The Bureau of Holiday Affairs

by Andi Marquette

  “This one’s my favorite,” Robin said. “I really love what you did with the objects, and how you’ve got them positioned.”

  “Thanks. It might be one of my faves, too.”

  “So I’ll guess you’re in Seattle. Or Portland,” Robin said.

  “Not bad. Seattle. I moved there after college.”

  Robin nodded, and wondered at the sudden desire she had to pack up and fly across the country to the city of her birth.

  “What about you?” Jill asked. She’d taken her motorcycle jacket off, and she wore a creamy white tailored blouse with the top buttons undone, exposing her neck and a bit of cleavage. She wore several silver chains, one with charms on it. When she moved her arm, Robin caught the flash of a blue jewel from her cufflink. Jill was much hotter now than she’d been in college, and she’d been gorgeous then.

  “Nothing really to tell. I went business. Executive director of sales at a multinational here.”

  “Jill—” Samo said from nearby, and Robin was glad he’d interrupted because she didn’t want to tell Jill any more about what she did. “When you get a minute?” he added.

  “Be right there.” Jill turned back to her. “Listen, I really would love to catch up with you.” She handed Robin a business card. “I know there’s some—well, some baggage between us, so if you don’t want to, I understand. But it is great to see you, and I’m really glad I ran into you.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Robin took the card and smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “Great. I’m in town through New Year’s. Call me.”

  Robin nodded and watched her walk away, and remembered her fifteen years ago, when she’d first seen her. They’d both been starting their second year of college, and Jill walked into art class that fall semester, conservatively dressed and maybe a little nerdy. But she had glitter on her sneakers and interesting glasses, so Robin introduced herself, and when Jill left class that first day, Robin had wanted to follow. She had that same feeling now.

  She glanced around and realized she needed to figure out how to get home from here. Or not. Her chest tightened. Lady Magnolia was chatting up one of the servers not even ten feet away, a particularly handsome man—wait. He could see her? Did that mean Robin was still in some kind of Bureau mindfuck? She scanned the crowd for Jill, panic rising. There she was, still talking to Samo. Robin relaxed. Besides, this was Christmas Present, right? So it was, in fact, the present and this was happening right now. Then why was she able to interact with these people when she hadn’t been able to earlier?

  Magnolia caught Robin’s eye and gave her a sly wink. She blew a kiss at the server and walked toward her, letting her stole hang suggestively on her shoulders. More than a few men tracked her with their gazes.

  “I do love art,” Magnolia said. “But come on, sugar. It’s nearly bedtime, and I have to get you back before you turn into a pumpkin.”

  “Is this for real?” Robin asked as she followed Magnolia out of the gallery to the wet sidewalk beyond. Robin hadn’t noticed that it had started snowing, but the limo was waiting and Ramón got out to open the door for her. “Am I really here?” she asked.

  “Christmas Present can have many different meanings,” Magnolia said as she got into the limo. Robin followed and settled herself against the leather seat again. She closed her eyes, tired and still emotionally raw.

  “That’s it, sugar. You just rest.”

  The music seemed to increase in volume, a rhythm and blues number, and Robin was so tired she couldn’t open her eyes if she tried. Maybe Magnolia would let her stay here, on this really comfortable seat. Maybe she could stay here forever, and escape all the shit that swirled in her life. That would be nice, she thought as she drifted to sleep. So nice…

  Bureau of Holiday Affairs

  Field Report: Preston, Robin Anne, DOB June 15, 1978//Seattle, WA

  Case Number 26901-15

  Agent: your favorite queen

  Date of Interaction:

  December 19

  Methodology Employed: Lady Magnolia special, with extra truth plus a dash of the past.

  Results: Subject may have a soul.

  Observations/recommendations: My mama always said that sometimes people just need a good size ten stiletto up the tush. Audio and video available.

  Personal Overview: I have a soft spot for cute hard-luck lesbian cases. People create barriers to avoid dealing with pain, but they can become a weapon. I think there’s a heart in there somewhere. The question is, can our little lost lesbian open it, not only to others, but herself? The Lady is cautiously hopeful, but she knows only too well the fallibility of humankind.

  CHAPTER 4

  Robin opened her eyes to the familiar sight of her apartment ceiling. Her clock radio was playing a song that sounded familiar. Some R&B number. She turned her head and looked at it. Time to get up and go to work, she knew, but she couldn’t figure out why her alarm wasn’t beeping. She never used the radio function.

  She groaned and sat up, still fully dressed, though her shoes were off. The covers hadn’t been pulled back, and she’d just slept on top of them wrapped in the blanket from the couch. Robin stripped and went to shower, though the hot water didn’t settle her mood or her stomach, which was a little sour.

  Had she really seen Jill? Or was that part of a dream? And was Deb really pregnant? She toweled off and dressed, another business power suit, and picked up her clothing from the night before. Something fell out of her pants pocket and she watched it fall to the floor. A business card. She picked it up and, when she saw the name, a mixture of emotions rushed through her chest. Jill Chen, artist. A pen and ink self portrait of Jill smiling and wearing sunglasses appeared in the lower right-hand corner of the card, and Robin remembered how Jill could create images of people like that in minutes or even seconds, the quick strokes of her brush or pen moving unerringly across the paper.

  She slipped the card into her wallet and left the bedroom but returned seconds later. In her dresser, she kept a small wooden box. Robin opened it and stared at the contents, an assortment of rings and necklaces she hadn’t worn in years. She closed it and started to put it away then opened it again and selected a couple of rings, both silver, one with a band shaped like the body of a snake, while the other’s band was etched with tiny skulls. That one she slid onto her left pinkie, amazed it still fit. The snake ring slid easily onto the middle finger of her other hand.

  She held her hands out and flexed her fingers. She’d put these rings away when she buried herself in business school, but here they were on her fingers as if they’d never left. Robin closed the box and put it back in her drawer. The thought of going to work made her stomach churn again, but she had several meetings, and she had to work on her presentation.

  Robin grabbed her coat and shoulder bag and left without eating anything. She walked to work, hoping the air would help clear her head, and by the time she got to the office, she did feel a little better.

  “Morning,” she said to the guard at the information desk. He looked at her, clearly surprised.

  “Good morning, Ms. Preston,” he responded.

  “Morning, Mike,” said an older guy in a suit behind Robin as he passed.

  “Mr. Watts,” the guard said as Robin followed the guy onto the elevator. They’d lucked out. It was only the two of them.

  “Floor?” he asked.

  “Twenty.”

  He pushed the button for her. “How’s it going?” he asked.

  She looked at him. “Um, fine. You?”

  “Excellent. Love this time of year. My kids will be home from college for Christmas.”

  “That sounds great.” Robin nodded and sipped her coffee. Her stomach felt a little better.

  “It is.”

  The elevator stopped at fifteen, and Mr. Watts stepped out as the doors opened. “Hope you have a great day an
d Merry Christmas,” he said.

  “Yeah. You, too,” she said and meant it. The doors closed, and Robin leaned against the wall, though the elevator made it to her floor too fast for her to relax.

  “Mr. Frost would like to speak to you,” Laura said as Robin passed her desk on the way to her office.

  “Okay. Did he call?”

  “Yes. Ten minutes ago.”

  Great. She hadn’t been at her desk. Frost hated it when people weren’t at his beck and call.

  “Thanks. I’ll call him,” she said with a smile.

  Laura nodded, a puzzled expression on her face, and Robin noted that the dress she had on today brought out the darker tones of her skin. For the first time, Robin really looked at her. She knew Laura was married to a man and had a young child at home—a boy, Robin remembered. Her husband worked for the city, but she wasn’t sure what department or what he did. Strange, the things that a person noticed or didn’t.

  Robin went into her office and tossed her coat and bag onto the sofa against the wall then she settled herself at her own desk and dialed Frost’s extension. His personal assistant picked up.

  “David Frost’s office.”

  “Hi, Megan. It’s Robin Preston, returning Mr. Frost’s call.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s on another line. I’ll have him call you when he’s done.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Robin hung up and turned on her work laptop. Talking to Frost always made her nervous because she rarely had to deal with him except at meetings, so the fact that he was calling her directly made her stomach burn again. She retrieved her bag from the couch and took a folder out. A business card fell out onto her desk just as the phone rang.

  “Preston,” she answered.

  “Good. I caught you,” Mr. Frost said. He always sounded as if he’d had too many martinis and cigars the night before. “I got a call this morning from Bruce Schmidt. He was very impressed with the work you did on the Randall account.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you.” That was a relief. Randall was notoriously stingy.

  “And then Randall himself called to tell me what a hard-assed bitch you are.”

  Robin froze. “Sir?”

  “In the best possible way. He’s pretty sure you made up the figures, but he approved of your slash and burn approach and decided he wants to work with us. That’s how you do business, Preston. Well done.” He hung up.

  Hard-assed bitch? Slash and burn? She thought back to the meeting she’d had last month with Randall, a man who bore a striking resemblance to the Monopoly game guy. He’d told her he had a problem with staffing, and he needed to lay some people off but didn’t want to because he felt badly for them.

  Robin winced and hung up. She’d told him to do a random draw to cut lower-level staff, so that he could claim chance. Her fingers brushed the business card that had fallen out of her file and she picked it up. Christmas Present. She dropped it as if it were hot. Was she going nuts? How much of last night was real? Gingerly, she picked the card up after a few moments and put it in her work satchel. Then she stared at her cell phone for a while before she finally speed-dialed Frank, who was probably at work, but sometimes he answered. Not this time, however.

  “Hey, it’s me,” Robin said. “I was just, uh, thinking about you. Not sure about Christmas, but it doesn’t look like I can leave. I have a presentation I have to do right after the holiday. I might be able to get away next month, so let me know what weekends work for a visit. Hope you’re okay and hi to Deb.” She hung up and picked up her tablet for her first meeting. It had been over a year since she’d seen him. Why was that?

  Robin stared into the middle distance. Maybe Frank reminded her that she wasn’t who she used to be, and maybe she was realizing that who she’d become wasn’t someone she particularly liked, and who reminded her of her dad. So she avoided Frank, but in reality what she was doing was avoiding herself. From the scene she’d seen with Magnolia, Frank and Deb seemed to have a good relationship. Maybe that bothered her, too, because he’d found someone who made him happy, with whom he was going to be a parent, and Robin basically bed-surfed, never slowing down, always climbing the corporate ladder. No time for anything but work.

  She wasn’t sure she could get away next month, but for some reason, she didn’t care. She’d make the time, as out of character as it seemed.

  Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe all this business crap was what was out of character. She wasn’t sure, anymore, and the last thing she wanted to do was sit through a meeting. How great would it be to just get on a plane for anywhere and start over? No more of this corporate bullshit or working long hours for the next promotion. How great would it be to fly out of here? Pretty great.

  She took that thought with her.

  Robin picked at the salad. Frank still hadn’t called or texted, and she knew better than to try again. He was probably shocked that she’d offered to visit. But maybe if she did, then he’d tell her about the baby. And then maybe things could start getting better between them. She knew it was mostly her fault, that she’d let things get to this point. And worse, she realized it was something their dad had done to them as well.

  She took Jill’s card out of her wallet and picked up her phone. Why was she doing this? It wasn’t as though she was looking for a date. Especially with a long-gone ex. That was the last thing on Robin’s mind these days. Closure, maybe. She wasn’t sure. She added Jill’s cell phone number to her contacts then texted her.

  Hi. It’s Robin. Just touching base, seeing if you want to have lunch or something while you’re in town.

  There. She’d reached out again. Twice in one day. That was a record for her because she was always too busy trying to climb the corporate ladder. Always trying to get ahead. She frowned. Maybe she just needed a vacation. It had been a while since she’d taken one of those. Robin stared at her salad for a while. She didn’t feel like finishing, so she threw the rest away and went back to her office. This was deeper than a vacation. This felt like something was getting pulled up by the roots, and it left a huge hole that she had no idea how to fill.

  Who the hell was she, exactly? The calendar on her laptop dinged, notifying her about her next damn meeting. Fortunately, this one was in the conference room just down the hall, and she probably wouldn’t have to do or say anything. Normally she enjoyed verbally jousting with the old guard, but today, she didn’t care. If she never did that again, she’d be fine with it. She picked up her tablet, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she also picked up a small notepad and a pen.

  Robin took a chair at the end of the long conference table. Frost would be at the opposite end so he could intimidate whoever was giving a presentation today. Normally, she sat near there, too, but today she didn’t feel like being near him. The table filled up, and unfortunately, Cynthia’s husband Brady sat across from her, wearing one of his expensive suits. Maybe ten years older than Cynthia, he exuded money and privilege, and though he was in his late fifties, he kept himself up. Even with his receding hairline, he could pass for a guy twenty years younger. He smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it. That was the kind of man he was, Robin had figured out the year before. No wonder Cynthia had affairs. Then again, he probably did, too. He was gone enough to cover a few up.

  It was kind of creepy, actually, sitting there across from him, and not only because she’d just screwed his wife last week. No, it was that his wife was screwing others, too, and she could relate to how he might feel if he knew, after what she saw last night. Not that she felt any emotional attachment to Cynthia. But seeing her last night made Robin feel sordid and dirty, and not in a good way.

  She wasn’t even sure anymore why she’d asked Cynthia to bed. Sure, she was attractive. Had Robin really believed that Cynthia would put a good word in for her with Brady, and that would travel up to Frost? That was messed up. She hadn’t really considered Brady in her equation when she hoo
ked up with his wife. He’d been unimportant to her. Her father behaved this way, and she hated that about him. The unflattering comparison between her and her dad left a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth.

  Robin scrolled idly through her email. This thing with Cynthia was bad news, and she’d been in denial about it. The worst part about it was that she had pursued Cynthia even though Cynthia was married. She frowned, thinking about what she’d seen with Lady Magnolia. Robin had no one to blame but herself for this situation with Cynthia.

  The lights dimmed and the slide presentation started. Sales were up, accounts were increasing, expansion opportunities looked good. Robin tuned out and idly started doodling on the notepad she’d brought. The lines slowly morphed into Oregon’s iconic Haystack Rock. She sketched seabirds on its crest, remembering the roar and crash of waves against its slick surface and the screeches of gulls and kids running back and forth along Cannon Beach. It was as if she were in a trance as the pen seemed to move on its own, shading here, adding detail there, putting a dog in the foreground.

  “—Preston?”

  She looked up. Every pair of eyes was turned to her. The slide showed a bar graph with projected sales for the next quarter. “Sorry?”

  Frost pursed his lips in what Robin knew was displeasure. He hated to repeat himself.

  “Head cold coming on, sir,” she fibbed. “Ears are stuffed.”

  “Can you add anything to the projections Hodges has?”

  “Just that the Asia accounts are going full tilt and that should bump us to a record profit in the next quarter. I’d say maybe three percent more than what Hodges has up there.” She hadn’t given him the information. It wasn’t the first time she’d withheld. Doing business at Frost meant you had to have a few cards up your sleeve, and make yourself useful to keep around.