Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Chapter Thirty: Always on my Mind

“Dwayne Austin.”

Dwayne Austin was a big, broad-shouldered young man. He came into the room with a solid step, a small smile, and a very firm handshake. He reminded me of the linebackers from my school team: solid, dependable, and slow.

Vanessa’s interaction with him proved that first impression entirely correct.

“So, Dwayne, you’re interested in accompanying us to Denver?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“It sounds like a great opportunity.”

“What particular skills do you think you’d bring?”

“I work hard. I put in long hours. I think I’m very dependable.”

His short, declarative sentences were lulling me to sleep. Dwayne seemed to put little thought into his answers, and honestly seemed to think they were enough. I was relieved when Vanessa smiled and thanked him for coming.

“One more?” I said.

She shrugged. “Ford Jones. And then we can be done and go to lunch.”

I groaned. Ford Jones was the last person I wanted to see. I had completely forgotten he had been accepted to the internship program. The smarmy little shit-head.

He entered with his perfect hair and his perfect smile, and seemed perfectly happy to see us. He shook hands with Vanessa while I silently fumed.

“Good morning, Diggory. How are your mother and father? I haven’t been out to the club lately, but Father had a round of golf with your dad the other week…”

“Sit down, Ford. This isn’t a social call.”

He blinked and found his seat, suddenly not so perfectly self-assured. Vanessa raised an eyebrow at me as she sat down, and I gave a half-shake of my head, “No.” She turned to Ford and began asking questions, but without any of the usual warmth she had for people.

Which was good. Because Ford Jones was evil incarnate.

I had grown up only semi-aware of Ford Jones and his twin brother, Fisher. Their parents were friends with mine, and belonged to all the same clubs and charitable organizations. I actually used to believe “Keeping Up with the Joneses” referred to them, being that they were at least as rich as my father.

My first impression of them was of two identical boys, one a complete brat and the other kind of quiet. By the time I was graduating high school, I had it figured out. Because, at the tender age of fourteen, Ford had stolen my father’s car from a valet parking lot during a benefit dinner, and subsequently crashed it.

He successfully found a way to pin it on his brother. Fisher spent the next few years trying to salvage his honour, doing yard work for my parents and working odd jobs, trying to pay back the damage. Meanwhile, according to rumours, Ford impregnated three girls during high school and quietly paid for abortions. They both went to the same law school, my alma mater. Friends on the faculty and still attending school would keep me posted about the Jones boys.

I personally recommended Fisher to our internship program. Unfortunately, his interests lay in criminal law, rather than corporate, and he had a spot in the Public Defender’s office. The internship committee mistakenly hired Ford, with some urging from my father. My father, who still believed Fisher was the “bad Jones boy,” and wanted to please his friend. It would make future favours highly likely, as “one hand washes the other.” That was one of Dad’s favourite sayings.

I cut the interview short in the middle, thanking Ford for his time brusquely. He exited without saying goodbye.

“What was that all about?” Vanessa asked.

“Ford’s the devil. We’re taking Carrie, you two get along well.”

“I was leaning in that direction, anyway.” Vanessa shrugged. “Dwayne’s a little slow…”

“I have some things to take care of. I’ll be busy the rest of the day. Rain-check on lunch?” I asked.

“Sure,” Vanessa said. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” I retreated to my office, where I locked the door.

Calla Wiley. Mystery, fantasy and frustration, all in one package.

And just what the hell did she mean by “calibrate” and “deceleration?” Not to mention "counterpart," what was up with that?

She promised me answers the following morning. I wanted them desperately.

Monday, July 28, 2008

From the Author

Ladies and Gentlemen, for those of you with any interest, HERE is a link to my first interview, with the good people of Wibbly Press, some of my online peers.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Nine: In This Town (Boredom eats me like Cancer)

I reached my office at about five to nine, which was extremely late for my usual routine. Lorraine glared at me.

“Thought maybe you were calling in,” she said. “Ms. Brown has left a message.”

“I’ll call her myself. Good morning, Lorraine.” I tried a smile.

“Good morning, sir.” She didn’t.

“Lorraine, do you want to come to Colorado? Or would you prefer to stay here and run the office, be my eyes and ears?”

She raised an eyebrow over her glasses. “I get a choice?”

“Of course.”

Lorraine looked at me funny through her glasses, that steely gaze boring into my soul. I shivered.

“You’re acting strangely lately.”

“You said that before.”

“It’s still true.” She paused, holding her hands together on her desk. “Be that as it may, I would rather stay home than travel.”

“I’d love to have you here running the office. It’s easier than getting someone else familiar, and I know I can rely on you to keep it organized while I’m gone.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled. I’m going to go call Ms. Brown.”

“Don’t forget that you have coffee on your shirt, sir.” Lorraine said as I slipped into my office. I shrugged sheepishly.

“Vanessa, it’s Diggory,” I said once she came on the phone.

“Good morning! All ready for your interviews?”

“Yes, are they all scheduled?”

“First one starts in fifteen minutes, conference room three. See you there?”

“I’ll be right down.”

I grabbed the spare shirt I kept in my closet and changed while I glanced over my calendar for the day. I took a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Calla had left me pretty shaken. I breathed slowly, and then headed to the conference room. I entered and sat down with Vanessa on one side of the conference table. She had the files for each of the three interns in front of her, including their resumes.

“Who’s first?”

“Carrie Harrison.”

The energetic Ms. Harrison came into the room a few moments later with a big smile and a hearty handshake. She sat down with straight posture and faced us. Her hair was cut short, with just enough gel to make it shiny and edgy, a modern-yet-professional look. She seemed very focused as we asked our questions.

I let Vanessa handle most of them. I wanted a sense of her operating style, as we had never really worked together before. She asked some pretty insightful questions, hitting both legal expertise and personal style, which mattered almost as much. We didn’t want to take a personality we’d find incompatible with our own.

Truthfully, I was bored with the process after three questions. I don’t need to hear lawyers talk law, and I knew from the way they interacted that Vanessa would get along with Carrie. Unimpressed with the dialogue, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander along irrelevant paths. First, was the realization that Carrie would one day become a Soccer Mom. She had that attitude, the one that says “Hey Team, I’ll bring the Kool Aid and bake some brownies!” Except maybe she’d lean towards healthier fare. She wasn’t a lifer, that was for sure. It’s just something you can see in a lawyer.

Vanessa, for example, would never turn into Super Soccer Mom. She was too elegant, too refined. She’d possibly transform into Sexy Socialite Mom, the kind who hired nannies and ran benefits, and organized cocktail parties, unless she continued to work.

Inevitably, I wondered what Calla would turn into, in a few years. I had avoided thinking about her since returning to the office, but she found her way back into my thoughts. What would she become? The Sexy Physics Professor? Were there such things? She had a simple clarity to the way she dressed, a sense of restrained style, so she wouldn’t have much trouble fitting in with the upper class. Yet I could also see her baking. It was a weird thought: being mostly a fantasy, with a lively existence in my head, Calla could become anything. Who was she really? Did I really want to find out?

“Thank you for coming, Carrie,” I stood up and shook hands with her. As she left, I turned to Foxy.

“Who’s next?”

Next Chapter>>

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Eight: That's Where it is

My route towards work took me back past the coffee house. I sped through the pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk, weaving through bodies. This was why I usually took cabs, I thought. I was already late, and totally distracted. People in my way didn’t make it any better.

“Frank!” Someone yelled as I passed. “HEY FRANK!”

I pressed on through the crowed, wishing “Frank” would just answer, so the yelling would stop. A moment later someone was pulling my arm, and I looked up. I immediately felt really stupid.

“Did you forget something?” I asked Calla.

“What’s the date today?” She asked, her voice full of urgency.

“Um, September eighteenth. Why?”

She glanced at her hand. Someone had written there: “September 19th, 8 AM.”

“Oh, that’s interesting!” Calla enthused. “I didn’t expect that at all.”

“What did you do, sprint around the block while changing as you ran?” I asked, noting she was wearing the sweater and jeans from the week before.

“Shut up, Frank,” Calla said, not unkindly. She got out a pen and wrote “September 18th, 8:30 AM” on her other hand. “I might finally get this sucker calibrated!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Listen, just promise me something? Be here tomorrow, okay?” She looked in my eyes, and (as usual) I was mesmerized. Her grey orbs fascinated me and made me wish I knew lyrical poetry.

“Tomorrow? We’re meeting tomorrow night anyway for my mom’s dinner party, but coffee sounds great, too,” I said, dazed.

“Oh, are you serious?” Her eyes widened in anger. “I told you, stay the hell away from me.” She shoved my shoulder. “I’m not kidding. Don’t you dare pick me up for that party tomorrow. That is a very BAD idea.”

“Why the hell do you want to meet for coffee then?” I asked, getting frustrated. “That’s ludicrous.”

“You need to trust me on this, you big dummy. DON’T take me to the party. DO meet me here in the morning. It will help with the calibration process, trust me. I’m trying to save your life here!”

It was so weird whenever she insulted me. Calla might call me a dummy, or push me, but her eyes were swimming with angry affection. I don’t know how else to explain that look, the one that said she cared about me, yet was infuriated that I wasn’t listening. She was completely confusing.

She was also completely enticing. I wished I could give myself a swift kick in the pants.

“You make no sense!” I almost shouted. A few passers-by stared at us. I blushed.

Calla leaned close, pulling on the edges of my open jacket, looking up into my eyes as she established this physical intimacy between us. Her lips pursed.

“Frank, shhhhh. I know it’s confusing right now. I told you about it tomorrow. Just wait until then. I’m almost at the end of my range and deceleration is about to take place. I had to wait for my counterpart to leave. Tomorrow we’ll have more time, okay?”

She leaned in close and kissed me. I could feel her warm body, snug against my chest, and the scent of her shampoo. I kept getting caught up in these weird little details about her. Her lips were on mine, and she suckled my bottom lip briefly before biting down on it. Her kiss was so goddamn hungry. I closed my eyes and was lost to the world for a moment.

When I opened my eyes she was gone.

“Who is she? Batman?” I said angrily.

Pedestrians out-and-out stared at me as I clenched my fists and audibly groaned.

Tomorrow morning there were going to be answers, or I was going to flip out. I wanted to know what kind of game she thought she was playing. Honestly!

I glanced at my watch and realized the time. I had to get to work or Vanessa was going to start the meetings without me. And I still had coffee on my shirt.

Next Chapter>>

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Good Morning

Calla held my wrist in her hand, leaning across the table. I could smell her; warm and fragrant. I stared into her eyes. For a moment, the world was a blur, and there was only the grey of her bright gaze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, smiling. Calla slid out of her chair and was through the door, leaving me to stare after her.

“Hey, wait up!” I chased after her, not willing to just let her get away that easily again. I dashed onto the sidewalk, catching up.

“Let me walk with you a bit,” I suggested, pulling aside her and realizing I really didn’t know what to say next.

“Don’t you have to get to work?” She grinned.

I waved my hand, scoffing. “Work! My building’s right there,” I pointed, “I can spare a moment or two.”

“For a friend?”

“Right, exactly.” I grimaced. “I’m soooooo not smooth.”

“Sooooo.” She nodded. “That’s okay. Your friend Matt seems like a smoothy, and I wouldn’t want to talk to you if you were more like him.”

“Ouch. I’ll pass that along, it’ll make his day.”

“Oh, I don’t want to offend your friends, don’t tell him that!” She grabbed my arm. I smiled.

“No, I’m serious, he’ll be pleased. Matt will find some way to twist it around. ‘See, Digger,’ he’ll say, ‘I’m an original. So cool that no one can copy me. Like a Rembrandt.’ He’d gloat.”

Calla laughed as I did my best “I’m Matt, the big fat cool jerk” voice. “Would he really?”

“Well, not the Rembrandt part.” I shrugged. She giggled again. “But don’t worry about offending him. Matt likes to banter and joke, if you don’t do it back he’ll walk all over you. You have to have ba… bravery.”

“You were going to say ‘balls,’ weren’t you?” Calla waved a finger at me, smiling. “What, didn’t think I’d approve? Do I come across as some feminist crazy, just because I’m a scientist? Or am I a prude?”

She seemed to be mostly teasing. “No, that’s not it. It’s just…”

“What?”

“You’re too sweet a girl to consider you having balls. You could be tougher than a Pittsburgh Steeler on steroids, and I still wouldn’t want to picture that.”

She laughed again. “I think that was a compliment.”

“I hope so, I kind of pulled it out of my ass.”

Calla laughed again. I loved that sound. God help me, I was trapped inside a romantic comedy film. The banter just kept coming.

“If me having balls was an unsightly picture, how do you handle imagining pulling jokes out of your ass?” She giggled.

I blushed. “I try not to. I’d go blind.”

We were both laughing by now. Calla wiped her eyes, they were leaking a little.

“Phew. That was fun. I have to get to class, and you might want to think about getting back to your job, sometime. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Have a great day!”

I watched her walk away. I waited patiently. Matt the Pimp had given me the key to knowing if a girl really likes you, way back in the eleventh grade. If she looks back after leaving, you can be sure of your status.

I waited. “Come on, come on,” I whispered to myself.

Calla slipped in and out of crowds along the sidewalk until she reached a corner. She glanced back in my direction, and I think I could see a small smile on her face. I offered a small wave, and she waved back.

I turned to go to work. The day had started rough, but it was starting to look up.

Next Chapter>>

Monday, July 21, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Six: Scenes from a Coffee House

I cut myself shaving. Then, I popped a button on the shirt I wanted to wear. I changed quickly and grabbed another Pop-Tart from the fridge as I dashed out the front door.

It seemed everyone was leaving at the same time, so the elevator kept stopping and starting, until it was very crowded. We eventually made it to the lobby, where I had a hell of a time finding a cab.

I shrugged it off and took the subway downtown, and worried about whether or not I’d make my eight o’clock meeting with Calla. Time ticked away, and all I could do was sit there. I stood on the train, holding a bar, and watching stations flow past.

As soon as the doors opened at my stop, I was off and running. I bounded up the stairs two at a time, just to get out to the street. The coffee house was up a block, and I sprinted. My Rolex said it was almost eight. I ran.

Which might have been a poor choice.

I came through the door at a run, and bumped right into someone on their way out, which caused their coffee to spill. All over my shirt.

“OWWWWWWWWW!”

“I’m so sorry, oh my, I didn’t see you there!” The person brushed at my shirt with napkins, apologizing.

“Owwww, it’s okay. That was hot! No, seriously, I’ll live.” I tried to take over, stepping to the side and dabbing with the napkins.

“I was just coming outside to see if you were on your way.”

I looked up and realized it was Calla.

“We sure have a way of running into each other, don’t we?” I tried to laugh it off.

Calla looked at me funny. “Pardon? Other than here last week, we’ve only seen each other at the gallery. Which I invited you to, remember?”

She was staring at me like I was crazy. Which was possible, aside from the fact that she had run into me almost this same way in the lobby of my office building last Thursday. I remembered it well, why didn’t she?

“I just meant… I keep making a jackass out of myself whenever we do see each other. I’m pretty clueless, aren’t I?” I tried a smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘jackass.’ You just don’t pay attention well.” She smiled, holding out more napkins. “Is your shirt okay?”

“Well, it’ll wash. I just need to get out my spare at the office later.” I looked around. “Can we sit?”

“Sure. Did you want to order something?”

“Huh?” I said, ever articulate. It’s easy to see how I graduated law school.

“Coffee? Tea? Did you want to order?” Calla sat down, and I took my seat.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. I just wanted to see you.”

She blushed a little, staring at her hands. She had clasped them on top of the table.

“I… I’m glad you invited me. It would be nice to have friends in town besides Bianca.”

I looked at her, staring at her fingers. She was shy!

“Hey, it’s… Well, I just…” I blew hard in frustration, unable to think of the right thing to say. “I know you don’t want to date or anything, but I really like you.” It just kind of came out. She looked so damn adorable sitting there, feeling awkward. Calla looked up at me.

“I realize that we just met,” I said, before she could stop me, “And I know you’re a busy person, and I know I’m some random stranger. I’d like us to be friends. My parents are having a party tomorrow night, and I’d love to take you. But just as friends!”

Calla pursed her lips. Her fingers tightened. I couldn’t tell if she was about to tell me off, or say something nice. Her eyes flickered with some unspoken emotion. Shit! Why did she seem so cute? When did I become such a dork?

“Sure,” she finally spat out. “Sounds great.”

“Where can I pick you up?”

“I’ll give you directions. How should I dress?”

I blinked. “Probably the best that you have, my mother is a total snob.”

Calla laughed, her voice startling in its volume and clarity. I couldn’t help but smile as other patrons looked at us over their coffee and newspapers.

She reached across the table and took my hand, writing her address on it with a pen from her bag. I stared into her eyes, frozen by the sudden intimacy of her touch.

Next Chapter>>

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Five: How Do You Sleep at Night?

I almost choked on the deliciously creamy linguine noodles in my mouth. I coughed a few times and grabbed a napkin to prevent sauce from flying out my mouth.

“Excuse me!” I sipped some water.

“Are you okay?” Vanessa asked.

“I’m fine. (cough) Just give me a sec.” I pushed back a little from the table.

I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. Was she flirting with me? Or just being really nice? After all that protestation about Paulson and Bailey, flirting between us would seem pretty inappropriate.

The coughing subsided after a moment, and I sat up again at the table.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“No worries. I hate when that happens.” Vanessa smiled broadly. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m really glad we got the chance to do this. I think I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, of course. Part of the reason for this dinner was to see how well we get along. Your work record speaks for itself, but I find you’re easy to just hang out with. We’re going to be working pretty hard in Colorado, in close quarters. I’d hate to get that far with someone I can’t laugh with.”

“Good point,” I said, silently sighing with relief. She wasn’t going to make things complicated with flirting, she just wanted to know we could work together. That made life easier.

No matter how “foxy” she might be. I didn’t have to think about it. Or, not much.

We got through the rest of the meal without any further upsets. Vanessa and I talked about our college days, and a bit about family. It was surprisingly comfortable, she was right. We fit together fairly smoothly. The fact that she was fantastically sexy didn’t detract from it either, it added a little spice to the meal, an undercurrent.

She paid the bill with a credit card.

“So, bright and early tomorrow? I’ll organize the interviews and you can talk to Fayter.”

“See you then. Thanks for dinner, Vanessa.”

“Next time it’s your treat,” she said, winking.

“Deal.”

*******************************************************************

I lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. Too many thoughts were crowding for room in my head. I wondered if Vanessa was just being nice to get special treatment at work, or if she genuinely liked me. Or, if she was actually attracted and trying to cover it.

Then, I worried about Calla. She affected me on levels “Foxy” couldn’t. She was sexy, yes, but Calla’s kiss had real passion behind it. Vanessa was closer to Matt’s ideal, tall and leggy and sexy. She wasn’t a young airhead like his usual Barbie, but she still fit the “Stick Figure Doll” mould. Calla was curvy, and sensual. They were both intelligent women. But Calla had an air of mystery, I couldn’t figure her out.

I wanted to look forward to our coffee “date” in the morning. Yet there was the distinct possibility that Calla had some sort of mental illness, one she might even be entirely unaware of. I had to find out more about that. At the same time, part of me wanted to run the opposite direction. If Vanessa turned out to be genuinely attracted to me, perhaps that would be a more appealing option.

After the Colorado deal was finished, of course. Before or during, it would look like she was trying to ingratiate herself for career advancement. After we got back and returned to our usual duties, it would be easier to tell that she liked me, instead of seeing me as an opportunity.

I hit my pillow. If Matt could hear my thoughts now, he’d accuse me of taking estrogen pills. He would never lie awake at night worrying about what a girl thought. Or about what I thought, for that matter. Why did I bother to worry about his opinion?

I groaned, staring at the ceiling. I worried way too much about things like that. My mother’s possible opinion of Calla on Friday. My father’s approval. Matt. Vanessa. Calla. Calla, Calla, Calla…

I woke up to the blaring alarm and smacked it. I missed the snooze and hurt my hand on the table.

“OW!”

This did not bode well for the rest of my morning.

Next Chapter>>

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Four: Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

“What’s wrong with young Miss Bailey?” I asked. She was the pretty intern who had been flirting with me at the party in the conference room, but Vanessa didn’t know that.

“Well, to be honest, I’m the good-looking one on this team. I don’t need the competition.” Vanessa winked.

I looked at her. “Trust me, Ms. Brown, you still wouldn’t have any competition.”

“Diggory Franklin!” She playfully swatted my arm as we stepped off the elevator. For those of you who don’t know my friend Matt, that would translate in his terms as flirting. Getting hit is a good sign. Not that I really wanted to be flirting with co-workers. But “Foxy” Brown was hard to resist.

“So, seriously, why not Bailey?” I walked towards the lobby doors.

“She’s an excellent student, and a lot more assertive than Rice. But I think the same reasoning applies to her case as to Paulson’s. I don’t think she’s really a team player. Rumours on the floor indicate that she may have slept with two associates already, and she’s been assisting on some important work since then. I’m worried that she’s trying to line up a job here, but someone else like that in the department is going to end up being a distraction and a liability.”

“You mean someone like Paulson, who creates tension among the staff.”

“Exactly.”

“I want you to feel like an important part of the team in Colorado. I’m going to trust your judgement on this. Tomorrow morning, I want you to arrange interviews with all three of the remaining candidates. I’m going to call Fayter and ask him to join our team, and I’m going to delegate selecting secretaries to him. Is yours likely to come with us?”

“Joan? Of course. That’s not a problem.”

“Good.” We stood outside, and I hailed a cab. We got in.

“Then I’ll have Fayter inform her of what to pack. We’re all going to Denver next week to set up an office. He can pick two more to assist us.”

“You’re not bringing Mrs. Bowden?”

“No. Lorraine can stay here and be my eyes and ears. Besides, I don’t want her to feel obligated to leave Mr. Bowden for any length of time.”

“That’s sweet.”

We rode to the restaurant, chatting about office politics and gossip. I helped her out of the car like a gentleman and paid the cabbie.

“Hey, this is supposed to be my treat!” Vanessa scolded with a smile.

“You’re buying dinner. The least I could do is pay for a cab.”

We went in and were seated quickly. My new teammate had called ahead. Already she was proving to be detail-oriented and thorough. We sat across from each other. The waiter brought menus.

“I’m ordering,” Vanessa said, putting her manicured hand down on my menu before I could pick it up. “You said this is one of your favourite places. I’m guessing you even have a favourite dish. Well, I don’t want you buying something cheap because I’m paying, and I don’t want you to order your favourite, either. So I’m picking.”

I smiled, and let go of the menu’s edge. “Certainly.”

She grinned and browsed through the menu. When the waiter returned, she whispered to him behind it, not letting me know what we’d be eating. Vanessa seemed to have a playful side.

I knew that it was to gain attention, and that she wanted to be on the team primarily to further her own career. Well, that was the most likely scenario. Still, she was fun to be around and easy on the eyes. Matt would have hit on her by now. However, I figured that I could keep things professional, and just enjoy her company.

The waiter brought the seafood linguine with a fabulous white wine. I smiled in approval.

“Excellent choice. I haven’t tried that yet, but I love seafood.”

“I grew up on the coast. My grandfather trapped lobster.” She smiled.

We dug in. I had to admit, she had excellent taste in food. Which happens to be my greatest weakness. I own my personal gym equipment primarily to prevent myself from getting fat. I would cook all day if I could.

“Mmm, fabulous,” I said after a good mouthful of shrimp and linguine. “The sauce is perfect.”

Vanessa smiled at me across the table. “So is the company.”

Next Chapter>>

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Three: Two Girls in One

I took a deep breath. Then, I picked up the receiver.

“Diggory Franklin’s office.”

“Hello, Mr. Franklin. It’s Calla Wiley. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. What can I do for you, Calla?”

“Well, I’m actually returning your phone call from this weekend. I hope you can forgive me for not calling you back sooner. I haven’t checked my messages at all, I’ve been so busy in the lab. I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh, there are no apologies necessary. We just met, and we’re both very busy people.” I spoke to her as I would a normal person, but I kept rolling my eyes. How could she sound this normal, and then slide off the deep end in other conversations?

“Well, yes. I know you must be busy. I hope I didn’t call at a bad time?”

“Not at all, Calla.” I paused. “I wouldn’t have given you my card, if I didn’t want you to call. I was beginning to worry that I had offended you, however.”

“Offended me? No, not at all! I should have called you again on Saturday or Sunday. I just got so busy, it slipped my mind. I know we’re strangers, Mr. Franklin, but I’m a very conscientious person. I don’t often forget to be polite. I wanted you to know that.”

“Well, thank you for explaining.” I realized that I was being very formal, as if this was a business call. I had no idea how to restore the fun, flirtatious energy of our last face-to-face meeting.

She seemed to have no memory of her bizarre warnings. I wanted to know more about her, figure out what was going on. Maybe Bianca could explain about the personality changes? Her roommate must know her well. The only way to find out was to get closer to her. Maybe then I could figure out my attraction for her, help her with this strange problem, and get some answers.

“Anyway, we’re a bit off track here…” I said. “I called on the weekend to thank you for a lovely time at the gallery and to see if you were interested in grabbing coffee.”

“I told you before, I’m not really interested in dating…”

“I know. Just as friends. You seem new in town, and you’ve met my best friend, Matt. Obviously I need to spend time with a better class of people.”

She laughed. “Well, it would be hard for you to do much worse, that’s for sure.”

“To that end, I’m extending the hand of friendship. Coffee tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll be there. Eight o’clock sound okay?”

“Perfect.”

We exchanged good-byes and hung up. I smiled. That hadn’t been so bad. Not great, but not a total disaster either. Face-to-face, I’m sure we’d do better in the morning. And then I could convince her to come to my parents’ dinner party the next evening after that. Hopefully I would survive the week without much more craziness.

****************************************************************

“Ready to go?” I asked, standing in Vanessa’s doorway at about five to seven.

She smiled as she turned off her computer. “All set.”

I helped her into her suit jacket, and we walked down to the elevators.

“So, this is your idea. Where are we eating?” I asked.

“I thought you’d like this little Italian place I love. Soprafino’s?”

“I like working with you already,” I said, grinning. We got onto the elevator.

“Oh? You’ve heard of it?”

“Probably my favourite in the city. It’s small and cozy, so it’s not pretentious like some places…”

“But the food is first class. I know what you mean.” She smiled. “Oh, I had some ideas about our team. I think we can safely narrow it down to three of the five interns. I was looking their files over today, and talked to a couple casually. Darren Rice is a very quiet boy; I don’t know why he’s taking law. I looked into his grades, and he tests well but his writing is very dry.”

“You looked into their grades?” I raised an eyebrow.

“They have to submit transcripts to get into our program. I saw some examples of his essays, and he’s not very creative. I think he’s fine in a research capacity, but he’s not one for taking initiative.”

“Well, things will be pretty fast-paced out there. I guess Rice is off the list.”

“Exactly. I also don’t want Sasha Bailey on the team either.”

Next Chapter>>

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Chapter Twenty-Two: Foxy Lady

I spent the afternoon on the computer, looking at the files of my colleagues. Chris provided me with access, wanting me to choose the best team possible. I could see what kind of hours people put in, the files they were working on, contracts they’d handled. It would have been overwhelming, so I limited myself to just the past three months. I wanted a picture of what their work habits were like now, not two years ago.

There was a knock on my door around four o’clock. I looked up and saw Vanessa “Foxy” Brown. That was what Matt the Pimp called her, so you’ll excuse the source. I wondered if it was really a fair moniker, considering Pam Grier’s movie was a blaxploitation film, and Vanessa was white. However, she was hot enough to be labelled “foxy.” I smiled.

“Afternoon.”

“Hey, Diggory. Can I come in?” She smiled back.

“Of course.”

Vanessa crossed the short distance from the doorway to my desk. It gave me a brief moment to enjoy the sight of her long legs in motion. She was wearing heels and a dark skirt, with a cream coloured blouse. Her caramel hair was up on her head, but not like a bun. I think it’s called a French Twist? What do you want from me: I have testicles.

She sat on the edge of the desk. I tilted my neck to look her in the eye.

“I wasn’t able to make the party, I was busy with a client across town. Wanted to pass on my congratulations.”

“Well, thank you.”

“No, I mean it! I was worried that Paulson was going to get it, and he’s creeped me out ever since hitting on me at the Christmas party last year.”

I smiled. It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one with misgivings about Paulson.

“Well, I’m pretty glad he didn’t get it either. However, I have a new problem. I’m trying to select two associates to go with me.”

“Well, of course you’re going to pick me.” She grinned. “Who else are you considering?”

I looked at her seriously. To be honest, she was one of my top three picks. Diligent, assertive, well educated. She was younger than Paulson and myself, so it was unlikely that she’d been hoping for the promotion herself. But, word on the floor was that she was hungry, eager to prove she had what it took.

“I’m thinking Fayter, he’s steadfast.”

“Nice choice! He won’t hamstring you, and knows his stuff. I worked with him on that mediated union agreement in Tennessee in June.”

“Oh, right, the factory thing… I forgot that you two travelled for that one.” I stroked my chin thoughtfully.

“Come on, Diggory! You know I can do this. You know you want to take me.”

Vanessa leaned a little closer, her head on her shoulder, looking down into my eyes. Something about her expression seemed almost provocative. Maybe she was better at telepathy than me, I could almost hear her thoughts. Pick me, I’ll be really grateful. I blushed for a moment and pushed back a bit in my chair.

“I’m not Paulson, Vanessa. This will be strictly business.”

She blinked. “Oh, of course! I would appreciate that. You and Fayter are probably the only associates who don’t see me as just a skirt.”

“Well, the older guys really don’t think women can practice law. I, on the other hand, am much more progressive.”

She laughed. “A real champion of equal rights?”

“Well, it’s the twenty-first century. Time to let you girls out of the kitchen.” I winked.

Vanessa laughed again. “Yeah, you’re a way better choice than Paulson. How about you let me buy you dinner tonight, and we’ll discuss the details?”

“Sure. You can help me figure out which intern to take.”

“See you at seven?”

“Great.” I grinned. Vanessa smiled back and slid off the desk, heading for the door. She glanced at me on her way out.

I leaned back in my chair, grinning to myself. This day kept getting better and better.

Well, that’s what I thought until the phone rang. I picked up. Lorraine spoke.

“A Miss Calla Wiley on line three for you, sir.”

Next Chapter>>

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Chapter Twenty-One: That's What Friends Are For (the vulture song)

Chris Geertz pulled me aside after a bit.

“Nice touch on the surprise party, I totally didn’t see that coming,” I said.

“Hey, you’re welcome, buddy!” Chris clapped me on the back. “I’m really excited for you. But it’s not all fun and games. I want you to mingle, get a feel for who you want on your team in Colorado. I figure two more associates, maybe one of the interns, and three secretaries. Okay?”

“No problem.”

I couldn’t believe Chris. “Buddy.” He was such a decent guy. My father was going to stab a good man in the back, just because I showed a little ambition.

I looked around the room, returning smiles whenever someone glanced my way. Of course I considered Lorraine first. She was meticulous, and tough. We’d worked together practically since I graduated school. She had family here in town, though, and might not be up for travelling. I’d ask her first, but perhaps it would be best to leave her here to run the home office until my return. It would be good to have someone reliable here to touch base with.

I mingled, like Chris said. Grabbed people slices of pizza, offered to grab someone a drink. Made chit chat. And assessed everyone. There was a good mix among the associates in age. Some were recently out of law school, within the past five years, while others were experienced veterans. This older bunch was all male, most of them middle-aged dads. The younger group was more balanced between men and women.

I ruled out the married guys. They were solid and dependable, but if Lorraine might be uncomfortable leaving family behind, I didn’t want to put them through the same. Some of them might not even think about it, I knew that a few had problems in their marriages. But I certainly didn’t want to add to that. It would be nice to have a seasoned associate, but I’d have to make sure I picked one with no family.

That left the younger crowd. They were all eager to make names for themselves, just like I was. But I was the best of the bunch, that’s why this opportunity had arisen. Who was competitive enough that they would resent my promotion? Conversely, who was driven enough to keep up with me out in Colorado, without minding that I was in charge? That was a delicate balance. I didn’t want the sheep who needed to be handheld. But I also didn’t want wolves at my back.

Choosing secretaries wouldn’t be much of a problem, I’d just take the ones belonging to the associates I had picked. If they wanted a different one, for reasons similar to mine with Lorraine, they could recruit their own. Interns were a different matter. Chris probably wanted whomever I chose to learn from the experience, get a handle on property law and contract negotiations. Meanwhile, they’d help us on briefs and research, and get coffee when secretaries were too busy. A “gopher.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t know the interns too well. Perhaps I could set up time to interview each of them. Chris probably wouldn’t mind. There were only five, so it couldn’t take that long.

The little party was winding down. I nodded to Chris, and he followed me out of the conference room and back down the hall.

“Any thoughts?” He asked.

“I’ve got a few options in mind. I’m going to ask Lorraine first, out of loyalty, but I’m fairly certain I want her here minding the store until I get back. She can take point on organizing meetings here, doing research, take care of my other files. I’d rather have her doing it, familiar as she is, rather than bring someone new up to speed.”

“Good thinking. And associates? I was thinking Paulson and Reed.”

I shook my head. Erik Paulson was pushy. He drove a fast sports car and flirted with secretaries. The guy had “Alpha Male” written all over him, and would likely be one of the ones resenting my position. Nick Reed was a flake; he tried hard but was disorganized. I imagined Chris had some sense after all: he likely wanted Paulson off his own back, and someone else to fix Reed’s mistakes.

“Reed and I worked together on that arbitration thing last March. Our styles don’t really mesh that well. And Paulson’s not a team player, you know that as well as I do. He’s already slept with three secretaries that I know of, and it’s causing tension on the floor.”

Chris nodded. “You’re absolutely right. You’re the right man for this job, after all. Excellent insight. So, who would you pick?”

“I’m considering Bill Fayter. He’s diligent, friendly, and has a lot of experience. He isn’t the most aggressive lawyer, so you won’t need him to take point on any projects around here. The department won’t miss him. But he gets things done, so he’ll be an asset out west.”

Chris nodded. “Anyone else?”

“I’m still sizing up the younger associates. Bill’s the only one of the veterans who isn’t married or who doesn’t have kids. I think it would be a great experience for one of the newer lawyers, I just have to work out which one. And, I’d like to interview all five interns. Give them the chance to prove themselves.”

“Very wise. It’ll give them some incentive to compete with each other, and gear them up for what it’s like in the real world as a lawyer. I’m impressed, Diggory. Keep it up!”

Next Chapter>>

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Chapter Twenty: We Couldn't Get Along Without You

Matt and I sat on his couch with a couple of cold beers. I sipped mine slowly, thinking.

“I’m screwed,” I said abruptly.

“Oh?”

“Thanks to you, Mr. Big Mouth, I can’t just tell my father that I broke it off with Calla. He and my mother expect this impressive young lady. She’s a sign that I’m maturing. That I’m ‘boss material.’ I can’t show weakness or a lack of commitment. My father will immediately question whether I’m fit for the new promotion.”

“What if you tell him it was a misunderstanding? You weren’t really seeing her, I was having a prank at your expense.”

“Yeah, if I tell them that, then I’ll look just as weak. I should have smacked you down then and there, not let you ramble on. I’ll come across as a coward. That works for someone you’re offering the entire law department.”

Matt grimaced. “Sorry, dude.”

“It’s not your fault.” I stood up and grabbed my coat. “You didn’t know. I have to either figure out how to convince Calla to come on Friday, or invent an emergency to avoid my parents’ little party.”

“Given how pissed your dad will be, I’m thinking ‘faking your own death’ sounds good.”

“Goodnight, Matt.”


***********************************************************************


I had little trouble waking up at my usual time on Wednesday morning. Having been out until midnight should have caused a problem, but knowing Matt helped. I knew he would be late coming back and stole a nap in the evening, before exacting my revenge.

Now, I will never understand how he can stay out so late with a girl and still make it to work on time the next morning. Though perhaps he pulled the “calling in sick” trick more times than I was aware of.

I headed to the coffee house for the first time all week. I stood in line, got my cup, and found a seat. I looked around the room, hoping to spot Calla. There was the usual mix of university students and young adults, but no pretty physics majors. I shrugged and went to work.

I worked on files and contracts for a good chunk of the morning and then called Calla’s place. I felt like I needed to do some work first, personal calls always made me feel like I was cheating on my job. She wasn’t in, but that kind of made sense. After all, she was probably at class or the lab.

“Hi, Ms. Wiley, it’s Diggory Franklin calling. If you could contact me, my number is…”

I felt like such a dunce. She had called me on Saturday, and I’d been ignoring her ever since. What were the chances she’d bother to return the call? More importantly, what would I do if she did call? The last conversation had been surreal, with that nonsense about me having a year to live. I would need to find a way out of this.

Lorraine buzzed me. “Mr. Franklin, you’re needed in the conference room.”

“Thank you, Lorraine.”

I pulled on my suit jacket and walked down the hall, thinking hard. I turned and opened the conference room door, and was suddenly blitzed by sound.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” People screamed, making me jump. Then they harmonized with “For he’s a jolly good fellow…”

I felt like I was having a cheesy nightmare. I looked around the conference room and saw that it had been decorated with balloons and a congratulatory banner. The entire law department staff was there, except for Lorraine, cheering.

She appeared at my elbow a moment later.

“Sorry, boss.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Lorraine.”

Chris Geertz passed around glasses and offered a toast, promising everyone they’d see “big things” from me in the future. I felt bad for the guy: he was genuinely nice, and had no idea my father planned to cut him off at the balls in a couple of years.

There was actually cake and pizza. I realized that this promotion must have been a bigger deal than I thought. Everyone was shaking my hand and clapping me on the back, big grins plastered on their faces.

I even caught one of the interns batting her eyes at me flirtatiously. I smiled back.

Maybe growing up wasn’t so bad after all.

Next Chapter>>

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Chapter Nineteen: Revenge

I waited in the dark. Revenge would be mine. I had been plotting for days. They came in late, past eleven. She was giggling, he talked smooth. Then there was the unmistakable sound of two people passionately kissing. The ruffle of clothes being removed. I could hear them moving around the apartment, probably undressing on their way to the bedroom. I tensed in my hiding place, ready to pounce.

They were in such a rush that they didn’t turn on any lights. I heard a woman’s soft sigh, and knew that they were on the bed. I picked up my weapon and flicked it open. I pushed the button.

The telephone rang.

“Crap,” the man grunted.

“Leave it,” the woman said, her voice full of craving.

The telephone continued to ring. And ring.

“I can’t leave it,” he said. “Caller ID. He’s my best friend.”

She made a sound. A sound that said she was miffed. That little gasp of offence and indignation.

He reached for the phone.

“Gahh, what the hell?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s all over the phone,” He turned on the light. She began to laugh almost immediately. It grew louder and louder.

“Stop laughing!” I heard him say. Then, louder: “Stop laughing!”

I heard her giggles and chortles receding, and then the door slammed. He was alone. The telephone continued to ring. It stopped before the answer machine. And then started again.

“Fuck this,” I heard him say. Footsteps. He was in the kitchen. I decided to follow.

“Hello?” He said, his voice irritated, picking up the other phone. “Digger, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Matt. I just called to tell you the good news.”

“What’s that?”

“Payback’s a bitch. Have a nice day.” I hung up.

“That tricky bastard…” He said, his voice admiring.

“I am,” I agreed from behind him. “Smile.”

He turned, bewildered. I sprayed him with the sticky foam, as I had the bedroom phone. I laughed, and then snapped a picture with my cell. While he sputtered and swore, trying to get it off, I emailed it to our list of friends. Soon everyone would know, today I had my revenge.

********************************************************************

I helped Matt clean up. I’m not a mean guy. He showered while I tidied the kitchen. Then, we went into the bedroom and started taking down the posters.

“I can’t believe you blew these up.” He shook his head.

There was one of him playing with his penis in the bathtub at the age of one or two. Another was him with his pants down at camp. There was Matt in high school dressed as a girl, the day he lost a bet. There was another from college, where he did the same thing on purpose, as a frat prank.

“Hey, you look good with shaved legs. It’s not my fault she’s not into cross-dressers.”

There was a poster of Matt mooning the cheerleader squad, and one of him on a blind date with a really fat girl named Celeste he met on the Internet.

“Dude, this was creative, I’ll give you that,” Matt couldn’t help but grin.

“I figured I owed you. My dad wants me to bring Calla to dinner on Friday.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’m getting promoted. And since you’re so good at public relations and marketing, you’ve impressed my parents with the young lady I’m seeing. Too bad I’m NOT seeing her.”

“Crap. Well, I guess that means you have to call her.”

“No way. She’s crazy. Not worth the hassle. I’ll just tell them we broke up.”

“Right. Because we know how much your father likes being let down.”

Next Chapter>>

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Chapter Eighteen: Old Man

I hadn’t been here in years, and immediately felt like a kid. The big bookcases, the leather chairs, the dark mahogany… It was exactly the same. It seemed slightly smaller, but I had grown. And I do mean “slightly,” because the office took up most of the floor. I knew that the corridor I had come from had a public bathroom, and that there was a private one off my father’s office. Otherwise, this floor was for Gerald’s small office and then my father’s tribute to himself.

While there were a lot of books, the shelves also prominently displayed photographs of my father. He was shaking hands with eight successive mayors, one president, three governors. There were pictures of him receiving awards, opening buildings, and meeting celebrities.

He sat, not behind his desk, but in one of the reading chairs along the side of the room. Another was at a comfortable distance from him, positioned for a quiet conversation. He stood up, buttoning his black suit jacket.

“Good afternoon, Diggory.”

“Hello, Father.”

I crossed the distance and shook hands with him. His shake was still powerful. And, why not? He was just barely past fifty and took care of himself. He gestured for me to sit, and settled himself back down in his chair, unbuttoning his jacket as he did so.

I would have asked why he did that, but my father had told me years before. Presentation was everything. Sitting with the jacket unbuttoned kept the lines from rumpling, while doing it up while standing was to appear dignified and precise. My rolled-up sleeves and casual look in my own office would never impress my father.

“I understand that you’ve taken some real initiative with the Colorado project.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Christopher Geertz tells me you’re the best lawyer in his department.”

“If he says so.”

“He does.”

I sat silently. I wanted to drum my fingers on the arms of the chair, but fought the impulse. I just waited for him to say something else. That had been the rule at home. Answer questions, and then wait.

“I’ve reviewed the department’s past six months. He’s right. No one logs as many hours, finishes as many contracts, visits as many clients… You seem to live for your work, Diggory.”

“Yes, sir. I want to do my best.”

Here my father almost smiled. “Your mother thinks you’re working too hard.”

“Mother has never worked.” It slipped out. I really hadn’t stopped to think, and then realized I meant what I said. She wasn’t really in a position to judge.

“No, she hasn’t. She has never understood what we have in common.”

I blinked. Did my father just compare the two of us? That was unheard of.

“Pardon?”

“We have ambition. I noted it when you were young. You set your mind on what you wanted to accomplish, and then devised the means. I may not always have approved of your goals, but I certainly noticed the work ethic.”

He shocked me further. “I’m proud of you, Son.”

I sat back in the chair, and the world became a blur for a moment. I almost lost the thread of conversation, and it took a moment to register what he was saying next.

“After the Colorado deal is finished, I’m going to expect a lot more from you. Christopher didn’t realize it at the time, but admitting that you were the best lawyer in the building sealed his fate. You’ll be replacing him in two years, three at the most. Had he protested, tried to defend his own prowess, I might give him a chance. But he just blithely agreed. So, his job is yours, if you can keep things going.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Your mother wishes to congratulate you as well. Come for dinner on Friday, she’s having people over.”

“The country house?”

“No, the apartment in the city. She wants to go to the theatre this weekend. That will be all.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” I got up to leave, heading for the big doors.

“Oh, and Diggory?” I turned to look back at him. “Bring that young lady you’re seeing.”

Next Chapter>>

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Chapter Seventeen: Da Bo$$ Would Like to See You

The alarm clock announced it was Tuesday with its usual enthusiasm. I rolled out of bed and stumbled like a zombie for the bathroom, letting the shower bring me back to life. Fifteen minutes later, shaven and showered, I dressed for work and then ran to the kitchen. I grabbed a Pop Tart from the fridge and went out the door.

I was at the office ahead of anyone else, and made the coffee in the break room. I sipped a cup as I sat down at my computer, working diligently on the contracts for the architect in Denver. Lorraine popped her head in and refilled my cup about mid-morning. She and I worked well together: she let me get in the zone and work my magic on paperwork, while she managed incoming calls and my calendar. We rarely got in each other’s way.

I hung my suit coat up and rolled up my sleeves as I pored over paperwork. Chris popped in his head just before lunch.

“Ready for a break?”

I looked up. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

“Lunchtime. You coming?”

“Well, I wanted to get ahead on this…”

“Business lunch. My treat.” He winked, and I realized he probably had good news. I stood and straightened out my shirt, grabbing my suit coat.

We walked a couple of blocks to Soprafinos, a classy little Italian place. It had the best veal marsala in town. Chris ordered wine and a linguine dish. I got the marsala.

Chris raised his glass. “To the future.”

“The future?”

“You’re in. Your father wants to speak to you this afternoon, so you didn’t hear it from me. But, congrats! You’re the man.”

“I’m the man,” I said. I smiled.

“So, after your father makes the formal announcement, I figure we’ll take the whole department out, even the secretaries.”

“Why not,” I laughed.

“We’ll toast your success, and start choosing your team. I’m going to need you to fly down there next week and open a temporary office, find a good rental space downtown. Check out the site, meet with the architect, the city planning office…”

“Absolutely. I’m all over it.”

“You’re going to be in charge out there. Show you’ve got the balls, get this done, and big things are in store for you.”

“Big things.”

“I keep forgetting!” Chris laughed, almost spilling the wine he was drinking. “You’re Mr. Franklin’s son. You don’t need to worry.”

“Well…”

“No, I mean that in a good way. I’m impressed at the hours you’re putting in. No one would have expected it, and now the whole floor thinks you’re a workhorse. No one looks at you as the boss’ son. Everyone thinks you deserve this.”

I sat back, grinning even wider. I dug into my meal and basked in the moment.

Which was a memory I tried to hold onto as I rode the elevator up to the top floor and my father’s office. I clenched and unclenched my hands as I watched the numbers go up and up and up.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. The doors opened up on a corridor filled with designer couches, fancy lighting, and paintings on the walls. The colours were tasteful and sedate. I opened the big wooden doors directly in front of me, entering the waiting area. I waved to Gerald, my father’s assistant, who was sitting at his desk.

“One moment, Mr. Franklin, while I inform him that you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you, Gerald.”

He pushed a button. “Sir, the young Mr. Franklin is here.”

“Send him in.”

I passed through the next set of big, ornate doors and entered my father’s office.


Next Chapter>>