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.