Red Sky At Morning - DK4

by Melissa Good

  Mayte smiled at her. “There is nothing that I know of. Mamá said there have been some messages for la jefe, but it is nothing too serious.”

  “Good.” Kerry opened the door to her office and went inside, circling her desk and dropping her briefcase behind it. She collapsed into her leather chair and nudged the switch on her PC, leaning back and watching as it booted.

  Late or not, she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. Her eyes were sore, and she could feel a heaviness in her head that made her hope she wasn’t coming down with something.

  Her phone rang. With a sigh, Kerry sat forward and answered it.

  “Yes?”

  “Hello, Kerry.” Eleanor’s voice sounded a touch on the smug side.

  “Did you forget our meeting?”

  Oh, pooters. Kerry rested her head on her hand. “Not exactly,” she said. “We were here on a project until almost four last night. I just got back in.”

  “Four?” Eleanor replied. “Good grief, woman. I can’t think of anything fun I’d like to do until four in the morning, let alone anything involved in work.”

  “Yeah, well, you know how it is.”

  “No, and I’ve got no urge to find out,” the marketing VP said.

  “Well, how about a reschedule for tomorrow?”

  “Fine.” Kerry rolled her trackball and studied her schedule, now displayed on her fully booted PC. “How’s 3:00? I’ve got two reviews to do in the morning.”

  “3:00 it is. Try not to sleep through this one, huh? Though I hear the company’s worth it.” Eleanor chuckled, and hung up.

  Kerry had to think about that for a moment before she groaned and let her head hit the desk with a soft thump. Then she got up and trudged around the desk, snagging her coffee mug and heading for the door.

  334 Melissa Good Mayte’s desk was empty when she passed it, as was the hallway when she ducked across it to the little kitchenette that served the fourteenth floor. She went to the cappuccino machine and started some milk frothing, studying it as the coffee poured out of its nearby funnel.

  The scent itself made her perk up a little, and she breathed it in, trying to extract some alertness from it.

  “Well, well!” Clarice entered with her own cup. “Everybody was wondering where you were.”

  “Really?” Kerry was very aware of the ragged edges of her temper.

  “They could have done something out of the ordinary, like ask my admin.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Clarice chuckled. “Not that anyone blames you, Kerry.”

  One, two, three. “Blames me for what?” Kerry asked with studied innocence, pouring her coffee into her steamed milk and stirring it gently.

  “Sleeping in,” the black woman explained with a grin. “Not with that bedmate.”

  Kerry turned and looked at her. “Clarice, that’s inappropriate,” she stated quietly.

  Clarice’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she let her cup drop to the counter with a slight bang. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “Here I thought what you two were doing was inappropriate. Silly me.”

  There weren’t numbers high enough for her to count this time.

  Kerry walked over and got into Clarice’s space, mustering up as much attitude as she could, given her sleepless state. “That’s also inappropriate. One more time, and I’ll put it on your record. You want that?”

  Clarice studied her in silence for a short time.

  “Do you?” Kerry repeated.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Dar and I keep our personal lives out of the office. Why don’t you try doing the same thing?” With an almost verbal snap of her fingers, Kerry turned and walked out, stalking across the hall and jerking open her door to continue inside.

  Fortunately for both of them, Dar’s reflexes were not quite as burned as Kerry’s were, and she caught the cup of hot coffee as it went flying from the blonde woman’s grasp as they collided. “Whoa!”

  “Crap,” Kerry exhaled. “Sorry.”

  Dar carefully handed her back her cup, with only two lonely drips.

  “S’all right. Wasn’t your fault—you had no way of knowing I was in here,” she added reasonably. “So what put a barracuda in your shorts?”

  “Grr.” Kerry walked to her desk and put the cup down. “Just a personnel problem.” She sighed. “Your friend Clarice.”

  “Ah.” Dar scrubbed a hand through her dark hair. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll transfer her to the Nome office. Give me a minute.” She started Red Sky At Morning 335

  back toward the inner corridor that connected their offices.

  Kerry intercepted her. “No. No, Dar, this is my problem. I’ll handle it.”

  Her lover eyed her. “Point of fact, Kerrison, this is actually my problem, and we both know it,” she disagreed.

  “Actually,” Kerry went and sat down at her desk, “it’s really her problem, but she’s my employee and I’ve got to deal with it. I’m not going to run away from another issue.” She spun her trackball. “How’s the data dump coming?”

  Dar studied her, deciding if she should accept the change of subject. She walked over and perched on the corner of Kerry’s desk, reaching out to take her hand and tugging a little to pull her around so they were face to face. “You deal with it,” she said. “But if it gets to be too much, you come to me, Kerry. I’m the reason she’s being a bitch to you. It’s not your fault.”

  Kerry pulled their joined hands over and kissed Dar’s knuckles. “I appreciate the offer.” She rubbed her cheek against the back of Dar’s hand. “And I’ll remember it.”

  “Okay.” Dar ruffled her hair. “The data dump’s going, but it’s taking sixteen forevers,” she admitted. “I hope we can get something out of it, or this is going to be one big expensive waste of time.”

  Kerry grunted softly. “Do you want to get something, really, Dar?”

  she asked in a quiet voice. “Sometimes proof is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Dar looked at her. Kerry’s face was pensive, and the weight she carried on her shoulders from the choices she’d made was evident to her partner’s watching eyes. Without a word, Dar leaned over and gave her a kiss, then a brief hug, before she stood and headed back to her own office.

  Kerry reached up to touch the spot where Dar’s lips had been, and found a smile somewhere. “Kiss my ass, Clarice,” she announced wryly.

  “Just kiss my Republican WASP ass.”

  IT WAS DARK outside, and the MIS office was very quiet. Only one light was on, in the small office that once had been Dar’s and was now temporarily again as she worked on her database project.

  She leaned back in her chair and propped one knee up against the desk, reviewing the screen with tired eyes. An entire screen of characters faced her, white letters on a dark background that didn’t change no matter how many times she read them.

  With a soft curse, she got up and stretched out her back, careful not to jar her shoulder as she circled the tiny room with weary, slightly rocking paces. Finally she stopped and gazed at the wall, studying the spidery traces of the network diagram—her network— that was tacked up in all its glory.

  336 Melissa Good Her cell phone rang. Dar turned and leaned against the wall, unclipping the instrument from her belt and answering it. “Yeah?”

  “Hello, Dar!” Alastair’s voice sounded, as always, resolutely positive. “How are things going?”

  “Lousy,” Dar admitted.

  “Ah.” Her boss cleared his throat. “No luck, huh?”

  Dar gazed at the computer, aware of being balanced on a knife of decision. After a moment, she inhaled, aware of the sting as the knife cut her. “Wish I hadn’t had any,” she said. “It’s all there, Alastair.”

  All there. She’d been wrong. Uncle Jeff had known, and more than that, he’d used knowing to buy Chuck his boat. There was no way to hide any of it—and Dar had in fact been more than a little shocked at herself for wanting to.

  “Ah.” Alastair absorbed the inform
ation and the silence that followed it. “Well, we knew it wasn’t pretty, Dar,” he said briskly. “But we did what we got paid to do.”

  “Yeah,” Dar agreed quietly.

  Another silence ensued.

  “But?” Alastair ventured.

  “But what’s the price for it, Alastair?” Dar asked. “There’s a lot of dirt in here a lot of people, very powerful people, won’t want dumped into the sunlight. What about us?”

  “Us?” Alastair asked. “As in you and me?”

  Dar snorted, walking across to the desk and plopping back down into her chair. “Us as in the company. Thirty percent of our contracts are with the government, Alastair. You want them all pissed at us?” She looked at the screen, reaching over to scroll her mouse down a few clicks. “Is it worth it?”

  This time, it was Alastair who was quiet for a span. “Y’know, I don’t think I ever thought I’d hear you say something like that, Paladar,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft in your old age.”

  A faint, brief smile crossed Dar’s face. “Maybe.” She exhaled. “Or maybe I just don’t want to bury old friends today.”

  “Ah.” The CEO acknowledged her reluctance. “Well, the company can stand the glare, Dar. We just did our jobs. The brass can be upset at the results, but not the methods, and given your natural bias, they can’t even fault the process.”

  “Bias?”

  “C’mon, Dar,” Alastair said. “At any rate, I know I can leave this decision in your hands, and I want you to know—whatever you decide, I’ll back you a hundred percent.”

  Gee. Thanks. Dar tipped her head back and regarded the ceiling.

  “Gee, thanks,” she repeated audibly into the phone. “You have a nice day too, Alastair.”

  Her boss chuckled briefly. “I know how you feel, Dar,” he said.

  “Had to sit in your seat once myself, and it’s not easy.” His voice grew Red Sky At Morning 337

  more serious. “But that’s why they pay us the big bucks, lady. You know it and I know it. So you just make your best decision, and we’ll take it from there.”

  Dar accepted the mild rebuke with a slight nod of her head. “Yeah, I know,” she acknowledged. “It’s just been a long week. Maybe Kerry was right after all; I was too close to this.”

  Alastair gave that statement its due and proper regard. “Or maybe you’ve just swallowed a few too many painkillers,” he suggested.

  “Sleep on it, Dar. Don’t choose now. Just go home, relax, and wait for sunlight to make your decision.”

  Dar’s sensitive ears caught the sound of the elevator doors opening. “Good idea,” she said. “I’ll do that, Alastair.” She cocked her head, listening for Kerry’s distinctive walk and smiling when she heard it. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  “Right-o, Dar,” Alastair said. “G’night.”

  “Night.” Dar watched as Kerry’s figure filled the doorway of the small office.

  “Say good night to Kerrison, too,” Alastair’s voice added, before a solid click indicated the line cutting off.

  “W—” Dar looked at the phone in startlement. “How in the hell did he know you were here?”

  “Ahh.” Kerry looked as tired as Dar felt. She entered the office and dropped into the chair across from her boss, unbuttoning the top button of her shirt and loosening the collar as she did so. “You smiled when you saw me. It makes your voice all different.”

  “It does?” Dar responded in a slightly amazed tone.

  “Yes, it does,” Kerry said. “How’s it going?”

  Dar sighed. She propped her head up on one fist and looked across the desk at her lover. “I need a hug.”

  Kerry got up and circled the desk. “Nicest request I’ve had all day.”

  She willingly perched on one arm of Dar’s chair and wrapped herself around her lover, giving her the requested squeeze. “How’s it going?”

  she repeated, glancing across to the monitor.

  Dar threaded one arm under Kerry’s knee and let her head rest against the blonde woman’s chest. “I recovered the data,” she answered, after a brief pause. “Alastair says it’s up to me to decide what to do with it.” Kerry exhaled, resting her cheek against the top of Dar’s head.

  “You going to decide now?”

  Dar shook her head.

  “How about we go home, then? I’m pooped,” Kerry said.

  “Okay,” her lover agreed.

  They sat there in silence for a little while, only the soft squeak of the chair audible as they rocked gently together.

  “Wanna go get some ice cream?” Kerry finally said.

  Dar perked up a little. “Mm.”

  338 Melissa Good

  “That little parlor on the beach? You, me, and a sundae?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Dar finally smiled. “Lead on. I’m right there with you.”

  After Dar carefully locked down her data, they got up and left the room, shutting the lights off. Arm in arm, they walked to the elevator, leaving the problem temporarily behind them.

  THE PARLOR WAS busy, but they found a table near the back windows and settled into it. Dar half turned in her seat and leaned her back against the window, easing her arm onto the table for support.

  Despite the crowd, a server wound her way over to the table immediately and presented herself, giving them both a big smile. “Hi guys! Tough day?” she asked sympathetically. “Haven’t seen you in here in a few weeks.”

  Kerry gave the girl a wry look, acknowledging there were worse places to be a regular at. “We’ve been swamped,” she agreed. “Two of the usual.”

  “You got it.” The girl scribbled something on her pad. “Want a couple Cokes while you’re waiting?”

  “Sure,” Kerry agreed, leaning back and extending her denim-covered legs as the girl left. The parlor was a simple place—tile floors and Formica tables lending it a cafeteria look, along with fluorescent lighting that did not flatter it any.

  But the ice cream was rich, and completely overindulgent, so when they visited they dismissed any lack of décor as merely incidental.

  Kerry actually liked its plain functionality. It reminded her of a small corner drug store she and her sister used to frequent on their way home from school, with its cracked vinyl stools and chipped counter. They’d gone there enjoying the illicit thrill of it, knowing if their parents found out, they’d both be punished in a heartbeat.

  Made the sodas taste better, she’d always sworn. The memory brought a smile to her face, even after all this time.

  “What’s so funny?” Dar asked, her fingers plucking idly at the paper napkin on the table.

  “Life, sometimes,” her partner responded. “I was just thinking how in my life, whenever something was supposed to be bad for me, I went right after it,” Kerry added. “Ice cream sodas, chocolate, beer—”

  “Me.” Dar snuck it in craftily.

  Kerry looked at her, then laughed. After a moment, Dar joined her as they both enjoyed the moment together. “Yeesh, how true that is.”

  Kerry wiped her eyes. “Me, the Midwestern Republican rebel.”

  “You forgot Christian,” Dar reminded her, reaching casually over and capturing Kerry’s hand.

  “Ah, yes.” Kerry twined fingers with her. “Twelve years of orthodox indoctrination just so I can sit here in South Beach holding hands with you.” She rolled her head to one side and regarded Dar. “It’s Red Sky At Morning 339

  funny, though. One of the things they try so hard to teach you is to do

  ‘the right thing.’ What they never tell you is how to know what that is.”

  Dar nodded somberly. “I know what you mean.”

  Kerry leaned on the table a little. “Dar, you don’t really feel sorry for those guys, do you? I mean, yeah, they were friends of yours once, but remember being in that hospital, okay? And remember how all of us almost got in a lot of trouble because of them.”

  The waitress returned with both their sodas and their ic
e cream.

  She set them down, and the women applied themselves to the serious business of eating for a moment before Dar decided to answer.

  “I know they’re wrong, Ker,” she said, licking a bit of hot fudge off her spoon. “But yeah, I do feel sorry for them. Maybe I wouldn’t have at one time in my life, but I do now, and it’s your fault.”

  “My fault?” Kerry looked up in surprise, getting the words out around a mouthful of banana split.

  “Your fault.” Dar dabbed a bit of whipped cream on Kerry’s nose.

  “You gave me back my conscience,” she said. “Now I have to make peace with it before I have to go do what I need to do.”

  “Oh.” Kerry ate a bit of chocolate ice cream. “Is that a bad thing?”

  Dar tapped the spoon on her lower lip, a thoughtful look on her face. “No,” she decided, shaking her head and spearing a cherry. “Just a damned inconvenient one sometimes.”

  Ah. Kerry reflected on that. Life was damned inconvenient sometimes, if she thought about it. She just had to take the good with the bad, and make her best choices. She sucked on her straw and nodded a little to herself, almost feeling a sense of reconciliation with one of hers.

  Almost.

  THE SUN PEEKED slowly over a lightly ruffled gray ocean. Across an almost empty beach, a seagull wheeled, searching for a little breakfast for himself.

  Dar sat near the shore, leaning against a half-buried, mostly dead tree, and watched the bird circle. Beside her sat her briefcase, on which she rested one elbow as she dug idly into the sand with her bare toes.

  It had been a long night for her, lying in the darkness with Kerry’s warm body pressed against hers as she went over and over her options; how they might play out, and what the consequences could be. She’d finally gotten up and showered, dressing as a sleepy Kerry nuzzled her back and wishing the day was already over with.

  She’d then come out here, to this beach, to let the cool morning breeze clear her head. It was the same beach she’d come to the night she’d almost fired Kerry, the same beach she’d been coming to for years when she needed a few minutes to ground herself, here within sight of the vast Atlantic that had been her playground since before she could 340 Melissa Good really remember.