White Collar Blues

by Mel Walker

  Peter interrupted her, his voice lowering, "... I know it was silly of me. We're both adults. I've said my piece, given how much time we have been spending with each other. I'll respect your decision."

  "Thank you, that means a lot to me."

  "So, friends?" His infectious smile caused her to return a smile.

  "Business partners first. That is if you'll still have me."

  Peter reached in toward her with a hug.

  Leslie leaned forward expecting a quick, friendly hug. His grip tightened.

  "I would love to have you. " He added as continuing the embrace.

  "Alright now..." she began attempting to push away from him.

  He turned his head slightly, leaning forward, as he pressed his lips to hers.

  The move caught her by surprise; her initial thoughts surprising her further. His lips were soft, and they tasted like cinnamon. It took a second for her mind to register what was occurring as his lips parted slightly and his tongue began to lick her lips. She demanded her body to react and pull away yet her tongue met his. The deadly dance of the tongues lasted only a second, but it was enough time for a shock of coldness to zip through her body.

  What the hell just happened? She pulled away from him suddenly. "Peter stop!"

  She stepped back, pushing from his embrace. He trod forward attempting to kiss her once again. "I said stop." She leaned back, her hand flying up on instinct. The slap came quick and hard, striking him across his cheek, a red mark flashing for a second like a matador’s cape. "Oh my god, I’m sorry." She said reactively. She watched as he lifted his hand to his injured cheek, the effective slap stopping in his tracks.

  "I think you should be going Peter," she heard the words not sure they even came from her lips.

  "I didn't mean ..." he attempted.

  "Just go. Please go." She pointed.

  He stepped back from her, crossing in front of the truck but never taking his eyes off of her. He climbed into the driver's seat. The passenger window rolled down as Leslie stepped toward the truck.

  "Don't say a word, Peter.” The nervousness was gone, it had been replaced by red hot anger. I'll call you when I am ready to talk. Don't call me."

  Peter stared at her for a second as if trying to decipher her body language and tone. He finally took a deep breath of acceptance and pulled away from the curb.

  Leslie remained standing, her feet feeling as if they were nailed to the ground with wooden stakes. She watched the truck disappear into the distance as she finally turned and looked up at her house. A reflection of the sun caught her attention as she noticed the window to the attic swing shut.

  Only one word encapsulated how a day which seemed so promising moments ago went so badly so quickly. Leslie uttered that word under her breath as she stepped toward her house, "Shit."

  Chapter Thirteen

  It took three tries for the key to finally turn in the key. For a brief moment, Leslie thought somehow Justin had replaced the lock. It was a silly thought as she realized there were a million reasons as to why the window had been opened and the chance of him being in the attic, looking down at them at that exact moment ere slim.

  Regardless, she had to address it. A marriage doesn’t last twenty-five years without two people knowing how to communicate. Good news as well as bad. And this fell into the second bucket.

  She searched her brain as to when and how to approach him. Things had been off with them for some time, and she could no longer trust her instinct. No matter what she said, no matter what she did seemed to produce a negative response.

  When she entered the house, she was surprised by its quiet. She stood in the doorway attempting to take it in. A glance outside confirmed that Justin's car was there. She stepped into the kitchen, two large plastic bags from General Tang's lay on the counter. The citrus smell of her favorite, orange glazed chicken, enticed her. He had ordered in for her.

  She dropped her bag on the counter next to the fortune cookie. She couldn't resist the urge as she broke it open and pulled out the message, it read “time is never a friend of the untrusty."

  “You think?” she mumbled as she crushed the cookie in her hand and dumped it on the counter.

  The sound of the drill press starting up in the workshop, she stepped toward the stairwell. He was in the tinkering, of course.

  As she opened the door, she still hadn't decided what she would say, if anything. "Hey dear, how was your day?" she chose to feel it out.

  He didn't respond. Is he giving me the silent treatment? Really? She inched inward, noticing him leaning forward, his face mere inches from a thin piece of wood, his ear next to the drill. That’s why he didn’t hear me. A small bit of relief spread through her body. However, in an instant, the pressure returned to her chest. She knew enough not to disturb him until he reached a breaking point. However every second the tension grew.

  Two small steps took her across from him, a better vantage point. As he continued to drill away, she looked past him at all the projects they had worked on either separately or together over the years. It seemed as if she noticed for the first time that the majority of the joint jobs were from years ago. Almost all of the recent ones were solo projects.

  Justin with his inventions, she with her frames. Acknowledging the sadness of this observation caused her to take a step back and lean on a stool. Were their issues there well before Peter came along?

  The sudden quiet of the drill powering down snapped her out of her trance. "Hey," she whispered.

  "Hey yourself. When did you come in?" He didn't turn toward her. Apparently more interested in the piece of wood he was carving. He blew on it clearing the fragments.

  "What you working on?"

  "Not sure yet. Something to keep my mind occupied."

  "Something at work troubling you?"

  His hesitation caused her to pause, "that's what I initially thought, but apparently the problems I have are much bigger than just work."

  He knows.

  She didn't realize she was nibbling on her fingernail until she began to speak, "do you want to talk about it?"

  "I brought you, General Tang. I may be awhile here." He still hadn't turned, giving her the proverbial cold shoulder.

  She felt like a scolded school girl.

  "That is unless there was something you needed to tell me that is," he added finally turning toward her.

  His gaze reminded her of the look of disappointment he had when Jake decided to select the University of San Francisco, almost three thousand miles away from home. The injured look on his face pre-projecting the pain and adjustment of their relationship at that moment. He was now giving her that same look.

  She was upset with him at the time when he placed that emotional load on her son and she wouldn’t let him do it to her now.

  Her mind continued to race; he had provided the opening, she had to take it. They had been through so much over twenty-five years; this would be a hiccup in the scheme of things.

  Who was she kidding; she knew it wasn't a hiccup. The valley they had fallen into didn't happen overnight. They had slowly descended into this abyss, and they had serious issues. It was going to take a lot of hard work, honest work, and communication if they were going to make it out. As she began to speak, she licked her lips, the taste of cinnamon causing her to stop in her track.

  Peter.

  The guilt spread over her like a blanket; she knew it would show on her face. She turned from him, her hands fidgeting with a clamp on the end of the table, her eyes following. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  "Didn't think so. Like I said your dinner is on the kitchen table, you'd better hurry before it gets cold."

  His dismissal hurt. She knew she should brush it off and speak, but couldn’t find the resolve. She turned and took two steps back toward the door. Only then did she see it.

  The wedding portrait, "oh my god what the hell happened?"

  Justin barely reacted. "I was up in the attic, when did you pu
t it up there?'

  She fought back a tear as she realized it wasn't just the portrait but the weight of the afternoon which pushed on her zapping her energy like a parasite, "what...?"

  "I was looking for something in the attic and came across that. You do realize that certain things should never be discarded in the attic. That is the place where things go and are forgotten."

  "I guess it worked because until you saw it, you had forgotten about it. I put it up there five years ago when we did the remodeling down here in the workshop. I wanted it out of the way so it wouldn't be damaged."

  "And we see how well that worked out."

  The coldness of his voice clued her in that there was more to it than that.

  "How could that happen? I mean, I had placed it up against the wall. Something must've fallen through it. Did you happen to see what it was?"

  Justin lowered his chin, his eyes avoiding hers, "wasn't looking. I was focused only on the fact that it was up there in the first place. Why didn't you tell me you put it there?"

  Her shoulder slumped as she murmured, "I did, but I guess you forgot, we had a lot going on at that time with the remodeling. We were zipping around the country looking at colleges; you were traveling for work."

  "I think I would have remembered that."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  She picked up the frame by the corner, holding it out at arm's length. "It is ruined, beyond repair."

  "Most things when abandoned and discarded become broken beyond repair."

  She stared at the nearly destroyed wedding portrait and let the words sink in. "Abandoned, huh? Interesting choice of words. You are so right dear. You are so, so right."

  She held tight to the frame, the one which she had invested so much energy and love, the one who meant so much to her, the one which she always associated with their happiest days. It was broken, and she wasn’t sure it could ever be fixed.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Krystal stood in the doorway for the third time this morning. Her mere presence was ticking off a clearly upset Justin further.

  "What is it this time?" he finally yelled as he ripped off the earbuds which were streaming the loudest, nastiest heavy metal music Justin possessed.

  "It’s about time. I’ve been standing here forever."

  Justin pushed back from the desk. He rubbed his eyes knowing without looking that they were red. The incident with Leslie weighed on his mind all night. He attempted to hide out in the workshop as long as he could.

  Thank goodness for the distraction of the shop. After puttering around for a bit, Justin recalled the walk through the manufacturing floor. The feeling of accomplishment of solving a problem much better excelsior than getting drunk.

  He dusted off an old incomplete project, a mechanical robotic arm that interfaced with the wood cutting equipment. By the time he looked up, it was well past midnight.

  When he reached the bedroom, Leslie was already on her Third dream. The fact that she appeared to sleep peacefully while his entire world was crumbling around him only ticked him off further.

  As he attempted to get some sleep the image of another man kissing his wife kept replaying in his head. At one point he found himself barely able to breathe. The rest of the evening he vacillated between staring at the ceiling and stealing glances at his wife wondering if she was dreaming of another man.

  If she was kissing him in public, on the block they lived for the world to see, who knows what they had already done behind closed doors.

  It was that thought which propelled him back to the workshop at three in the morning. The non-productive work continued until he realized around five that he was not going to get any rest. Rather than continue to putter around he showered and headed to the office before Leslie had an opportunity to awake.

  Krystal picked up on his early arrival as well as his mood and seemed to be babysitting him all morning.

  "This should make your day," she began, "I have a mister Everett Cooper the Third here to see you."

  "Who? The what?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Sir Everett Cooper the Third."

  "Tell him we don't need castle insurance and send him on his way."

  A small chuckle passed her lips, "he says he was sent by Barry."

  With the mention of Barry, Justin straightened up. "Where is he?"

  Krystal stuck her head out of the office and waved out to the distance.

  After a few seconds, he appeared.

  He looked like he had stepped off the pages of GQ. He carried himself like a model, and he had the clothes to match. He towered over Justin with a lean frame which moved like a cat. Dressed in a two-piece pin-striped navy suit, a pair of gold cufflinks peaked out from the jacket. He stepped past Krystal and extended a hand toward Justin.

  "Everett Cooper the Third."

  Justin shook his hand. At first glance Justin had pegged him in his early thirties, however, up close he could tell he was more likely later thirties, his dress and flash making him appear younger. Everett possessed a firm grip, shaking the hand as if Justin was the most important person in the world. The wave of cologne arrived just after he did, the smell causing a visible reaction from Justin as he raised his wave and continued it across the front of his face.

  "Coop. My friends call me Coop."

  "Well, then I will call you three."

  Confusion crossed Everett's face as Krystal stepped in between them. "Now, now boys play nice. Coop I'll be across the hall in room thirty-three. Swing by if you need anything."

  The pair waited for Krystal to leave before Everett continued, "Three?"

  "Never mind," Justin said shaking his head side to side. "How can I help you, seems like you're not here for fashion tips."

  Everett adjusted his footwork and played with his cufflinks once again.

  "Easy big boy, only kidding, there aren't any photographers around here. What do you need? Did Barry send you?"

  The look of recognition grew on his face with the mention of Barry. "Yes Barry, of course."

  Justin waited for him to continue, '... and..?"

  "I'm here for the meeting this afternoon. Mr. Boyton asked me to come here to the campus and sit with you this morning and to accompany you to the meeting this afternoon."

  Justin turned toward his computer, he clicked a few buttons, "really I don't see any email from Barry informing me to babysit you this morning. And as for this afternoon, I generally don't go to those all hands meetings. I think they have enough hands in the room already. Some of us actually have a productive use for our time."

  Everett remained standing as if waiting for Justin to finish his thought. He began pacing the office taking in all the gadgets, "this is nice. Is this a light meter of some sort? He said as he reached for the instrument.

  "Don't touch that, those are quite delicate."

  "Really you should put up a sign or something," he pulled up short, his stopping hand as if he had been reaching for a fence and noticed an electrocution sign.

  "I already did, it's on the outside of the door, says do not enter."

  "Ha, jokes. Mr. Barry said you were a funny man."

  Funny man Justin repeated.

  "Did you build these here at General Modifications," he said continuing to admire the eclectic collection of instruments which seemed to run the gamut of mechanical areas.

  "Listen, I know at the previous job you probably had a show and tell time, but I really do have work to do, regardless of what Mr. Boyton thinks. If you need a place to settle there has been a rash of empty office opening around, but if you spoke to Barry I'm sure you already know that."

  Everett seemed unfazed by the reception, "yes I know, I’ve already requested that they open up the locked office two doors down."

  "Marie's office?"

  "I don't know, there wasn't a name outside the room."

  Justin took a step toward the door and then stopped, "bastards couldn't even wait, and they’ve al
ready removed the nameplates."

  "Friend of yours?"

  Justin brushed past Everett as he stepped back toward his chair, "don't make a mess in there."

  "Ok, then I’ll go get settled. Can you forward me the protocols and policy documents?"

  Justin plopped back onto his seat. "Sure, I’ll get right on that."

  Everett paused before stepping toward the door. "I'll swing by at one to pick you up for the meeting."

  "Yeah, like I mentioned. I don't do those all hands meetings," Justin punctuated with a waving of both his hands, jazz hands.

  "I think you will be interested in this one. They are reviewing the slotting and posting process."

  "Already went through that with Mr. Boyton."

  "Really, did he show you the slide with the list of names and who you will be competing against?" His tone indicated that he knew the answer before he even asked the question.

  "I thought that was privileged info? They are going public with it?"

  "I guess you'll have to come to the meeting to find out." Everett turned but not before stating, "See you at one o'clock."

  * * * * *

  "Knock, Knock, we come in peace," came the tentative voice of Violet Greene as she slowly pushed open the door.

  "You said we. Please tell me you don't have the moron Everett Cooper the Third with you?" Justin said as Violet entered. Justin stood and approached the minute he spotted Chris Hagler behind her.

  "No morons here," Chris added as he took in Justin's handshake which morphed into a hug.

  "So sorry to hear Chris, this is a total fubar."

  "Thanks, appreciate it."

  The awkward pause was broken up by Violet, "well then. Chris just came in to grab a few things from his office before those maniacs from the mail room come and box up his office with no concern for people's property."

  "I take it you're not going to be coming in during your two week period?" Justin queried.

  Chris choked back the words, deciding to shake his head in response, ".... too hard. You know how cruel these halls can get. Besides after what they've done, I’m not giving them the benefit of a transition."