...Roger pays a visit...
When she heard the voice through the intercom, Sherry thought someone had rung the wrong apartment. But when he said “Roger” she knew he had it right and instantly felt like someone found out at last. Alarmed, Riley asked if he should go to his room.
“No. I’ll bring him up.”
Riley and Lola waited as she went downstairs to admit him. When she saw him through the beveled glass in the lobby door, she thought how strange he looked, like a puzzle piece from the wrong box.
She didn’t have to ask. Her parents were curious, too, and kept informed through the family friend who got her the job. They knew she went to work and lived nearby. But it irked her that he didn’t tell her he was coming. Not that it was a big deal. Not anymore.
She pulled open the accordion gate to the elevator and, as they stood cramped in the small space, scrutinized her boyfriend. He had a crew cut and sunburned face and wore jeans and a long sleeved shirt buttoned to the neck. He looked tired. She was glad she’d changed after work into jeans and a gray sweatshirt. She pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail.
She led through the apartment door and into the front room. Riley and Lola turned toward them and she made the introductions. Riley stood, extending his hand.
“Riley?”
“Mara is my other housemate.”
Roger crossed his arms and Riley took back his hand.
He growled, “Is Mara a man, too?”
Lola laughed and covered it in a fit of coughs.
“She’ll be home soon.”
“Do your parents know?”
Sherry shook her head.
He didn’t think so. Ever since Sherry announced she was going away, a shadow stalked him. The whole thing struck him as odd. People went away all the time: to college, new jobs, the military, and on yearlong missions from church. But her trip wasn’t any of those. He believed when something doesn’t fit, you pound on it till it does. But no matter how he shaped it, it didn’t make sense.
He couldn’t persuade her from going, and her parents were all right with it. Though she called and e-mailed, he didn’t feel he was getting the full picture. And when she came back for her birthday, the changes surprised him and raised more questions. He wanted to see for himself, so he took a few days off work and drove to San Francisco.
He looked at Sherry, dropped his gaze into his hands and then scanned the ceiling. He looked at her again.
“You lied. It’s not like you.”
“I wasn’t completely honest.”
Riley flushed red, feeling like the punch line to a bad joke.
“Riley, I’m sorry.”
He stood and pointed at Roger. “You didn’t do anything. No matter what he thinks.”
Roger stood and thrust out his chest, hands at his hips. Sherry rose, too, and embraced the glowering man.
Lola, who’d been sitting on the edge of her seat, leaped up, grabbed Riley’s arm and followed him into the kitchen.
“They together?”
Sherry shook her head.
Just then Mara came into the apartment. Seeing Sherry embracing a man she didn’t know and Riley and Lola huddled together, she quickly assessed the situation. When Sherry introduced them, Mara brought her hand to his stone face and gave his cheek a playful slap.
“Lighten up.”
The apartment seemed all of a sudden like a very small space. Wanting to be alone with Roger, she took his hand and led him to her room.
It looked much like it did after she first moved in: single bed, dresser, chair and nightstand. She avoided collecting things, aware the year would pass quickly. One addition, though, was a picture of the silver moon shining through the gray towers of the Bay Bridge. She’d clipped it from the newspaper and taped it to the mirror on her dresser above the framed pictures of her parents and Roger.
She guided him to her bed and overcame the resistance of his arm pulling away. She sat him down, undid the laces on his running shoes and took them off. Then, she pushed him back so he lay on top of the covers, face toward the ceiling, and took her place beside him.
In the soft glow of lamplight, their breathing leveled off and wordless thoughts of past, present and future filled the room. He brought his arm across her shoulder and she nestled her head on his chest and, sharing a mutual heat, they fell asleep.
She woke in the middle of the night and observed the sleeping figure beside her. She wondered what he was dreaming and was glad she knew his name. When he stirred and opened his eyes, he saw her smiling.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
*
Roger wanted to get an early start because he had to get back to work, so Sherry was making him breakfast in the early morning privacy she’d come to expect. She imagined it as a gift she could share and was happy. But it also recalled her mother making meals for the family, and she was sad. She was hundreds of miles away, and Roger would drive away and be far, too. She teetered between the two emotions as she scrambled eggs and Roger looked outside the window.
Having private space was important, but being able to share it, she realized, was important, too. She had her privacy, in a modest way, in her room. But until Roger’s visit, she’d never shared it. The thought made her feel empty.
At home the lines of what was hers were never as distinct as in the apartment. Her parents restrained themselves from entering without her permission, but they still had the right. Maybe that chaffed unconsciously and compelled her on her journey. But now she saw it differently.
She served the meal and Roger took his place at the table, his hair lopsided from the pillow and his eyes still sleepy.
“Do you want to shower?”
“I’ll wash my face.”
He didn’t want to get too comfortable. Though encouraged by Sherry’s reception, he considered himself in foreign territory and didn’t like the idea she liked it there.
He could never get used to living in a box with cars racing on the street below. It was like living on a freeway. He wanted a green lawn and trees outside, not another building.
Things were like she said, except Riley being a man. Mara was bold. When she patted his face like she did, it fit her. She never did talk much about Riley; now he knew why. It bothered him and should bother him still, he told himself. But he could tell there was nothing between them and he wouldn’t make a big deal about it, unless he had to.
Everything he saw --- including her soft brown eyes across the table --- her behavior, her words and the time they spent together the night before, suggested she was true about coming home. He wanted her to say it, but didn’t want to plead.
After they ate and he washed his face, she walked him to his car that was parked a few blocks away on a steep hill. When they arrived, they faced each other.
“You like living in an apartment?”
“Not like in a house.”
She invited him to visit again and then they kissed, each attaching a greater significance to it than might occur to any passerby.
The persons and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event.
The next chapter will be posted October 3.
Showing posts with label doubt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doubt. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Chapter 7: A Parting of Ways
...in which Linda confronts reality...
Linda knew she had to confront Joseph.
She felt a deep sense of betrayal and wanted to hear what he had to say. She didn’t think anything he said would satisfy her, but she wanted to know if he could be honest. Straightforward enough when things were good, he had an aversion to being held to account when they weren’t.
It was twilight when she left the store. She drove towards home, going by way of the garage. His car was parked outside the shop. The bay doors were closed but through a window she saw a strange flickering light. She parked and slipped inside through a side door, the photo clutched in hand.
She had to shake her head to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. Before her, a figure bent over a metallic box. It had a cubed metal head and wide goggle eyes attached to the body of a man. It wielded a wand with a flame like a blue dagger tooth that cut into the box, raining sparks. A steady hissing filled the garage and a thin smoky haze created the sensation of being underwater.
C.V., in t-shirt and jeans, stood off to the side, watching intently. Beside him stood another man whom she didn’t know. Joseph, still dressed in his blue coveralls, stood with his back to her.
C.V. saw her first, his eyes growing wide as he retreated into the shadows. His companion looked to him to see where he was going, attracting Joseph’s attention. He turned to see Linda.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“What’s happening?” she asked in a small voice, amazed by the scene.
Joseph grabbed the photo. He saw himself hand in hand with Stacy. A frown momentarily crossed his face. “What’s this?”
Regaining her composure, she pointed to it. “Your friend’s in jail. They’re coming for you next.”
He studied the photo. “Where'd you get this?”
“The police.”
“No, you didn’t.” He let the photo fall to the floor and looked away.
Linda jabbed her finger in his arm. “Joseph, this isn’t right. You brought that woman to my bed. She was stealing from Rightway. Now you’re breaking into a safe.”
Joseph took her by the shoulders and shook her, his eyes looking deeply into hers. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?” Her head shook side to side as if to wobble off.
He pulled her to him. Her ear pressing against his muscled chest, she heard his heart beat against the background of the hissing torch. She felt his body heat and her body, against her will, began to respond.
She resisted, trying to break free but he squeezed tightly, pinning her arms like the wings of a bird in a snake’s death grip, its hissing filling her ears.
“Have you always been this way?” She asked in a failing voice.
He squeezed tighter and she felt she was suffocating. But from somewhere deep inside, it came.
She screamed.
It startled Joseph and he let her go. The goggle-eyed figure looked up and even C.V. stepped forward to see what was happening.
Her high-pitched cry overcame the hissing of the torch. It cut through all the easy agreements dealing with easy issues that skirted the hard ones. It cut across lives lived in parallel only touching occasionally. It cut through non-responsive answers and to questions never asked.
Linda ran out of the garage, Joseph’s voice following. “I’ll see you at home.”
She got into her car; questions and answers flowed.
What’s the meaning of ‘home’? Love and safety.
What is it to ‘see’ when you see only what you want?
She felt gullible and complicit in the deception. She thought a career, an apartment and her man equaled a life, but she was led astray by smiles and easy yeses.
’You’ should ask the right questions and demand answers.
At the apartment, she grabbed the things she needed most, as if a firestorm were about to descend. She took clothes, important papers and some mementos. She prayed Joseph hadn’t followed. She carried them into the hallway and down to the car. He wasn’t there.
She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but she had to push through today to get there.
THE END
Linda knew she had to confront Joseph.
She felt a deep sense of betrayal and wanted to hear what he had to say. She didn’t think anything he said would satisfy her, but she wanted to know if he could be honest. Straightforward enough when things were good, he had an aversion to being held to account when they weren’t.
It was twilight when she left the store. She drove towards home, going by way of the garage. His car was parked outside the shop. The bay doors were closed but through a window she saw a strange flickering light. She parked and slipped inside through a side door, the photo clutched in hand.
She had to shake her head to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. Before her, a figure bent over a metallic box. It had a cubed metal head and wide goggle eyes attached to the body of a man. It wielded a wand with a flame like a blue dagger tooth that cut into the box, raining sparks. A steady hissing filled the garage and a thin smoky haze created the sensation of being underwater.
C.V., in t-shirt and jeans, stood off to the side, watching intently. Beside him stood another man whom she didn’t know. Joseph, still dressed in his blue coveralls, stood with his back to her.
C.V. saw her first, his eyes growing wide as he retreated into the shadows. His companion looked to him to see where he was going, attracting Joseph’s attention. He turned to see Linda.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“What’s happening?” she asked in a small voice, amazed by the scene.
Joseph grabbed the photo. He saw himself hand in hand with Stacy. A frown momentarily crossed his face. “What’s this?”
Regaining her composure, she pointed to it. “Your friend’s in jail. They’re coming for you next.”
He studied the photo. “Where'd you get this?”
“The police.”
“No, you didn’t.” He let the photo fall to the floor and looked away.
Linda jabbed her finger in his arm. “Joseph, this isn’t right. You brought that woman to my bed. She was stealing from Rightway. Now you’re breaking into a safe.”
Joseph took her by the shoulders and shook her, his eyes looking deeply into hers. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?” Her head shook side to side as if to wobble off.
He pulled her to him. Her ear pressing against his muscled chest, she heard his heart beat against the background of the hissing torch. She felt his body heat and her body, against her will, began to respond.
She resisted, trying to break free but he squeezed tightly, pinning her arms like the wings of a bird in a snake’s death grip, its hissing filling her ears.
“Have you always been this way?” She asked in a failing voice.
He squeezed tighter and she felt she was suffocating. But from somewhere deep inside, it came.
She screamed.
It startled Joseph and he let her go. The goggle-eyed figure looked up and even C.V. stepped forward to see what was happening.
Her high-pitched cry overcame the hissing of the torch. It cut through all the easy agreements dealing with easy issues that skirted the hard ones. It cut across lives lived in parallel only touching occasionally. It cut through non-responsive answers and to questions never asked.
Linda ran out of the garage, Joseph’s voice following. “I’ll see you at home.”
She got into her car; questions and answers flowed.
What’s the meaning of ‘home’? Love and safety.
What is it to ‘see’ when you see only what you want?
She felt gullible and complicit in the deception. She thought a career, an apartment and her man equaled a life, but she was led astray by smiles and easy yeses.
’You’ should ask the right questions and demand answers.
At the apartment, she grabbed the things she needed most, as if a firestorm were about to descend. She took clothes, important papers and some mementos. She prayed Joseph hadn’t followed. She carried them into the hallway and down to the car. He wasn’t there.
She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but she had to push through today to get there.
THE END
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Chapter 6: A Telling of Truths
… Reggie plays his hand…
…and Linda begins her search for truth…
Linda strode down the hall to Reggie’s office, cutting a lean confident figure in a trim dark skirt, white blouse with frills and black high heels. She nodded and smiled to the co-workers she saw everyday. She wondered if anyone sensed the uneasiness she felt.
Reggie’s door was open and she rapped twice on the sill. He acknowledged her without smiling and motioned her to a chair. Something inside her wound even tighter.
“Thanks for dropping by,” he said, rising to close the door. “You don’t mind, do you?” She shook her head.
“What’s this about, Reggie?”
He sat down again and picked up a small stack of hard-backed cards. He shuffled and studied them like a poker player, then he looked up, his brown eyes wide, guileless.
“It’s about work…Joseph…and you.”
Linda flashed hot and shifted in her seat. Then a chill descended on her. He couldn’t be questioning her job, she thought; not like this. When he mentioned Joseph, he was overstepping his bounds. She tensed, ready to set him right.
“Well?”
He shuffled the cards again and turned one over. “This”.
It was a photo of a man and a woman, holding hands. The man looked like Joseph.
“She works at Rightway and has been stealing from us.”
Before she could say anything, he set another photo down. “They met in front of your address and went inside.”
Then another, of the man getting out of Joseph’s car. Linda’s mouth gaped open taking in air, unable to articulate words.
Another photo. “He left at 1220.”
And another. “She followed 30 minutes later.”
Linda felt vulnerable, exposed and embarrassed, and the words burst out. “How dare you! How dare you invade my privacy!” She hunched over, falling silent and employing all her energy to keep from crying.
Reggie leaned back in his chair waiting for the wave of indignation to pass. Then, taking advantage of her silence, he explained about the investigation and assured her it had nothing to do with Joseph or her. No one else knew, he added, about Stacy’s connection through Joseph to her.
She was at the same time relieved and wary. Reggie seemed embarrassed about it. He wasn’t sticking it to her or gloating, but he knew something that could in some crazy way threaten her standing with the company. She took the measure of the large man with the frown on his face and decided she had to trust him.
“Who is this woman?”
Reggie told her more about Stacy Wallop, adding that she’d be brought upstairs to be interviewed and arrested that day.
“Does she know who I am?”
“I don’t know.”
***
Back in her office with the door shut, Linda laid her head on her desk and closed her eyes like she used to do in school. Her mind skipped, back and forth, from present to past and back again.
Joseph was attractive to women, she knew. She, herself, was testament to that. But when they decided to live together she thought his commitment equal to hers. Did she fool herself into believing it? She wasn’t sure.
She thought of her childhood. An only child, when she closed the door to her room, she felt safe and cozy in a world she created. Later she shared a place with girlfriends and new people were always passing through. She liked some; others she didn’t. She longed for that safe, cozy feeling again and, when she got with Joseph, she was striving for it. But he let that woman in her home. Did they talk about her? That bothered her, too.
She thought back to the ruffled bed and how he insisted the only answer was that she forgot to make it. Her face flushed red.
It nagged at her he was with someone who was stealing from the store. She wondered if he knew and if it mattered to him. It should.
Reggie told her Joseph doesn’t have a criminal record according to a cursory background check. He didn’t say if they did one on her. How humiliating.
The line between Joseph and Stacy and she hadn’t been drawn on any paper, but what would Stacy reveal when questioned? Again, her mind nagged: did he know, could he be involved?
A fire starts in a dark corner in a rundown house. It grows until the house is engulfed, then spreads to houses nearby. Soon the whole block is ablaze. The flames are hot and suck up air; the sky is a confusion of black suffocating smoke. Linda wakes up, acrid smoke causing her nose to flare. She falls out of bed onto the floor. Crawling to the door, she prays flames aren’t on the other side. She reaches out to feel the door. If it’s hot, don’t open. It’s warm. She panics. Is warm hot? Is warm not hot? She doesn’t know. Behind: smoke. Ahead: the door. She grows dizzy. She must push through…
She jerked awake, gasping for breath. A thin line of drool stretched from her lips to the desk. She checked her watch; fifteen minutes had passed.
She worked the rest of the afternoon at her desk, waiting for Reggie’s call. About six, the phone rang. Reggie told her Stacy Wallop was being taken to Security for her interview. It could be long or short, depending on her willingness to talk.
Linda guessed short, so she donned her suit jacket.
She took the stairs to the third store level, where major appliances were sold. From there, she rode the escalators down. Stepping off on the second floor, she walked through Men’s Suits and Sports Clothes to the next down escalator. On the first floor she passed Women’s Wear and Men’s Furnishings towards the main entrance.
She noticed several sales people clustered together without pretense of working. They scrutinized her for any clue to what was happening. They didn’t know her but the badge clipped to her lapel identified her as an employee.
She stood waiting, looking towards the escalator. She knew Stacy Wallop would follow the same path through the store, her hands cuffed, being led by a sheriff. It may not have been intended, but it was the best example she knew of a ritual of public humiliation.
***
Gliding down, the green worsted trousers appeared first and then the officer's torso, clothed in a short sleeved khaki shirt. Stacy followed in a short blue skirt and then a second officer. She was sandwiched between the two sheriffs, one male and one female. Her tawny arms pulled behind her, she seemed to gaze without comprehension at the world. Her nose was red and her eyes overflowed with tears. Conversation on the floor ceased in astonished amazement.
Linda stepped into the middle of the aisle, blocking the way.
“Step aside, miss. Please.”
She stood her ground as they approached then jerked to a halt. Stacy blinked, looking at the woman before her. Linda saw a young and frightened girl who didn’t seem to know her. They pushed past and out the door.
Next, she had to see Joseph.
The concluding chapter will be posted by December 31. Thank you for reading my work. You may post your thoughts in the Comments section of any post or by sending an e-mail through my Profile page.
…and Linda begins her search for truth…
Linda strode down the hall to Reggie’s office, cutting a lean confident figure in a trim dark skirt, white blouse with frills and black high heels. She nodded and smiled to the co-workers she saw everyday. She wondered if anyone sensed the uneasiness she felt.
Reggie’s door was open and she rapped twice on the sill. He acknowledged her without smiling and motioned her to a chair. Something inside her wound even tighter.
“Thanks for dropping by,” he said, rising to close the door. “You don’t mind, do you?” She shook her head.
“What’s this about, Reggie?”
He sat down again and picked up a small stack of hard-backed cards. He shuffled and studied them like a poker player, then he looked up, his brown eyes wide, guileless.
“It’s about work…Joseph…and you.”
Linda flashed hot and shifted in her seat. Then a chill descended on her. He couldn’t be questioning her job, she thought; not like this. When he mentioned Joseph, he was overstepping his bounds. She tensed, ready to set him right.
“Well?”
He shuffled the cards again and turned one over. “This”.
It was a photo of a man and a woman, holding hands. The man looked like Joseph.
“She works at Rightway and has been stealing from us.”
Before she could say anything, he set another photo down. “They met in front of your address and went inside.”
Then another, of the man getting out of Joseph’s car. Linda’s mouth gaped open taking in air, unable to articulate words.
Another photo. “He left at 1220.”
And another. “She followed 30 minutes later.”
Linda felt vulnerable, exposed and embarrassed, and the words burst out. “How dare you! How dare you invade my privacy!” She hunched over, falling silent and employing all her energy to keep from crying.
Reggie leaned back in his chair waiting for the wave of indignation to pass. Then, taking advantage of her silence, he explained about the investigation and assured her it had nothing to do with Joseph or her. No one else knew, he added, about Stacy’s connection through Joseph to her.
She was at the same time relieved and wary. Reggie seemed embarrassed about it. He wasn’t sticking it to her or gloating, but he knew something that could in some crazy way threaten her standing with the company. She took the measure of the large man with the frown on his face and decided she had to trust him.
“Who is this woman?”
Reggie told her more about Stacy Wallop, adding that she’d be brought upstairs to be interviewed and arrested that day.
“Does she know who I am?”
“I don’t know.”
***
Back in her office with the door shut, Linda laid her head on her desk and closed her eyes like she used to do in school. Her mind skipped, back and forth, from present to past and back again.
Joseph was attractive to women, she knew. She, herself, was testament to that. But when they decided to live together she thought his commitment equal to hers. Did she fool herself into believing it? She wasn’t sure.
She thought of her childhood. An only child, when she closed the door to her room, she felt safe and cozy in a world she created. Later she shared a place with girlfriends and new people were always passing through. She liked some; others she didn’t. She longed for that safe, cozy feeling again and, when she got with Joseph, she was striving for it. But he let that woman in her home. Did they talk about her? That bothered her, too.
She thought back to the ruffled bed and how he insisted the only answer was that she forgot to make it. Her face flushed red.
It nagged at her he was with someone who was stealing from the store. She wondered if he knew and if it mattered to him. It should.
Reggie told her Joseph doesn’t have a criminal record according to a cursory background check. He didn’t say if they did one on her. How humiliating.
The line between Joseph and Stacy and she hadn’t been drawn on any paper, but what would Stacy reveal when questioned? Again, her mind nagged: did he know, could he be involved?
A fire starts in a dark corner in a rundown house. It grows until the house is engulfed, then spreads to houses nearby. Soon the whole block is ablaze. The flames are hot and suck up air; the sky is a confusion of black suffocating smoke. Linda wakes up, acrid smoke causing her nose to flare. She falls out of bed onto the floor. Crawling to the door, she prays flames aren’t on the other side. She reaches out to feel the door. If it’s hot, don’t open. It’s warm. She panics. Is warm hot? Is warm not hot? She doesn’t know. Behind: smoke. Ahead: the door. She grows dizzy. She must push through…
She jerked awake, gasping for breath. A thin line of drool stretched from her lips to the desk. She checked her watch; fifteen minutes had passed.
She worked the rest of the afternoon at her desk, waiting for Reggie’s call. About six, the phone rang. Reggie told her Stacy Wallop was being taken to Security for her interview. It could be long or short, depending on her willingness to talk.
Linda guessed short, so she donned her suit jacket.
She took the stairs to the third store level, where major appliances were sold. From there, she rode the escalators down. Stepping off on the second floor, she walked through Men’s Suits and Sports Clothes to the next down escalator. On the first floor she passed Women’s Wear and Men’s Furnishings towards the main entrance.
She noticed several sales people clustered together without pretense of working. They scrutinized her for any clue to what was happening. They didn’t know her but the badge clipped to her lapel identified her as an employee.
She stood waiting, looking towards the escalator. She knew Stacy Wallop would follow the same path through the store, her hands cuffed, being led by a sheriff. It may not have been intended, but it was the best example she knew of a ritual of public humiliation.
***
Gliding down, the green worsted trousers appeared first and then the officer's torso, clothed in a short sleeved khaki shirt. Stacy followed in a short blue skirt and then a second officer. She was sandwiched between the two sheriffs, one male and one female. Her tawny arms pulled behind her, she seemed to gaze without comprehension at the world. Her nose was red and her eyes overflowed with tears. Conversation on the floor ceased in astonished amazement.
Linda stepped into the middle of the aisle, blocking the way.
“Step aside, miss. Please.”
She stood her ground as they approached then jerked to a halt. Stacy blinked, looking at the woman before her. Linda saw a young and frightened girl who didn’t seem to know her. They pushed past and out the door.
Next, she had to see Joseph.
The concluding chapter will be posted by December 31. Thank you for reading my work. You may post your thoughts in the Comments section of any post or by sending an e-mail through my Profile page.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Chapter 5: A Flurry of Calls
…Joseph answers a Sunday call…
…prompted by a house call earlier Sunday…
…and on Monday Linda gets a call from Reggie…
Sunday afternoon, the couple sat motionless on the couch watching football on TV. Linda, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, nestled in the crook of Joseph’s arm, his muscular girth easily encompassing the slender woman. He wore green Bermuda shorts and a gray sport shirt.
“Riv-et. Riv-et.” She giggled as he grabbed the croaking cell from the coffee table.
“Joe.”
“It’s C.V., man.”
“Corvalis. What’s up?”
Joseph listened as C.V. explained. When he was done, he rose and, stepping through the sliding door onto the balcony a few feet away, said, “It’s going to cost you.”
“What?”
In a hushed voice, Joseph replied, “One thousand or ten percent.”
“Man, I don’t have that.”
“What do you got in the box?”
“I got to get it open to find out.”
“You’re going to pay the guy who opens it, no matter what. You owe me for the referral. Right?”
“Joe. You know me; we’re all in together. You help me and I help you. You helped my sister get that job. But I can’t come up with the dough if there’s nothing in it.”
“Then, it’s ten percent. Ten percent of a million sounds good.”
“Alright.”
“If there’s nothing in it, you still owe me, though.”
“What?”
Joseph looked out over the balcony into the harsh afternoon light. “Your sister can do something for me at her job. I’ll think of something.”
“OK.”
“Call Jimmy. Here’s his number.”
Joseph flipped shut his cell and, taking a deep satisfied breath, went back inside. That’s the way to do business, he thought, settling in beside Linda.
“Was that Rosalie’s brother?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing.”
“You said something was going to cost him. What?”
“Something at work.”
She turned to him, a frown of disbelief creasing her silky brow. “He called you on Sunday about work? You work at an oil change shop.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She pointed an accusing finger. “You know I hate it when you keep things from me.”
“Watch the game.”
He gazed straight ahead at the TV as her dark eyes blazed at his visage, unflappable as a marble bust.
“Remind me why I love you,” she said.
When he didn’t respond, she pinched his arm, twisting the flesh between manicured fingers.
“Look at me!”
He pulled his arm away. “Ouch, Linda. What’s wrong with you?”
“Remind me why I love you.”
He blew a breath, flapping his lips like a horse. He reached over to peck her on the cheek.
Linda crossed her arms, falling back into the couch, staring at the farthest corner of the ceiling while Joseph re-set his gaze on the TV.
***
The pair, dressed in dark clothes, stalked the early morning streets of a moonless night. Stopping now and again, they were attracted by sleek lines and the going market for stolen cars.
Walking on the sidewalk side so as not to draw attention, equal in height and standing about a foot above the car tops, they appeared like wandering bushes creeping down the way.
One traced the lines of a black VW Golf, then tried the door. “Hey, C.V., it’s open, man.”
“Get in.”
A warning “ping, ping, ping” startled them, then they smiled as Hector turned the key in the ignition. A gentle whoosh stirred the morning air, leaving a gap in the line of parked cars.
C.V. noticed the ring held three keys. He fingered what looked like a house key, then explored the glove compartment. He held up a black leather wallet like a trophy illuminated by passing streetlights. Hector’s eyes grew wide.
Sorting through the credit cards and cash, he stopped when he found a driver’s license.
“Riley Turner… lives just around the corner.” He thought a moment, then said, “Let’s get the van.”
An hour later a black van crept slowly down the street and pulled up before the address on the license, a three-story apartment building.
They continued up the street, parking at the nearest corner. They walked the half-block, dark green duffle bags tucked under their arms, looking for apartment four. It was one of those on the side, on the second level. They didn’t see any lights. They climbed about twenty concrete steps along a metal rail that offered no cover.
At the top they listened at the door. C.V. held the key, and nodded at Hector, who nodded back. Hector, the stronger of the two, would take out Riley Turner if he were inconveniently at home.
They pushed through the door into the dark rooms. C.V. crept swiftly down the hallway to the bedroom. No one was home.
“O.K. Let’s do it.”
Hector disconnected the computer, putting the CPU and printer into one duffle and the slim screen monitor into another. Then, he began working on the sound system, the tuner, CD player and speakers. He grabbed at CDs like they were candy, tossing them into the duffle.
C.V. rifled through desk drawers and cabinets. He pocketed a passport. When he reached the bedroom closet he found himself looking down at a gray steel safe. He nudged it with his foot. It was heavy but not bolted down.
“Hector come here,” he whispered.
“Shheeeet. Look at that.”
“Can you lift it?”
Hector squatted down, pushing at it. He looked up doubtfully. Wrapping his arms around the square box, he lifted it a quarter inch before letting it fall, making a loud crash and straining the floor beneath.
“Shhh! Man, don’t make so much noise.”
C.V. surveyed the situation as Hector pulled at the metal handle. It would be tough going to get it out and down the steps, but this could be the jackpot. There had to be something good inside. A field of diamonds dazzled C.V.’s imaginary eye.
Hector pushed the square safe on its side and it thudded to a rest.
“We got to get it out. Look.” C.V. pulled the comforter from the bed and motioned for Hector to help him push the safe on to it.
“Careful.”
Again it strained and pressed the floor as they pushed the cube over. They pulled the blanket and its heavy weight to the front door.
“Take some of the stuff to the van and bring back the rope. The heavy rope.”
When Hector returned, C.V. set about wrapping it like a bulky Christmas present. On the top step, they tied one end of the rope to the railing and then let out the other end until it was suspended above the ground, the grooves on the rope catching and releasing on the ledge. C.V. was grateful for workmen’s gloves.
“Bring the van. Hurry.”
Hector half-ran down the street and backed the van into the driveway. He placed a hand-truck beneath the suspended package. C.V., seated on the ledge, with his legs propped against the railing, undid the securing knot and lowered the safe. Hector guided it onto the truck, which they rolled to the van. They connected one end of the rope to a winch inside and lifted it in. Then they threw in the rest of their booty and headed into the night. It had taken twenty minutes.
C.V. removed his gloves and flexed his sore hands.
“Hey, who do we know can open a safe?” Hector asked.
“I’ll call Joseph. He’ll know.”
Hector nodded and they smiled.
***
Linda took Reggie’s call and said she’d be right over.
It wasn’t typical for Reggie or any department manager, for that matter, to call her to their office. Buying decisions were discussed with departments in scheduled meetings and routine problems, like undelivered goods or inferior products, were handled by established procedure. If her work were being called into question she’d be talking to her own manager, not Reggie Barrow. She had no idea what he wanted. He sounded serious and that made her ill at ease.
The next chapter will be posted Sunday, December 27, and the concluding chapter by December 31.
…prompted by a house call earlier Sunday…
…and on Monday Linda gets a call from Reggie…
Sunday afternoon, the couple sat motionless on the couch watching football on TV. Linda, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, nestled in the crook of Joseph’s arm, his muscular girth easily encompassing the slender woman. He wore green Bermuda shorts and a gray sport shirt.
“Riv-et. Riv-et.” She giggled as he grabbed the croaking cell from the coffee table.
“Joe.”
“It’s C.V., man.”
“Corvalis. What’s up?”
Joseph listened as C.V. explained. When he was done, he rose and, stepping through the sliding door onto the balcony a few feet away, said, “It’s going to cost you.”
“What?”
In a hushed voice, Joseph replied, “One thousand or ten percent.”
“Man, I don’t have that.”
“What do you got in the box?”
“I got to get it open to find out.”
“You’re going to pay the guy who opens it, no matter what. You owe me for the referral. Right?”
“Joe. You know me; we’re all in together. You help me and I help you. You helped my sister get that job. But I can’t come up with the dough if there’s nothing in it.”
“Then, it’s ten percent. Ten percent of a million sounds good.”
“Alright.”
“If there’s nothing in it, you still owe me, though.”
“What?”
Joseph looked out over the balcony into the harsh afternoon light. “Your sister can do something for me at her job. I’ll think of something.”
“OK.”
“Call Jimmy. Here’s his number.”
Joseph flipped shut his cell and, taking a deep satisfied breath, went back inside. That’s the way to do business, he thought, settling in beside Linda.
“Was that Rosalie’s brother?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing.”
“You said something was going to cost him. What?”
“Something at work.”
She turned to him, a frown of disbelief creasing her silky brow. “He called you on Sunday about work? You work at an oil change shop.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She pointed an accusing finger. “You know I hate it when you keep things from me.”
“Watch the game.”
He gazed straight ahead at the TV as her dark eyes blazed at his visage, unflappable as a marble bust.
“Remind me why I love you,” she said.
When he didn’t respond, she pinched his arm, twisting the flesh between manicured fingers.
“Look at me!”
He pulled his arm away. “Ouch, Linda. What’s wrong with you?”
“Remind me why I love you.”
He blew a breath, flapping his lips like a horse. He reached over to peck her on the cheek.
Linda crossed her arms, falling back into the couch, staring at the farthest corner of the ceiling while Joseph re-set his gaze on the TV.
***
The pair, dressed in dark clothes, stalked the early morning streets of a moonless night. Stopping now and again, they were attracted by sleek lines and the going market for stolen cars.
Walking on the sidewalk side so as not to draw attention, equal in height and standing about a foot above the car tops, they appeared like wandering bushes creeping down the way.
One traced the lines of a black VW Golf, then tried the door. “Hey, C.V., it’s open, man.”
“Get in.”
A warning “ping, ping, ping” startled them, then they smiled as Hector turned the key in the ignition. A gentle whoosh stirred the morning air, leaving a gap in the line of parked cars.
C.V. noticed the ring held three keys. He fingered what looked like a house key, then explored the glove compartment. He held up a black leather wallet like a trophy illuminated by passing streetlights. Hector’s eyes grew wide.
Sorting through the credit cards and cash, he stopped when he found a driver’s license.
“Riley Turner… lives just around the corner.” He thought a moment, then said, “Let’s get the van.”
An hour later a black van crept slowly down the street and pulled up before the address on the license, a three-story apartment building.
They continued up the street, parking at the nearest corner. They walked the half-block, dark green duffle bags tucked under their arms, looking for apartment four. It was one of those on the side, on the second level. They didn’t see any lights. They climbed about twenty concrete steps along a metal rail that offered no cover.
At the top they listened at the door. C.V. held the key, and nodded at Hector, who nodded back. Hector, the stronger of the two, would take out Riley Turner if he were inconveniently at home.
They pushed through the door into the dark rooms. C.V. crept swiftly down the hallway to the bedroom. No one was home.
“O.K. Let’s do it.”
Hector disconnected the computer, putting the CPU and printer into one duffle and the slim screen monitor into another. Then, he began working on the sound system, the tuner, CD player and speakers. He grabbed at CDs like they were candy, tossing them into the duffle.
C.V. rifled through desk drawers and cabinets. He pocketed a passport. When he reached the bedroom closet he found himself looking down at a gray steel safe. He nudged it with his foot. It was heavy but not bolted down.
“Hector come here,” he whispered.
“Shheeeet. Look at that.”
“Can you lift it?”
Hector squatted down, pushing at it. He looked up doubtfully. Wrapping his arms around the square box, he lifted it a quarter inch before letting it fall, making a loud crash and straining the floor beneath.
“Shhh! Man, don’t make so much noise.”
C.V. surveyed the situation as Hector pulled at the metal handle. It would be tough going to get it out and down the steps, but this could be the jackpot. There had to be something good inside. A field of diamonds dazzled C.V.’s imaginary eye.
Hector pushed the square safe on its side and it thudded to a rest.
“We got to get it out. Look.” C.V. pulled the comforter from the bed and motioned for Hector to help him push the safe on to it.
“Careful.”
Again it strained and pressed the floor as they pushed the cube over. They pulled the blanket and its heavy weight to the front door.
“Take some of the stuff to the van and bring back the rope. The heavy rope.”
When Hector returned, C.V. set about wrapping it like a bulky Christmas present. On the top step, they tied one end of the rope to the railing and then let out the other end until it was suspended above the ground, the grooves on the rope catching and releasing on the ledge. C.V. was grateful for workmen’s gloves.
“Bring the van. Hurry.”
Hector half-ran down the street and backed the van into the driveway. He placed a hand-truck beneath the suspended package. C.V., seated on the ledge, with his legs propped against the railing, undid the securing knot and lowered the safe. Hector guided it onto the truck, which they rolled to the van. They connected one end of the rope to a winch inside and lifted it in. Then they threw in the rest of their booty and headed into the night. It had taken twenty minutes.
C.V. removed his gloves and flexed his sore hands.
“Hey, who do we know can open a safe?” Hector asked.
“I’ll call Joseph. He’ll know.”
Hector nodded and they smiled.
***
Linda took Reggie’s call and said she’d be right over.
It wasn’t typical for Reggie or any department manager, for that matter, to call her to their office. Buying decisions were discussed with departments in scheduled meetings and routine problems, like undelivered goods or inferior products, were handled by established procedure. If her work were being called into question she’d be talking to her own manager, not Reggie Barrow. She had no idea what he wanted. He sounded serious and that made her ill at ease.
The next chapter will be posted Sunday, December 27, and the concluding chapter by December 31.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Chapter 4: A Tangle of Thoughts
…Reggie tries making sense of the numbers…
…which an employee confounds…
…while a photo suggests a disturbing link…
Reggie read the report and frowned. Sales were up but inventory wasn’t where it should be; a spot inventory last month confirmed it. Plus, there were disturbing register mismatches at shift change, especially the evening shift. Cash on hand and credit card slips should match register printouts.
He rose from his chair and looked out the window of his office. The evening shift was made up of some full-time employees but a lot of young part-timers. He ordered refresher training that made a difference for a while, but the problem resurfaced so he started working with Security. They identified some suspicious behavior but he always worried about a concerted effort, so he contracted with a private investigator.
Based on the investigations, he was satisfied the thefts were petty crime not connected to a criminal underground. Those employees would be terminated and prosecuted.
***
Stacy Wallop scanned the floor of the Men’s Furnishing department and sighed. The evening shift was empty of customers. Salespeople wandered idly from table to counter and back again to wait, straighten garments or gossip. She looked into a full-length mirror.
She was just twenty-one. Her silky hair formed an ash-blonde veil sweeping down her back. Her skin was tan with an attractive cluster of freckles under hazel eyes that gazed wide-eyed at the world. She wore a short red skirt that reached to the middle of a fleshy thigh and a white sleeveless blouse.
Stacy thought twenty-one would be more exciting. She could go to clubs legally now, but she’d been clubbing for years. She went to the beach when it was sunny; otherwise she’d go shopping. She never read, because she worried about lines forming on her brow. She waited impatiently for the next thrill to take her out of her boring existence.
She walked to a table of sale ties. Grabbing a handful, she threw them like a tangle of snakes. Lifting one, she held it out, halved then quartered it and neatly lay it back down. When she was finished she looked at her watch and sighed again.
A man approached with two shirts in hand. He was paunchy and gray. She directed him to the table. She laughed when he admitted he wasn’t good at matching colors. She’d be happy to help, she said. She grabbed a satin blue tie and smiled, holding it across her outthrust chest like a sash in a beauty pageant. The man studied it nervously through thick glasses but said he wasn’t sure. After browsing for a while he chose two. She carried his selection to the register. In answer to her question, he said he’d pay cash.
She scanned in one shirt and one tie, then completed the sale on the register. Doubling the figure in her head, she said, “That will be $87.20”. She gave him change from the till which she left open a crack. “Your receipt is in the bag,” she said flashing a winning smile. She folded over the top and handed him the bag. He took it, smiling nervously. After he left, she looked left then right. Not seeing anyone watching, she removed two twenties and slipped them into her pocket.
***
Reggie reviewed a report containing a nugget of information that was either gold or radioactive. He’d have to handle it carefully.
The report stated, in part:
Wednesday, August 19, 2009. This investigator parked outside the target’s home at 1234 Wallingsford Avenue. Three cars were parked in the driveway. They are registered to her parents who are listed at the same address as emergency contacts (Cf. personnel file). The target was observed getting into the silver Toyota Corolla (photo attached).
0900-1130. Target drove to the beach where she sunbathed (photo attached).
1130. Target drove to apartment complex at 4547 Sunnyside Way and sat in her car for about 15 minutes.
1145. Brown Camaro parked behind her car (photo attached) and a white male (black hair, approximately five feet nine inches tall) approached her vehicle. She got out and, holding hands, they went into the apartment complex (photo attached). This investigator could not tell which apartment they went to. The front lobby is secure and no attempt was made to enter the property.
1220. The male exited the complex alone (photo attached). He seemed to be in a hurry.
1250. The target exited the complex (photo attached) and this investigator followed her back to the 1234 Wallingsford Avenue address.
Reggie looked at the photo again. He knew the man and wasn’t happy about it. He put it back into the report folder and dropped it on his desk. It made a slapping sound and, unconsciously, he rubbed his cheek. He enjoyed the company of women, but as he got older he found himself feeling like father or protector. He felt a mix of honor and attraction but, to those young women, he would always be a male with questionable motives. Maybe that was the right call.
He’d have to approach Linda and he knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter 5 will be posted December 20.
…which an employee confounds…
…while a photo suggests a disturbing link…
Reggie read the report and frowned. Sales were up but inventory wasn’t where it should be; a spot inventory last month confirmed it. Plus, there were disturbing register mismatches at shift change, especially the evening shift. Cash on hand and credit card slips should match register printouts.
He rose from his chair and looked out the window of his office. The evening shift was made up of some full-time employees but a lot of young part-timers. He ordered refresher training that made a difference for a while, but the problem resurfaced so he started working with Security. They identified some suspicious behavior but he always worried about a concerted effort, so he contracted with a private investigator.
Based on the investigations, he was satisfied the thefts were petty crime not connected to a criminal underground. Those employees would be terminated and prosecuted.
***
Stacy Wallop scanned the floor of the Men’s Furnishing department and sighed. The evening shift was empty of customers. Salespeople wandered idly from table to counter and back again to wait, straighten garments or gossip. She looked into a full-length mirror.
She was just twenty-one. Her silky hair formed an ash-blonde veil sweeping down her back. Her skin was tan with an attractive cluster of freckles under hazel eyes that gazed wide-eyed at the world. She wore a short red skirt that reached to the middle of a fleshy thigh and a white sleeveless blouse.
Stacy thought twenty-one would be more exciting. She could go to clubs legally now, but she’d been clubbing for years. She went to the beach when it was sunny; otherwise she’d go shopping. She never read, because she worried about lines forming on her brow. She waited impatiently for the next thrill to take her out of her boring existence.
She walked to a table of sale ties. Grabbing a handful, she threw them like a tangle of snakes. Lifting one, she held it out, halved then quartered it and neatly lay it back down. When she was finished she looked at her watch and sighed again.
A man approached with two shirts in hand. He was paunchy and gray. She directed him to the table. She laughed when he admitted he wasn’t good at matching colors. She’d be happy to help, she said. She grabbed a satin blue tie and smiled, holding it across her outthrust chest like a sash in a beauty pageant. The man studied it nervously through thick glasses but said he wasn’t sure. After browsing for a while he chose two. She carried his selection to the register. In answer to her question, he said he’d pay cash.
She scanned in one shirt and one tie, then completed the sale on the register. Doubling the figure in her head, she said, “That will be $87.20”. She gave him change from the till which she left open a crack. “Your receipt is in the bag,” she said flashing a winning smile. She folded over the top and handed him the bag. He took it, smiling nervously. After he left, she looked left then right. Not seeing anyone watching, she removed two twenties and slipped them into her pocket.
***
Reggie reviewed a report containing a nugget of information that was either gold or radioactive. He’d have to handle it carefully.
The report stated, in part:
Wednesday, August 19, 2009. This investigator parked outside the target’s home at 1234 Wallingsford Avenue. Three cars were parked in the driveway. They are registered to her parents who are listed at the same address as emergency contacts (Cf. personnel file). The target was observed getting into the silver Toyota Corolla (photo attached).
0900-1130. Target drove to the beach where she sunbathed (photo attached).
1130. Target drove to apartment complex at 4547 Sunnyside Way and sat in her car for about 15 minutes.
1145. Brown Camaro parked behind her car (photo attached) and a white male (black hair, approximately five feet nine inches tall) approached her vehicle. She got out and, holding hands, they went into the apartment complex (photo attached). This investigator could not tell which apartment they went to. The front lobby is secure and no attempt was made to enter the property.
1220. The male exited the complex alone (photo attached). He seemed to be in a hurry.
1250. The target exited the complex (photo attached) and this investigator followed her back to the 1234 Wallingsford Avenue address.
Reggie looked at the photo again. He knew the man and wasn’t happy about it. He put it back into the report folder and dropped it on his desk. It made a slapping sound and, unconsciously, he rubbed his cheek. He enjoyed the company of women, but as he got older he found himself feeling like father or protector. He felt a mix of honor and attraction but, to those young women, he would always be a male with questionable motives. Maybe that was the right call.
He’d have to approach Linda and he knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter 5 will be posted December 20.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Chapter 3: A Meeting at Work
...meanwhile Linda takes care of business at her job...
Linda sat tapping her index finger on a folder waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive at the meeting room.
Jane Steadham was there already, sipping coffee, looking through her owl-like glasses. In her fifties, she was in the department when Linda got there. She was comfortable in the self-contained job of being a buyer and didn’t have the stomach for management. She was an asset to Linda, as her suggestions focused on getting things right rather than her defects as a manager. If she screwed up, Jane would not be the one to replace her.
Maggie Draper was another matter. A few years younger than Linda, she also had a business degree from State. She was married and had a two-year old boy. Linda often studied Maggie thinking on the road not taken. Today Maggie looked like she was dragging, her short blonde hair still wet and her cotton dress limp, fashion a victim to practicality yet again. But she always seemed happy at work and her enthusiasm showed even through her weariness, as did her ambition. She was upfront about her desire to advance in the company, especially with the expense of a growing family.
The last member of the woman’s wear buying team, Rosalie Corvalis, sauntered in, smiling as she ended a conversation with someone outside the door. “Bye,” she shouted, her voice reverberating through the room causing Jane to hop in her seat. “Oops. Sorry,” she whispered.
Rosalie had a crown of black hair ending in a swirl across her chest like a vine of ivy exploring a wall. Her white blouse seemed a cut too small, her breasts overcoming the top three buttons. At least one of those buttons should be closed, Linda thought. Rosalie was the newest member of the team, coming up from sales. At twenty-five, she made her feel old. She was willing to do the job but always seemed to need a nudge to get started. Linda was already hoping she wouldn’t regret the hire.
“Let’s get started,” Linda said. Maggie volunteered to go first and began updating the team on her activity, starting with new vendors contacted and vetted.
Linda thought her department rivaled sales as most vital to the company. Without buyers to stock the store with merchandise, sales wouldn’t have a job. They ensured a steady stream of things to sell by being in constant contact with makers of clothes and accessories. There were thousands of vendors in the market, some well established, some new. They looked for dependable suppliers to provide quantity and quality at favorable prices.
Maggie had stopped talking. “Anything else?” Maggie nodded and began to list the items she recommended for purchase.
Linda interjected questions about volume price breaks and inventory on hand and Maggie fielded them expertly. Jane took notes, nodded her head and asked questions. Linda glanced at Rosalie who sat motionless. Her red lips, shaped in a permanent half smile, expanded when she noticed her look.
When Maggie finished, Jane made her report. She did so expertly but without Maggie’s enthusiasm. Then it was Rosalie’s turn. She didn’t have any new vendors, so she reported on her renewal orders. She touched the right issues, Linda thought, but without skill.
When the meeting broke up, Linda held her back to mention her blouse. It wasn’t business appropriate she told her, suggesting she fasten a button. She smiled gamely and tugged at it, inserting the button in the eye. As soon as she released it, it popped back out. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Maybe a size larger,” Linda mumbled, as she walked back to her office.
Chapter 4 will be posted December 6
Linda sat tapping her index finger on a folder waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive at the meeting room.
Jane Steadham was there already, sipping coffee, looking through her owl-like glasses. In her fifties, she was in the department when Linda got there. She was comfortable in the self-contained job of being a buyer and didn’t have the stomach for management. She was an asset to Linda, as her suggestions focused on getting things right rather than her defects as a manager. If she screwed up, Jane would not be the one to replace her.
Maggie Draper was another matter. A few years younger than Linda, she also had a business degree from State. She was married and had a two-year old boy. Linda often studied Maggie thinking on the road not taken. Today Maggie looked like she was dragging, her short blonde hair still wet and her cotton dress limp, fashion a victim to practicality yet again. But she always seemed happy at work and her enthusiasm showed even through her weariness, as did her ambition. She was upfront about her desire to advance in the company, especially with the expense of a growing family.
The last member of the woman’s wear buying team, Rosalie Corvalis, sauntered in, smiling as she ended a conversation with someone outside the door. “Bye,” she shouted, her voice reverberating through the room causing Jane to hop in her seat. “Oops. Sorry,” she whispered.
Rosalie had a crown of black hair ending in a swirl across her chest like a vine of ivy exploring a wall. Her white blouse seemed a cut too small, her breasts overcoming the top three buttons. At least one of those buttons should be closed, Linda thought. Rosalie was the newest member of the team, coming up from sales. At twenty-five, she made her feel old. She was willing to do the job but always seemed to need a nudge to get started. Linda was already hoping she wouldn’t regret the hire.
“Let’s get started,” Linda said. Maggie volunteered to go first and began updating the team on her activity, starting with new vendors contacted and vetted.
Linda thought her department rivaled sales as most vital to the company. Without buyers to stock the store with merchandise, sales wouldn’t have a job. They ensured a steady stream of things to sell by being in constant contact with makers of clothes and accessories. There were thousands of vendors in the market, some well established, some new. They looked for dependable suppliers to provide quantity and quality at favorable prices.
Maggie had stopped talking. “Anything else?” Maggie nodded and began to list the items she recommended for purchase.
Linda interjected questions about volume price breaks and inventory on hand and Maggie fielded them expertly. Jane took notes, nodded her head and asked questions. Linda glanced at Rosalie who sat motionless. Her red lips, shaped in a permanent half smile, expanded when she noticed her look.
When Maggie finished, Jane made her report. She did so expertly but without Maggie’s enthusiasm. Then it was Rosalie’s turn. She didn’t have any new vendors, so she reported on her renewal orders. She touched the right issues, Linda thought, but without skill.
When the meeting broke up, Linda held her back to mention her blouse. It wasn’t business appropriate she told her, suggesting she fasten a button. She smiled gamely and tugged at it, inserting the button in the eye. As soon as she released it, it popped back out. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Maybe a size larger,” Linda mumbled, as she walked back to her office.
Chapter 4 will be posted December 6
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Chapter 2: A Calling to Serve
...depicting Linda's boyfriend at work ...
The creases of Joseph’s blue coveralls were sharply pressed and the built-in belt cinched tight and flush against his flat stomach. He knew he cut a dashing figure in the oil change shop and had long since gotten used to catcalls from the other guys.
The advantages outweighed the trouble. The manager allowed him, clipboard in hand, to approach customers as they sat in their cars to take name and payment information. It didn’t hurt that he spoke English better than the others or that he presented a smiling friendly face to the clientele. He felt a cut above the rest and it brought a few dollars more an hour.
It was just after eight in the morning when the first rush of business came in. Three cars lined up in the driveway leading to the servicing bays.
The first was an old white Cadillac. The elderly man had gotten there early and had been sitting for half an hour. He was a regular. Joseph took down his license number, scribbling it in the appropriate box on the form. He moved to the driver window, greeting him professionally, verified his credit card number, then stepped away. The man drove to Bay Three where Hector waved him in.
The next vehicle drove up, a small black Nissan pick-up. The man was in his thirties and wore dark sunglasses. Routine. Carlos directed him into Bay Two. The third car though was something special. Through the tinted glass, Joseph saw blonde hair framing a face. It gleamed like gold in the sun.
He raised his hand, palm forward, and the driver stopped. “Please shift your car into park and put the handbrake on,” he called to her. He stepped in front of the car, his legs as though astride a mighty river. He looked over to Bay One. “Corvalis! Can you take another one?”
“Si, of course!”
Joseph scribbled on the form and went to the driver window. The blonde turned towards him, her large candy red sunglasses dwarfing her face. He smiled as his eyes sallied down to her cleavage.
“Name and address, please.” She told him and he said, “Stacy. That’s a nice name.” Her red lips betrayed the smallest twitch of pleasure. “I need to check your mileage,” he said, opening the door. She sat passively as he thrust his head into the compartment between her body and the dash. He noted smooth tan legs, tight white shorts and a bare midriff. He glanced at the odometer.
He stood erect and shut the door. “Bay One.” Corvalis waved her in and Joseph jogged behind as she positioned the Toyota sedan over the service slot. When she shut off the ignition, he opened the door. Her open-toed heels clattered onto the concrete floor as she got out and sashayed to the waiting room.
During the thirty minutes it took to service her car, Joseph made small gestures such offering more coffee or advising her how much longer it would take. When she left he smiled as he put a slip of paper in his pocket, a promise for another day.
They started closing down the shop at six, though they stayed open until seven. He climbed out of his coveralls, revealing a white t-shirt and jeans. He hung his work clothes neatly in his locker. He and the others were going for a beer. It wasn’t a bad job, he thought.
Chapter 3 will be posted on November 22.
The creases of Joseph’s blue coveralls were sharply pressed and the built-in belt cinched tight and flush against his flat stomach. He knew he cut a dashing figure in the oil change shop and had long since gotten used to catcalls from the other guys.
The advantages outweighed the trouble. The manager allowed him, clipboard in hand, to approach customers as they sat in their cars to take name and payment information. It didn’t hurt that he spoke English better than the others or that he presented a smiling friendly face to the clientele. He felt a cut above the rest and it brought a few dollars more an hour.
It was just after eight in the morning when the first rush of business came in. Three cars lined up in the driveway leading to the servicing bays.
The first was an old white Cadillac. The elderly man had gotten there early and had been sitting for half an hour. He was a regular. Joseph took down his license number, scribbling it in the appropriate box on the form. He moved to the driver window, greeting him professionally, verified his credit card number, then stepped away. The man drove to Bay Three where Hector waved him in.
The next vehicle drove up, a small black Nissan pick-up. The man was in his thirties and wore dark sunglasses. Routine. Carlos directed him into Bay Two. The third car though was something special. Through the tinted glass, Joseph saw blonde hair framing a face. It gleamed like gold in the sun.
He raised his hand, palm forward, and the driver stopped. “Please shift your car into park and put the handbrake on,” he called to her. He stepped in front of the car, his legs as though astride a mighty river. He looked over to Bay One. “Corvalis! Can you take another one?”
“Si, of course!”
Joseph scribbled on the form and went to the driver window. The blonde turned towards him, her large candy red sunglasses dwarfing her face. He smiled as his eyes sallied down to her cleavage.
“Name and address, please.” She told him and he said, “Stacy. That’s a nice name.” Her red lips betrayed the smallest twitch of pleasure. “I need to check your mileage,” he said, opening the door. She sat passively as he thrust his head into the compartment between her body and the dash. He noted smooth tan legs, tight white shorts and a bare midriff. He glanced at the odometer.
He stood erect and shut the door. “Bay One.” Corvalis waved her in and Joseph jogged behind as she positioned the Toyota sedan over the service slot. When she shut off the ignition, he opened the door. Her open-toed heels clattered onto the concrete floor as she got out and sashayed to the waiting room.
During the thirty minutes it took to service her car, Joseph made small gestures such offering more coffee or advising her how much longer it would take. When she left he smiled as he put a slip of paper in his pocket, a promise for another day.
They started closing down the shop at six, though they stayed open until seven. He climbed out of his coveralls, revealing a white t-shirt and jeans. He hung his work clothes neatly in his locker. He and the others were going for a beer. It wasn’t a bad job, he thought.
Chapter 3 will be posted on November 22.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Chapter 1: A Tickle of Doubt
When Linda Jones dropped by to visit her mother, she discovered she wasn’t there and went home. Stepping off the elevator, she fumbled for the keys in her purse when she noticed her apartment door was open. A chill of trepidation shook her body. She pushed through the door and called out. “Joseph, are you here?”
The afternoon sun passing through the sliding glass doors illuminated her yellow sundress, her caramel colored legs and the light brown hair that capped her head. She looked like a brilliant mushroom wandering through the rooms.
She felt the odd sensation she was a stranger in her own home. Everything looked familiar yet new and unusual. She rested the palm of her hand on the flat surface of the round dining table. It was cool and smooth. In the front room she savored the richness of the Japanese teakwood coffee table and cabinets. Her sandals made a soft brushing sound as they passed over the white carpet.
She grasped the golden handle of one cabinet with her manicured fingers and pulled it open. Nothing was inside. She opened another and another and discovered they were all empty.
She passed through to the bedroom where a king-sized bed dominated the room, a blond wood bureau to one side. The bedding was ruffled, though she was sure she had straightened them that day. She set to making up the bed when a sudden fatigue caught hold of her, sapping her energy. She lay down and fell asleep.
***
When Joseph came home later he denied leaving the door open. “You leave later than me. You must have done it,” he said definitively. His fork paused in mid air, he peered at her with marble blue eyes, his curly close-cropped black hair wet from the shower, the scent of grease still about him from work.
“You’re right. I must have left it open but I just don’t remember,” she said shaking her head.
“You were tired, baby. You were knocked out when I came home.” He patted her hand then skewered another piece of meat.
She was still confused about the door and the bed and the strange sensation she had felt, but she thought she was having a bad day. “Tomorrow will be better,” she told herself.
Linda Jones and Joseph Thomas were in their thirties and were survivors of the bar scene, who decided to step away from the booze, hangovers and strange bedfellows to the relative calm of a relationship.
Linda Jones was ambitious for a prosperous life, a home and a dog or a cat, but not necessarily children. That wasn’t the way to go for her, she decided, though she had thought she would until her late-twenties; she realized most women around her were childless and living a good life. Her mother didn’t agree and thought she’d waste away in a life of hedonism. Being unmarried and living with a man did not work against that perception.
Linda felt her life was going in the right direction. She was a supervisor in the buyer’s department at the Rightway Department store. She’d worked there starting as an intern while earning her business degree at State. She took a fulltime job on a management track after graduation. Advancing in her career was the key to her security because there wasn’t a knight in shining armor to rescue her.
Joseph Thomas was her man. She met him in the L.A. club scene. She liked his dark good looks and his muscular arms. He pursued her and she put him off at first. But she started whispering in his ear about a better life and he seemed to be listening. She put it in his head that he could be a manager or maybe an owner of an oil change franchise. But he’d have to start putting money away. He could do that if they established a home where they could entertain their friends, saving money by not going out.
It was a year ago when they moved in together in a one bedroom in an apartment complex in Long Beach, which was smaller than she would have liked but she was used to that sentiment. It was close to work and there she found the peace she sought away from the parade of new faces she had to contend with when living with girlfriends.
***
“He’s not your equal. I keep telling you that!”
“And you are?”
“You said it.”
Reggie Barrow grinned broadly as he stood at the door of Linda’s office. Linda sat behind her desk, looking soft and pale like a cameo. Her brown hair was pulled back severely from her brow, then bloomed into a lacquered fullness at the crown, curving down to her ears. Her deep brown eyes returned his gaze.
Reggie stood tall in a sharp brown suit with a flamboyant red tie. He shaved his head smooth and it gleamed like a dark brown knob. Reggie was the manager of the Men’s Furnishing department, who often visited Linda on the pretext of advising her on inventory. Whenever Linda pointed out that she received daily reports from scanned sales information, he’d laugh and say he didn’t want her to overlook his inventory.
She welcomed his visits. He was fifteen years her senior and offered a different perspective on things. But she didn’t like it when he challenged her relationship with Joseph; it was her choice and she was committed to seeing it through. “That’s the white in you, steering you the wrong way,” he had said.
She told Reggie about the strange sensation she had the other day and expressed concern about what it meant. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
She didn’t think so but her instinct raised the hairs on her neck.
Chapter 2 will be posted on November 8.
The afternoon sun passing through the sliding glass doors illuminated her yellow sundress, her caramel colored legs and the light brown hair that capped her head. She looked like a brilliant mushroom wandering through the rooms.
She felt the odd sensation she was a stranger in her own home. Everything looked familiar yet new and unusual. She rested the palm of her hand on the flat surface of the round dining table. It was cool and smooth. In the front room she savored the richness of the Japanese teakwood coffee table and cabinets. Her sandals made a soft brushing sound as they passed over the white carpet.
She grasped the golden handle of one cabinet with her manicured fingers and pulled it open. Nothing was inside. She opened another and another and discovered they were all empty.
She passed through to the bedroom where a king-sized bed dominated the room, a blond wood bureau to one side. The bedding was ruffled, though she was sure she had straightened them that day. She set to making up the bed when a sudden fatigue caught hold of her, sapping her energy. She lay down and fell asleep.
***
When Joseph came home later he denied leaving the door open. “You leave later than me. You must have done it,” he said definitively. His fork paused in mid air, he peered at her with marble blue eyes, his curly close-cropped black hair wet from the shower, the scent of grease still about him from work.
“You’re right. I must have left it open but I just don’t remember,” she said shaking her head.
“You were tired, baby. You were knocked out when I came home.” He patted her hand then skewered another piece of meat.
She was still confused about the door and the bed and the strange sensation she had felt, but she thought she was having a bad day. “Tomorrow will be better,” she told herself.
Linda Jones and Joseph Thomas were in their thirties and were survivors of the bar scene, who decided to step away from the booze, hangovers and strange bedfellows to the relative calm of a relationship.
Linda Jones was ambitious for a prosperous life, a home and a dog or a cat, but not necessarily children. That wasn’t the way to go for her, she decided, though she had thought she would until her late-twenties; she realized most women around her were childless and living a good life. Her mother didn’t agree and thought she’d waste away in a life of hedonism. Being unmarried and living with a man did not work against that perception.
Linda felt her life was going in the right direction. She was a supervisor in the buyer’s department at the Rightway Department store. She’d worked there starting as an intern while earning her business degree at State. She took a fulltime job on a management track after graduation. Advancing in her career was the key to her security because there wasn’t a knight in shining armor to rescue her.
Joseph Thomas was her man. She met him in the L.A. club scene. She liked his dark good looks and his muscular arms. He pursued her and she put him off at first. But she started whispering in his ear about a better life and he seemed to be listening. She put it in his head that he could be a manager or maybe an owner of an oil change franchise. But he’d have to start putting money away. He could do that if they established a home where they could entertain their friends, saving money by not going out.
It was a year ago when they moved in together in a one bedroom in an apartment complex in Long Beach, which was smaller than she would have liked but she was used to that sentiment. It was close to work and there she found the peace she sought away from the parade of new faces she had to contend with when living with girlfriends.
***
“He’s not your equal. I keep telling you that!”
“And you are?”
“You said it.”
Reggie Barrow grinned broadly as he stood at the door of Linda’s office. Linda sat behind her desk, looking soft and pale like a cameo. Her brown hair was pulled back severely from her brow, then bloomed into a lacquered fullness at the crown, curving down to her ears. Her deep brown eyes returned his gaze.
Reggie stood tall in a sharp brown suit with a flamboyant red tie. He shaved his head smooth and it gleamed like a dark brown knob. Reggie was the manager of the Men’s Furnishing department, who often visited Linda on the pretext of advising her on inventory. Whenever Linda pointed out that she received daily reports from scanned sales information, he’d laugh and say he didn’t want her to overlook his inventory.
She welcomed his visits. He was fifteen years her senior and offered a different perspective on things. But she didn’t like it when he challenged her relationship with Joseph; it was her choice and she was committed to seeing it through. “That’s the white in you, steering you the wrong way,” he had said.
She told Reggie about the strange sensation she had the other day and expressed concern about what it meant. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
She didn’t think so but her instinct raised the hairs on her neck.
Chapter 2 will be posted on November 8.
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