Free Shake the Trees by Rod Helmers

stared pensively thru the intricate design of the wrought iron railing.  He was concerned.  Not about Sandi. He had called earlier - she’d returned home before dark to check on the maternity ward, and was in the midst of preparing supper.  Sam was concerned about the inside of his arteries. 
    The heavy lunch at Tia Vera’s and the mounds of shellfish covered in butter and cream had caused Sam to think about his family history of heart disease.  And he wasn’t even drinking red wine.  He had never thought about his long-term health before.  He was either too young or simply didn’t care.  He was beginning to care for the first time, and he knew why.  He had been thinking about her ever since he left Albuquerque.
     
    Sam was impressed by the recently leased offices of American Senior Security, Incorporated.  The three-story glass and stainless steel structure was just off Westshore Boulevard, and near the causeway and the airport.  The first floor contained several high-end boutiques, while the rest of the building belonged to American.  The second floor was shared by the Operations Division and the Finance and Investments Division.  The third floor, which actually had a view of the bay, held the Data Mining Division and the Marketing and Sales Division.  And, of course, the executive offices of Marc Mason.
    The same young man that had met Sam at the airport had also given him a complete tour of the facility upon his arrival that morning.  Sam had met the Directors of both the Operations Division and the Investments Division.  Both were polite, but typically driven executives with obviously important tasks to attend to.  The Director of the Data Mining Division had not yet arrived for work.  President and Chief Executive Officer Marc Mason was also Acting Director of the Marketing and Sales Division.  Apparently, this was a title he hoped to relinquish, although Sam understood that no one else had ever held the position.  As Sam entered his office, Marc Mason jumped up and rushed to greet him.
    “Sam, I can’t tell you how delighted I am to finally meet you.”
    “I’m very glad to meet you as well, Mr. Mason.”  Sam was attempting to conceal his surprise at both the youth of the executive and his casual attire.  Everyone else had seemed so buttoned up.
    “Please, call me Marc.”
    “Sure, Marc,” Sam replied.
    “Sam, please have a seat, and Susie I’d like a latte no foam.  Sam?”
    “I’m good, thanks.”
    “So, Sam, did you get a chance to look over the materials we sent you?
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And did the Ops and Investment guys bring you up to speed on their domains?”
    “Very impressive,” Sam nodded.
    “And I’m sure that Dr. Bob wasn’t in yet, was he?”
    “Dr. Bob?”
    Marc smiled.  “Robert Delgado Martinez, Jr.  Director of the Data Mining Division.  Sam, you need to understand right off the bat that Dr. Bob is a genius.  I’m serious.  His freaking IQ is off the damn charts.  He’s also weird as hell, but he’s my friend.  And the success of this company is, in large part, attributable to his unique skills.”
    Marc paused briefly and then continued.  “Sam Norden, please meet Dr. Bob.”
    Before Sam could turn around, he realized that Dr. Bob must have been standing in the doorway for the little speech that Marc Mason had just delivered.  Suddenly two hands grasped his shoulders and held him in his seat.
    “Don’t get up, dude.”
    Sam tipped his head back and nearly brushed a scraggly three-inch long goatee with his forehead.  Sam tipped his head farther back and found himself looking into beady bloodshot eyes behind tiny granny glasses, all on a face that still had to be in its twenties.
    “How they hangin’ cowboy?”
    “Okay,” Sam replied.
    “What’s with the monkey suit?”
    Sam turned slightly to look at Dr. Bob’s attire.  The Grateful Dead t-shirt looked like it was held together by memory.  Baggy shorts ended just below his