#because he was standing next to me (my friend and i hijacked the chem eng meeting room to study lol) and i was distracted

[shalegas34]

bizarre love triangle chapter 9

Macquarie had called me into his office.

“You have feelings for me, don’t you?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I don’t know why you’d think that,” I responded, unable to stop staring at him.

He got up from his desk and came over to me. He put his hand on my back. “It turns me on when people are attracted to me,” he growled into my ear. “Close the door.”

Jeremy, my mother’s cat, landed on my chest with a waul and woke me from my dream.

“The fuck,” I groaned, addressing both the cat and the dream.

I’d been away from Macquarie for three days but already the pining was insufferable. I couldn’t believe I was wasting my own time like this. He would never want me.

Oh well. It was Monday morning, a cloudy and overcast day was in store, and I needed to hurry if I was going to get to the conference centre in time.

I didn’t see Macquarie’s missed calls and texts until I was halfway into town, stopped at a red light. So the EPA had shut Northstar down.

I called him back once I’d parked.

“Got fired,” Macquarie said, his voice void of inflection. The silence which followed was palpable.

“We have a week to pack up and get out while they decide who replaces me.”

I felt myself growing angry and desperate. I’d only just started this job, but the thought of not having Macquarie in my life next year or next week made the future seem bleak. Also, as altruistically popped into my mind in second place, he’d lose his house now he was out of work. What the fuck did Sally Zhou have on him?! She’d ruined his life.

In very distant third, I realised he’d said ‘we’. So I was fired too. I had a place in Brisbane to return to at least, though my parents would be scathing.

Well, I wasn’t sure when I’d decided I’d fight, but adrenaline was already running through me. Maybe it was because, for the first time in my life, I had something I wanted to protect. I realised I’d never felt about Orica, or my old career, the way I felt about Macquarie. I was shocked by the intensity of my feelings.

Things were looking bad. We had one week. I’d be swamped once I got back to the office, so any pivotal salvation had to happen here, today.

“Are you still going to the AGM?” Macquarie asked.

“I’m here. Might as well,” I said as casually as possible. “Unless you need me in Melbourne?”

“No,” he replied, distracted. “Best not play with the plane tickets.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said, gulping down the empty reassurances I’d been about to spew. I had no right to even think I could change things.

A gaggle of protestors greeted me at the entrance of the conference centre. Their signs reminded delegates about the accelerating effects of climate change, proclaiming that our exports were coming back to us in the form of flooding and droughts. They probably weren’t for Crownsdale.

I arrived just in the nick of time, as the networking was wrapping up. Macquarie wanted me to put myself out there, and I knew why now, but I felt like a complete fraud with my rudimentary minerals processing knowledge and three months’ experience in the finance industry. The suit jacket wasn’t helping; I rolled up its cuffs for a bit of reprieve. I looked ridiculous.

Settling in at the back left-hand corner of the theatre, I took out the book containing my rare earths industry data. Come on Crownsdale, tell me something I don’t know.

The CEO was introduced; as he walked up to the podium he ran a hand through his mop of dark hair, smirking at the audience with a sideways glance. My heart flipped a little; he reminded me of Macquarie. I considered getting Leila to sneak me a photo from the reports meeting… if Macquarie was still presenting, I thought with a sudden pang.

“It’s great to see a big turnout,” the CEO began. “Crownsdale has had a bumper year. We even got the protestors back, looks like they got old too.” That drew a laugh. “Just a joke. They’re here for the coal conference upstairs, good for them.”

He was a charismatic speaker, but the more technical sections had me floundering. I forced myself to focus. Going back to Melbourne with nothing to show was not an option.

“…Strong operating cash flows of over fifty million dollars,” the CEO was saying. I felt my pulse start to race because of the good result, and I despised my own naivety. As if perfect solutions ever existed.

“That’s a 25% increase on 2043, leading to a 50% increase in net profit. These outstanding results have been driven by cost reductions and increased recovery in our milling and solvent extraction circuits. Investment in advanced process control is enabling up to 30% reduction in electricity and reagent consumption, with opex savings on both utility costs and the carbon tax.”

This wasn’t in the slides; I noted it down. Process control, milling and solvent extraction. I could sense my neighbours staring as I furiously scribbled what the CEO said, word for word, but I pretended not to notice.

Macquarie texted halfway through the presentation of the financial statements (I noticed the control expenditure had been capitalised, and was far too proud of my basic observation).

'Don’t forget to talk to people,’ he’d written, with a wink emoji on the end. In an instant I was blushing like crazy. This was out of control. Think of your good friend Sydney, I shouted at myself. But I hadn’t seen Sydney in years, and they suddenly seemed very distant and extraneous.

“REE markets remain challenging,” the CEO had launched into his conclusion. “But we’re confident that performance can be maintained through further improvements in efficiency and market share expansion.” It sounded good, but that was what he was paid for.

As the talk neared its end, I began to sweat. I’d heard a lot of optimistic forecasts, and one company couldn’t save us anyway, no matter how good it was. We were done for if we couldn’t start clearing the backlog of sunk costs. I needed to think outside the box.

“Within the next ten years, prices are expected to recover as supply contracts. Crownsdale is well positioned to ride out the bust, and we’ll be steps ahead of the competition when the upturn comes.”

Another half hour was about to be provided for networking. I was sweating even harder now.

“We have time for questions,” the CEO said with an attractive lopsided smile as the applause died down. Please, I begged of my mind. I had to think of something! I could not leave empty-handed when Macquarie had so much faith in me.

Intelligent questions rolled in, and the only one I’d managed to come up with was trite in comparison. I fixed my eyes on my notes, crushing all sentience. I raised my hand.

“Hi,” I said, my voice quavering like bank shares after a rate cut. “I’m Aurizon…” I named our bank. “Can you tell me more about the new control systems at the plant? Like… How new is this technology?” What was I even trying to say?

Thankfully the CEO took my incompetent question in stride. “I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head,” he said guilefully. “But if you leave an email with the media team we can get that information to you.”

A man to my right raised his hand. “No need,” he said when he got the mike. “Come talk to me later. Laurence Parker from Manta Controls. My company installed the new systems.”

“There you go. Good to see you Laurie, let’s catch up,” the CEO bantered.

I spent the rest of question time regaining my wits, and I was relatively sedate by the time the last few items came round, namely passing remuneration packages. I assumed Macquarie would vote with the herd, and he didn’t have many shares anyway, so that’s the way I went.

I ambushed Laurence Parker when the meeting closed, but not before grabbing one of the delectable-looking scones provided for attendees. “Hey,” I said, itching to bite into the succulent cream.

“Hey, Aurizon right?” Laurence said, extending a hand. “I’m an engineer and director at Manta.”

“I’m a…” This was embarrassing. “I’m in funds management at Bank L.”

“So you wanted to know more about control systems.” Laurence took a big bite of his scone and I followed suit. “Well, if only every mine in the country would consider what we have to offer. We’d reach our emissions targets by 2050.”

“Really?” I said, perking up. Emissions targets… the EPA…

“Comminution is very inefficient,” Laurence explained. This sounded well-rehearsed. “That’s grinding, milling, crushing, whatever you want to call it. Biggest consumer of energy at any mine, but if you control the material flow, you slow corrosion and get a more consistent product using less energy. It’s the same with solvent extraction, or flotation, or any chemical process. Even 1% output increase can mean millions of dollars and huge emissions reductions.”

I frowned. “What’s the catch?”

Laurence shrugged. “The normal one. It might be a couple hundred grand to get up and running. Those big computers don’t come cheap; not many mines have that kind of capital lying around.”

My hero complex was raging. Northstar copper mine needed sustainable savings. This sounded like an easy fix. The capital? Surely there was a way around that; do now, think later. If only they could placate the EPA…

“Any way you can reduce water consumption? Wastewater flow?”

“Of course,” Laurence said, finishing his scone and looking at his watch. I started to sweat. “You can do just about anything with control. Get in touch if you want to talk more, maybe next week?”

“Wait,” I blurted out. I took the proffered business card. “Erm… Uhh… Busy time?” I died on the inside.

“We’re organising our IPO, things are a bit tight. Bank L, you said?” Laurence regained some interest in me. “Give us a glance, would you? We don’t just work in the mining sector.”

I didn’t have another week. I had maybe five seconds before Laurence ditched me for his buddy the CEO.

An idea was forming in my mind. I’d never done anything like this before. I prepared to be relegated to the dole for the rest of my life.

“Would you consider doing a pro bono case for a copper mine in South Australia?”

Laurence stopped in his tracks. He was regretting inviting me to talk. “We’re a small company working towards a float in two months. It’s out of the question.”

I pressed on. “What if I told you, there was someone willing to underwrite your new stock, no questions asked?”

Silence hung in the air between us.

Maybe it’s time for a new direction, I desperately justified my impulsive actions to myself.

“I’m listening,” Laurence said.

I panicked. “How about I set you up with our head of equity tomorrow morning.”

“This would be conditional.”

“Of course, but what we need should be easy for you. Right?” I said.

“That will depend on the state of the equipment. Is it a new mine?”

“Yes. Relatively,” I committed. I regretted not just this conversation but the entire past year of my life.

“Send me the details once you’re ready,” Laurence said. “Manta will be there.”

I sprinted from the conference centre. What the hell was I doing? I drove like a delinquent all the way back to my parents’ place, returned the car, and bussed to the airport, gasping for breath the whole way.

I didn’t confront the shitstorm boiling in my mind until an hour into the flight. Gradually calming down, I began to realise that I might not have fucked everything up. Maybe I’d even done something right, though my execution left a lot to be desired. I hadn’t signed anything, only opened up a conversation. I ought to have been proud of myself, having taken some fucking initiative for the first time in my life.

I had a burning need to see Macquarie, though it was dark and colder than the frigid reaches of the arctic by the time I neared Melbourne’s CBD.

My gamble paid off. Macquarie was still at work, and worth the wait for someone to exit the building so I could slink inside.

He checked the time as I knocked on his door.

“Aurizon, you’re back.”

“Hey,” I said. God, he was so captivating up close. I tried to remember what I came to talk about. Manta Controls, Crownsdale, Northstar…

Macquarie tilted his head to one side. “How was it?”

“The, uh, AGM?” I managed to force out. I was getting very distracted by his face. “Yeah, good. I didn’t get much networking done…”

“Did you talk to anyone at all?” he asked.

“This one guy from Manta Controls…” I took a deep breath, prepared to come clean about what I’d gotten us into. Before I could get any further, Macquarie got up from his desk and came over to me. I forgot everything I had lined up as he looked into my eyes.

“Come have a look at this,” he said, but he wasn’t moving anywhere.

I only had to reach out a little bit to touch him…

“What?” I used gargantuan effort to ask, keeping my arms at my side. My face was a thousand degrees. Thirstier than the surface of Mars.

Macquarie moved after what was probably three seconds but felt like an hour. “I’ve put a list of cessation matters on the board,” he said, brushing past me and heading outside. “These all need to be taken care of by the end of the week.” He waited for me to catch up. I tried not to stand too close. “There’s a couple of extra things I thought we could investigate,” he said with a wink. Goddamn! You are killing me, man!

“I guess you never want to give up hope.”

He handed me a marker and suggested we brainstorm ways he could salvage dregs from the portfolio in a week. If he left on a rebound from rock bottom, he might be able to talk his way into a job at another bank.

This was it; I had to bring up Manta Controls. I opened my mouth.

“Macquarie,” Sally Zhou’s voice said from behind us. I closed my mouth.

Macquarie spun around. “Good, you’re back,” he said, his expression shifting inexplicably. Probably just happy to see another competent professional. I couldn’t tell if I resented Sally for blackmailing him, or if I was just jealous.

Now the fund seemed to be crashing, they weren’t taking any precautions with keeping the details private. I watched Macquarie’s face for some reprieve from the heavy legal and strategic conversation. He smiled in relief when Sally mentioned Rowan Stewart was in some shit over the Northstar preference stock. This ran deep.

“We’ve covered our tracks, though,” he stressed.

“Everything you’ve done has been legal, I promise,” Sally said. “You’ll only be losing your job. Just a few bad decisions. Bad luck.”

Macquarie’s phone rang. He checked the number and his composed façade seemed to crack, just a tiny bit…

“Hey, what’s up?” he said when he answered. I wanted to reach out and give him a huge bear hug, but I couldn’t even manage it when we were alone.

I immediately knew it was Sydney. The room had gone quiet with Sally staring at the floor, and their voice came through clearly, not even attenuated by Macquarie’s hair.

“I asked for more shifts at the tower,” Sydney said. “But they can’t do it unless they switch me to full time.”

Macquarie’s face showed no expression. “Are you happy to take it?”

“I don’t know,” Sydney said. “How many months can we do on savings?”

“Two. Maybe three,” Macquarie replied. There was a long silence. “I’ve been meaning to spend more time with the kids,” he tried a different path. “I can handle them.”

“It’s not that,” Sydney said. “I need the days off.”

“I know…” Macquarie said miserably. “I’m sorry.”

I felt so bad. It wasn’t helping that I was obviously still attracted to him and that was filling 50% of my brain during this time of crisis. I looked at Sally Zhou instead and pretended not to be listening.

“I’ll take it,” Sydney said after another long silence. “It’s only a one-year contract. I’ll survive.”

“No, I changed my mind,” Macquarie burst into repair mode. “I can’t do that to you. I’ll find something in three months, no problem. Honestly.”

“I just signed it,” Sydney said.

“Take it back,” Macquarie said. “I’ll borrow money from Aristocrat.”

“I’ve sent it off. I start in August.”

“Sydney…” Macquarie wailed.

“Thick and thin,” Sydney replied, but it sounded like they were trying not to cry. The wedding vows. I tried to beat every ounce of feeling out of myself.

“I love you,” Macquarie said.

“I love you,” Sydney replied. “Get back to work.”

Nobody spoke for a while after Macquarie hung up.

“I… I think we’ve said everything we need to,” Sally said, without looking up. “We’ll start squeezing Northstar tomorrow.”

She hastily gathered up her coat and briefcase, her long black hair hiding her face. She said goodbye on her way out, and her voice was thick with something unidentifiable. I’d never seen Sally Zhou so distressed.

So it was just me and Macquarie.

“I…” I croaked, trying to look at him normally.

“Aurizon,” Macquarie said. He met my eyes. Even now I couldn’t stop myself from imagining he would lean forward and kiss me, and I wanted that so bad. I dug my nails into my wrists, trying to replace the emotion with pain or anything else. He was so close. I needed to say something.

“At the AGM. I talked to–”

“Aurizon, are you in love with me?”

I couldn’t stop my mouth from falling open in shock, though I knew I was more obvious than an arbitrage opportunity on a bond market.

“Why would you think that?” I heard myself asking.

“It’s just the way you look at me. It’s how Sydney used to look at me too, when we started dating.”

I was aghast. I still hadn’t had a chance to bring up Manta. I couldn’t let him throw me out now. With sudden and immense clarity, I realised Manta could save Northstar and be a sound investment itself into the future. Manta could bring the fund back. I had to try get this deal through – for Sydney, I told myself, but I was lying.

Again, I panicked.

“You’re right, I’m flustered,” I said, my face burning. “But… But it’s not because of you.”

Macquarie waited.

“I’m in love with Sally Zhou,” I said.