The Felix Fiasco

by Randi Devilkin

  Over dinner, I entertain everyone with my evolved approach to life, the latest developments at the publishing house, my new friend Hannah and a possible interview, my admirable composure at the Taco House, how bizarrely I confronted an angel, and my plans for the new week. Evenings with my besties always rock.

  New week, I’m not afraid of you. Bring it on.

  Chapter 15

  Game On

  Princess recognizes the importance of time management and keeps us on our regular workweek schedule. No sleeping in this week. We remain vigilant and ready for action at any moment. Her dedication pays off when Monday at ten a.m., a text arrives from Hannah. Short notice, can you come to the State Farm campus for an interview at 2?

  That’s a no-brainer. Absolutely!

  Hannah sends the job description, directions including where to park, and the names of the people I’ll meet in less than four hours. An interview is a perfect way to use my comp time.

  I meet the Communications Director, the Media Relations Manager, and the News Center Manager. Before the meetings are over, I can envision myself as the newest member of the communications squad.

  The job requires proofing and editing. Other duties include researching and penning articles for internal publications. With a company that employs nearly sixty thousand people, the department has much to do. My heart skips a beat when I’m invited back on Friday for an interview with the Assistant Vice President of Communications.

  After the interview, Hannah walks me out to my car. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but you’re one of two finalists coming back to interview on Friday. If you get the job, I get a referral bonus.” She hugs me.

  THUNDER WAKES ME EARLY Tuesday morning, but the ominous weather can’t dampen my mood. After seriously contemplating my future, I know what to do. Unless the publishing house makes an offer I can’t refuse, it’s time, actually past time, to move on. What an offer I can’t refuse looks like remains to be determined, so I construct fair terms for a severance package.

  The email from the publisher arrives at nine a.m. requesting a meeting at one. My entire week has been designated for organizing and launching my future, so that time works as well as any.

  When I enter the conference room at one, the other attendees are already seated. Flashing a friendly, yet businesslike smile, I say, “Good afternoon.”

  Only one man murmurs, “Good afternoon,” in return.

  The room and participants look much the same as last week; however, I’ve evolved, and the men notice my vibe of capability. I lay my laptop and handbag on the table, then stop at the Keurig for a cup of tea. “While I’m up, does anyone want anything to drink?” More snippets of conversation, but no requests for drinks.

  Enjoying the deja vu, I take a seat, opening my computer and adjusting the chair settings for comfort. After a minute to stretch, I say, “Everyone has a lot to do today. Let’s get this show on the road.” Silence follows as the men look at one another. Their collective gaze lands on the publisher.

  Jeb clears his throat. “Beverly, I want to begin with a public apology. Harley Johnson has a reputation for being coarse and randy, and I hadn’t realized the extent it got out of hand. Please accept my sincere apology.”

  With his shoulders hunched and a frown on his face, he looks apologetic, though he doesn’t spell out what he’s sorry for. “How do you propose things change going forward?” I ask.

  “I can’t make promises at this time. We’re instituting a pay cut across the board. Considering recent weeks, you’ll be exempt from this round. Unfortunately, we need The Big Man’s business.” He looks straight at me, a challenge in his eyes. “If you feel the need to resign, we understand. We won’t hold you to two weeks’ notice.” Scott tugs at his collar while a bead of sweat drips from his hairline. All the other men, including Jeb, relax.

  Well played, but they don’t realize they’re dealing with the new me. “I was thinking more along the lines of a win-win proposition.”

  “What do you mean?” Jeb asks, furrowing his brows.

  “Something that would reward my contributions and protect the publishing company from legal ramifications.”

  Jeb crosses his arms over his chest. “Legal ramifications?”

  “Ageism, sexism, intellectual property issues. Those are the liabilities that jump to mind, although attorneys sometimes unearth other problems during their investigations.”

  His face contorts in anger. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’ve dedicated fifteen years to this company. It’s well within industry standards to pay a week of severance per year of service. Many companies pay more, but I understand the financial challenges this company faces. I’ve also accrued six weeks of vacation that need to be paid. I’ve no idea how much comp time I’m owed, but I’m willing to forgo that if everything else gets hammered out. That includes six months paid insurance and,” I stop to press send on my computer, “I sent you a letter of recommendation for my future employment, prepared for your convenience, that I need signed and returned. I’m sure you’ll agree it captures the essence of my work here.”

  “You haven’t been here fifteen years,” Scott says. “It’s more like fourteen years and ten months.”

  Jeb turns to Scott. “That’s where you take a stand?”

  A laugh bubbles up inside me, but I tamp it down. “Just courier the documents to my home. If this is resolved quickly, I’ll sign a release, and we can keep the lawyers out of this.” I stand up and flash a winsome smile. “See? A win-win.” Note to self: add crackerjack negotiation skills to my resume.

  NOT WANTING TO PUT all my eggs in one basket, I take my list of potential employers and begin networking on Wednesday. Making cold calls is tedious, but I generate two promising leads and complete a dozen online applications.

  Princess and I don’t physically interact with another human being until after dinner when we pick up our mail. We run into our recently divorced new neighbor, Clark, the flirt.

  Standing close, he lays his hand on my shoulder. “Come over to my place for a beer?”

  I take a step back. “No can do. Busy week. Maybe when things calm down, we can chat by the pool.”

  “By the pool, eh?” He dons a wolfish grin. “You don’t trust yourself alone with me?”

  Princess bares her teeth, and I pat her head to communicate I got this. “In the future, we might be friends, but this isn’t an ideal start. Also, I never date neighbors or co-workers.”

  Clark scoffs. “I understand not wanting to be emotionally invested, but it’d be convenient to have a friend with benefits a few doors down.” He suggestively runs his fingers through his impressive head of silver hair.

  My turn to scoff. “You do have a great head of hair. Is that what gives you the confidence to put it out there like that?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Women love how I put it out there. You would too.”

  I shake my head. “Goodbye, Clark.”

  “Well, if you get an itch.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. At least a vibrator recognizes when it’s been shut down.”

  MY ENERGY LEVEL AND productivity remain high. Much of the credit belongs to Princess. She’s an ace listener and shares her opinions through expressions and gestures. Between walks, we dedicate Thursday morning to my job search before unleashing our creative side with the Double S cookbook project.

  Over the years, Jodi and Doug have created dozens of original recipes. Selecting the best is daunting when all are wonderful. Eureka! The answer crystalizes. This isn’t a mere cookbook project, this is an entire award-winning food and lifestyle series. I’m a genius. If only the same brain that concocts these marvelous ideas could remember where I left my sunglasses.

  Half-past five, a delivery driver rings the doorbell. He asks me to sign for an envelope from my employer. A nervous shiver rumbles down my spine. I wasn’t expecting to hear anything this soon.

  Grasping the envelope, I sink into my egg chair. “Pri
ncess, what should I do?” All week she’s given positive feedback and encouragement. Now she shoots me the stink eye. “Okay, okay. I’ll open it now.” I yank the tab on the envelope to release the documents.

  Princess positions herself in front of me, watching me scan the pages. Holy cow. This looks pretty good. Their severance and vacation calculations match mine. Regarding insurance, they want to pay me a lump sum and drop coverage at this month’s end. That gives me three weeks to find insurance elsewhere. The lump sum is equivalent to five months of coverage, so we’re close.

  Doug practiced law before he and Jodi opened the bakery. With his permission, I scan the documents and email them to him for review.

  What a great week. If I can just rock my interview tomorrow.

  FRIDAY MORNING, BUTTERFLIES rave in my stomach. I’m clumsy and misplace everything, including my briefcase. Last night, I’d packed samples of my work to bring to the interview. Luckily, Princess locates both my briefcase and my key fob. I hadn’t even noticed I’d misplaced that.

  I arrive for the interview early and find Hannah. She gives me a pep talk and escorts me to the Assistant Vice President’s suite. I sit in the reception area, trying not to freak out for ten, twenty, thirty, then forty minutes. Finally, the receptionist says, “Sorry to keep you waiting. An emergency popped up that required high-level attention. She’ll see you now.” My heart pounds in my chest.

  I walk into the executive office, remembering to smile. The AVP stands to shake my hand. Her tasteful, ultra-modern office is a masterwork of light wood tones and neutral fabrics.

  “Please, have a seat,” she says. “I apologize for the delay. We–”

  The building’s emergency lights flash. Alarms wail.

  She says, “What a time for an alarm. I guess we’ll start our interview in the parking lot. Follow me, please.”

  I follow her out the door and down the hall. We exit to a parking lot. The interview goes well, considering the alarms blaring and lights flashing, roving crowds of curious onlookers, the scorching sun, and general parking lot traffic. Gusty winds make it challenging to display my work, but she nods approvingly. She appreciates that neither the forty-minute wait nor interviewing amid the chaos of an emergency evacuation throws me for a loop.

  Over the intercom system, a voice announces, “False alarm. Everyone may return to their offices.”

  The AVP shakes my hand and says, “I’ve never conducted an interview in a parking lot before, but it’s been a pleasure.” She smiles. “We’ll have a decision shortly. Thank you for your time.”

  Driving home, I check the text from Doug. Papers look good. Adding usual fee to tab. The tab’s been running for thirty years. I used to pay it back by watching their kids when they took a vacation, but now their kids have kids of their own.

  I’ll sign, scan, and return the documents to the publishing house this afternoon. Before the day ends, I’ll be a free agent. Free and in control of my destiny.

  After I drop off the documents, I feel lighter, like a crushing weight has lifted. This has turned out to be a kick-ass week.

  I did it. All by myself. Well, by myself with help from Princess.

  Chapter 16

  Rescue 9-1-1

  Saturday. Big whoop. Every day might as well be a weekend day with no job or purpose. I bury my face in pillows to block the morning light.

  Princess puts the kibosh on my pity party. She drops her leash on the bed, then taps the bed until I get up. She’s right. The new me gets things done, and exercise pumps up the dopamine levels.

  There’s been a city-wide campaign for pet adoptions, and when we get to the dog park, Dallas Animal Services is again showcasing animals needing fur-ever homes. Many of the poor pooches are frightened or agitated. Princess makes the rounds, calming the canines.

  “That’s a remarkable girl,” a volunteer says. “Is she a rescue?”

  “I thought so, but it turns out she’s a rescuer.”

  “Aren’t they all,” she agrees.

  Princess steers prospective adopters toward the less popular adoption candidates, including the shy, scraggly, senior, and large dogs. I do my best to assist.

  The lead volunteer says, “We’re short-staffed and appreciate the help. Can the two of you stay a while? More volunteers should arrive at noon.”

  With snacks and water in my backpack, we’re prepared for anything. “Our pleasure.”

  “Tomorrow we need help on the early shift. Sunday shifts start at ten. Could that work too?”

  Princess nods. “You can count on us,” I say.

  Princess, besotted with Ricco, works like a dog to get him adopted. Because he’s recently recovered from mange, the large dog’s pelt is mottled. He looks like a Frankenstein experiment, stitched together from mismatched parts. While Ricco isn’t traditionally handsome, he’s got personality in spades.

  I’m showing a little love to the senior dogs, when Princess roughly nudges me, her eyes ablaze. I follow her gaze. No way. Not now.

  “Bev,” Felix says as my heart shifts into overdrive. “I thought that was you. And my favorite pup, Princess.” He rubs behind her ears, and she sighs with pleasure. “It’s great to see you guys.” I paste on a smile and force myself to breathe.

  “You look familiar,” his angelic companion says. “I know, you were at that charming coffee shop last week.” The woman runs her hands all over Princess too.

  “Bev, meet Celeste. Celeste, meet Bev.” Of course, her name’s ethereal. Felix scratches his head. “I didn’t know you guys volunteered here. Celeste’s new in town and needs a ferocious guard dog.”

  “Ferocious looking, not ferocious ferocious. More like a gentle giant,” she says. Princess’s ears perk up. She taps Celeste with her paw.

  Once Princess captures her attention, she trots to Ricco’s crate. Celeste follows, then shrugs. “He looks rather formidable. Are you sure he’s gentle?”

  Felix laughs. “Princess is scary smart. If she says he’s your dog, I’m inclined to agree.”

  Ricco’s tail wags fervidly, causing the entire crate to shake. Princess makes a throaty sound, and he settles down. She tilts her head and shoots me an expectant look.

  “Let me grab a leash,” I say, relieved I’m able to string words together. “I’ll open the crate, and you guys can have a proper introduction.”

  Ricco trembles as I open the crate and attach the leash to his collar. Outside the crate, he crouches to jump, but Princess barks an admonishment. He promptly sits. Celeste approaches cautiously and pets the back of his head. He rolls over and offers his belly, his tail flapping a mile a minute. Celeste giggles and the sound is adorable and feminine. Now that takes talent.

  “I’ll give you time to get acquainted,” I say, needing to put distance between myself and the couple.

  “Please stay,” Celeste says. She smiles warmly, and I fight not to gag. The new me is happy for the couple. Well, accepting of the situation, but not so evolved that I can hang out with them.

  “I’m needed...over there,” I say, pointing away, while tossing my pup’s leash to Felix with the other hand. “Princess will facilitate.”

  Because I can’t think of anything else, I jog over to the lead volunteer. “How’s it going? Are the pets finding fur-ever families?”

  “Yes, but unfortunately, there are always animals that need homes. Do you think that cute couple might adopt Ricco?”

  Cute couple makes me cringe. “Princess is doing her best, but it’s awkward.” Before I can stop myself, the saga of my doomed romance pours out. The lead volunteer, uncomfortable with this forced intimacy, grimaces, but pats me on the shoulder.

  Felix approaches and I clam up. “Just look at them.” He points. “A match made in heaven. Celeste wants to complete the adoption application, though she wants to confirm her new place allows large dogs.” Hmm. She’s moved here, but they’re not living together.

  The lead volunteer hands over a clipboard with the paperwork and a pen. New volunt
eers arrive, along with my chance to escape. “Now that your staff is here, Princess and I’ll get going.” I’d already be sprinting away if Princess was by my side. Instead, I shuffle behind Felix to rejoin the group.

  “Time to grab lunch?” Felix asks me. “I’d like to introduce Celeste to Sandy too.”

  How can a man be so obtuse? I shake my head. “No, thank you. Lots to do today.”

  “Then soon,” Celeste says. “Feel the romance in the air?” She winks. “We could have a lot of fun.”

  Is she suggesting a three-way? Might this angel be a devil behind closed doors?

  With the fake smile still plastered on my face, I grab Princess’s leash. “Bye.”

  Princess glares at me, refusing to budge. She ignores me and shares a tender moment with Ricco. Finally, she allows us to leave, but with frequent stops for longing glances.

  Princess doesn’t hide her disappointment with me. She won’t listen to my side of the story. When we arrive home, I’m exhausted and fall into bed for a nap.

  I WAKE UP AND CHECK on Princess. She curls her mouth in a foreboding snarl. She maintains distance and allows me near only when I have her leash in hand. Even then, she snubs me.

  Saturday evening, Rhonda and I meet up with the movie club. This week, dinner is before the show. The burgers are delicious, but I feel guilty I didn’t get much done today. Rhonda is comfortable staying without me, so I excuse myself and head home.

  Clark spots me in the parking lot and swaggers over. “Bev, how about a drink? My place or yours?” Sporting a demented come-hither expression, he arches his eyebrows, and runs his hand through his lush hair.

  I extend my arm, palm out. “Stop. I’ve got enough to deal with as it is.”

  The man’s bravado crumbles. He sobs and clutches his chest. “My heart.”

  Knowing nothing about first aid, but having 9-1-1 on speed dial, I whip out my phone. “Are you having a heart attack?”