by Amy Baker
“Goodnight, Junior,” Hugh whispered with his forehead pressed up against mine.
“Goodnight, Hugh,” I breathed back.
The porch light was blinking on and off like there was a short in the wiring. “You better go inside before she starts a fire,” Hugh suggested. Julia was peering through the window like a father waiting for his daughter to come home from her first date.
I knew when I embarked on my temporary cohabitation with Julia that certain aspects of my stay could be challenging. It just never occurred to me that she would be one to keep a strict curfew. “Okay,” I agreed even though I really would have preferred the ability to freeze time.
Hugh and I had talked rather extensively earlier in the evening. We had come to a resolution of sorts. He would return to New York to start his new job and I would remain in Virginia to start mine. We would alternate visits back and forth every other week so each of us was only flying once a month. Not a bad plan but given the original, it was quite a sacrifice.
“Call me when you get in?” I requested. Hugh’s flight was first thing in the morning. He was going straight to his new office from the plane.
“I will,” he rubbed his nose along the side of mine inhaling loudly. “My God, I’m going to miss you, Baby,” he groaned. “I just got you back. I hate having to let you go.”
Despite the fact that it was a massive understatement, I could only agree. I tried to look at the bright side. “It’s just a couple of weeks. I’ll be knocking on your door in no time,” I half smiled.
“Our door,” he quickly corrected.
The corner of my lips tipped up at his immediate response. “Our door.” I agreed because it sounded a hell of a lot better than the actual circumstances at hand, which sucked huge. We both knew how difficult a long distance relationship could be but neither of us was willing to admit that that was the road on which we were embarking.
Chapter 18
I stepped into the Human Resources Department, which was on the second floor of Norstride’s new home. The brick and mortar building was an architectural gem in Tremont, which was one of the larger metropolis’ in southern Virginia. When Julia dropped me at the car rental office that morning she left me with words of caution.
“Be careful in that big city. Things are different over there even though it’s only a few minutes away. And it’s huge…you might get lost,” she warned.
I choked back the laugh that was threatening to burst from my lips. I guess I should have been more forceful when inviting Julia to visit me in New York because she had absolutely no frame of reference. In her defense, Tremont was the biggest city around but it was still a far cry, size wise, from New York City.
As I parked my rental car, which could only be described as a piece of shit on wheels, I was wondering how the New York transplants were fairing in Tremont. Some probably found the quaint and laid back atmosphere refreshing while others were probably pulling their hair out of their own heads trying to get a decent bagel.
The relic who greeted me in the H.R. office looked like she was 105 years old, and that was a generous assessment on my part.
“Can I help you, dear?” she asked sweetly.
“Hello,” I answered just as sweetly having been taught from an early age to always respect my elders. “My name is Delilah Welling. I am…a…um…new employee,” I stammered, still unable to believe how my life had completely gone off the rails.
She shuffled some papers on her desk and started to make some excuse for the big pile. “We have a lot of folks coming in. All of them big New Yorkers.”
My eyes squinted in response. Were these New Yorkers she spoke of big in stature or did she think their egos were big? Though it was difficult to discern, I didn’t really care to know so I kept quiet.
“Oh my,” she licked her two shaky fingers and slowly lifted one sheet at a time from the stack in front of her, which was clearly overwhelming. I knew when she found what she was looking for because a loud burst of air left her lungs with an audible humph. She kept her head perfectly still as her eyes traveled up to meet mine. “Well!” She said with a hint of excitement. “That’s odd,” she sort of muttered.
My eyebrows shot up in response. “What’s odd?” I questioned.
“Well, it says here that…well…how do I put this?” she seemed reluctant to share the information in front of her.
My shoulders did a quick shrug in response to her question. I bent my arm at the elbow, balled up my fist and pumped my arm giving the universal ‘college try’ sign. “Um, I guess just lay it out there,” I suggested with a bit of a chuckle.
“Well, Dear, it says here that you’re…um…fired,” she blinked her eyes, which were magnified to an unimaginable size by very thick lenses, three times in quick concession and offered an uneasy smile. Then her heavily wrinkled upper lip began to falter and she stood only halfway out of her chair leaning her hands on her desk to brace while I pondered her words. She looked like she was preparing to bolt. Unable to hold that position another minute she straightened to standing in front of her chair. “You know some people get hostile when they are told they are fired. Do I need to call security?” she asked bizarrely.
My eyes squinted in question. “I beg your pardon?” I was unsure if I heard her correctly. Not about the need for security but about my walking papers. “How can I be fired when I just got here?” I questioned instead.
Under the misperception that I was getting hostile, granny picked up the phone threatening to press a button. “Child, I just tell it like it is. Don’t make me call for Walter. He doesn’t shut up once he gets talkin’,” she drawled her disquiet at having to dial Walter, the security guard.
My eyebrows remained pinched together. “Are you sure you are reading that correctly?” I questioned again. She was old. Very old. “Maybe your Coke bottle glasses need replacing and your vision is faulty.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
She shook her head and pressed the button as if I had given her no other choice. “Walter, you better get up here. We have a live one.”
I was guessing I was the live one.
I held my hands up in surrender. “I assure you that I am not a ‘live one.’ I just don’t understand how I had a job with this company yesterday, they never saw my performance or lack there of, and today I am fired!” Since my voice hit a slightly higher octave than it had in the beginning of my sentence, granny was ready to throw me in a straight jacket. As soon as Walter walked in Granny was giving him the run down on how I was ornery and irrational.
I rolled my eyes in response.
“Listen, Walter,” I began, “I am just asking a couple of questions. I am not hostile, ornery or irrational,” I defended. “Now is there someone I can talk to so we can straighten this out? I moved all the way down here from New York for this damn job.”
I was pretty sure it was the ‘damn’ that did it. Granny and Walter gave each other a knowing stare and a synchronized nod. Walter, who was sporting a walkie-talkie on his shoulder, tilted it toward his mouth and pressed a button. “Marcus?” I heard the ‘psht’ sound from the walkie-talkie but this time it was the real deal not Logan’s ridiculous role-playing. “You better call for back up. This one is going to be a problem.”
I sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling. These people didn’t know what hostile was. But since ‘back-up’ was already on its way I might as well push the envelope. “I insist on speaking to Charles Dorn immediately.”
Granny picked up the phone in a huff and stabbed at a few numbers on her antiquated phone system. “Betty? It’s Fern. I have a big problem down here. Yep. Unhuh. Mmhm. Exactly,” she added desperately. “Is Charles in? This one is insisting on speaking to him,” Fern sounded as exasperated as she looked. “A miss Delilah Welling.” She looked up at the ceiling and then pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her finger. “Mmhm. Yup. One of them big New Yorkers. That’s right,” she affirmed.
My eyes rolled again
and I purposefully exhaled as loudly as I could. Then I heard her say ‘thank you’ and she held the phone out to me with a snap. I stared at her a moment unable to believe how inconsiderate this woman could be.
I pressed my lips together and slowly reached out to take the phone from her. I ran my tongue over my teeth as I brought the phone to my ear. I could hear light elevator music playing so I knew I was on hold. Then I heard Charles jump on the line.
“This is Charles,” he said quickly.
“Hello, Charles,” I cleared my throat as if that would somehow make the call sound more official. “This is Delilah Welling. I just arrived at the HR Dept and I was informed that I have already been fired. Clearly this is a mistake,” I added an uncomfortable giggle. “So I was hoping that you could straighten all this out because Fern is calling for back up.”
Yes, I was officially a tattletale. Fern plastered a satisfactory smirk on her face as if she knew the answer before Charles dropped the hammer.
I heard Charles sigh his discontent before he began. “We received a phone call from someone in the Premiere office outlining your drug and alcohol problem, Ms. Welling. Since none of this information was revealed prior to accepting your transfer we are under no legal obligation to hold the position while you are admitted to a rehab for proper treatment.”
What?
“Charles,” I chuckled trying to communicate the hilarity in his comment, “I can assure you…”
“I’m sorry, Delilah,” Charles interjected. “You seem like a nice girl. Don’t let this road bump define your life. Get the help you need. And please leave the premises without incident.” Charles hung up without any further ado.
“That bitch!” I screamed, of course referring to Stacey who must have gone even further to sabotage my career. Holy shit, she was thorough. But all Fern and Walter knew was that I was officially hostile, irrational and ornery. And it had to be said that it was true. So much so, that I quickly turned to Walter.
“I sure hope you called for back up, Walter.” Then I finished my confession on a tear. “Because you are going to need it!”
Chapter 19
“What do you mean you are at the police station?” I heard loud and clear even though I had pulled the phone two feet away from my head. The officer who had so kindly finger printed me, I think he was smitten, lifted the right side of his mouth at Julia’s outburst.
I put the phone back to my ear and spoke calmly (very calmly) fearing another disorderly would be coming my way if I raised my voice. “I’ll explain when you get here. Please just come pick me up. My rent-o-crap is at the parking lot at Norstride,” I explained, flashing a disingenuous grin at the officer who was still eavesdropping.
“Fine. But just so you know…this is going in my gossip column,” she sort of asked.
“Oh goody, my 15 minutes of fame…finally.” My snappy sarcasm was met with a chuckle. But I didn’t care if my mug shot ended up on the six o’clock news. I just wanted out of Tremont. “Just hurry,” I insisted.
By the time Julia arrived to get me out, another officer had approached after hearing I was ‘fresh in’ from New York. He was quite large and had a look in his eyes that told me he meant business. I swallowed hard fearing he was a little unstable. But when he reached me, he snagged a chair from another desk, flipped it around and sat facing me. I had nowhere else to look but at him. That was when the interrogation began. He started to grill me on the ins and outs of New York City. He wanted to take his fiancé there for Christmas and skate at Rockefeller Center. Imagining him on skates was a little comical but there was no way that I was going to share that thought. He wanted to know where to stay, where to eat, what shows to see. I gave him as much inside information as I could and in return he conjured up a half decent, thank goodness, large cup of coffee. It seemed like a fair trade. I said my goodbyes to the law enforcement staff in Tremont when I saw Julia arrive and headed towards freedom.
“So you are telling me that you were fired from your new job before you even started,” Julia sounded as perplexed as I did as she started her little Fiat.
I gave her a cautionary glance as she pulled out of the police station screeching tires.
“That’s what I am telling you,” I nodded as she ratcheted up the speed and the scenery began to fly by at warped speed.
Julia really ought to slow down.
“That is so strange,” she murmured.
“Yeah well, turns out it isn’t quite as big a mystery as one would think,” I explained. “Stacey Horner strikes again,” I shared.
“Holy crap. Really? She is relentless,” Julia shook her head as she downshifted into a turn. “Gosh, I wish she lived here. I would have an endless supply of material for my column.” My head turned slowly to stare down Julia. When she noticed my eyebrows in my hairline she shrugged. “What? I’m just sayin’.”
Ignoring Julia’s comment, I proceeded to state the obvious. “I came here because she sabotaged my job and apartment in New York. Now I have no job and no apartment in Virginia,” I shook my head unable to believe the circumstances I found myself in.
Just as I was about to begin my woe-is-me speech, my cell phone started ringing. I folded myself in half and began rifling through my bag to find my phone. “Hello?” I said with urgency in my voice hoping to catch it before it went to voicemail.
“Hey, Junior, it’s me.”
“Hey,” I greeted sounding perturbed given the circumstances.
Ever perceptive, Hugh heard the disquiet and responded accordingly. “Oh. I wasn’t thinking, Babe. I’m sorry. You’re probably just getting acclimated to your new surroundings. I’ll call you around lunch time.”
Hugh thought he was interrupting something important, like my new job, but little did he know he needn’t worry. “Hugh,” I cut into his rant. “I am, uh, not getting acclimated to anything. As it turns out, I was, um, fired,” as my explanation progressed, my voice diminished enough that Hugh couldn’t be certain what I’d said.
“What did you say, Junior? I couldn’t hear you. It sounded like you said you were fired,” he sounded just as confused as Julia and I.
I cleared my throat trying not to sound as downtrodden as I felt. “That’s right. That’s what I said.”
My clarification was met with silence.
“Hugh? You there?” I asked.
“Yeah, Junior, I’m here,” he responded. But then there was another long pause. “Are you fucking with me?” he queried.
I sighed loudly before I answered. One would certainly think that I was, as he put it, fucking with them. But sadly I was not. “No,” I sort of sang.
Then Julia cut in loudly so Hugh could hear her through my phone. “And she got arrested!” she yelled.
“Come again,” Hugh drawled. “Delilah Jean, did I hear her correctly?”
My mouth tensed in response to his question at the same time my eyebrows shot into my hairline. No one ever called me Delilah Jean unless I was in major trouble, which was never. I didn’t even know that Hugh knew my middle name. He must be super angry. I slapped Julia’s thigh as she took a hairpin turn. Her two cents weren’t worth even that. I held my pointer finger up to my lips signaling for her to be quiet.
“Delilah,” Hugh said my name authoritatively.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Answer me,” he insisted. “I need to know what I have gotten myself into.”
Oh shit. It never occurred to me that my arrest could negatively impact my boyfriend who must have taken an oath or two. “It was a misunderstanding,” I rushed defensively.
“Is that right?” Hugh drawled. Then I heard the laughter. “My little, Junior, went and got herself arrested?” I was wrong. Hugh wasn’t angry. He was enjoying himself. “Do you need an attorney?” he asked on half a chuckle.
“Why? Are you going to come bail me out?” I said with a sexy inflection. “Take me into custody with a personal set of handcuffs?” I heard a strangled sound of disgust out of Julia. I don’t k
now when she became such a prude.
Hugh started laughing before he answered. “Delilah, I am a corporate lawyer. I can manipulate a mean merger but that’s about it,” he chuckled some more.
Hmm. I hadn’t considered that.
After a good spell of silence on my part, Hugh began again. This time his tone was more serious. “But I have friends. Friends who work down at the Court House over that way.”
Oh. Well what fun would that be? “No, Hugh, I don’t need one of your friends to come bail me out,” I stated with a hint of irritation. If I couldn’t have him I didn’t want anyone.
“No, you have me for that,” Julia murmured eliciting another hush from my lips.
“So now what?” Hugh asked.
“Now nothing. They dropped the charges. But I’m not sure about the rehab,” I answered reflexively.
“Wait. What? What rehab? Junior, I was referring to your current professional dilemma,” he clarified.
Oh yeah. My professional dilemma. Well. I didn’t have a job or a place to live and I couldn’t afford to move all of my stuff back to New York. The funds in my bank account were scarce. “Not sure yet. I’m still trying to make sense of what the hell just happened,” I shrugged as if he could see my physical response.
“What was the rehab remark about?” He asked clearly confused.
“Can we talk about this later?” I answered unsure myself what to make of Charles’ comment. “I just don’t have any solid answers right now but I’m thinking Stacey gives retaliation a whole new meaning.”
At that point someone must have entered Hugh’s new office because he suddenly sounded serious and began talking to me like I was a client. “Well, okay then. That sounds like a good plan of action. Call me when you have some answers. Bye, bye now.”
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it as if it would explain things further. Then I shook my head to disconnect. I let out a huge sigh and threw the phone back in my bag. “Is it time for a margarita yet?”