The Backdoor Coup
November 16, 2034: San Francisco, California – The Presidential Suite, 9th floor, Palace Hotel
Will Topham stared at his phone searching for an answer that wasn’t coming to the rescue. He had texted his sister two hours ago and had no return text or call. ‘This is serious, doesn’t she get that? No doubt at some new age-whack job thing - again!’ He looked again, even though he knew there was nothing there. He stood and walked over to the window that overlooked Market Street. An old-fashion trolly car rolled past ‘That’s the Milan car from before the war’ he thought to himself as he turned his attention to the spread on a nearby table – picking at the grapes and shooing a fly away from the hot coppa before taking a slice.
The evening hadn’t gone as planned – most certainly had not. ‘Christ, as soon as that Bozo showed up there was no chance this evening wasn’t going to become a circus’. The General Manager of the Aurora Borealis glared across the room at Chris Rodriguez, who casually turned his head and caught Will Topham’s eye and smiled a satisfied smile. Will turned and grabbed a bread stick from the charcuterie and snapped a large chunk off with his teeth. ‘That no good piece of dookie – I thought we were done with him 22-years ago! Dad, you told me we were through with him; not to worry.’ And yet, there he was – in the flesh, and they weren’t through with him. Worst yet, he might have been involved in ‘conspired to kill’ Dad’s death. ‘Oh, we’ll never be able to prove it – not with the Bastard now dead, too - and all the secrets buried with him’. Now… this? ‘I love her and all, but we might as well let George Crocker run the club’.
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The three Castles – Golden CEO Duane and his cousins Wellman, Golden CFO, and brother Edward ‘Harry’ Castle, the Commissioner of the Planetary Extreme Baseball Alliance, entered the lobby of the Palace Hotel in good spirits. They had an early dinner at Mourad’s just at the other end of New Montgomery – a meer block away, enjoyed a bottle of a lovely Lebonese wine – Chateau Musar, a 2010 while discussing the business at hand. They walked through the lobby towards the elevators carrying huge power over the night’s agenda: deciding who would run the entertainment giant’s baseball club. There was a plan. Wellman Castle would leave his post and take over as CEO of the Borealis. John Topham, COO of Golden would move into the void and they would offer William the COO position. It was time he stepped away from the baseball side and take his place at Golden as Michael had always planned. That wasn’t going to be an easy sell – but that wasn’t going to change nor spoil the night’s agenda.
Then the threesome turned a corner - and it all went sideways.
Standing in front of the elevators, waiting for a car, was a very unwelcomed sight.
Chris Rodriguez.
Sure, he had every right to be there – they knew that. He had voting rights. He actually had a good number of votes – many around the Golden Organization felt like Michael Topham was too generous with Chris when they had forced him to forfeit his share of the ball club and take a piece of Golden instead. ‘He’s not family’ was a repeated refrain, but at the end of the day, the elder statesman of the family - and company, had a lot of sway over a lot of people. ‘Got him killed’ many said behind closed doors.
The doors to an elevator opened and Chris Rodriguez entered and put a hand up to hold the door as he turned and faced the Castles. The four men made eye contact and Rodriguez raised an inquisitive brow ‘Are you coming?’. ‘Harry’ Castle raised a hand “We’ll wait for the next one.”, but Chris Rodriguez had already let the door close, a devious smile being the last thing they saw as the doors shut.
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“Oh, shit…”
Chris Rodriguez had barely entered the room when those words flew out of Javier Padilla’s mouth – more audibly than he would have liked. The Assistant GM of the Aurora Borealis had been discussing the contract of Yasuoka Matsumoto, the newly acquired catcher from West Virginia, with his boss when the accidental utterance occurred. “What the hell is he doing here?”
The GM turned, looked, and under his breath whispered, “Fuck.”
Will Topham turned away and walked over to the bar, grabbed a bottle of vodka and two glasses. ‘Javier…’ he called out and motioned with the bottle as he walked over to a far corner, placed the the glasses on a table, poured out a more than generous shot and downed it in one swift move - before refilling his glass and pouring Padilla a triple.
Javiar looked at his boss who just shrugged “It’s going to be a long night…”
The long-ago Tempe infield star lifted his glass and took a big gulp. “I thought this was going to be a procedural thing?”
“It was supposed to be…” Topham said, this time sipping his vodka, “but that’s out the window now.”
The two watched as the man the Topham’s had considered the black sheep of the Borealis history books sauntered into the room and mingled with Board members - the ‘less important’ folks – looking self-important while, perhaps, trying to curry a few favors, not daring to approach Will or his cousins who sit at the top of the Golden food chain.
“He’s up to something…” Will said, his glass paused three-quarters to his mouth “look at that smug look on his face – that insincere smile…” The glass made it the rest of the way to his lips as he took a long, slow draw on the vodka. “Buckle-up, amigo – this is going to be a wild ride.”
Padilla shook his head “What do you think he’s up to? He doesn’t have any power here – does he?”
“No…” it was Will’s turn to shake his head “he shouldn’t. Enough maybe to warrant getting up and speaking in favor of some convoluted thing, but at the end of the night, Wellie will be appointed CEO and we move on to the winter meetings – organization intact.”
Javier Padilla stared ahead at the crowd that had grown and gave a painful grimace, “We can only hope so, Boss.”
Will Topham took another slow, yet deep draw on his drink, and grimced with the warmth of the alcohol flowing down his throat, “Yup…”
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“Trust me – if you vote with me, we will be making history – joining the wave of change that our country has been calling for. This baseball thing? It will all be for the better. Trust me.”
Chris Rodriguez was talking to one of the Williams sisters – cousins on the Topham side of the convoluted Topham-Castle family tree. ‘Small fry’ Chris thought to himself ‘You make change by turning the small fish against the big fish.’ He raised his brows and leaned toward the middle-aged woman in front of him, nodding his head. ‘They all want to feel important. Basic herd mentality – too many prey confuse the predator. Mikey was always ranting on about that ecology shit…’ He caught the eye of another small fish in the crowd and weaved through to sell his plan ‘time to use his philosophies to take down his precious, that should have been mine’.
“Hey!” He started as he approached Rudy McClellan ‘Just a snot-nosed punk’ “So good to see you!” reaching out with his had and grasping the unsure McClellan’s with a firm, confident shake.
Rudy looked down at their clasped hands with a confused distain in his gut. “Yeah… Hi Chris…”
“Rudy…. How’s the wife and kids?” ‘Dead for all I care’ Chris thought, but you have to play the game – make people feel like you care. “Good? Great! Listen, let’s talk about this agenda issue…” and with that, Chris Rodriguez launched into his plan – which included lots of head nodding and breast-tapping, as if he had something in his pocket. As they talked, he slowly moved as to better position himself to view the entire room ‘Gotta be seen to be taken serious – to be a player’ and most importantly to stay in view of ‘that Brat’ Will Topham.
The two made brief eye contact and Chris gave him his best ‘F-you’ smile. Then he spotted Betha Harris over by the charcuterie table, grabbed two glasses of wine – slyly pouring half out of one when no one was looking, and hurried over to her – glass in hand stretched out for her. “You must be Betha…” ‘Of course you are, you little tart’ If nothing else, Chris Rodriguez had done his research ‘I’ve had plenty of time to do my research – 22-years worth of time’. “Chris Rodriguez…” extending his hand “It’s so nice to make your acquaintance.” and with that he began once again preying upon the small fish in his attempt to take down the big fish.
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Things began to settle down as a bell man for the hotel brought in a podium and placed it to one side of the suite and then set up a few extra chairs for the collection of attendees to make themselves comfortable. Once everyone was seated – or appeared to be more than comfortable standing; William Topham sitting in a comfy chair, having graduated to a glass of red wine, while Chris Rodriguez chose to stand on the opposite side of the room, still nursing the same glass he had for an hours’ worth of smoozing – Duane Castle stepped up to the podium and addressed the Board.
“We all know why we are here, and it is the intent of the Golden Organization to appoint Wellman Castle as the new CEO of the Aurora Baseball Club, but before we get to our vote on this matter we will allow for an open discussion on the appointment – or, a recommendation of another potential CEO.” Duane looked around the room of mostly content individuals – except the incessantly smiling Chris Rodriguez, who gave Duane a wink of the eye. ‘Jeepers-creepers, this guy’s a nut-case’ Duane thought.
“Before we begin, ‘Harry’ would like a word, then he must excuse himself.”
The PEBA Commissioner stepped up, dressed in a business-casual manner that suited an evening in which he could not be involved in. “I just wanted to make my stance official and transparent, so that I may avoid any sense of conflict of interest within the boundries of my position within the League and that of Golden Entertainment and the Aurora Borealis. As a result, I will not be casting my votes in this endeavor, and to eliminate any sense within the ownership commity of the League, my votes shall remain uncast and unaccounted. I believe that is what is in the best interest of the PEBA, the Aurora Borealis and Golden Entertainment. It is a must that I remain neutral.” With that, he reached into his pocket and produced a document that he read – stating precisely what he had just said to the group, he signed it and then walked over to Duane Castle, who also signed it.
The Board, meanwhile watched – somewhat stunned, but somewhat understanding, nodding in agreement with ‘Harry’’s decision. Will Topham leaned over to Javer Padilla and whispered “Not unexpected. We still are in good shape.”
But on the other side of the room, the smile on Chris Rodriguez’ face got bigger – and more devious.
The Commissioner shook hands with the CEO of Golden Entertainment, wished everyone well – shaking hands with the GM on his way out the door – assured that he had avoided the kind of conflict that was the downfall of the original PEBA Commissioner and owner of the Borealis, John Rodriguez, Sr.
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Duane Castle had walked his cousin to the door, and when he turned to return to the podium he was shocked to see Chris Rodriguez standing before the Board. “You did say…” Rodriguez directing his words to the CEO, “that this was a time for… discourse? Is that an appropriate choice of words?” he asked.
Silence ruled the room. A smattering of voices chimied in with “yes” ‘That’s my small fish’ Rodriguez thought.
“Well… Yes, I did say that…”
“Good! Because I have a lot to say.”
“Here comes the filibuster…” Padilla chimed in from the back of the room, eliciting a few laughs from the group.
“Laugh it up, Kemosabe, but I think you won’t find what I have to say to be very funny.” Rodriguez reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out what appeared to be two documents. “This…” holding one up to the Board “is Michael Topham, Jr’s - who we all know was found dead back in August, last requests.” The laughs stopped instantly.
“And this…” Chris Rodriguez holding up a second document “is Michael Topham, Jr’s confession.”
William Topham, who up to this point was focused on a fly that was buzzing around his wine glass, suddenly looked up and scooted to the edge of his chair. “Confession of what?” he asked defiantly. There was no love lost between he and his deceased half-brother, but he was still family ‘sorta’.
The exiled son of John Rodriguez, 23-years removed from what he viewed as his birth-right being ripped from his heart, stared directly at the Aurora GM and replied with one-word “Patricide”
Jaws dropped. Eyes popped. A fly helped itself to Will Topham’s Rioja.
“That’s a lie.” Will said coldly – despite the fact that a part of him had always wondered.
“Is it?” Rodriguez returned in a stern manner “Is it? Not only does he confess to murder, he claims that you all – CEO, GM, all you little guys – were co-conspirators to the crime.”
“That’s insane…” Duane Castle chimed in as he approached the podium with the intent of escorting Chris Rodriguez from the proceedings “Why would any of us – most of all his son, want to kill him?”
Before Chris Rodriguez could respond, Will Topham beat him to it. “The casino deal.” He exchanged a knowing look with Duane Castle.
“Yes!” Chris shrilled excitedly “The casino deal. The one a father had promised to his son. Just as a father had promised his son his ball club.” He paused to let that sink in. “You all voted on the casino deal and yet were over-ruled.” He looked around the room, satisfied. “Over-ruled because Michael Topham always had to have his way!”
“That wasn’t us!” Rudy McClellan shouted, “Some of us weren’t involved in that casino deal.”
“Yes… but the Board was, and the Board continues to exist…” a cruel smile crept upon Chris Rodriguez’ face. “And here, in writing,” he once more held up the document, “Michael Topham, Jr claims that the Board, the current CEO and his brother, Little Chillie Willie, were all involved in the death of Big Mikey Topham.”
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Will Topham sat there stunned. “I had nothing to do with Dad’s death – I wasn’t even around when he died – we were on the road when he died…” he said aloud, but in a subdued voice. But he could see this was all bad. Somehow, someway Chris Rodriguez had found leverage. ‘But what can he do with it – he can’t legally force his way into the job – so what’s he up to?’
Grabbing his glass of wine, Will wandered towards the back – to Javier Padilla, who looked up from his phone. Chris Rodriguez was going on in the background about how the Board’s hands were tied, if they expected him to remain hush, they would vote wth him and his proposal. Padilla looked up. “Harsh night…” He held up his phone “No word on that deal – they’re still waiting on him to accept the extension. But now they’re balking on Porris and want Gutierrez or Ortiz instead.”
“Screw ‘em…”
“You’re the Boss.”
Padilla, who was still drinking vodka, took a swig from a glass that was laden with condensation, suggesting his vodka was more water than alcohol. “Whatcha going to do?”
The once-young GM glanced over his shoulder, back at Rodriguez. “He doesn’t have a case. He’s just BSing us. That Bastard may have written whatever it is he has, but he can’t…”
“Oh, Willie…” Chris called out in a falsetto shrill that was degrading, demeaning and disgustingly disrespectful “We’re going to read the will now!!”
Slowly William Topham turned his head back at Javier Padilla who stood, stunned look on his face, mouthing the word ‘will?’. Will, rolled his eyes, took a deep breath – held it, and then let it go. “What will, Chris? Whose will?”
“Why your brother’s, of course! I have it right here. Don’t you see? Don’t you get it? He knew your,” and he spread his arms to imply the entire collective body of the Board “hitmen were going to take him out. Using poor George Crocker like that – as a pawn, that was so… oh, what’s the word I’m looking for…?”
“Ridiculous??” Topham countered
“I was thinking gouche.” He held up his hand, document clutch tightly “But here it is! Michael knew it was safe with me. We had plans for that casino. He trusted me. He knew you’d eventually try to take him out. He wasn’t family.” The room was so stunned into silence that one could hear a fly buzzing about. “Please, Will, have a seat.”
Chris unfolded the document, cleared his throat and asked “May I hit the high points to expediate this process?”
The only response was Javier Padilla raising a decenting hand, which was shot down by a nasty “Put your hand down, caddie – you have no say here.”
“I, Michael Topham, Jr, in sound mind and body,” Chris Rodriguez began to read “yada-yada-yada…” twirling his hand “hereby designate Christopher Rodriguez the power of representation of my votes in Golden Entertainment business as it relates to CEO of the Aurora Borealis, and to cast said votes in favor of my nominee choice.” Chris looked up with a satisfied look on his face, took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he held up the confession.
“May I remind you,” as he waived the confession in the air “that I am willing to forget that Michael’s confession exists.” He said that to his small fish, not wasting his time emphasizing this fact with the big fish.
Duane Castle, who had mostly sat back – watching the proceedings while furiously texting his attorney, stepped forward. “And I assume that with all this commotion, you will be voting in-step with the deceased?”
“As will these…” he spread his arms out towards the collective “fine people. Trust me, this…” shaking his fist holding the confession “This is something you don’t want to mess with. Law suits. Arrests. Investigations. Crashing stock price?” He looked at Duane Castle with a ‘I’m not messing around’ look. “You really don’t want that Mr. CEO.”
The two stood, no more than four-feet away, staring each other down, like a schoolyard standoff. “Duane, this is about honoring the wishes of the deceased.”
“That’s blackmail” Will Topham fired out at Rodriguez.
“No,” said the Golden CEO “this is a coup!”
“I prefer to think of it as exerting voting rights, Duane. We have the right to vote on this, and We chose not to vote for…” he flips a dismissive wave towards Wellman Castle “your puppet.”
Wellman Castle – never once thought to be someone’s ‘puppet’, snapped back. “And who are You all voting for?”
“Let me see…” Chris Rodriguez said as he returned his attention to the will and read “It is my wish that my share of votes for CEO of the Aurora Borealis be cast in the name of…” Chris took a moment to pause – no doubt for dramatic effect, fumbling to flip the page which didn’t need flipping – and with that F-you smile, said “Lyonne J. Topham.”
“Lyonne?” Will Topham screamed, slamming his wine glass onto the table, shattering the stem and spilling the wine all over the table. “That’s ludicrous! She’s a child!”
“And may I remind you… what does that asinine announcer call you? Oh, yes – may I remind you, Boy Wonder, that you were just… a… child… too?”
Will opened his mouth – and closed it. He had no response there. He was 18 when his father appointed him GM shortly before the 2011 season began. He was 18 when he traded for his favorite player – ‘El Chupacabra’. But Lyonne? His niece was just 14 – ‘What is this deranged idiot thinking?’
“Is that even legal?” Padilla called out from the back of the room – eye’s glued to his phone, a glass free of condensation in the other hand – suggesting he had moved on to water - or had a fresh vodka. “I mean, aren’t there child labor laws or something?”
Chris Rodriguez carried on about how it was all legal and how he was sure to have the votes and he assured everyone that the information in the confession would blow the lid off Golden Entertainment and stain everyone in the room. Will Topham, on the otherhand, gets up and moves towards the spread, pulling out his phone and shoots off a quick text to his sister:
Have you heard? Do you know about this?
They want to make Lyonne the CEO! Of the ball club.
Get back to me 911
They want to make Lyonne the CEO! Of the ball club.
Get back to me 911
