so foreign to me; it wasn't my fault that the guy fell asleep at the wheel and crashed his van right into my dad's car. Okay, I could have probably seen the guy coming down the hill if I wasn't playing with the car radio. When I finally got my thoughts together I replied, "Thanks, dad."

In hindsight, it was probably better to be clear of trouble than complaining about not having a car for the foreseeable future. The upshot was that I got a job that summer stocking shelves at the local Wal-Mart, and I stayed at the job through the next few years. By that first winter I had saved enough money to buy a car, but still needed a few more months to get insurance. I waited until the following summer and then got the sweetest pre-owned car I could find, a Jeep Laredo with hard and soft tops. What it lacked in cargo space, it made up for in cool.

Our quarterly press release solicited the following response by an on-line business news service: Blue World Falls Short of Estimate; Announces Radical Global Expansion Plan. For Wall Street analysts that's like saying Astronaut Crashes During Test Run; Operation Makes Him Six Million-Dollar Man. Yes, there is even a balance that must be struck on Wall Street. Too much good news pushes analysts to look for specks of dirt that will stop the roll; conversely, bad news must be accompanied by good news if a company's stock plans on making its investors happy.

Lou finely crafted our detailed plans with all of us by his side on Thursday morning. Our 10:00 am conference call gave us plenty of time to gauge the direction of the BlueWorld stock. If investors reacted favorably to our global expansion plans, then we would head back to Mackinac Island for a raucous celebration; however, if the stock headed south then we would be staying put.

While we were still at Mackinac, the seven of us discussed the idea of scrapping The Grand Hotel idea for our more familiar surroundings that we were housed over the past few days. After all, it would save the company money and would definitely be more fun than being in a stuffy resort hotel. A year, six months, heck even one month ago, we would have seen the hotel option as a way to go somewhere together, yet maintain our individuality. Today, however, we were all comfortable trusting each other both personally and professionally.

We watched the BLUE shares rise more than 2% by lunchtime. Of course it didn't hurt that the stock had dropped about 1% the previous day as word of our underperformance had leaked out. I'm always amazed that seemingly air-tight information can leak out of a company and onto a financial professional's desk. Our company didn't have leaks because Lou would usually be very upfront with the analysts. He had said, "We are experiencing a slight shortfall in our order rate this quarter," about a month prior to our earnings announcement. So the stock had dropped about 3% leading up to our conference call.

By the end of the day, the stock had made up all of the ground it had lost and then tacked on a little extra on the topside. We were back in the helicopters by the market close, and it took a few hours for the others to gather up their spouses and families, so a few of us decided to take the first shift and go on ahead. The first copter was loaded with me and Zoe, and Graves and his fiancée Linda. It was a truly a fun, champagne-filled flight.

The other early copter was the new pairing of Chef Mike and his future Three's Company roommates, Dalia and Natalie. Mike had always been fascinated with Dalia and Natalie, and they, in turn, had always wanted to check out Mike's menu. It was like instant chemistry when the three of them strapped themselves into their seats, with Mike sandwiched in between the ladies.

The pilot was facing forward, for good reasons, and had absolutely no sight lines to the BlueThree. The only way to communicate in the copter was through the headsets they each wore. Within minutes of takeoff, Dalia had reached her right hand down and was working on Mike's kielbasa. Dalia was wearing a short skirt and a tight t-shirt with a sheer bra. Natalie had issues with air travel and was a little more reluctant to release her libido than her friend Dalia. She was wearing a classic tennis outfit but left out the undergarment part for the time being.

A few minutes later Dalia had the chef's shorts down to his ankles and had unbuckled her seat belt so she could better enjoy the ride on Mike's lap. They were both facing forward as Mike buckled them both back in for safety. Natalie watched the classic "horsy ride" as she decided on the "self-service" option for herself. After years of travel and taking a pharmacy-worth of drugs that never worked, she had finally figured out that that in-flight entertainment was only a few fingers away.

The road from BlueTown back to Mackinac Island for Arthur Bradley was a little slower than his counterparts. Jorge Manza stopped by to see if Arthur was ready to get on the final copter, but he respectfully explained his situation:

"Hey, Georgie. There are some things I have to talk over with my wife before I go back for the weekend. I would feel awkward if I treated it as a casual conversation. Thanks for coming over; I'll see you in the morning. Tell Cal, we'll be ready at 9:00 am."

With that, Jorge went home and scooped up his wife and did the mambo over to the heliport. They got into BlueCopter #1 and Cal, the pilot, asked, "We waiting for Arthur and his family?"

"Not tonight, Cal. He said they will be ready to fly at 9:00 tomorrow morning."

"Will do, Mr. Manza.," Cal responded.

Arthur sat on his porch and followed the flight of the copter as it went airborne and then got swallowed up into the night. He sat looking calmly into the starry sky, realizing that his relationship with his wife was about to change again.

Patricia Bradley was searching throughout the house for her husband and then turned on the porch light to reveal her sobbing man.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" a concerned Patricia asked her husband.

Arthur continued to cry and said, "Nothing."

"What could be making you so sad?" Patricia asked.

She pulled a few Kleenex from her right sleeve and handed it to Arthur. He wiped his eyes and then blew his nose with the force of a jet engine.

Arthur took a deep breath and said, "Believe it or not, I am happy. This week was quite eye-opening."

Her concern shifted to a happy, but more confused face.

"Let me explain." Arthur stated. He turned and looked his wife in the eye. "I've been carrying a secret for many years now," he said while motioning for the two of them to take a little walk.

"It all started when my parents pushed for me to become an altar boy at Saint Catherine's Church back in Rockville Center, New York. I was nine years old and felt so safe inside of that church," Arthur said as he started crying again.

Arthur regained his composure and painfully exclaimed, "I was only nine. Do you remember how weird I was on our wedding day and the months leading up to it?" he asked.

"Yes. I thought you were just having second thoughts about marrying me," Patricia nervously responded.

Arthur stopped walking and gently held Patricia's right arm with his left hand so she would also stop walking. He cupped both of her hands at his waist and said, "I never, for one moment, had second thoughts about marrying you. You are the one thing in my life that I know for sure, besides BlueWorld. My love for you has never waned since the moment we met at church."

She smiled and then replied, "Come to think of it, you were a little jittery that day. I thought you were just feeling good after Father Michael's sermon."

"Do you remember what his sermon focused on that day?" Arthur asked.

She shook her head, "No."

"Truthfulness and how it's god's way to life an honest, clean life." Arthur said. "I was always amazed that a man with such devious thoughts and actions could preach like Mr. Clean."

The truth hit Patricia all at once like an undetected tidal wave. She gasped and pronounced, "No! Father Michael? Did he...?" and before she could finish her sentence, Arthur was catching her as her legs gave out.

Patricia must have fainted for a few moments because the next thing she remembered was lying on the couch with a cool washcloth on her forehead. She sat up slowly and the horrible revelation she had resurfaced again. Arthur was sitting on a chair right next to her and she said, "And I insisted that we use Father Michael after you said you wanted to use someone else."

Arthur held a limp Patricia in his arms for a few seconds before he said, "Please don't beat yourself up over this. He had control over me for a few years before I was able to escape. The confessional has never been the same for me since then."

They talked the whole night and got a few hours of sleep before they were scheduled to take a copter back to Mackinac Island. They gathered their baggage, including teenagers Kim and James, and walked to the BluePort. The kids looked at their parents and wondered what all of the crying and talking was about. Patricia could sense that some sort of explanation was in order, so she said, "Your father and I have had a breakthrough."

Arthur sensed that the kids might be even more confused than before, so he proclaimed, "Kids, you are my witnesses!" He got down on one knee, "Since most of us were somewhere else the first time, I wanted to make this part of the public record." He fixed his gaze on Patricia. "Patricia Marie O'Connell, will you marry me, again?"

Patricia looked at the kids and the Arthur and replied, "Yes! It would an honor to be your wife!" And, a few weeks later, they were married again under a shady elm tree in their backyard by a friend who was a Justice of the Peace.

The living arrangements, once everyone had arrived at Mackinac Island, were pretty simple in my mind, but a delicate balance had to be struck between the two houses. Here is the original list that was given to every SVP when they entered the copter:

Lou's House Brandon's House

Bedroom #1 Chef Michael The Bradley's

Bedroom #2 The Manza's Bradley children

Bedroom #3 Natalie Dalia

Of course, Zoe and I were sharing my master bedroom and Arthur and his fiancée Linda would be in his master. Chef Mike had his own quarters off of Arthur's kitchen, so Natalie and Dalia moved in with him. Good thing Mike had a king-sized bed and fresh supply of spirulina to give him energy to keep up.

We filled in the rooms by inviting Linda's 20 year-old daughter, Stephanie, and her boyfriend Kirk, who Arthur had flown in from the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. He also picked up Linda's mom, Gina, who happened to be with Terrence in Bloomfield Hills.

Once everyone settled in, Arthur sent Linda's mother and kids, as well as the Bradley kids into town with a limo, so he could spend some time with his BlueFamily. It was a sunny, 60-degree day so he invited everyone out on the deck.

"Welcome, everyone! It appears that our BlueFamily has grown this week, so why don't we go around and introduce ourselves again. I have been fortunate to get a second and third chance in life. The fact is that all of the people that work for BlueBalance have suffered through some type of abuse in their lives. I want to thank you all for putting that aside all of these years and making this company a place where we all can call home. Oh, and by the way, this beautiful woman to my left is my fiancée, Linda.

Everyone shouted, "Hello, Linda!"

Lou looked at Arthur Bradley, who was sitting on a built-in bench to his left. Arthur stood up and got a bit choked up before he could even talk. Patricia Bradley stood up and put her arm around her husband's back and rubbed it in support. "I've been blessed twice in my life. First, Patricia came in and saved me, and then Lou opened my eyes to the bright side of being blue." He smiled and wiped the tears from his eyes as everyone clapped and rejoiced.

Chef Michael was sitting in between Dalia and Natalie with a broad smile on his face. Lou interjected, "We all knew that Michael could cook, but I suppose we didn't realize that he also made a great sandwich."

Michael blushed momentarily and the said, "My name is Michael and these are my new roommates, Dalia and Natalie."

The group mocked, "Hello, Dalia and Natalie."

Jorge then reintroduced his wife Selena, which left only Zoe and I to complete the introductions. I slowly stood up and then stated, "Wow! It's been quite a week. We have been holding some serious baggage for a long time, and I'm glad that we could help each other over the hump, so to speak. I want to congratulate Lou and Linda on finding each other..." I got a bit emotional for a minute and then Lou came over and gave me a big hug. He whispered in my ear, "Stop stalling."

"Congratulations are also in order to Mr. Arthur Bradley for winning the First Annual BlueWorld Dance Contest; Jorge Manza for always looking so cool and never sweating; Janet, Chrissie, and Jack Tripper for fooling Mr. Roper and Mr. Furley; and last, but not least, to the lovely Zoe Schiller."

I dropped down on one knee in front of Zoe and said, "I guess this is as good a time as any to do this." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a velvet blue box and continued, "I thought about waiting for a special time and a special place, but I couldn't think of a more special place and a more special time."

Tears started flowing down Zoe's eyes and the eyes of everyone watching as I said, "Zoe Cameron Schiller, will you be my loving wife?" I slipped the ring on her finger as she said, "Yes!"

Michael and his girls quickly went inside and brought out champagne and glasses for everyone. After all of the glasses were full, Lou raised his glass and everyone followed, "I want to propose a toast to life, love and the continued health of our entire BlueFamily."

It was definitely a memorable moment - the warmth of the sun and the way it glistened off of our glasses gave us a renewed sense of spirit - that level of unity would be difficult for most companies or families to match, but it was our goal to try to match that commitment every day, as one.

BlueWrap

I really can't imagine what would have transpired in my life without Lou, Zoe and BlueWorld. I was so lost after my first wife died that it really didn't matter to me what direction I took after that. The only reason I kept going at that point was that Lou wouldn't let me quit.

Years later, I take a great deal of pride in showing younger people the way, the path to a successful and fulfilling life. Of course, that was my interpretation of a successful and fulfilling professional life. As for my personal life... until a few days ago it looked like a bowl of tangled spaghetti. Life is like that - there seems to be balance in everything, from the most mundane aspects of life to the things we like to do every day.

Look around and you will be able to observe my point. If a person is smiling all of the time, take a long deep look into their eyes and into their soul. Outward behavior has become one of life's greatest smoke screens. If a kid is crying about not getting a toy, odds are the emotional display has absolutely nothing to do with the coveted item. While the kid thinks they are merely focusing on the toy, their young underdeveloped minds are really searching for affection and stability.

My life growing up was quite different. Emotions never seemed to make a dent on the surface, and I stuffed down all of my anxiety and became an unfeeling robot. When love and then death hit me with the ferocity of a heavyweight's punch, I was back to square one numbness again.

My story is about as unique as breathing in BlueWorld. We all have gone through some terrible, life-confidence eroding times. But life is series of forks in the road that make us decide between right and left, good and bad. While it was horrible that Nina died tragically - not that there is any other way to die - the positive impact that she had on my life and my heart was well worth the ache.

You have to take the good with the bad in life because there's really no way around it. The fact that happy and sad live right around the block from each other shouldn't put a damper on the festivities. Feeling is the best way to start each day. With the prospect of potentially unpleasant events lurking in the shadows, elicit a smile to spread across your face as you regain consciousness every morning. Perspective is everything in life; I used to lose sight of what was important almost daily before I met Nina. There really wasn't much to feel up until then.

Time really doesn't heal all wounds, it merely masks the pain if you stay busy. Test that theory when you come across a few slow, rainy days and you have nothing to do - the demons creep their way back in real fast. That is unless you have the person you love by your side, and then those slow days in bed wind up being the most memorable and happy of your life.

That memorable week in Mackinac Island helped make our strong Blue company even stronger. There is nothing more powerful in business than "human capital" - we had employees that discussed and tested and worked together to reach goals. Once we attained goals everyone profited, not just the "higher ups." By "profit" I don't always mean money. Lou's brilliant idea of de-leveraging the dollar in favor of teamwork and productivity worked quite well. With the pressure alleviated to pay a mortgage and other bills, employees were free to focus on the lives and their work. This created a perfect balance between personal and professional, where the lines between the two were very much blurred.

Relationships that bloomed in the spring were still as glorious once the leaves changed in the fall. Chef Mike even decided to choose between his two roommates, Dalia and Natalie. I often wondered why he felt the need to break up his nightly threesome, but the grass always looks greener from down the block.

One bright October Saturday afternoon, Zoe and I were preparing lunch so we could watch a University of Michigan football game on TV, when someone knocked on our door. I walked out of the kitchen, through the foyer and opened the front door without even asking who was on the other side.

"Hey Mikey, what's happening?" I said as Chef Mike came in and we shook hands and then hugged.

I continued, "You want to sit down and watch the game?"

Mike waved to Zoe and said, "Hey Z Bear." Then he turned to me and asked me, "You doing anything after the game?"

"What, at like three o'clock?" I inquired.

He replied, "Yeah that sounds about right. Zoe, I also need a favor from you."

In all the years I knew Chef Mike, I didn't realize he had such a sneaky side. Later that afternoon, following Michigan's rousing defeat over hapless Indiana University, Zoe and I walked over a few doors to Mike's house. We got about halfway there when Mike's emerged from his front door with a beaming Natalie right behind him.

All of the cool in Mike's body seemed to be melting as he said to me, "Ready to go hit some balls?" Yes, we even had a golf driving range on the BlueWorld campus. Mike opened his garage and then drove his solar powered golf cart towards us. He then nervously asked, "Do you ladies want a lift?"

Natalie smiled and replied, "No, I think we'll enjoy the fresh air and walk it." Zoe nodded in approval and the women were off to the on-site nail salon for a little pampering. As Mike pretended to drive away he asked me, "Do you think she bought it?"

"Bought what? You nervous freak!" I shot back.

Once the girls were out of sight, Mike opened his garage and we shifted vehicles to his Toyota Prius. He quickly zipped out of BlueWorld and into the town of Ann Arbor.

"Okay, Mr. Charade Boy. Where are we going?" I asked in a curious but slightly annoyed tone.

He located a spot on the right side of Main Street and quickly parked his car. He reached into his center console, pulled out a few quarters, and then we exited the vehicle. He slid the quarters into the meter and then walked over to talk to me next to his car. I instinctively leaned against his car safe in the thought that this wouldn't be a two-word conversation.

"You know that I've been living with Dalia and Natalie since the spring," he stated.

"Yeah," I replied. "Who doesn't? What's wrong with you?"

He was so nervous that his tone of voice gave the impression that we barely knew each other.

He pulled himself together by taking a deep breath and the looking up to the sky. "I fell in love," he said.

It took me a few seconds to put one and one together... by the process of elimination, and the fact that Zoe walked off with Natalie, I was able to solve the big mystery. I'm positive that Sherlock Holmes is not envious of my detective skills.

"Wow," was all I could muster before I nodded that we should sit down on the bench that was right near us.

"I think I've loved Natalie since last spring," he confided.

I replied, "All of the guys want to thank you for going through with the Three's Company experiment anyway."

He smiled from ear to ear and said, "You're very welcome. The pleasure was mine."

"Natalie is a good girl. So, how is Dalia taking it?" I asked.

"Taking what?" he responded.

My eyes widened as I looked at Mike in disbelief. He had to tell Dalia about his intentions toward Natalie; odds were that she already knew what was about to happen, but she still deserved some sort of heads-up at some point.

I shook my head and stated, "Dude, you have to tell her."

Mike thought for a moment and tried to resist the idea. It appeared that there was some friction between him and Dalia, by the pained expression on his face.

"You're right, B. I have to put an end to this situation. She has been real cranky lately because Natalie and I have branched off, and she has been left with her own manipulation appliances."

I imagined Dalia and a vibrator for a minute and then came back down to earth. "You have to talk to her before you do anything. What are you doing, exactly?" I inquired.

Mike looked confusingly at me and replied, "I'm going ring shopping for Natalie."

We started walking toward Ann Arbor Jewelers and Mike stated, "Okay, I'll talk to Dalia when we get back. Can I borrow your Mackinac house tomorrow? That was the place that we fell in love."

I answered quickly, "Of course. I'll give you the keys when we get back."

Talking to Dalia at times could be a difficult proposition. She liked to be the center of attention in her personal life; at work, she was more of a team player. Some people just can't calm down when it comes to talking about their feelings. Dalia would accept the news with grace and style, because she was at her best when surrounded by adversity.

Mike knew this guy at the jewelry store who bartered an engagement ring for a fully catered party he was throwing with his wife. We returned to BlueWorld and there was no sign of Dalia, so Mike said goodbye to me and then said, "Thanks for coming with me. I know where to find Dalia."

Dalia often threw herself into work when she was feeling tension at home. She was sitting at her desk when Mike came by and sat back on the couch in her office.

"So, when are you going to ask her?" Dalia asked in her typical no nonsense style.

Mike thought for a second and then got up from the couch and stood in front of Dalia, who had turned her chair around to face him. He lowered down to his knees and looked Dalia straight in her beautiful green eyes. "You know, I really love you, too."

She shook her head and replied, "No you don't."

Dalia wasn't one to resort to waterworks when things got tough, but was a bit moist on this day.

"I would have picked you, but I was afraid I would be dead within a year from all of the sex," Mike said with a huge smile on his face.

Mike wiped away her tears with the sleeve of his jacket. Dalia asked, "I'm pretty sick and tired of penises."

Mike pondered the statement and then said," Vagina's it is!"

That was a really tough question for Dalia to answer, because she had spent her life running away from personal commitment. "My parents' marriage was so awful that it was almost a blessing that they got divorced. I'm probably one of the few girls that didn't dream of the big house and the white picket fence."

"I think the only way that you will ever get married is if you let the past go and allow yourself to love. It wasn't your fault that your parents fought and got divorced, you just happened to be there witnessing the whole thing," Mike explained.

"I know. Thanks for coming to tell me." She looked down at his right pants pocket and asked, "Is that a ring box in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?'

They hugged and Mike was off to successfully propose to Natalie. Mike subsequently told me about his conversation with Dalia, and I was on the look-out for a potential suitor for her. One afternoon I sat in on a marketing meeting and was about to leave at the end when a soft, high-pitched voice stopped me in my tracks, "Brandon, I can speak with you a minute?"

I didn't even get out of my chair when I saw 5'11", ex-model, Frederica Morris coming my way. 'Fred' had done an internship with us she was an All-American volleyball player her senior year at the University of Michigan. She subsequently played in on the beach volleyball tour for ten years, won a gold medal in the summer Olympics, and then returned home and started our Community Relations Department. Fred was now a few years removed from her playing days and was as hot as ever.

As popular as she was, Fred was still one of the most grounded people I had ever met. She was going to stand, but I motioned to the chair next to me and said, "Please, sit."

Being the second in command at a Fortune 500 company also had its power. I never abused it, but everyone knew who I was and the power I possessed.

"I'm not sure if you remember our talk last year at the Holiday party?" she said in a somewhat apprehensive tone.

"Yeah, sure. You told me that you were ready to settle down. That life on the road in the pros was a very lonely and humbling experience."

She smirked at the thought that I would remember the conversation; after all, that is my job. Getting inside of people's minds and hearts is what puffs my sail, so to speak.

"Well, I think I finally found that person," she stated.

"Wow! Good for you, Fred!" I exclaimed.

And then she went all teenager on me by saying, "You wanna' guess who it is?"

I rolled my eyes and responded, "We have thousands of employees. You wanna' give me a little hint?'

"She is an important person in BlueWorld. She is a real force, and way too much for the eyes to take in all at once."

Just then, someone just outside the conference room said, "Brandon are you in there?"

I replied to the familiar voice, "Yeah D, I'm in here."

In walked Dalia, who ignored Fred and kept talking to me. "Are we still meeting this afternoon about the spring line?"

Before I could answer I turned my attention to the supersonic vibes that were bouncing all over the room. Fred stood up and unfolded her long legs from the chair. At the same time, Dalia stopped talking and watched this Barbie doll emerge from her chair. Dalia is not a small woman, standing at over 5'10'' - 5'9" if you ask her - but I could sense that she wasn't feeling as mighty as usual.

I noticed that most of the air had swooshed in between them so I said, "I'm sorry. Dalia, this is Fred, Frederica Morris. Fred this is..."

"Dalia Breston. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Fred said completing my sentence.

Fred held out her long, slender right hand and Dalia's similar fingers melted inside of his palm. She looked into her eyes and softly said, "It's a real pleasure to meet you, Frederica."

I got up slowly from my chair, buttoned my blue blazer, and then walked by Fred and Dalia. "Still need me to guess?" Fred smiled as she and Dalia continued to stare at each other and calmly shake hands.

About a month later, Fred came walked into my office and said, "I can't thank you enough, Brandon."

I sat back in my chair as Fred sat down. "What did I do?'

"You introduced me to Dalia," Fred said almost in disbelief that I didn't accurately assess my importance.

I shook my head and replied, "You see that's where you're wrong, Miss Morris. You introduced yourself to Dalia, I was just the guy with the words behind the meeting of the souls."

"I need your help with something," Fred stated. I nodded and he continued, "I know it's only been a month, but..."

At that moment Dalia walked into my office and I stopped Fred by saying, "Yeah, Fred. I think it's a good idea to bring some of the U of M players to the local's schools."

"Hi, honey. Hey, Brandon. Have you decided where we're going this weekend?" Dalia said.

"I'll come over as soon as I finish up in here," Fred answered.

"Bye, Brandon," Dalia said.

"See you, Dalia," I responded.

Fred watched Dalia walk away and then turned to me and said, "Wow that was close. Thanks for covering for me, Brandon."

"You can pull the ring out now Fred," I said in a confident tone.

She pulled a box out from her jacket pocket and then flipped it open with one hand. "These rings belonged to both of my grandmothers. I had them add a few more diamonds and size both of them down a few notches."

"Those are beautiful rings, Fred. When was the first time you saw Dalia?'

She smiled and responded, "It was about six months ago at the summer picnic."

"Was that when you fell in love with her?"

She fell deep into thought, "No, that was when I noticed her. I fell in love with her a few months ago when we held our fall planting event. There was something about the combination of those green eyes and the prospect of yellow tulip bulbs that sent me over the edge."

"Well, it is winter, so I would suggest a drive up north to the Mackinac Botanical Gardens and walk around their huge greenhouse. There's a room right off the lobby that has a huge waterfall that looks really cool at night with a variety of colored lights. If you want, you can use my house up there for the weekend?"

"Nice plan, Brandon." I stood up and shook her hand and she gave me a great big bear hug. I checked to see if my bones were still intact and then said, "Go get 'em, Fred."

I sat back down in my chair and reflected on the series of events that had occurred following our spring retreat in Mackinac Island. Lou even decided to open BlueTherapy, which was located in the BlueClinic building, so that all of our employees could clear the air and have more productive lives. He claimed that, "We all could stand a little therapy every now and then. It's not healthy to keep sweeping things under the rug."

Since June is traditionally the most popular wedding month, we decided to host a massive ceremony in late June at BlueWorld. In most circles, having six couples be married at once would seem a bit cultish. I guess you could say that we were a healthy and supportive blue-tinted cult. We had hosted huge galas in our main area on several occasions, with the attendees topping 500 on several occasions.

On the bill for that lovely afternoon would be Lou and Linda, Zoe and I, Mike and Natalie, Dalia and Fred, and Arthur and Patricia, who were renewing their vows again. To round out the ceremony, Jorge was going to play the Spanish guitar and his wife, Salina, was going to perform the ceremony. Lou spared no personal expense and all of the SVPs chipped in to help defray some of the cost. The band we selected was none other than Motown's own Lionel Richie and the Commodores. I guess they liked blue as much as we did, because they hadn't played together in 20 years!

The event was billed as, no shock, BlueWeddings. Zoe and I had planned to do our vows once more following the ceremony in a more private location in Carmel, California. The other couples, except for Arthur and Patricia, had similar plans in store.

My life had come full circle from my early childhood experiences with the gay bully, to letting my heart open up to Nina - to losing her tragically - to hooking up with Lou after not seeing him since we were kids - to experiencing professional success - to allowing myself to love again - to achieving the kind of balance in my life that I had always dreamed of.

Zoe and I decided to take on a new project once all of the nuptials were completed. With our new international operations in need of some TLC, Lou was conflicted but made the offer to us to oversee the ventures. Since I was the SVP of Discovery, it was fitting that I branch out and discover new lands and ideas. With Zoe by my side, that would be all-the-more inviting, raising our kids in a variety of countries across the globe.

One other couple was selected to start another BlueWorld venture in subsequent years, Mike and Natalie. They basically founded BlueBistro, which consisted of products sold to restaurants, food distributors and the like. Chef Mike became the co-CEO of the subsidiary with Natalie: he does all food-related activities and she handles all promotional and expansion plans.

Life is truly all about balance, and for me it's all about BlueBalance. Every high has a corresponding low, every good has a bad, every smile has a tear, every extreme has an equal on the other side of the wall waiting to develop. Success is often an equally bitter pill to swallow as failure, because once the chase has ended the silence can be deafening.

My advice would be to strike a balance in life without even trying. Holding back emotions, feelings, or instincts is a sure way to live an unfulfilled life. You don't want to get to the end, whenever that is, and look back in remorse. The fact is that pure reactions eliminate the "Would have," "Should have," and "Could have" second-guesses, because things will happen the way they were meant to be. Your gut reaction at the time is all you have. Hindsight should be a learning mechanism, not a guilt stick you beat yourself over the head with.

If my life were to end today then I would look back with a smile when it all flashes before my eyes. After all, I gave it my best shot and continually evolved as a human being. That is the truest balance in life - that when you die people won't make idle chatter, they will simply smile for knowing you.
