One Final Step

by Stephanie Doyle

  “Really, Archie? You’re that old you remember Cary Grant?”

  The dolly slid out from under the car. A small, thin white-haired old man with bifocals squinted up at him. “North by Northwest, Charade, Psycho…now those were real movies.”

  “I’m pretty sure Cary Grant wasn’t in Psycho.”

  Archie waved him off. “Oh, what do you know.”

  Michael pulled out his smartphone to check, but then tucked it away. No reason to upstage the man.

  “So you like this girl or what?”

  “Charlene is very beautiful.”

  “You’ve been with her to two things now. You never see a girl two times in a row. I think you like this one.”

  Michael had flown Charlene in for the Solarcomp charity event. Then he’d taken her to dinner at The Whitney where they had been photographed together. Madeleine had been pleased.

  “I like her all right.”

  “But do you like her like her? You’re not getting any younger, kid. It’s time you start thinking about settling down and getting yourself some kids.”

  The concept was so far removed from Michael’s reality there was no point in even refuting it. Instead he said, “My focus is on getting this electric car off the ground. Not getting married. Charlene is hanging around. She likes to be wined and dined. There is nothing serious there.”

  Archie offered his hand and Michael pulled on it until the man was sitting and then on his feet. Archie took a rag out of his pocket, wiped his hands more out of habit than need and shuffled his feet a few times.

  “I’ve known you a long time, Mickey.”

  Twenty years. They’d met back when he’d been Mickey Lang because someone along the way thought the name Langdon was too fancy for 8 Mile.

  “You’re not about to lecture me, are you, Archie?”

  “I’m saying you’ve come through a lot. And now you’re on top of the world. You’re like that guy…what’s that fellow…the one on the boat. You can hold your arms up and say you’re the king. But still I look at you and I don’t see a happy guy. I think maybe a wife, kids…a family. This would make you happy.”

  “You’re my family, Archie.”

  “Ah, kid, don’t get all sentimental on me. I’m not dying yet. I’ll let you know when I am and then you can come cry over my bed and say nice things to me. I’m saying a man reaches an age when the money isn’t enough.”

  “What happened to you, then? What woman wouldn’t have wanted all this?” Michael looked around the run-down mechanic’s shop. Through rose-colored glasses Archie saw it as a thriving business when in fact it was a dump. Michael had offered Archie all the money in the world to take on more help, to fix the place up nice.

  The old man would have none of it. After all, if he actually brought on full-time help, where would the ex-cons go to find honest work when they got out?

  “I’m an ex-con, Mickey. I didn’t have much of a choice. You come clean with a lady about that and she’s likely to run the other way.”

  “I’m an ex-con,” Michael reminded him.

  “Yeah, but you washed all the stink right off. Hell, they talk about you being in prison like you were out on a picnic. You’re like a reformed version of…who was that guy in the movies, the one with the funny voice. James Cagney, yeah, like him. Bad boy makes good. I read the magazines. I know.”

  “Prison wasn’t a picnic,” Michael said thickly as a surge of shame and disgust rose up in his throat. This, he thought, this is why I will never have a family. I can never leave it behind.

  The irritating part was that he’d accepted that fact years ago, but now when he thought about Madeleine things started resurfacing. Wishes and desires he thought he’d squashed forever. With them came regret and loss. It was why in some ways being around her was pure hell.

  “Well, you do what you want. Are you going to see what’s-her-face again?”

  “Charlene?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “One more time. She’s accompanying me to the Detroit Revival event.”

  Archie laughed. “If I had a nickel every time they said Detroit was making a comeback I wouldn’t need to play the lottery every day, that’s for sure.”

  “Maybe this time they’re right. A new type of car, manufacturing on the rise. Hell, even the Lions are winning. Who knows what’s possible?”

  Archie shook his head.

  Michael reached into his back pocket. “Speaking of the lottery. I almost forgot. These are for you.”

  “Kid, why do you keep doing this?”

  “They’re scratch offs. I buy them for me and I get tired of scratching.”

  Archie took the five cardboard pieces. “You got a dime? Or a quarter? A nickel won’t work on these.”

  Michael jangled some of the loose change in his pocket. He pulled out a quarter and watched as the man leaned against the old Chevy to carefully scratch each square.

  One of these days he would hit. Michael was sure of it.

  “Hey, look at this! Two bucks. I’m on a roll.”

  The rest of them proved worthless, but now Archie had cash for two more. He was a happy man.

  “Listen, I have to go out of town for a while as soon as the Revival thing is over. When I’m back I’ll stop by.”

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ve got a new project coming in a couple of days and it would be nice if you could meet him.”

  By “new project,” Archie meant a guy out on probation. Archie liked to think that Michael could rub off on an ex-con and maybe make a difference. Hell, maybe he did, Michael didn’t really know. Most of Archie’s projects came for a couple of months and then left. Either to find a better job that actually paid something or to return to the life they knew before. Michael rarely followed up with any of them.

  It was easy to give money to a charity that offered support for people getting out of jail, but it was never easy spending time with actual ex-cons. It reminded him too much of his past.

  “Sure. I’ll come over when he gets here. But I’ll check in on you, too, when I get back.”

  “Whatever. It’s not like I need to be watched over by you, kid. I do the watching. You hear me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m saying when I get back maybe we can head over to Darnell’s for some barbecue. We haven’t done that in a while.”

  “Darnell’s? It’s a date.”

  “A date, huh? I don’t know. You’re nowhere near as pretty as Charlene.”

  “Get out of here, kid. Before I show you all the ways I know how to use a crescent wrench.”

  Michael lifted his hands in surrender and left the shop. He got into his specially formulated Chrysler, one he’d rebuilt from the ground up, and tossed the kid who had watched it for him a couple of bucks.

  Beeker’s wasn’t in the greatest part of town, but it wasn’t in the worst, either. Archie lived right on the edge. And for the most part, people around these parts looked at Michael as a local hero. The money for the kid had been more about finding a way to hand out a few bucks than keeping his rims safe.

  Once Michael closed the door behind him, he hit the car’s start button and did one last check to make sure Archie was where he always was. The man joked about not dying, but he was over seventy and he wouldn’t be around forever.

  Once Michael had tried to talk him into a place in Florida but that idea went over as well as offering him money to fix up the shop. Archie Beeker wanted to die while changing somebody’s oil. It was the way it was. Michael had to hope his death was a long way off. He wasn’t kidding when he called Archie family. He sure as hell knew Archie was the only family he would ever have.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU ready for this evening?” Madeleine asked as she hit the speaker button on her phone and set it down on the coffee table in her hotel room. In an act of small defiance, she shucked off her shoes before sitting on the couch.

  As a matter of professionalism, she preferred to be in business dress at all times when dealing with a client, even w
hen she was on the phone. The rule was for her sake entirely. It helped keep her mind focused on the job at hand.

  But after a long day of airports and cabs, she was happy to be off her feet. Losing the pumps wouldn’t completely compromise her professional integrity. She was fairly sure. Besides, it’s not like he could see her.

  “I have a tux on. I suppose that makes me ready.”

  Madeleine recalled the pictures of Michael in the paper from the last event. The black tuxedo had fit him flawlessly. It should have made him look elegant and sophisticated. Instead it made him look powerful and edgy. Like someone had harnessed all this raw energy and shoved it into a suit. The camera loved him.

  And his date. The camera loved both of them.

  “You’re picking up Charlene at her hotel.”

  “Yeah, yeah. She’s staying at the same place you are. You want to come down for a drink before the event?”

  It was offered so casually. A drink before the event. A glass of wine at the bar where she could meet Charlene Merritt and ask her if George Clooney was as handsome in person as he was on film. She could go over the event schedule again with Michael. She could update him on her trip back to Philadelphia to see Ben.

  She could see Michael and talk with him.

  “No, thank you.”

  “It’s just a drink, Madeleine.”

  She hated the way he said her name. He added this extra oomph to the last syllable, dragging it out so that it sounded like Mad-e-lane. She thought to correct him, but didn’t see the point since he would keep on saying it his way no matter what. She wasn’t sure at what point she’d even given him permission to use her first name. He probably imagined it was acceptable since she could call him Michael.

  In fact, he was the only client she’d been on a first-name basis with in five years. Any contact she had with the representatives from the political action committees or lobbying firms had always been brief and very formal. Michael had already gone beyond that.

  “You’ll be with Charlene. There could be photographers.”

  “So?”

  For a very intelligent man there were times she knew he played thick deliberately. “Michael.” It was all she needed to say.

  “Right. I know. No cameras. I thought we could catch up. You’ve been gone for two days.”

  “Anything happening I should be aware of?”

  “No. Just this event tonight. Then we’re scheduled to leave for Los Angeles, right?”

  “Yes. I picked up some more clothes from my place on my trip back. I’m all set.”

  They were going to L.A. so Michael could attend a larger charity event hosted by a famous film director. The party was private but there would be paparazzi littering the entrance. Michael was sure to be photographed again. The media would begin to put the pieces of her puzzle together as environmental event after environmental event featured Michael Langdon.

  It was convenient he was interested in Charlene. As a star on the rise she was also attracting a lot of attention. The two of them together at the L.A. party would officially launch speculation about a relationship.

  From a public-relations point of view, she was thrilled. More than thrilled. Charlene was not only stunning, but also considered one of Hollywood’s good girls. Michael looked good next to her, and more importantly, people thought better of him because he was with her.

  “You’ll be taking Charlene again? To Drearson’s party.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Madeleine was about to say something, then stopped. His relationship with the woman was none of her business. She only needed to focus on the image and she sensed forcing the woman on him was the surest way for him to call it off. There was nothing he’d said directly to her, but she had the sense that his interest in Charlene was superficial at best.

  Subtly, on the plane ride out to L.A., she would convince him another photo opportunity with the actress would be ideal. What man wouldn’t want to be seen in Charlene’s company? There had once been rumors that linked her with Clooney but apparently she had turned him down. It seemed to Madeleine any man would be prancing like a peacock with Charlene at his side.

  Only Madeleine hadn’t once seen Michael prance. And when the pictures were released of them from the Solarcomp event, Charlene had been holding on to his arm and looking up at his face, but Michael had looked…disinterested.

  She shook her head. It was a random picture. Anything could have been happening in that moment to distract him.

  Madeleine needed to be more focused on what came next. Michael needed to start talking about his ideas, and she needed someone there to write them down. It was her reason for accompanying him to L.A. She still had some media contacts out there, and a host of people it wouldn’t hurt her to reconnect with. If she could work some of her old connections in L.A. and New York, she might be able to get him featured on a prime-time news show.

  “Was there anything else?” she asked.

  “No. I guess I can’t think of anything. You sure you’re going to be fine? In your room all night? I mean, do you ever leave it? Ever?”

  “Of course I do. However, I also don’t mind staying in. It’s why I demand a suite when I do this work. It gives me more than enough room to stretch out.”

  She was stretched out on the couch now, with her shoeless feet resting on a pillow. While on the phone with a client.

  Shameless hussy, she thought.

  “I’m not sure. I think you spend a lot of time by yourself. I thought maybe when we get back I could show you some of Detroit. The good and the bad. Might give you a better sense of who I am.”

  Spending time with Michael. Getting to know Michael more.

  Both very dangerous things. Madeleine wasn’t an idiot. Michael was intelligent, passionate, interesting and completely charismatic. There was a reason women all over the world flocked to him. Spending time in his sphere on a social level was bound to lead to her liking him.

  Heck, she already did like him. She liked his energy and his direction. She liked the way he thought about how she might be lonely sitting in her hotel room.

  He was a good man. She sensed it about him. Spending more time with him? It would do nothing but lead to trouble.

  “We’ll see when we get back.” It was an easy out and would generate the least amount of resistance. She wasn’t sure what Michael’s intent was with all these invitations. Were they purely harmless or something more? Either way she needed to keep him at arm’s length if only for a little while. This job wouldn’t last too much longer. As long as she kept dancing out of his reach, she should be able to accomplish his goal and move on unscathed.

  “Okay. How about you check me out? See if this monkey suit looks okay.”

  Madeleine accepted the FaceTime request on her phone and a blip later she could see Michael standing in what appeared to be a very large closet holding his phone out so she could get the full effect.

  It was as she thought. He looked utterly handsome, if a little restrained. She bet the first thing he would do when he got home from this evening would be to remove the jacket and tie and unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves and relax.

  Unless, of course, Charlene was with him. She hadn’t considered that possibility. She didn’t know why. The woman was obviously interested in him to have come all this way. Of course it made sense he would bring her home at the end of the evening. He had probably already done so on their two previous dates.

  That thought made her irritated, but she wasn’t willing to admit why.

  “You look very nice.”

  “Nice? That’s the best you can do? I spent a couple of grand on this suit.”

  “How about dashing?”

  He smirked and she had to be careful not to roll her eyes since she knew he could see her, too.

  See her, too! She was still lying on the couch with her shoes off. Instantly she sat up and while she held the phone steady on her face, she moved her feet around until she found one pump and sl
ipped her foot into it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Just sitting here being forced to feed you compliments.”

  Where the hell was her other shoe? Her foot stretched around while she worked to keep her hand steady.

  “You’ve got a weird look on your face.”

  “After I called you dashing…you’ve got some nerve. Wait one second.” Madeleine shoved the phone against the sofa cushion and then finally found her other shoe. Fully clothed she felt more in control of herself.

  An acknowledged nutcase, but in control.

  “There. I’m back.”

  “Hoookay. Well, you have a good night.”

  “I will.”

  “Watch a movie or something.”

  “Your dime.”

  “I can afford it. Hell, I can afford two movies if you want. I’ll call you first thing tomorrow. We can have breakfast before we leave for the airport.”

  “Or we can meet there. I can certainly get a cab…if you’re…if you’re otherwise engaged.”

  She could see his forehead scrunch like he didn’t understand what she was saying.

  “With Charlene,” she clarified.

  “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Well, I’ll let you know. ’Bye.”

  The screen went blank before she could reply. And later that night, instead of enjoying the on-demand movie, she spent the whole time wondering what she had seen in his expression right before he closed the connection.

  She was almost certain it was sadness.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “COME ON! Don’t be like that. I came all this way to be with you and you haven’t so much as kissed me on the cheek.”

  Madeleine was on her way back to her hotel suite with a bucket of ice when the sound of a couple engaged in what appeared to be an intimate conversation stopped her. Not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a private moment, she remained still.

  “Then I’ll kiss you on the cheek and say good-night. Some other time for us maybe.”

  That voice! She knew that voice. Holy shoot. Peeking around the corner of the hall she saw Michael leaning in to Charlene as if to kiss her.

  Immediately she pulled back. What in the hell were they doing outside of her suite? Or more accurately, the suite door next to hers.