He fingered the master key in the pocket of his pants, grinned, inserted the key, twisted the tumbler and pushed against the door. The security chain was in place. He closed the door, jammed his hands in his pockets and slumped back to his room.
Chapter Thirteen
The partners sat at a back booth, enjoying Ally's scrambled egg breakfast.
"Are you guys always this quiet?” Julie asked.
Ally glanced at Cliff. “Julie, we just don't know what to say. Things changed drastically after you arrived yesterday."
"Sorry,” Julie said without conviction. “If you are no longer interested in pursuing the project, speak up before I waste more money. I can't pull it off alone."
"It's not that, Julie,” Cliff said slowly. “Last night you announced that you are the boss and we accept that. We just don't know what the new CEO wants us to do."
"Before yesterday,” Julie asked, “who was the boss?"
Ally and Cliff pointed to each other and they all chuckled.
"I don't know that I want to change anything, but I do know that in the future we will review ideas. Most likely, we'll let the majority rule, but as the partner with the land and money, I reserve the right to veto majority decisions. Is that unreasonable?"
"Of course not,” Ally said.
"Spunky,” Julie said as she held up her coffee mug and turned to the man sitting beside her, “I think we could all use a refill."
As Roger hastened to obey, Julie looked at her two friends and said, “Fill me in."
For over an hour the three partners recited their accomplishments and business decisions. Occasionally Roger clarified a remark, but not without prompting.
"Okay,” Julie said when the group seemed to have no more to say, “I am in basic agreement with everything that has been done so far. I want to examine the contract with the Oil Company and give some thought to the wholesaler's offer. I understand that you are leaning towards consignment, but a ten year agreement with Riteway Petroleum bothers me a little."
She leaned forward, drained her coffee mug and looked at Ally. “If I had not come back, what would you have the crew doing today, Ally?"
Ally smiled gently. “That's a moot question, isn't it?"
"Come on, Ally, lighten up."
Cliff cleared his throat. “We planned for the three of us to finish cleaning the store area so the painters can get started Monday morning.” He glanced at Ally and continued. “There are a ton of papers you need to go through. I cleaned up the office yesterday but didn't know what to keep and what to discard. Ally thought maybe you could spend the day on that project."
Julie slapped her palms on the table. “Sounds like a plan to me."
Julie parked in the lot beside the Dollar Building, pulled the portfolio from the back seat and headed for the double glass doors. She checked her reflection in the plate glass. I look sharp in slacks, she acknowledged, but maybe for this first meeting I should have dressed more formally.
She pushed through the door, briefly studied the directory in the foyer, walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. Calm down, she admonished herself. The worst that can happen is for this Rita person to turn down your work. It won't be the first time you've been rejected.
The elevator bumped to a stop and the doors opened. She slowly walked down the hallway, reading office numbers and small placards.
"Mornin', Miss Wilson."
She jerked her head to the left and peered through Creasy Green's open office door. She smiled a greeting and he beckoned to her. She stood in the doorway. “I'm on my way to see Rita Holder,” she explained.
The chubby man stood up and his desk chair toppled over. “Gonna replace that dang thing one of these day,” he muttered as he righted the chair. He turned and grinned. “Easier to buy a new chair than go on a diet."
Not knowing what to say, Julie simply smiled.
"Rita's office is two doors down the hall on the right. Glad I caught you. Carl called earlier. Something came up. He can't meet with us ’til three. Hope that's okay."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I have a plot map right here if you want to take a look,” he said, tugging a long roll of paper from a shelf.
"It'll keep, Mr. Green. I don't want to be late for my appointment."
Green seemed disappointed, but nodded his understanding.
Julie's clogs suddenly seemed made of lead as she forced her way to the Holder Advertising Agency. She pushed open the door and slipped into the outer office. The desk was unoccupied. Clutching the portfolio under her arm, she studied the numerous framed advertisements on the walls. Most featured cartoon caricatures and many were very humorous. Whoever did those drawings is damn good, she thought.
She turned at the sound of an opening door. “Hi there,” an attractive, large chested woman said. “Our secretary is on vacation. May I help you?"
"I'm Julie Wilson. Are you Mrs. Holder?” Julie noticed that the woman's breasts shook along with her head.
"My name is Betty Hensley. I'll let Rita know you are here."
Julie watched the woman disappear through an office door and turned back to the bank of ads on the wall.
"Miss Wilson, so glad to see you."
Julie turned and grasped the extended hand of the tiny, light brown-haired little doll who greeted her.
"I'm Rita Holder and I believe you've met Betty."
Julie nodded and smiled at Rita.
"You like the caricatures?"
"They're super,” Julie acknowledged.
"You just met the artist."
Betty grinned. “Afraid caricatures is all I can do."
"I'm jealous,” Julie said. “I want to buy every product featured in your ads."
"Sign her up,” Betty joked.
Rita slipped her hand around Julie's waist and steered her into the office. “Coffee?"
"No thanks."
"I'm afraid my time is very limited this morning, Julie. May we get right down to business?"
"Of course,” Julie replied, handing over the portfolio. She sat in an uncomfortable chair and watched the sexy little bombshell spread the layouts on the desk.
The only sound for thirty minutes was that of rustling paper as Rita studied Julie's work. Finally, without looking at Julie, Rita pressed a button on the intercom. “Betty, can you step in here a moment?"
"On my way,” came the reply.
Betty joined her boss on the side of the desk opposite Julie. She, too, carefully studied each layout. “Beats the hell out of my ideas and the artistry is exquisite!"
Rita looked at Julie and smiled. “I agree. Julie, Betty is my resident artist, but until now, we have had no need for this type of work. I am so thankful that we didn't send you our layout concepts. Yours are much better! Are you familiar with the terms of the contract?"
Julie could not find her voice. She simply nodded.
"Then let's sign the sucker and get on with it."
After the formal signing, the three women toasted their new alliance with small glasses of wine. “You told me on the telephone you were thinking of moving to Dot permanently,” Rita said.
"I moved Saturday. I'm temporarily living in the motel apartment unit, but I plan to renovate the old home place."
Rita smiled. “I like that. I have an idea we'll soon be throwing many assignments your way."
Julie grinned. “I'm counting on it.” She looked at Betty. “I really do like your work, Betty. Do you ever accept outside commissions?"
"Depends on what you have in mind."
"When I was a girl, my mom and dad ran a motel, store and restaurant out on Highway 13. It's all been closed for years now. My dad recently passed away."
"I'm sorry,” Rita said sincerely.
"Thanks. It was my dad's dream that someday I would restore and reopen the businesses. Some friends and I are currently in the process of doing just that. We're calling it Dad's Place. Looking at your caricatures gave me an idea for
a sign and possible advertisements featuring a cartoon likeness of my dad. Interested?"
Betty smiled. “Of course,” she said. “You want him wearing a chef's hat?"
"Maybe, but mom was actually the cook."
Betty collected the three wineglasses and said, “Let's go to my office and discuss it."
Rita placed her tiny hand on Julie's wrist. “There's something I think you should know.” Before Julie could respond, she continued. “Betty and I live in a lovely home on the golf course. We're a couple. Does that bother you?"
Julie pasted a smile on her lips. “Of course not."
"I have three children and Betty has one."
Julie could not keep her eyebrows from raising.
"My husband, now deceased, is the father of my oldest two. Betty and her husband are divorced. He is the father of Betty's child and my youngest."
Julie was speechless.
Betty tried to lessen the tension. “It was a cold winter."
"I, uh, it's none of my business,” Julie managed to say.
Julie stood at the foot of the grave for several minutes. The mound of red earth was covered with straw and a few shoots of new fescue were beginning to push towards the sun. She sat cross-legged beside the headstone.
"You old sweetie,” she began. “I miss you."
She brushed away a tear. “You're going to get your wish, you know. At least part of it. In a short period of time I made friends with two people and Roger Bruister showed up too. You remember Spunky, don't you Dad?” Anyway, the four of us joined forces. We're going to reopen the businesses, Dad—all of them. We're calling it Dad's Place. I'm having signs made with a likeness of you on them. I remember how much you used to enjoy editorial cartoons in the newspaper—particularly the caricatures of Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman. Your picture on the signs will be like that."
She brushed grass clippings from the base of the headstone. “I'm going to fix up the cabin, too. I sold two-thirds of the land to a contractor. I don't guess you like that, huh Dad? As part of the deal, he's going to make necessary repairs to the cabin."
She glanced at the fleecy white clouds and wondered if her father and mother were up there somewhere, looking down on her. “I've had a crush on Spunky all my life, Dad. You didn't know that, did you?” She chuckled. “Neither did Spunky. If I have my way, he will one day be your son-in-law. He's not married—never has been. We may not be able to fill the house with children's laughter, though. I have an idea he can't sire children. He may be impotent. He started to tell me about it—called himself half a man. We were interrupted. Later, he refused to talk about it."
She glanced at her watch and struggled to her feet. “I've gotta go meet the contractor now, Dad.” She blew him a kiss. “I love you."
"That backhoe made a mess out of the parking lot,” Julie said as she propped against Cliff's pickup, watching a crane lift a huge, rusty tank from the cavernous hole in the ground.
"Julie's gonna be pissed when she finds out we let Riteway go ahead with the work before she signed the contract,” Cliff said.
Roger tossed a piece of gravel at the rising tank. “I don't think so. She agreed to the contract after she found the escape clause."
"This is maddening,” Cliff groused.
"What's maddening, Sourpuss?"
"We worked our cans off fifteen hours a day and now there's nothing for us to do. There are painters on the outside, painters inside, beer guys installing the draft fountain and these guys pulling out the old gas tanks."
"What's your point?” Ally asked.
"We're just sitting here, doing nothing."
"I'm squatting and trying to hit a moving target with a rock."
Ally and Cliff broke up at the unexpected humor from Roger.
"You think they'll get the new tanks installed today?” Ally asked.
"Maybe. They have them sitting there on the flatbeds. I don't imagine they will tie up the crane for more than a day."
"You think Ally made out all right with the Advertising Agency?” Roger asked.
"I hope so. A rejection would burst her bubble."
"Cliff,” Roger said, using his index finger to draw circles on the ground. “I didn't mean to horn in on you and Julie."
"All's fair in love and war,” Cliff said.
Roger lifted his eyes. “Do you love her?"
"I'll get over it."
"I'll bow out if you say the word."
"Do you love her?"
Roger dropped his eyes. “I shouldn't have said anything."
"But you did. Now answer my question."
"Cliff!” Ally admonished.
Roger stood and faced Cliff. “I've loved her since I was a little boy. Pretending that she loved me saved my life once."
"Then go for it, Roger. What's important to me is that Julie is happy. You hurt her and I'll break every bone in your body."
"Cliff, damn it, back off!” Ally shouted, getting between the two men.
"It's okay, Ally,” Roger said. “Of all the things Cliff could have said, that was the best. Cliff, there's something you should know."
"Sorry I got a little testy, Spunky."
"I ... I spent the night with Julie Saturday night."
"I know that."
"And you're okay with it?"
Cliff didn't answer.
"I slept in the living room with the fish."
"Do they snore?"
Roger smiled. “It wouldn't have done me any good to sleep in Julie's bed."
"Give her time, Roger. I probably shouldn't say this, but unless she lied to me, Julie is, uh, innocent, if you know what I mean."
"Cliff,” Ally said softly, “I don't think that's what Roger is saying.” She turned towards Roger. “Whatever you're talking about is between you and Julie. Cliff and I don't need to know."
Roger scuffed the toe of his right shoe in the gravel and watched the crane lower the first of two rusty tanks to the ground. “The three of us are Ally's friends. Unless I miss my guess, we're Ally's only friends. None of us want to hurt her, and yet, well, I think you need to know."
"This is getting too heavy for me,” Cliff said.
Roger's eyes, full of terror, nailed Cliff to the side of his pickup. “Something happened a few years ago that forever changed my life. I did something that I deeply regret. The fact that I had no choice is of little consolation. If it weren't for Prozac, I'd be in an institution right now. My cowardice caused someone—my partner at the Agency—to be hurt very badly. I fear she'll never recover."
Roger again squatted. Ally knelt and placed her arms around him.
Cliff squatted in front of his two friends. “And that is why you left the agency? Were you fired?"
Roger shook his head, his eyes filled with tears. “For six months I was in the finest mental hospital in the nation. When I recovered to the point I could look after myself, the Agency gave me a medical retirement with full benefits. That's why I don't need a big salary for what little I do around here."
"When you left the hospital, you moved back to Dot?"
Roger nodded. “My dad lived a simple life, but he was very happy. That's what I want for myself. I never intended to intrude on your dreams and I had no idea Julie cared for me."
"But she does care for you, Roger, and, in a different way, so do Cliff and I."
"I cannot let an intimate relationship between Julie and me go any further without telling her. When I do, she may hate me as much as I hate myself."
Cliff stood and watched the crane lowering its chains into the pit. “Stand up, Roger."
"What?"
"Stand up."
"Cliff!” Ally protested as Roger rose to his feet.
"You ever hugged a man?"
"I'm not a homosexual, if that's what you're asking."
"Me either,” Cliff said as he gave Roger a bear hug and clung tightly to him. “I never had a guy trust me enough to spill his gut like you just did. I can't describe how I feel right now,
but I've never respected and loved a man so much in all my life. I'll stick with you, no matter what ... and I'll quit calling you Spunky too."
Tears streamed unashamedly down the cheeks of the trio. As Cliff patted Roger's back, Roger said, “I like being called Spunky. That's who I want to be now."
Ally wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I'll whip the bitch's butt if she turns her back on you, Spunky. If she doesn't want you, I sure as hell do."
As Roger pulled away from Cliff, his eyes seemed less terror-filled. He smiled gently at Ally. “That's a super offer, Ally, but there's one thing wrong with it. You're in love with the big lug here."
"What?” she gasped.
"Prozac slows down my thought processes and reflexes, but it neither makes me blind nor stupid."
Julie came through the door carrying four large Styrofoam boxes. “My God,” she cried, “the parking lot is in shambles and now this."
Cliff stood and looked at her sheepishly. “We grew tired of standing around watching other people work. We went to Papa John's for lunch and somebody came up with the idea of painting the gondolas, shelves and counter instead of waiting for the painters to do it. We went to the hardware, bought paint and brushes and..."
"Bright red, green, blue and, for goodness sakes, orange?"
"I guess we should have run the idea by the boss first."
"You're damned right, you should.” She burst out laughing. “Ally, you have more paint on you than on the shelves."
"Maybe so,” Ally said in mock defense, “but there's not a drop on the floor."
"I love it!"
"Really?"
"Whose brilliant idea was this?"
Both Ally and Cliff pointed at Roger.
"And who picked out the colors."
Roger hung his head. “Guilty."
"Thank God somebody in this outfit has imagination!” Julie grinned. “Look, guys, I have country style steak for everybody. Get cleaned up and let's chow down."
"We're not sitting on my clean seats in these nasty clothes,” Roger stated flatly.
"There's a picnic table out back,” Cliff suggested.
"Take these boxes before I drop them, Spunky. Cliff, grab some beers from the refrigerator."
"Hold on, boss lady,” Cliff said. “How'd it go with the advertising people?"
Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners Page 14
