About the Author Kevin Knight has spent over a decade as an advertising copy writer in both agency and corporate positions. He has also published several non-fiction articles in Catalog Age and two defunct Phillips Publishing newsletters: Avionics Marketing and Mobile Products Marketing. The Gift is his first story in Nuvein.

"What can I do for you today, Honey?" Courtney Baxter had a deep, smoldering voice like a female DJ and she amplified the effect by lowering it an octave when she was working the phones.

Bruce Chivari responded in a harsh accent that revealed a boyhood spent in one of New York City's outer boroughs. "That big job I told you about is gonna happen. I need your best price for 30,000 feet of 1 and 5/8 inch Apex hardline."

Courtney hid her excitement. Thirty thousand feet of the thick, stiff transmission cable used at cellular towers was a huge order. "I'm going to have to speak with my manager and get back to you with a special quote. I know the price in our catalog will be too high for you Sugar."

"You got that right. The factory is bidding against you. I don't just buy on price, though. You can do a lot for me that the factory can't. But the price needs to be in the ballpark."

"Sweetie, you better believe there's a lot I can do that Apex can't," Courtney purred. "How soon do you need it?" Her long fingers swept back a thick mane of golden toned chestnut hair that cascaded past her shoulders.

A chortling snort burst from the telephone. "I always need it. But I can wait until tomorrow for the quote." Bruce laughed at his own joke before he continued, "If your price is good, I'll probably want to see your facility to make sure you can handle our business. What I really want is to have you give me a personal demo of your cable handling equipment."

Courtney stiffened. The inflection in Bruce's words made it clear the cable handling equipment he wanted to see was not the machinery in the warehouse. She ignored the coarse sexual innuendo and said, "I can arrange for you to take a complete tour of our facility anytime. I can't wait for you to come. Bye bye Sugar."

Courtney lowered the handset and nibbled her lower lip. The thought of dealing face-to-face with Bruce Chivari made her nauseous. She had never met him, but his wheezing grunts and obscene comments conjured up a disgusting image. She imagined slicked back hair, a shirt open half-way to his navel and a thick gold chain nestled in dense chest hair.

She extinguished her mental image of Bruce, and tapped the keys of a desk calculator with long, polished nails as lustrous as pink pearls. This order would catapult her past her sales goal--and make her the company's top salesperson for the month. Her elation didn't last more than a few seconds. She still had to beat the factory to get the order-that wasn't going to be easy.

Wireless communications was a young industry that hadn't fully defined its sales and distribution channels. Courtney's employer, Beacom, a wireless products distributor in southern New Jersey, often competed with the manufacturers whose products it distributed. Savvy customers would play the manufacturer off against the distributor and vice versa. This reduced profits, but cell towers were sprouting across the country like toadstools after a cool spring night and every equipment vendor still made a lot of money.

Courtney had joined Beacom three years ago, after leaving a job she adored teaching second graders. Her husband Donald had launched a half-baked scheme to sell special products for left-handed people over the internet. He spent so much money developing a glitzy e-commerce web site, traveling the world to find products and renting plush office spacethat no funds remained to advertise the web site. The business died within a year.

Their marriage had died some months earlier when Courtney discovered their personal investment accounts were empty. Donald had forged her signature on fund withdrawal requests, and pumped almost every penny into Lefty.com. She was furious and unforgiving toward the man she had met in college and been married to for eight years. Courtney retained custody of their son Danny, but her modest teacher's salary didn't cover their expenses.

A friend recommended that she apply for a telesales position at Beacom. The job paid good money and, unlike most sales jobs, required very little travel. Beacom hired Courtney on the spot. She demonstrated a natural talent for telemarketing. Most of the wireless industry's buyers were men, and she discovered flirtation was a powerful selling tool. One of her male colleagues had jokingly accused her of engaging in phone sex, but she believed it was harmless. The only time she actually met any customers was at an occasional trade show. Courtney was more troubled that she had never been Beacom's top salesperson. Scott Nolan, an arrogant preppy, captured that honor month after month.

A knock caused Courtney to look up. The doorway framed a tall, blond in her mid-thirties. Anne, her best friend and the sales manager's secretary, was wearing an unfashionably long navy knit dress. Courtney motioned her inside and rose to close the door. "You wouldn't believe the call I just took. TD Wireless wants me to quote an order that's over $250,000. If I get the order, it will make me the top sales person this month. Can you believe it?"

"That's great," Anne mumbled. She stared past Courtney's strikingly angular, model perfect visage and scanned the dove gray wall.

"Is something the matter?" Courtney's large, deep violet eyes fixated on her friend.

"Scott Nolan was in Tim's office complaining that you stole the TD Wireless account. Tim wants to see you." Anne rested her hand Courtney's forearm. "I'm so sorry."

Courtney's face smoldered, nail tips bit her palms, and she exploded. "That damned skunk can't steal TD Wireless from me. He can't. I worked that account by the rules." Then she smirked and said, "Besides, I think Bruce Chivari would rather deal with me than Scott Nolan."

The mention of Bruce Chivari startled Anne so much her voice quivered. "Be careful with Bruce Chivari. He's an absolute pig."

Courtney was confused. "What do you mean by a pig? That he's always snorting like he has a head cold and no handkerchief?"

Anne glanced at the art print depicting Chesapeake Bay oystermen behind Courtney's desk. Then she related an incredible story. "Bruce Chivari used to work at Digicom. At last year's Wireless Expo, Bruce and some other people from Digicom went to dinner, and you won't believe what happened." She stopped and tested the closed door. Anne's nose scrunched as if seared by a foul odor. She whispered, "He exposed himself and told the waitress 'sit on this and I'll spin you around.' The poor girl started crying and Bruce got thrown out of the restaurant."

Courtney threw a hand to her mouth and gasped in disbelief. "You're kidding!"

"I'm not. I heard about it from Debbie Leifer. She was there. Digicom fired Bruce the next week. He's a filthy pig." She shook her head distastefully. "And he's huge."

"What? His penis?"

Anne blushed. "I wouldn't know about that. I mean he's a big, fat slob. He's shorter than you, but weighs over 300 pounds. And he's got a thick black beard that hangs over his chest."

"Don't worry. I can take care of myself." Courtney toyed with a small, silver picture frame on her desk. In truth, she was beginning to feel a growing unease as Anne opened the door and left. Courtney thought grossly obese men were physically unattractive. She found a beard even more repulsive-beards were food magnets. But Bruce's behavior at the restaurant was truly scary. He was worse, much worse than she had imagined.

Tim's desk faced a window that overlooked the pea green water of a flooded quarry. He swiveled around and motioned Courtney to take a seat. Tim resembled the movie actor, Gary Busey, but the similarity was superficial. Tim was soft spoken and sensitive. And he could sell. A new sales record was set virtually every month, but Tim faced an uphill struggle convincing his salespeople to cooperate with each other. Most of the staff preferred the dog-eat-dog culture inspired by his predecessor and still nurtured by Beacom's CEO.

Dark circles lay under Tim's eyes and he sounded tired. "Scott Nolan is complaining that you took the TD Wireless account from him." Courtney started to protest, but stopped when her boss held up his hand. "I checked it out. Nolan put his name on the account two years ago, but he's never contacted them." He pointed to a high stack of computer printouts on the credenza. "The call records show that you're the only one who's been working the account."

"You won't believe how hard I've worked them, but it paid-off." She paused dramatically. "They want me to quote 30,000 feet of 1 and 5/8 inch Apex. I need a really good price."

"Whew," Tim whistled. "An order that big will put us up against the factory." He turned back to his desk and pumped a part number into the computer keyboard. He studied the computer screen. "Give them $8.00 a foot and make an offer to warehouse the cable and ship on demand."
"Does that mean the account's still mine?"

"Get the order and it's yours. I can win that battle. If you don't get the order, I'm not sure I can protect you." Tim stood and when Courtney got up to leave he said, "You can do it. Oh. Margie wanted me to ask you and Danny over this Saturday for dinner. I know it's short notice…"

"We were just going to stay home and watch TV. We'd love to come. Danny really enjoys getting a chance to hang around with Steve," she said referring to Tim and Margie's son who was the same age as Danny.

Tim and Courtney agreed on a time to meet for dinner Saturday, and she headed toward her office in an upbeat mood. Her euphoria evaporated at the sight of Scott Nolan seated in one of the two chairs facing her desk. A pair of thin soled, tasseled loafers rested on the desktop next to the framed photo of her son. Scott flashed a brilliant, toothpaste model grin at her. Courtney sometimes wondered if his teeth were real. But the salesman's most striking feature was a dazzling white forelock. Jet black hair surrounded it like the fur on a skunk's back. Beacom's CEO Frederick Brant possessed the same unusual hair colors. Many employees speculated the two men were biological half-brothers. The fact that Frederick Brant usually supported Scott in account ownership disputes lent added weight to this rumor.

Courtney was incensed. She fought the impulse to grasp the diminutive man's elevated feet and drag him off the chair. "Would you mind taking your feet off my desk?"

Scott lowered his feet to the mauve carpet after a defiant pause. Then he clasped his hands behind his head and said, "We need to talk about TD Wireless."

"I don't think we need to talk about TD Wireless. I've been working that account for six months and you haven't. Nobody keeps an account unless they contact them at least once a month. It's that simple." She remained standing and glared down at him.

"TD Wireless has been mine for two years. I got the account when Hector left here, and two years is longer than six months." Scott emphasized his words with a thick Mont Blanc pen that he hammered toward Courtney.

"That's the only reason your sales are so high. Whenever somebody leaves here, you skim off their good accounts." She flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture. "You're a lousy salesman. You'd be nothing if you didn't claim all the big accounts, let somebody else do all the work, and then steal the customer when he's ready to place an order."

A slight smile grew on Scott's face. Courtney felt like his unblinking blue eyes could read her inner thoughts when he said, "So that's what this is all about. You really can't stand it that my numbers are always better than yours."

He stood before Courtney could reply and brushed past so close that she could smell apples from the shampoo residue in his hair. Then just as Scott reached the doorway, he flung a parting shot over his shoulder, "We'll see what Fred has to say about this."

Her son's visit to the doctor the next morning seemed to take forever and Courtney arrived late at work. She wondered why physicians were always 45-minutes late, but couldn't come up with an explanation. Fortunately, Danny's wrist, which he sprained in a school play last week, was healing nicely. She hoped that good news might portend a smooth day at work, but feared her conflict with Scott Nolan wasn't over.

Courtney barely noticed an overnight delivery box on the top of her desk. A sticky note plastered to the computer screen captured her attention. It was from Tim. Courtney felt a twinge of apprehension when she read his neat script, "Call me ASAP."

She dialed the sales manager's extension. Tim answered on the first ring. She learned that Frederick Brant had called Tim into his office late yesterday to discuss the dispute over TD Wireless. Tim's arguments had failed to persuade the CEO that the account rightfully belonged to Courtney. But the CEO granted Tim one concession. If Courtney could book an order from TD Wireless within one week, she could keep the account. If not, the customer would belong to Scott. Courtney slammed the phone receiver into the cradle. She clenched her eyes shut while she massaged her temples. Scott hadn't wasted any time going to the CEO. She silently cursed both of them. The whole situation was so unfair, she wanted to leave Beacom and never return.

Courtney calmed herself with deep rhythmic Yoga breaths and exhalations. Quitting right now wasn't possible. It would take months to find a job that paid as good as this one. And Courtney refused to give Scott Nolan the satisfaction of winning. She swiveled her chair toward the computer monitor. Her fingers danced over the keys at secretary speed. A few strokes logged her into the system. Then she zapped an e-mail to Bruce Chivari with her price quote. She also wrote that Beacom was willing to keep the 30,000 feet of cable in its warehouse and release shipments to Bruce when he needed cable.

Manufacturers package large diameter coaxial cable on massive wooden reels that stand taller than an NBA center. The reels consume a lot of space--more storage space than most cable manufacturer's and cellular operators possess. Warehouse space was Beacom's main selling point in its battle against the cable manufacturers. A large section of the company's cavernous warehouse was devoted to storing cable for big customers like Bruce. Courtney hoped this service would be enough to win the order.

The events of the last two days left Courtney drained by early afternoon and she smothered a yawn. She wasn't even conscious of how many times her phone rang before she lifted the receiver to her ear and said, "Good afternoon. This is Courtney Baxter."

Harsh wheezing sounds like Darth Vader's rasping breaths revealed Bruce Chivari before he spoke. "Hey Babe. I've got fantastic news. My boss really liked your quote. Especially your offer to stock and ship on demand."
Bruce had responded to her quote much faster than she expected, but Courtney didn't show her surprise. She made a smooth attempt to close the sale as if $250,000 orders were commonplace. "That's great Brucey. When do you need the first shipment and how much cable do you want us to ship?"

"Not so fast Babe. You haven't got my order yet. My boss wants me go down there and make sure Beacom can handle our business. The guy's paranoid. He must have got burned sometime by a fly-by-night distributor. Look, I'm heading down to DC later this afternoon. I thought I might stop and see you on the way. Like I was saying yesterday, I really want to checkout your cable processing equipment."

"That'll be great Brucey. I've really been looking forward to meeting you in person." Courtney hid the apprehension she felt after yesterday's conversation with Anne.

"You won't be disappointed. Did you get the gift I sent?"

She examined the package on her desk and saw it came from Bruce. "Oh, yes!"

"Did you like it?" He punctuated the question with a short gurgling snort.
"Of course I did Sweetie. It's just perfect." Courtney stared guiltily at the unopened package.

"I thought you would like that." He emphasized 'you' in a tone that was somehow vulgar. "I figure we'll grab some dinner when we're done. I booked a hotel room near your office so we got plenty of time. I don't need to be in DC until tomorrow afternoon."

"That sounds wonderful. I can't wait." Courtney's mouth was on automatic pilot and raced ahead of her brain, which was screaming at her to shut-up.
"I'll see you around 4:30. Ciao Baby."

Courtney said goodbye and tore into the package with a letter opener. She chipped a nail and cursed. Finally, she withdrew a smaller inner package from the outer carton. The glossy white container was the size of a liquor bottle gift box, but opened along its length like a small coffin. Courtney slit a golden foil seal and slowly lifted the lid. A deliciously sweet chocolate aroma drifted from the box. She beamed with anticipation. But the smile twisted into a grimace that distorted her face from hairline to chin when she discovered what lay inside the box.

A cold emptiness spread through Courtney's stomach and her own perspiration odor smothered the pleasing chocolate aroma. This has to be a nightmare--especially after her last conversation with Bruce. An enormous male reproductive organ molded from rich, dark chocolate nestled on a bed of dark blue tissue paper inside the box. She tried to reach back and recall every nuance of their conversation. The more she remembered, the worse she felt.

She resisted the impulse to call Anne. Courtney needed to analyze her predicament. Bruce would not arrive for three hours. She had time to find a solution. Maybe Tim could join her and Bruce for dinner. Nothing would be more natural than having Beacom's sales manager help wine and dine an important prospective customer. She started to dial Tim's extension, but stopped when Scott Nolan walked past her doorway. In that instant, everything became very clear. She knew exactly what she had to do to get Bruce's order. As revolting as that was, the prospect of Scott Nolan winning was even worse.

Courtney punched a familiar number. It rang twice before a woman answered. "Hello."

"Hi mom. Listen, I've got an emergency. I need to go out of town overnight for a meeting tomorrow. Can you take care of Danny until I get back?" A smile blossomed on Courtney's face. "Thanks Mom. Danny's bus gets there at 3:00."