Snakes Among Us

He showed up angry and aloof. Starched shirt. Extra stuff as that was his preference. Upset and distraught, that although he is a third generation benefactor to a U.S. oil tycoon, he had no idea about this. It was a level of distraction that even his grandfather hadn't known.

The leather bound invitation read: We don't invite new money. It was in bold lettering at the top of the membership application. You must prove your financial worthiness to our cause. It continued, what is this worthiness? Keeping the wealthy immensely wealthy and creating the society we wish to exert control over.

Joaquin wasted no time in signing the documents once he read that introductory paragraph. Now, here he was, seated at a grandiose wooden boardroom table. The type of table carved out of a solid piece of oak. Heavy. Thick. Substantial. Intimidating by sheer size. There were carvings on each leg that represented an artisans commissioned handiwork. The stain was dark and the finish shiny. He looked down and was impressed by his reflection staring back at him. Joaquin Hoffstedder is not one that is intimidated easily, but this table, this table had him enthralled. 

There were 12 chairs on either side. None as impressive as the centerpiece of the ornately constructed table. The chairs were made for form, not function. At either end of the table were the seats of those who would be running this situation. The invitees as it were. The chairs could only be described as regal. These chairs were wood, it appeared to be mahogany this time. The cushions crushed velvet. One purple and the other red. They also sat up higher.

He recognized this tactic as one of the oldest practiced in corporations around the world. He who sits highest is the most powerful and important one in the room. 

Joaquin was the first to arrive. Not because he had any propensity for early arrivals nor respect. No, he arrived early because whoever sat at the helm of this organization sent a car for him, cleared his schedule, and compensated his wife, mistress, and daughters with distracting opportunities that they would prefer. The car that was sent was a classic Rolls Royce limousine with blacked out windows. He hated having to admit it, but he was both impressed and curious.

There was a button on the table and there were all sorts of materials one would find at a typical business meeting. Along with a plate of lemons, but there was no water. Odd he thought, but he figured the help must not be finished setting up yet. The card in front of the button was addressed to him. He flipped it over and took in the precise instructions.

Ring the buzzer three times. Open the portfolio to the third from the last page. If you choose not to follow these requests exactly, Joaquin, then the offer is rescinded and you will be escorted away quickly, minus the $500,000 deposit, the card read.

Joaquin was amazed at the abruptness and that is saying something. His grandfather was a staunch man who had a decent start. Nothing like the massive empire he created thru shrewd tactics, greed, and miserly actions. It never ceases to fascinate Joaquin that people could be immensely well off and not enjoy the experiences available because of financial status.

Joaquin followed the instructions to the letter and upon completion which was specified by him having taken the third seat on the appropriate side of the table two elderly women walked out of the wall as it were. Really it was a hidden door but he had assumed it was merely a continuation of the wall. As intended. These two were not what he was expecting. Max and May walked out holding hands and he thought they were sisters initially. Until the peck on the lips of one and a pat on the bottom of the other. While Joaquin is a modern man, he was a bit surprised by the 80 year old lesbian couple before him. 

Max and May had hair that would best be described as coiffed. Roller sets that were popular in an era gone by. One was statuesque with an air of femininity. She wore a red pantsuit and seated herself in the purple chair. The smaller of the couple wore a purple pantsuit and walked up to Joaquin. She gave him a stern once-over, said "Yes, you'll do", then proceeded to the red chair. 

This was the point that Joaquin continued following the instructions found on the third to last page of the leather bound portfolio and delivered the cashier's check for five million dollars to the assistant outside the boardroom. The desk she was seated at wasn't as ornate as the furniture inside the boardroom but it was definitely of substance. Surely, he thought to himself, I should have heard something.

Max and May were independently wealthy from vaudeville, timing the stock market, accepting gifts from suitors, and burlesque numbers. They were also the corporate entity behind many of the world's finest gentlemen's clubs. Due to their age, both women understood how to keep a completely low profile so that men would make them rich. Both were born during The Great Depression and met as amateurs on the vaudeville circuit. May was 12; Max two months from her 13th birthday. Overdeveloped is how their respective families described them. Instead of having to defend themselves against every old widower in their towns both girls opted to run away, lie about their age, and work on stage. In those days it was far more likely that they would have been married off to be because not being white males was to their detriment. Add to that not being heterosexual and the outlook was undesirable. Both women opted to roll the dice on themselves and amassed fortunes from shimmying, shaking, flirting, and knowing when to keep their mouths shut. 

Because the women were so close in age, it was easiest for them to board together while working on the vaudeville circuit. If gossiping commenced then the girls would find work under a different talent opportunity. Secrecy was the key to survival in a 1940s world where homosexuality was considered a mental health issue. The secrecy is how they developed savvy business acumen. 

Max was the tallest. She made her way to the bookcase, shifted a series of books, exposing another hidden room. While this was occuring, Joaquin noticed the door opening and a fleet of assistants at the door. May was light on her feet and quick to boot because Joaquin hadn't noticed her get out of her chair at all.

Heads of corporations, royalty, and unassuming yet recognizable persons entered the boardroom from the bookcase entry. There was a musicality about the order in which these individuals entered, circulated the room, and fell into beat with the symphony playing from what actually was a record player Joaquin had assumed was a liquor cabinet. 

No one uttered a word as the assistants finished placing additional materials in designated places. The membership of this council Joaquin had yet to know the name of all walked around the ornately carved boardroom table as the assistants lined up at the door single file  and the last of them stomped her left foot three times. The assistants all wore small pearls in their ears, black wool gabardine pantsuits, Christian Loubutain pumps & simple gold rope chains with serpent charms. The membership looked to be playing musical chairs with the way everyone was walking around the table, Joaquin thought to himself. 

The stomping had signaled that their services were no longer required, Joaquin noticed that the desk outside the door where he had delivered his healthy membership fee was gone, yet again. While he was lost in this thought the membership pulled out the chairs they had been standing behind, started the musical chairs number again, but this time the most nondescript member stopped at Joaquin, put his hand on his shoulder, leaned over and whispered in Joaquin's ear. "You're one of us now. If anything about these peoples existence leaves this room, I will not hesitate to find you, as I did your loved ones, and slit your throat from ear to ear. Understand?" As Joaquin nodded in the affirmative Max and May stood and called The Reptilian Congress to order.