Call Me Lydia

by MaryAnn Myers

  Lydia was quiet for a moment. "When' s our last run on it?"

  "The end of the month. We only need about four hundred or so thousand more parts."

  Lydia snuffed her cigarette out. "Then I suggest we work up another quote."

  "Why? It's a waste of time."

  "No, it's not. Not the way I see it. So come up with a better price, and meanwhile…"

  "But the option is closed. What's the point?"

  That irritated her, but she let it go. In fact, she totally ignored it. "How long will it take you?"

  Reed drew a deep breath, exemplifying his frustration. "Using your father's estimates?"

  "No, yours, starting from scratch."

  Reed looked around the room, shaking his head. "I still don't see the point, but probably a few days."

  "Good," Lydia said, lighting another cigarette. "And now I'd like you to give me a rundown on the personnel here, starting with yourself."

  Reed told her all about graduating from the local college with a three-point average as an economics major, thinking he wanted to go the Wall Street route. He changed his mind midstream because of the instability of the market. He summed it up with a chuckle, making it sound like a joke. "I practically raced down the hall to the administration office after a particularly bearish day preempted my mother's favorite soap opera."

  Lydia laughed. "So then what?"

  "So, after another two years of school, I graduated again and joined Pantamanian in my cap and gown, waving both diplomas." He paused, reflecting seriously now. "And I was fortunate. I climbed the ladder fast. I did well there."

  Lydia smiled. "Then why did you leave?"

  "For several reasons."

  "The main one being?"

  Reed smiled. He had to give her credit, she was definitely direct. "Actually, I don't think there was a main reason. But the fact that I'd gone as far as I could there might weigh the heaviest."

  Lydia nodded, about to comment on that, but the door was opened then by two men. Foremen, she judged, from their uniforms of dark pants and white shirts. From the looks on their faces, they seemed to think they were the ones being intruded on.

  Reed got up and ushered them out quickly, not an easy task with the questions they were firing at him, and returned with a predictably gloom-and-doom attitude.

  "This is not going over well at all."

  Lydia snuffed out her cigarette. "Aw, come on, it's not like I'm putting them out on the street."

  "Still," Reed sighed heavily. "We should probably post something on the door. There'll be more coming up. Plus there's third shift tonight."

  "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Lydia said. "I sort of took care of them this morning."

  Reed looked even more apprehensive now, so Lydia spared him the details, waving them off as incidental, and reached for the accounting folder. "Come introduce me to the office personnel. Maybe if you tell me about them as we go, I'll be able to connect their names to their faces and get to know them quicker that way."

  Reed extended his hand to the door, and as they walked across the room, two more men started in. One was a middle-aged redhead, the other, tall, with dark hair and the posture of a streetwise Bronx kid, all grown-up.

  Reed urged the "hood" to stay, telling the redhead to check with the other foremen to find out what was going on. Then he turned back around, smiling. "Tony," he said. "I'd like you to meet Lydia Merchant. Lydia, this is Tony Armato. He runs the second shift for us."

  Lydia half expected a "Yo!" but got a nod and a faint smile instead. She glanced from one to the other, the two of them a maiden's fantasy. "It's nice to meet you," she said.

  Again she got a nod, though his smile was fainter. As Reed explained the situation to him, she found herself staring at the man. He wasn't quite as tall as Reed, but he was bigger, a lot bigger. Though dark complected and in need of a shave, the tightness in his jaw was remarkably pronounced, the look in his eyes dead serious.

  "The only problem with this," he was saying, "is the production scheduling. Doing it in the cafeteria..."

  Lydia wasn't listening. She was running her eyes down over the thickness of his chest. When they both turned to her, Reed, meticulously groomed with every hair in place, and Tony Armato, a man who'd look just fine in jeans and whose hair fell loosely on his forehead, she was at a loss for anything to say.

  Thankful for cigarettes, she reached for one. As she lit it, the two of them just watched. Then she motioned to the door. "Well, we'd better get going. I want to try to meet with Dan Morris before the day's over."

  Tony stepped back to open the door and as she and Reed went one way, he went the other, stopping to use the pay phone before going on to the cafeteria.

  Chapter Four

  Reed went on to tell Lydia about how Dan Morris had come aboard about five months earlier. Or was it that he joined the team? Caught a ball? Or made a lateral move? She couldn't remember. Whatever the coined phrase was, she'd definitely found his imperfection this time. He oozed of it; a horrible case of textbook, climb-the-ladder-to-the-top, corporate fever. More than once, she felt like prying his mouth open to look down his throat for a cassette tape.

  He turned comments into concepts, plain talking into brainstorming, disasters into ventures, employees into pipe­lines and key figures, all the clichés of the corporate world. By the time he got around to mapping out their immediate crisis of major proportions, the term that kept coming to her was screwed, and that was cleaning it up a lot.

  As he showed her around the foundation, a place she'd referred to as the shop since she could walk and talk, she got strange vibrations from some of the people she met, which started to play on her mind and affect her mood. To make things worse, there was Dan Morris leaving early for the day and her having to excuse herself repeatedly to visit one of the various ladies rooms, not to mention how she hadn't eaten a thing all day. As if all this wasn't enough, every time she stopped to light a cigarette, Reed insisted on furrowing his brow.

  It was getting harder and harder to tolerate. "Tell me," she said, taking a long drag. "Do we have enough work to warrant running three shifts?"

  "Most definitely. We're backlogged."

  "Are you saying we're behind on production?"

  "No, not exactly. But we do stretch the lead time."

  Lydia shook her head, glancing down the aisle to where Tony Armato and two other men were working on a small lathe. As they walked on, Reed pointed out three idle machining centers.

  "Those machines there could run nonstop and never catch up."

  "Then why are they down?"

  "Because we can't get parts to them fast enough. They have to be rough-machined first, and in that phase, we only have so many machines and machinists. As it is, they're putting in a lot of overtime. It's just not enough."

  "Well, gee...that seems logical then."

  Reed shrugged, almost casually, and this irritated her more than anything, so when she turned to Tony Armato, who was about ten feet away now, to ask him the same thing, her voice reflected that irritation. "Why are those machines down?"

  He looked up and stared, then said something to one of the men, nudging the other one around to help hold the part they were working on, and walked over. "They're down," he said, wiping his hands on a shop rag as he glanced from her to Reed, "because the operators don't have..."

  Lydia stopped him there. "Wait a minute," she said, and from her expression, it was apparent the long day had finally taken its toll. "I think Reed has a pretty good idea what you're about to say, so since it was me who asked, do you think you could address me with the answer?"

  Tony shifted his weight for a moment, his only answer a look that said, "Fuck you," if she'd ever seen one. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the two men, both trying to appear as if they weren't listening, and stepped a little closer to her, no doubt whatsoever as to whom he was about to address this time.

  "If I thought you'd understand, I would."

  The men sni
ckered at that, and consequently, Lydia's glare included them, making them suddenly wish they hadn't. Then she turned on her heels. "I think you'd better follow me a minute please, Mr. Armato. You too, Reed."

  When she got to the far end of the aisle, she faced them, trying her damnedest to stay calm. Not being able to read their expressions only added to her frustration.

  "My first full day here and already I'm sick of this place."

  Reed started to say something, but she threw her hand up. "Please! Don't interrupt me! It's my turn!" Reed swallowed nervously, and nodded. Tony just stared.

  "We're hanging by a thread and I haven't run into one person yet who cares! All the attitudes suck! Nothing makes sense! And I haven't gotten a straight answer all day!"

  She paused to catch her breath and stepped back, lowering her voice as she looked around. "But that's okay, because it only makes me that much more determined to get to the bottom of this. And you better believe I will."

  She turned to leave, but swung back around and pointed her finger at Tony. "I'm going to turn this place upside down if I have to! And I'm going to start with you foremen!"

  Tony wasn't about to stand there and take that without telling her what he thought, but Reed grabbed his arm, stopping him, and with a look of determination directed at both of them, Lydia walked away.

  Upstairs in the conference room, she threw herself into a chair, propping her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands, thinking a Scotch right about now would be nice, maybe even two. This self-defeating thought was interrupted by a polite knock on the door. Without looking, she waved Reed in.

  "We have to talk," he said.

  Lydia leaned back, a deep sigh her only response.

  Reed sat down across from her, adjusting his tie. "It's been a long day."

  "No kidding? I didn't know that."

  Reed loosened his tie a little more and cleared his throat with a nervous cough. "Tony's more than just a foreman for us. He oversees all three shifts, and he does an excellent job."

  "That's nice. Are you sleeping with his sister?"

  Reed drew a frustrated breath. "I think he's going to leave."

  "Then give him my regrets."

  "I don't want to do that," Reed said, in a voice so controlled it sounded rehearsed. "On top of everything else right now, we don't need to be looking for someone new to run the shop."

  Lydia studied him for a second and was amazed. Even tired, this man looked perfect. "I'm not in the habit of apolo­gizing when I don't think I'm wrong, so if that's what you're leading up to, you're wasting your time."

  "Even if it's for the sake of the company?"

  Lydia almost laughed. "You want me to kiss ass for the sake of the company? Oh, Reed, with that attitude, you and I are going to lock horns too."

  Reed smiled. He'd asked her father after their meeting for some advice on getting along with her. He'd simply said, "Whatever you do, don't push her when she's mad." Now, seeing her expression begin to soften, he was thankful he'd heeded that bit of wisdom downstairs.

  "We need him here, Lydia," he said, sounding as if he was asking for a favor. "It'd be chaos down there without him."

  Lydia sighed. "So talk him into staying then."

  "Can I tell him you're sorry?"

  "No, absolutely not. Anything but that."

  Reed smiled. "All right, I've got the perfect thing to smooth this over with anyway." He stood up and headed for the door like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. "And it'll work too."

  * * *

  On the way home, Lydia stopped at the corner store for a root beer, a banana Popsicle, and a Snickers bar and had just finished devouring them when she turned down her street and saw a familiar BMW in the driveway. It was Sharon's. When she rushed out to greet Lydia, they hugged like they hadn't seen each other in years.

  "I was going to call you yesterday," Lydia said. "But I didn't."

  Sharon laughed. "I know, I felt the vibrations. Like...I sensed it."

  "Don't start," Lydia said, laughing.

  Sharon opened the side gate, and they went around to the patio. "Did you hear from Greg?"

  "No, not since I left. I was supposed to call him when I got back, but I haven't yet."

  Sharon motioned to the table. "I fixed you a drink. I've been waiting forever." No sooner said, she watched Lydia down it in one shot. "Thirsty, were we?"

  Lydia smiled. "You're pushy, you know that?"

  Sharon flipped her off and sat down on one of the chaises. "So how was your day?"

  "Horrible," Lydia said, sitting down across from her. "The place is a zoo. I can't believe Dad let it get this way."

  "That bad?"

  “Worse. You can’t imagine. Remember how we used to know everyone? Well, now I don’t know a soul, not one, unless you count Carlson.”

  “No, let’s not,” Sharon said. He was the dirty old man who used to wave his mop obscenely at them. “He has no soul.”

  Lydia laughed, agreeing, and got up to go inside. “You hungry?”

  Sharon nodded, following her. “I made us a salad. It’s in the fridge.”

  Lydia glanced over her shoulder. “Shrimp?”

  “No, crab.”

  Lydia smiled. “And how is Brian these days?”

  Lydia and Sharon had been best friends since they were children. They shared secrets, fears, wishes, nightmares, and dreams, but most of all, laughs, and it never took much to get them going.

  They joked around, taking their good old time coming back out to eat, talking about what they’d done and where they’d been the past few weeks. They were up to date and well into their third drink by the time they finally finished the meal.

  “Tell me about the people,” Sharon said.

  Lydia sat back. It was a warm night, filled with the sounds of the ocean below, salty breezes, and a sense of security. Merchant Manufacturing seemed a lifetime away. “Well, there’s this secretary named Jan who’s a nervous wreck.”

  “You’ll put her at ease, don’t worry.”

  Lydia smiled, though she doubted Sharon’s assertion. “Then there’s Reed. Excuse me, it’s Will Reed, and you’d love him.”

  “My type?”

  Lydia nodded. “Talk about good-looking. He’s tall, dresses really sharp, and has one of the nicest smiles I have ever seen. I mean, he is perfect.”

  Sharon’s eyes widened. “Perfect? As in, perfect everywhere?”

  Lydia laughed. “If you were a man, your fixation on body parts would be boring, you know.”

  Sharon shrugged, looking quite the authority. “Details are pertinent to perfection, and don’t you forget that. Now tell me about the rest of the guys.”

  “Just the guys?”

  When Sharon nodded, Lydia laughed again. “Well there’s Bill, who seems pretty nice. A little strange, but nice. And then there’s this Dan Morris, and he’s unbelievable. He wraps his hair to hide his baldness and piles it real high, kind of like those revival preachers, only shadier. You know, like he’d be giving a sermon on morality with his zipper down or something.”

  Sharon raised her arms above her head, saying, “Amen!” And that led right into, “Repent! Repent I say, yeah, ye women of the congregation. Come on up here and get down on your knees.”

  “And lookit what I got for you!”

  They laughed themselves silly with this and then went off on another tangent, one where Sharon insisted God was a woman.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Think about it!”

  “I am!”

  “Then you should know! Come on, it’s all in the word Amen. A…men! Get it?”

  “No!”

  “Then allow me to explain.”

  Lydia laughed.

  “It means, all right you men. A, for all right. Men, for men. See? It’s a threat.” Sharon lowered her voice as if it were a secret. “A threat that’s been handed down since the beginning of time.”

  Lydia looked at
her. “All right you men?”

  “Yep! All right you men! And when she’s sick and tired of them and finally says something, it’ll be that one word. One word and they’ll all be gone, sucked up into the heavens, twisting and turning so fast they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

  Lydia pointed to the sky. “Oh shit! Look at them! They’re everywhere! Keep your legs together! One of ‘em might try to land!”

  “One more time!” Sharon said. They laughed until their sides hurt, then went for another drink, as if they needed one. “God, to hear us talk, you’d think we had no use for men.” After all, this was really just a variation of a “prig bashing” game they used to play with their sorority sisters.

  Lydia laughed. “You mean like the one at the plant?”

  “Which one’s that?”

  “His name’s Tony. I haven’t told you about him yet.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He didn’t do anything. We just sort of had a run-in.”

  Sharon raised an eyebrow. Knowing Lydia’s temper better than anyone, she could just imagine it. “What’s he look like?”

  “Don’t you want to hear what happened?”

  “Yeah sure, but tell me what he looks like first. After all, isn’t that how you envisioners envision things?”

  Lydia laughed. “You never let up, do you?”

  Sharon shook her head. “No, so tell me.”

  “What? About his uh, perfection?”

  Sharon nodded, with her eyes ridiculously wide and emphatic. Laughing, Lydia led the way back inside. “Are we getting drunk?”

  “Yeah, but who cares? Come on, tell me about this Tony.”

  Lydia thought about him for a moment, keeping Sharon in suspense, then put her drink down and held her arms out side, like a fisherman exaggerating a catch. “It’s probably this big!”

  Sharon pushed at her, laughing. “And is he good-looking to boot?”

  “Oh Christ! The company’s going down the tubes, and all you want to know is if the men are good-looking.”

  Sharon faked indignance. “So! What’s your point? Is he good-looking or not?”

  Lydia nodded, sniffing as she dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, very.”