Initial Public Offering

It was night on the street when Sam arrived. Allen let her in through a side entrance and took her up in the freight elevator. In the conference room she caught the sunset — the last slice of light in Manhattan — before Allen’s sharks went to work. “Sign here,” they would say, “And here.” They kept coming for more and more: arbitration, nondisclosure, even something called her 'life rights.'

But as each suit got their fill, they departed. In the early morning, only Allen remained.

​

"What’s this part?” asked Sam.

“Business agreement. For all intensive purposes, Bradley Media Group gets ninety percent of everything. Want to be a household name? That's the price.”

Sam weighed the pen in her hand. It was heavy, real gold heavy. She noticed its avian shape.

“It’s a goose,” said Allen, smiling. His teeth were too white.

“Is…” The pen flapped in Sam’s fingers. “Is ninety fair?”

“Ninety percent is standard. There's a lot of risk for us. And of course we’ll be working to keep you relevant,” he paused, “Irregardless, if you feel like you need an attorney—“

“You’re…not my attorney?”

“I’m with BMG. Again, if—“ He stopped as Sam signed and smacked the pen on the table.

“Okay!” He cheered. “Let’s see, you’ve signed…” He scanned the table. “So that just leaves… Here.” He slid a stack in front of Sam and picked up the business agreement. "Last one’s the waiver of liability—means you can’t sue us for emotional distress, physical harm, whatever.”

Sam leafed through it. It was scarier than the others, with bold text all over reading: The Event.

“What’s this about the ‘Event’?” she said. “I’ll be so embarrassed that I’ll - what - die?”

“Sam…” Allen sat down. “We picked you. We believe in you. But the Event - whatever it is - has to put you in the news for a week, and not just our news. It’s going to tarnish you—put you in a hole.” He placed his fingers on Sam’s hand. “We’ll pull you out, make you a star. But you can’t wash it off. Everyone will always feel like they’re above you, even while they worship at your Instagram feed. It’s gonna hurt."

Sam shook off his hand. She looked past him, out over the Hudson. New Jersey was still dark but the heavens were turning blue. She thought of all the faces she wished she’d never seen.

“My whole life has hurt,” she said, meeting Allen’s eyes.

Sam breathed. “Okay.” She poised herself to wring the goose’s neck across the dotted line.

She stopped.

“Fifty-fifty.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want half: fifty percent”

Allen shot up. “You signed that part already!” He said, shaking the proof at her.

“Tear it up. I want half.” Sam twirled the pen at Allen. “Golden eggs, right?"

Allen grinned. “Sun’s almost up. Leave the way you came in.” He held up the business agreement and - ffft - tore it in two. “Come back tonight and we’ll negotiate.”

​

WC: 500