by Ash Krafton
Now, I thought as I pulled up my driveway, if only I could work up the nerve to go along with such a ballsy plan. I'd never asked Barb for anything and I had no idea how it would go.
Oh, well. Sometimes you had to take a leap of faith. If only I didn't have such a huge fear of falling.
The next morning, I paused outside Barb's door to gird my mental loins. It was go time.
"Hey, Barb," I said, as I marched into her office. "I was wondering if I could move my desk."
"Is Tiffany driving you crazy? I figured she would. That laugh of hers can be like a mosquito in the ear."
"Yeah, I guess, but it's just noise in general. Getting hard to concentrate in the open office."
"I don't think there's an open cube."
"But there is an office."
She looked taken aback. Private rooms in our department were at a covetous premium. "Office?"
"When Ben retired, nobody took his office. I was thinking maybe I could."
"You know that offices go to the seniors by pool—"
"And I've been the first topic of business at the last several editorial meetings. The column is generating real income for The Mag. No one else on my level can claim that."
"But you still don't have seniority. I can't justify—"
"Sure you can." I exuded a bit of Sophia persuasion, even though she was human and not as sensitive to my empathic touch. "I spent the morning evaluating the staff. I know I'm not taking what is due someone else."
Barbara chewed her lip, twin furrows dissecting the line of her brow. She was on the fence. All she needed was a nudge in the right direction.
I amped up another Sophia push. Not like I was using hypnotic powers to brainwash her so this could hardly be an ethics violation, right? "My productivity benefits your department. You'll be ensuring that the success of the syndication continues."
"I'll run it by Tom."
"Tom doesn't care who sits where, Barb."
"There's a good reason no one took that office before. I can get a lot of flak for this."
"From who?"
There it was. We were at an impasse. This was the point where, time after time, I gave in. Backed down. Slinked away. If I even made it this far.
And that had always been my problem.
It was difficult—physically difficult—to face off like this, to keep determined eye contact, a solid square of posture, a hard line of mouth. This wasn't me.
Barbara's gaze dropped to her desk. I wondered if she had trouble seeing me this way. "I'll...see what I can do."
I smiled with both cheeks and all my teeth. "Thanks! That's all I hoped for."
She didn't smile back and, when I left, she didn't say goodbye.
A little more than an hour later, an email from Barb came in.
I read the first line of the message and experienced a fat wave of satisfaction. So long, hive. Guess who'd be leaving the office collective to dwell in an office with a real door? Sophie the Conqueror, that's who. I spent a few seconds on fist pumps and congratulated myself. For the first time I wanted something, I went after it, and I got it.
But at what price? The rest of the email was cut and paste from an actual job description. Offices were reserved for full-time salaried staff. I wasn't salaried but, if I interpreted correctly, I had to start acting like I was. Top of the list was the weekly minimum hourly requirement and the skeleton schedule of editorial meetings. I noticed there was no weekly maximum and no overtime. Seriously? Over-time was a contribution to the company? I got my office, all right, and they threw in the prison bars for free.
So this was what getting my due felt like. Had to be honest—it was overrated.
Shortly before noon, the intercom buzzed and I heard Barbara's signature greeting. "Hello, hello?"
I sighed. I'd inferred a lot of tone from her email earlier, despite knowing the rules of office etiquette, and I had convinced myself that Barbara would hate me forever for being so pushy. I'd even decided that if I had to cave and relinquish the office, I'd do it. That hello, hello meant all my worries were one hundred percent my own neuroticism.
I saved my work and picked up. "Hi, Barb."
"Want to do lunch here today? There's a boxed lunch conference upstairs at noon."
"Thanks, but I planned on going out. Got an errand over lunch."
"Sounds like more work. Enjoy."
Truthfully, her suggestion was a lot more appealing than what I had in mind. The temperature seemed deter-mined to remain below fifty; I'd actually worn an undershirt under my blouse. Today was a day for indoors and hot drinks and a space heater under my desk. My lunch hour was going to rot.
The image of Toby sitting in that doorway the other night had haunted me. I knew it wasn't up to me to make sure he was okay—the kid was old enough to take care of himself. At his age, I'd had two jobs and managed to put myself through school. Maybe I'd had a negative net worth thanks to my student loans, but I had survived.
Toby wasn't me, though; the young Were seemed to have absolutely no anchor. I knew Dahlia had taken a shine to him, and I trusted her shrewdness would compensate for my lack of ability to make good character assessments. Compassion for his less-than-admirable plight had gnawed at me all weekend, and by Sunday evening I'd made up my mind. God help me, but it was time for an intervention.
I usually took my lunch break around two. The rest of the office usually went out between eleven and one but I often got into the zone doing column work, losing track of the time. I obeyed the muse, not the other way around. Since I'd made it a habit of leaving the office at nearly the same time every day, I set an alarm so I wouldn't get off schedule.
The alarm paid off. Toby was in the foyer and slid next to me as I walked out. I noticed he wore the sweatshirt that Dahlia had given him. "Hi, Soph. What's going on?"
"Lunch and an errand. Want to join me?"
He shrugged. "I guess. I don't have to be anywhere for a while yet. I got time."
I'd counted on that. I didn't have to be a Sophia to see the lie play behind his eyes, the little shift when he glanced away. He played it smooth, though. I had to give him that. "What have you been up to?"
"Aw, you know. Same old. Looking for work. No experience means no one wants to give you any. I guess I need to network a little more."
I nodded. That, I believed. Thankfully, Dahlia had been using her social worker mojo to fill me in on Were social structure. "Can't your den help out?"
"Den?" Toby belatedly pulled up a smile, much like a kid who got caught lying but was determined to lie his way out of it. "Well, you see, I don't see them all that much."
I decided to be blunt. "Do you belong to one?"
"Not really. No."
"Then they can't help you." I pointed across the street at the convenience store and we stepped up to the crosswalk. "Where are you staying?"
"Downtown. You know, you dropped me off there the other night."
"But I didn't see you going in anywhere." I was starting to sound like my mother. If I wasn't careful, I'd end up grounding us both.
"I saw some friends and stopped to talk to them, and ended up walking around for a while."
I reached for his elbow, pulling him to a stop. "Toby, tell me the truth. Are you okay?"
He shrugged away, distancing himself from me. "I'm fine. I don't know why you're asking. I can take care of myself. You too, if you'd quit being so stubborn and let me do it."
"Sorry." I looked away and softened my tone. Funny he should say something like that and odd he should seem to be sincere about it. "I guess I get carried away. It comes with the job."
"It's all right. Just don't hound me about it. You said you have an errand. What is it?"
"I, em, need help out at my new house. I just moved in and the place is way bigger than I can handle. I hoped to find a private security firm, someone off the books. No one in the phonebook says they hire out experienced Weres."
He snorted. "You really think they'd put something like
that in the Yellow Pages?"
"What do I know? You're the only Were I know. I thought maybe you could give me an idea."
"Well, what kind of work is it?"
"Not too complex, really. I mean, the house has a kitchen staff and a grounds crew and a security system. I was looking for someone who'd be part body-guard, part assistant." I figured official-sounding titles would be enough of a smokescreen to disguise my lame attempt to provide help without appearing to do so. "You know. A hood would be cool. I always wanted my own hired thug, maybe one with an eye-patch or a chainsaw arm. But I probably should go with someone a little less obvious."
"Why Were?"
"My staff are all DV, but the world has more than just DV in it. I'm just covering my bases."
"Any requirements?"
"Just one."
"Which is...?"
I looked him dead in the eye and sighed. "I have to trust them."
He chewed a fingernail and seemed to take it in.
I still didn't know him, even though I already felt responsible for him. Something about his ruffled hair re-minded me of one of my brothers, who'd had a cowlick that took up the entire crown of his head. His hair had been untamable. I remember getting it to lay down, just once—but that was because I'd slathered his hair with petroleum jelly. Mom wasn't pleased, although my father had just shrugged and nodded.
It was a long time since I had a brother. I couldn't let a memory dictate how I felt about this kid. However, I knew my gut, and I trusted my gut. My gut told me this kid was an orphan and that resonated with me.
When we reached the door, he pulled it open for me and we headed for the hot food counter. I selected a foil-wrapped bundle and elbowed him. "Don't make me eat alone."
"I wasn't going to. Lunch is on me." As he picked up a burger, he cleared his throat. "Is it something I could do?"
"I don't know. I mean, you'd have to move in and I don't know if that's something you're willing to do." I motioned to him to put it on the tray, and I slid our order down to the beverage station. He filled his cup with root beer. Not my favorite, but I took some anyway, hoping to convince him we were on the same team.
"Sounds like charity," he said. "I don't like that."
"Then don't look at it that way. I have a big place. You have none. There's nothing wrong with staying there until you get your feet on the ground. You can't get a real job unless you have an address and a social security number. Stay at my place until you can establish both."
"I do have a social security number. I just haven't needed it."
"Well, soon you'll have an address, too."
"I'm only going to keep owing you. At this rate, you'll own me."
"I told you, I need help. I don't know what kind yet, but I know I'll need it."
He handed the cashier a beat up-looking ten and asked her for two bags. "Can I think about it?"
"Sure. I didn't think you'd move in immediately."
"I'll, ah, meet you when you go to lunch Wednesday. I'll let you know what I decide to do."
Once I got back to The Mag, I called Rodrian's cell.
"Hey, there." His voice was warm, and I could almost hear him smiling. "You at work?"
"Yeah. I just came in from lunch. I was wondering if you were doing anything tonight."
"Nothing that can't be put off. Are you asking me out?" His teasing tone made me duck my head, as if I'd worried someone could overhear him. I wished he wouldn't go out of his way to be so damned luscious. Then again, he probably wasn't trying.
"Nothing so promising. Would you drive me to my meeting with Eirene tonight?"
"Sure. Can I ask why?"
"Couple reasons. Seven okay?"
"Can do. See you then."
I hung up the phone, and, feeling like my ducks were nicely lined up, I went back to solving other people's problems. Well, the ones I got paid to solve, anyway.
The front door slammed at ten to seven.
I shut down my computer and trotted over to the door of the office where I'd been working. "Hey."
Rodrian slid off his black raincoat and ruffled his bangs back as he looked up at me. "Shiloh home?"
"She's up here. Come on up." I retreated to my desk as I heard the clink of his keys hitting the side table in the foyer. Shiloh had been sitting on a futon we'd dragged over from the tri-suites. The office had been too officey for her comfort.
"Well," Rodrian said. Shiloh patted the cushion next to her and Rodrian leaned to kiss her head before sitting down, stretching his arm out along the top of the couch behind her. "How was your day, sweetheart?"
"Okay. I have a feeling Sophie's going to ruin it, though."
Rodrian regarded me intently. "She is, is she?"
Shiloh's voice dropped to a loud whisper. "She's been pacing for an hour. Looks like she's rehearsing for an argument."
I stopped pacing. Dang it. "Hello? Not deaf."
"And she's touchy, too."
"Sophie, what's on your mind?" Rodrian pushed up from the couch with a sigh and crossed the room. He sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. Uh, oh. His power held a taint of suspicion.
"Well." I faked a relaxed smile. "I wanted to run the idea of a house guest by you both."
"Dahlia?" Rodrian asked.
I shook my head. "No."
"How about that hottie from the movie store?" Shiloh smirked. "The one who tries to impress you with his almost vast knowledge of foreign films?"
Rodrian looked peeved. "What hottie?"
"Not a hottie. And no. Not him."
"Who, already?" I could tell Shiloh was reaching the end of her patience, which ran shorter than normal these days.
"My friend, Toby."
"Who's Toby?" Rodrian maintained the peeved expression. "That sounds like a pet's name."
Shiloh guffawed. Really. "Good one, Dad. Fitting too, don't you think, Soph?"
"That's not nice, Shy." I frowned at her in what I hope was a parental manner.
She shrugged it off. "That's the way the ball bounces. Incidentally, does he fetch?"
"Can we be serious?"
"Serious, as in not funny? Or Sirius, the Dog Star?"
I used my no-nonsense voice, which was as effective as a kiss on the cheek. "Shiloh."
"Who is Toby?" Rodrian raised his voice, cutting us off.
"My friend." When he tightened his lips, I knew a compulsion would follow if I didn't come out and say it. "He's Were."
"Absolutely not," Rodrian said.
"Why not?"
"Wait," said Shiloh. "Even I know the answer to this one. He's Were."
"He's a person," I insisted. "He's not a criminal."
"You know this for a fact?"
"Depends on your definition of know." I tried to look anything but inept, as if he wouldn't sense it.
"What's he do for a living?"
My stammering blew any chance of convincing Rodrian that Toby wasn't a bum.
"Right," he said. "No. Not a chance."
"I thought I had autonomy here."
"Of course you do."
"Then, I want him to stay."
"And I strongly urge you to reconsider." Rodrian smoothed all expression from his face.
Wow, here I thought we were past the Bossy Jerk phase of our relationship. Wrong Again Sophie, that's me. "Rode, it's almost winter. He doesn't have any place to go. Dahlia will vouch for him. "
"Dahlia knows him?"
"Mmm hmm. So does Shiloh."
"She does?" He craned his neck to look at her. "You do?"
Shiloh wouldn't look up. "Yeah, and he's annoying. But...Sophie's right. He doesn't even have a coat. I feel a little bad for him."
"See?" I edged closer to Rodrian and did my best to look plaintive. "I need to help him, Rode."
"Oh, sure. Play my sympathy." He rested his brow upon his raised fist. "It's up to Shy."
She stared at me so hard I could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. "Keep him out of my rooms. Especially my k
itchen."
"Deal."
"No shedding in the house or clogging up the pool filter with fur."
I laughed. "Deal."
"And no barking or dog noises. Especially no howling. What's with the howling, anyway? Shut up! It's the moon, loser. Get over it."
"Finished?"
"Almost. Is he housebroken?"
"Now you're just being a smart ass."
"You bet." She grinned. "Weres are stupid."
I sighed. "Deal?"
"Deal."
I turned to Rodrian, technically not needing his approval but hoping for it anyway. His resigned expression was good enough.
"Okay," he said. "But, I'm warning you—one wrong move and I'll skin him alive." He meant it; if his power ever gave an impression of rock-solid conviction, it was then. He might not be as forbidding as Marek had been but he meant every word.
"He'll be on his best behavior. I promise." I was cut off when Shiloh's cell phone rang.
She flicked it open as she got up to leave. "Oh, hi, Lori. Guess what? We're getting a dog."
"Who's Lori?" Rodrian tugged on Shiloh's sleeve. "I don't remember that name."
Shiloh pulled out of his reach and hurried for the door. "Overprotective much, Dad? Jeez."
Rodrian watched her leave, a look of disappointment upon his face. It didn't brighten when he turned back toward me. I sank a little inside.
He glanced at his watch. "You want to grab your coat? It's nearly seven."
"Sure. I'll meet you downstairs."
I went to my room to get my woolen coat, crossing my fingers that my little request wouldn't make for a cold ride in to the city. I'd hate for a little thing like Toby moving in to get between me and Rodrian, especially when things were going so well.
He got us to the hotel in record time, despite the heavy influx of cars. Maybe it was luck the way spots opened between the lanes, allowing him to zig-zag the entire way. Maybe he was really annoyed with me for pushing for something I knew he hated. Either way.
I struggled to find something to talk about but couldn't get past small talk. I glanced at him a few times but he seemed intent on the road.
Rodrian's curiosity pressed down on me the entire ride over, even though he'd never actually said anything about wanting to meet Eirene. I broke the silence once more as we neared the hotel. "You want to come in?"
