Coming of Age
By: Brock Archer
(© 2020 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 32 

Troy was so far out of it when I got back into the bedroom that I had to practically carry him to the shower. When he finally woke up, I reminded him that our mothers would be going home the next day, so we had only one day to show them the sights of Milan. Of course, we couldn’t let them leave Milan without seeing da Vinci’s The Last Supper, and we spent the rest of the day at Sforzesco Castle.

Later that afternoon when we got back to the hotel, I asked the concierge for recommendations on where to spend a fun evening. “Do you know Murphy’s Law?” she asked me.

“Of course,” I replied. “Whatever can go wrong will, but what…”

“Not that Murphy’s Law,” she laughed. “It’s an Irish pub just a few blocks from here.”

So, we went to Murphy’s Law Pub and had a grand time before going to dinner at Cracco, one of Milan’s finest restaurants.

The next morning, before saying goodbye to our moms, we had the pleasure of their company at our morning planning session, where the news was fast and overwhelming. What day was it now? Oh, yeah. Monday. I think.

“It seems that our efforts are paying off,” proclaimed Mike.

“Yes,” chimed in Maria. “Silvana called me this morning to inform me that the show Saturday night not only won the ratings race for that time slot, but it was the highest rated episode her show has ever recorded. What’s more, her Website almost crashed because so many people logged in to view clips from the show and register their comments, which were overwhelmingly positive.”

Of course, we were all thrilled, but we suppressed our giddiness so as not to cause our mothers to think we were letting the notoriety go to our heads.

“That’s not all,” added Rob. “Armando has some news to share as well.”

“Si,” said Armando. “We are going back to Turin tomorrow. The executives of Fiat and their subsidiaries want to meet with you to discuss possible endorsements.”

At that point, we could no longer contain our excitement. High fives all around. “I’m calling dibs on the Maserati contract,” teased Johnny.

“Jonathan!” cautioned Mrs. Andersen.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” he boasted. “I’ll get you one too.”

Everyone had to laugh at that, but Mike quickly brought us back down to earth. “Don’t count your Maseratis before they hatch. We’re going to hear what they have to say. They may or may not make any of you an offer, but if they do, we’ll discuss it and decide how best to proceed.” That comment reassured our mothers but felt like a bucket of cold water on us guys. It was like being edged to the brink of an orgasm only to have the hand slapped away. Still, we all trusted Mike to navigate us through the negotiations.

Following the strategy session, we took our mothers to the airport for their flights back home and returned to the hotel to plan what we were going to wear, say, and do for the trip to Fiat Headquarters in Turin.

By the time we got back to our hotel rooms, all the party guests (Ciara, Victor, the Outlaws, and the bellboys) had left, so we just chilled and dreamed of luxury sports cars.

When we arrived at the Fiat Headquarters the next day, we were met by quite a surprise—two of them actually.

“Victor! Ciara! What are you doing here?” we all asked, almost in unison.

“When we found out that you were coming today, we asked Security if we could escort you to your meeting.”

“That’s great,” said Troy, “but how—”

But before they could explain, security guards began ushering us toward a conference room. Victor introduced Troy and me to his mother, and Ciara said to Johnny, “I want to introduce you to my grandfather when he—”

And with that all eyes turned to the distinguished looking older gentleman who breezed into the room and sat at the head of the conference table. The other executives claimed their respective seats, and Ciara and Victor led us to the remaining empty seats at the table.

The nameplate in front of the distinguished gentleman read, “Chairman, Christian D’Amico.”

I thought Johnny was going to fall out of his chair when Ciara leaned over and whispered, “My grandfather.”

As we went around the table, each person introducing himself or herself, we learned that Victor’s mother, Aurora Forte, was vice president for marketing at Maserati.

The one person who sat at the back of the room instead of at the table was Armando, who tried to suppress a smug little smile. All of a sudden, pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Ciara and Victor were not chosen at random for the TV show as we had all believed. Armando had engineered it. No doubt he knew everyone in the room and many of their families, so he had arranged for Silvana to call their names. I flashed Armando a knowing look, but he just reciprocated with a look that admonished me to focus on the current meeting and the business at hand.

Chairman D’Amico began by welcoming us all to Fiat and invited us to take a tour of the facilities while we were there. He confessed that he had not seen Silvana’s show on Saturday night, but his granddaughter had told him what a marvelous time she had there and had insisted that he watch the recording her parents had made, which he subsequently did. On top of that, he had gotten a call from Signora Forte with a similar report from her son Victor. “It is because of their insistence that we are all here today,” he conceded.

“I must tell you, young man,” he said to Troy, “you are exceptionally talented and very photogenic, and you three (gesturing to Mike, Johnny, and me) are equally handsome and articulate and obviously intelligent. These are all qualities that could potentially benefit us.

“Signora Forte,” he continued, “and our other marketing executives have been pushing us—pushing me (he smirked)—to develop new marketing campaigns aimed at younger consumers. It seems that I have a reputation around here of being somewhat old-fashioned and too conservative.” A few snickers peppered the room. “Which is why I am not yet sold on this concept,” he asserted. “However, I have confidence in our marketing teams, and for that reason, I am directing them to proceed with talks with the four of you to see what they can come up with. They will report back to me, and we’ll see where we might go from there.” And with that, he rose and left the room with the promise to meet up with us again over lunch.

“Before we get down to business,” said the vice chairman, who had taken the gavel, so to speak, “I think we should all get better acquainted.” On cue, caterers began bringing coffee and other refreshments into the room. Someone flipped a switch that caused an entire wall to open up to a great room resembling the lobby of a five-star resort. The other executives began mingling with us, engaging in small talk and quizzing us about the TV show and the subsequent response.

After an hour or so of this socializing, the vice chairman announced that it was time to get down to business and that Signora D’Amico would now take charge. The vice chairman and several other executives then left the room and left us with the marketing executives from Fiat and its various subsidiaries.

Mike, Maria, and Armando had all had experience with TV commercials and other forms of advertising, so they shared the lead for “our team.” Johnny, Troy, and I were not mere bystanders, however. We were asked many questions, and we offered forthright answers.

After two hours of mostly brainstorming, we were met once again by Chairman D’Amico in the executive dining room for lunch, which was as good as any meal we had had already in Italy. Lunch was followed by a tour of the facilities and an account of the history of the company, including how it had come to acquire its various brands.

Johnny, Troy, and I kept trying to ask, “So what about the endorsements? Are we getting contracts or not?” But Mike pulled us aside and explained that we had to be patient and let the process work its way through the system. “Corporate decisions of this magnitude,” he said, “can take months—even longer. We’re off to a great start,” he said, “but we don’t want to ruin it by pressing too hard.” It was like being told that Christmas is really just around the corner when we wanted to see Santa right now. We had gotten too used to instant gratification.

The next morning we gathered again for our daily briefing, which consisted mostly of everyone sharing what he thought about the meeting at Fiat. It was Wednesday, and we would be leaving on Saturday morning for our return to the States. Mike was about to discuss our plans for the remaining three days when Rob entered the room and mumbled something to him. Mike smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“Troy,” he continued, “you will continue with your language and music lessons. Maria may have some things for you to work on at the academy.

“Rick,” he paused as if to figure out what to say, “you’re free until we leave Saturday.” And then he sighed, “And try to stay out of trouble, OK?” Troy and Johnny loved that one.

“And Johnny,” he continued. “Go pack your bags. You’re going on a little trip with Rob.”

We were all as bemused by that announcement as Johnny, who, for the first time I had ever witnessed, seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he asked, “Where am I going? Did I do something wrong?”

Mike just held his fake stern demeanor and replied, “Just go with Rob, and he will explain everything.”

Johnny just sat there confused and maybe just a tad bit scared.

“Go!” Mike snapped. “Go with Rob. Now!”

As Johnny got up to follow Rob, the rest of us just looked at each other to see if they had any clue as to what was going on. I saw Mike throw a faint nod to Armando, who responded by getting up immediately and following Rob and Johnny.

Once the trio were out of sight and earshot, Mike and Maria lost it. They broke down laughing.

“Did you see that look on his face?”

“Poor kid. He looked like he was being exiled to Siberia.”

“Or to the gas chamber.”

“Mike,” Troy and I kept interrupting. “What the hell is going on?”

“Relax,” said Mike. “We’re just messing with him a bit. Fact is, Rob has arranged for Johnny to meet with some executives at Volkswagen in Germany, so they’re going up there for a couple of days. It will be very similar to the meetings we just had at Fiat, but they wanted a little more time with him. So, rather than return here, they will meet up with us at JFK in New York before we all go home together.”

Aha! That’s why Armando followed them. He’s going to prep Johnny’s wardrobe for the trip.

“Wow!” I said. “I don’t know whether to be thrilled or jealous.”

“Well,” said Mike. “You can go with them if you want. You’re free to do whatever you want from now until Saturday.”

After pausing for a brief second or two, I leaped out of my chair and took off after Johnny, Rob, and Armando.

As Mike had forecast, the meetings at Volkswagen were pretty much the same as the ones at Fiat, only more extensive. They seemed to want to know everything about us right down to what kind of toothpaste we used. They might as well have asked what brand of condoms we preferred.

To be continued...

Posted: 06/11/2021