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Chapter 16


If you want to be remembered, you have to get your name out there. Everyone that people remember made history. They put their name in books, on buildings, anywhere they could find to scrawl their signature.

I thought that if I had my own building, I could be remembered in the same way.

A picture says a million words… but a sentence only says a few. No one wants to read anything that has a million words… but they will always remember a few.

At least I knew I could remember a few. A few words aren’t very many to remember at all.

Maybe they were more than I thought. And yet, maybe they weren’t.

There was one thing I had inscribed with my signature that I wish I hadn’t. Knowing that my name was on that makes me regret having a name at all.

Sometimes, it’s best not to be remembered.



Friday, April 13, 2012
5:00 p.m.


Howard sat in the lobby of the main business administration building. He examined his wallet lightly as he held his phone to his ear. “And the papers are in order?”

“They’ve been taken over this afternoon,” the voice on the other end responded.

“I won’t have to go over there?”

“No.”

“And when will they come back to me?”

“It will be sometime within the week, at the latest… Though, I know that you’re anxious to get them back sooner than that.”

Howard began tapping his foot with a slight nervousness. “Of course I want them back. They are extremely important.”

“I’m doing my best, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones.” Howard looked up from his call to see Dean Keon exiting the elevator. “I look forward to hearing from you about their progress.”

“Of course, sir.”

Howard closed his phone as he stood to meet the dean.

“Mr. Dorough, I’m glad to see you again. Shall we head over to the building?”

Howard smoothed his tie. “Of course.”

The two men exited the building to find another cart waiting for them directly outside the entrance.

“Mr. Dorough, I have been meaning to ask you… Do you have any ominous feelings about today’s dedication?”

“Why would I?” Howard huffed. “It’s as good a day as any other for a building dedication.”

“I just meant that it’s Friday the thirteenth.”

“Friday the thirteenth is an old wives’ tale, perpetuated by moviemakers and craven children,” Howard retorted. “I do not believe a man of your caliber would be the type to engage in it as well.”

“It never hurts to be at least a little wary during the war…” The dean gave a half-hearted laugh. “I’m sure you heard the news about the planes this morning and the diseases up north.”

“An old wives’ tale,” Howard huffed again.

The cart reached the building with ease. He exited it with ease and looked up at the inscription on the building one more time. Howard D. Dorough Business Administration. Yes, it was to be perfectly preserved in writing. A smile lit up his face.

Meanwhile, the dean surveyed the scene around the building. More students than he had expected were standing outside the building, waiting for its unveiling. The dean smiled until he saw a familiar student standing amongst the crowd.

Howard gave an uncomfortable glance as he watched the dean walk toward a student with a smile. He couldn’t imagine any unaccomplished person who actually deserved just such a smile.

Howard inconspicuously walked toward the dean, to listen in on the conversation. He noticed that the male student the dean seemed to walk towards was being comforted by a female of about the same age. Some indecipherable writing covered both their shirts.

Howard leaned closer toward the group.

“Mr. Montgomery,” the Dean smiled.

“Good evening, sir.” The young man gave him a weak smile.

The dean examined his own suit before giving a slight frown toward the young man’s attire.

“Sorry, sir. I headed here straight from class and hadn’t thought to put a suit on.”

The frown remained on the dean’s face. “But that particular shirt?”

The young man lowered his head. “Sorry again, sir.”

Howard examined the shirt. The inscription across the chest read, Muéstrenos sus tetas. Howard cleared his throat and mimicked the dean’s obvious distaste with a frown.

The dean turned around. “Ah, Mr. Dorough, I would love you to meet the student assistant in my office, Brad Montgomery.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” He put his hand to his head as he said it.

“Do you always walk around like that?” Howard raised an eyebrow.

“Just a little hot, sir.”

“Try wearing a full suit while you say that.” Howard gave a stifled laugh.

“Brad… do you want me to take you home?” the young woman asked with concern.

“No… let’s just go over there.” He shook his head with a warm smile, his voice drawling with a little southern Mississippian inflection.

The pair walked away slowly.

Howard studied the back of the young man’s shirt. “Kappa Sigma at Sands Key, Fall Formal 2011.”

“It’s clever, despite its vulgarity.” The dean shook his head.

“And you let your office assistant dress that way?”

The dean let out a low laugh. “You know what they say… Let them have their fun now, so they can be cut and dried business men in their later years.”

Howard cleared his throat again. “Or they could learn early that the world isn’t all fun and games. It’s mostly work.” Howard shook his head and headed back toward the building.

The dedication went off without a hitch. Howard gave a riveting speech about the importance of setting high standards for one’s self and achieving one’s goals in the lucrative world of business. It truly was a moving speech—the press even attended, in order to document that moment.

Howard gladly posed for photographs because publicity made business. And business created earnings.

The building was opened for tours afterward. The entire proceedings had an almost theatre-like feel to them. Howard smiled as he watched people enter and exit the building. His legacy was already making him famous.

However, a short frown did appear on Howard’s lips as the dean’s student assistant exited the building with the female who had accompanied him earlier. His arm was slumped over her shoulder as though he were too weak to walk by himself.

“Brad… let’s get you home…”

He paused her for a moment and motioned toward Howard. He stepped toward them slightly.

“It is a great building, sir. Thank you for the donation.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Howard chuckled, almost out of character. “You know, you don’t seem to be doing too well.”

“I just need to eat something…” he trailed off.

“How far is home for you?” Howard raised an eyebrow.

“Just over in Greek Park,” his female companion answered.

Howard nodded as he watched the two students start the trek back toward their houses. His thoughts turned to his own son, Bartholomew, as he continued staring after the two university students. They had planned on going south this weekend, but business was business… even the few times Howard wished it wasn’t. Now was one of those times.

He let out a small sigh, and it was at that moment that he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to face Dean Keon.

“Mr. Dorough, it’s almost time for the dinner to start. I’ve just been called into a meeting, so I can’t go there with you, but the Assistant Dean, Dr. Ganesh, will head over there with you.” He motioned toward the African American man behind him.

Howard gave him a nod and went with the assistant dean. He turned back toward Dean Keon with a slight frown on his face.

Being called into a meeting at six-thirty on a Friday evening was highly unusual, if not slightly alarming. The dean had already made his plans for the evening, and they had all revolved around Howard’s building dedication.

Any meeting that would draw the dean away from that had to be of the utmost importance.

Howard’s brown crinkled as he pursed his lips slightly.

His concern, however, was soon abated by the dinner. He thoroughly enjoyed the company of Dr. Ganesh and the two directors of the school of business, Mr. Jacques and Ms. Roberts.

The food was satisfying, if not exquisite. The drinks were delectable. The rest of the attendees were talkative and distinguished.

It was a good crowd.

The only downside was that a few people were noticeably ill, but Howard assumed it was from too much liquor.

As the evening wore on, Howard noticed more and more people were beginning to confine themselves to their chairs, and the people who tried to leave were turned from the door.

As a wave of concern swept over Howard’s face, Dean Keon entered the room.

He was as composed as he could be, despite the feeling of panic that emanated from him. He made his way toward the head table and pulled the microphone toward him.

“Your attention, ladies and gentlemen.” He cleared his throat, a sure sign of his ever-increasing panic. “I understand that many of you are attempting to leave this event; however, we have been forced to quarantine the school.”

A few gasps rose from the crowd, followed by a low murmur.

“Our campus health center is completely full with students complaining of flu-like symptoms… and a few others…”

Howard’s thoughts flashed back to the young man in the unseemly shirt. He felt ill just at the thought of having come into contact with someone who was already carrying the disease.

“We do not want this to spread to the rest of the Orlando area.” The dean’s voice was shaking. “So we must ask that you do not leave this event.”

Another murmur rose from the crowd.

“I repeat, no one is to leave this event.”

Howard sank into a chair. He put his hands to his head, swearing that this was not how he’d intended to be remembered at all. Everything was supposed to have gone off smoothly, but not like this.

And his son…

He pulled out his phone hastily and scrolled through his contacts.

“Hello?” a woman’s low voice answered.

“Bree…”

“Howie, where are you? Barty is getting impatient!”

“Tell Bartholomew that I’m sorry. There’s a disease going around the university, so they’ve had it quarantined.”

“At the university?”

“Yes.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d stayed with your original plans.”

“Business is business.” He would never relent that to her.

“Business is always business with you!”

“Did you receive the papers?”

“Why should it matter if I did?”

“Did you receive the papers?”

“Of course I received them!”

“Will they be signed when I come pick them up?”

“I’ll see if I can fit in it my schedule…”

“Bree…”

“Fine, fine.” She paused momentarily. “Howie… about that disease…”

“I’ll see you when I get there.” Howard slid his phone down with a snap.

Those papers were his greatest worry.

What Howard did not worry about, of course, was that his building dedication, the events surrounding it, and even his important documents ought to be the least of his worries.

***