by Rachel Ford
Then, though, she grew silent. Alfred frowned, watching her expression morph from interest to astonishment to delight. “You’re kidding?” Her eyes only widened more. “No, of course we can. Oh my God. You’re serious? Oh my God.”
She was shaking her head now. “No, no, we’ll be there. Wow. That’s incredible – thank you!”
Alfred’s frown deepened. What in the hummus is that marine up to now?
“Alright, have a good one. Yeah, you too. Thanks again. See you this weekend.” She was practically squealing when she hung up the phone. “Oh my God.”
“You just said that,” Alfred observed. “Several times.”
She ran over to him, seizing him by the shoulders. “Babe – oh my God, babe, you’ll never believe what Josh just said.”
The taxman was trying to be a good sport, but he was pretty sure that, whatever it was, it didn’t merit this degree of enthusiasm. “Oh? And what’s that?”
“He talked to Eugene Miller. You know, the director? And he agreed to let us, and a few of the casts’ friends and family, backstage while they’re filming Fire Vortex.”
“Fire…Vortex?”
“Yeah. It’s the next movie. But, babe, did you hear me? We’re going to be backstage. We’ll get to watch them actually making the movie – making Fire Vortex!”
Alfred grimaced. He’d been right: it definitely didn’t merit this level of excitement. “Well, that’s, uh, great. But, I mean, doesn’t he have anyone else he’d rather bring? A girlfriend, maybe?”
She shook her head. “He hasn’t had time for dating. Not with the move and everything.”
“Oh.”
“But he knows how much we love the movies, so…” She shrugged. “He figured we’d want to go. I told him yes. Of course.”
“Of course,” Alfred sighed.
This pessimism, finally, broke through her joy. “You do want to go…don’t you? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“Um, yeah. Of course,” he lied, mustering as much passion as he could. It wasn’t much, but at least he managed to make it sound less like a punishment than it felt.
She surveyed him for a moment. “I know these aren’t your thing, exactly.”
“Hey,” he said, “it is a big deal, you getting to go backstage. I might personally think they’re stupid movies-”
She laughed.
“Okay, I definitely think they’re stupid.” He wrapped his arms around her and sighed. “But you love the stupid things. Of course I’ll go, Nance.”
She smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “Thank you, babe. I’m going to have to get us plane tickets right away. And we’ll have to put in for PTO tomorrow first thing. I don’t think Caspersen will give us any trouble.”
“PTO?” Alfred frowned. “When is this, again?”
“This weekend. We’ll get there Thursday night. They’re going to be filming all weekend.”
“Wait,” the taxman objected. “This weekend? But, Nance, Friday is my…”
Her face fell, and she said at the same time, “presentation.”
He nodded. “Exactly. I can’t miss that. They’re counting on me. Anyway, everyone is looking forward to this talk. I’ve been sending teasers to the mailing list, with profiles on the mobsters involved.” He was about to keep going, explaining all he’d done to boost interest in his particular speech. But she looked so crestfallen, so devastated, that he trailed off. “I…I can’t skip it, darling.”
“No,” she said after a moment. “No, you can’t. It’s important to you.” She sighed, shaking her head. “And I said I’d go. So…so I’ll just text Josh, and explain the situation. I’ll tell him…I’ll tell him I forgot we had plans, so he’ll have to find someone else.”
She nodded resolutely, and Alfred nodded too. “Because we can’t miss this, Nance.”
“I know.” She smiled, and it almost pushed the devastated look off her features. “This means a lot to you, baby. We’ll go.”
She pulled out her phone, and he saw her bring up the messenger app. She started to type out a message, her thumbs flying the way they did when she texted.
Alfred watched her for a minute, and then groaned. Reaching out a hand, he took hers. “Stop, Nance.”
She looked up now, surprised. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t let you give up your chance to be backstage for Fire Vortex.”
She smiled, and there was a sweetness in her eyes that decided him. “Babe, I want to be there at your presentation too.”
“Yeah, yeah. But not like you want to watch that dumb movie being made.” He shook his head. “You need to go, Nance.”
She hesitated. “But what about your presentation, Alfred? What about ‘Mob Bosses and Tax Losses?’”
He smiled at the title, not for the first time mentally patting himself on the back for that one. “I’ll still give it. I gave my word, and…let’s be honest…I don’t really give a sugar cookie about those movies.”
She laughed. “I guess you don’t.”
“But you do. And this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, remember? You need to go.”
She regarded him for a long moment. “Are you going to be okay, if I’m not there to watch you give your big talk?”
He snorted. “I’ll be fine, Nancy Abbot. I don’t need a babysitter.” Then, he shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll have someone film it. So you can watch it when you get back.”
“Good. Because I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
“Well, you won’t.”
She smiled. “You’re sure you’re okay with this, Alfred?”
“Of course I’m okay with it, Nance.”
“Alright.” She nodded. “Then I’ll see if I can get Maggie to go with me instead.”
“Your cousin Maggie?”
She nodded, grinning. “She loves the movies too. Or, Dave Yankovic, anyway.”
Alfred vaguely remembered the name. “He plays…Clodhopper? The big purple guy?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, that’ll be good. Now, maybe she’ll get to meet him.” The taxman didn’t particularly care about Maggie Abbot’s fangirling, but the idea that there’d be someone else there, someone else occupying Josh Stevenson’s time, did sit well with him.
Nancy nodded. Then, she fixed him with a gaze so warm, he forgot his worries. “And Alfred?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you, babe.”
Chapter Six
Alfred didn’t have much time to think about the Lorina case until Thursday rolled around. But then, he dropped Nance and Maggie off at the airport in the morning, and headed to work, alone.
It was a long, solitary ride, and he found himself pondering the casefile just to get his thoughts off her. Since they’d started dating, they hadn’t gone a weekend without spending time with each other. Now, he wasn’t going to see her until Monday morning.
The hours were already dragging long, stretching out, minute after minute, in his mind. He hoped getting to work would help distract him.
It did not.
On the contrary, like a predator sensing his vulnerability, Justin was waiting. And no sooner than had Alfred stepped foot in the building, did he move in for the kill. “Freddo. Today’s the day, right? Nance is heading off to Hollywood?”
“It’s Alfred.”
“How you holding up?”
Now, he scowled at the other man. “Jesus, Justin, she’s going out of state for a few days. Not moving across the country.”
Lyon raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Well, I guess that answers that, then.” As Alfred’s scowl deepened, he forced a laugh. “I’m just giving you a hard time, man. Like you say, it’s just a few days.”
“Exactly.”
“With her movie star ex, on the set of a movie she loves,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just saying, she’ll be back before you know it. And, in the meantime, it’s not like you’re alone.”
Alfre
d grimaced. “If you’re about to say because you’re all here for me, or some motivational-poster nonsense…”
Justin wrinkled his nose. “Jesus, man. No. Don’t be creepy.” He shook his head. “I was going to say, you’ve still got little Satan.”
The taxman rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. You know, he knocked over my bran flakes this morning?”
The other man shook his head, a bemused expression on his features. “Bran flakes? I don’t know, dude. He might have been doing you a favor.”
The hours crawled by as slow as he’d predicted. By time lunch rolled around, Justin was back. “Hey, me and the new guy are going to that sandwich shop on Fifth. You want to come with?”
Alfred didn’t, and excused himself with, “Not today. Too much work.”
The other man offered a sympathetic nod. “Well, don’t work too hard, Freddie.”
“Alfred…”
He didn’t spend his lunch working, though. Not on anything he’d been assigned, anyway. He spent it pouring over the Lorina case. His presentation was the next day, and the fact was, he still hadn’t finished his slides. He’d started with a clear idea of where things were going. It was a simple tribute to industry and dogged determination. It was the story of David versus Goliath, of a humble, unknown taxman taking down a vaunted, celebrity cop.
Except, as much as Alfred would have loved to tell that story, it wasn’t the one he saw in front of him. Ray Lorina wasn’t a dirty cop. He was sure of that. Whether Walton Kennedy was dirty, or if he’d been taken in with everyone else, he couldn’t guess.
But, at best, the IRS agent in this story was a patsy. At worst, he had done the bidding of a crime syndicate, and helped put a good man behind bars – and then, in the ground. With just over twenty-four hours to go before he gave his talk, Alfred began to feel the pressure.
He went back and forth on how to handle his hunch. He half-determined to pull another name out of his files, and throw them in instead of Ray Lorina. Awhile later, he decided to tell the full story, and all that he’d learned. Then, he’d remember that it was nothing more than guesswork and hunches on his part. He had no evidence.
Round and round he went, making no headway whatsoever. Lunch ended, and Justin slithered back into his office. A moment later, he heard the kerplunk of keys on the desk, and the dreaded padding of feet, headed his way.
“Freddo. How was lunch?”
Alfred glanced around his desk, realizing he hadn’t, actually, left to get anything to eat yet. “Oh, I haven’t had a chance yet.” Then, he added pointedly, “So much work.”
“Right.” Justin nodded. “Well, you didn’t miss anything coming with us. Other than the company, of course.”
He shivered. If that was the best recommendation Justin had, the taxman certainly made the right call in staying behind.
“The sandwiches kind of sucked. The soup was too thick, they didn’t put enough cheese on mine, and the waitress…” He shook his head. “Dumber than a box of rocks. I told her I wanted extra bacon, and I ended up with none.”
Alfred blinked at the other man. “Wow, dude. Rough. Really rough.”
“People these days, am I right?” He shook his head. “Speaking of people…how’s Nance doing?”
“Fine.” She’d texted a few times that morning, giving him status updates on their layovers.
Maggie had found a t-shirt in one of the airports with a kitten on it, that looked just like Fluff. “I told her you’d love it,” she’d written, with a winking emoji.
Their long layover was taking too long, too. “I wish I could have found better flights. Still, at least there’s wi-fi, right?”
And she’d asked about him. “How’s the presentation going? You figure out what you’re going to do yet?”
“Good. Cool.” Justin nodded. “Well, I should head back. Make sure you get something to eat, Freddie. Self-care is important, you know.”
Alfred was still mulling what to do when Nancy called him that evening. “Babe,” she greeted, as the video chat engaged.
He smiled to see her face appear on the screen. “Hey Nance.”
“Hey back at you.” She scrutinized him, from the other side of her phone. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m just…still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do about my talk.”
“Oh.”
“But, tell me about your trip. How’s Hollywood? How’s…” He tried to keep the disapprobation out of his tone. “Josh?”
“Good, and good. We’ve got a room onsite, right next to the studios where they’re filming. It’s incredible, babe.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe we’re actually here.”
He smiled, now, too. Her enthusiasm was, as always, infectious. “Well, it sounds awful, but I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
She laughed. “I am. But…” She shrugged. “I miss you, babe.”
He was glad to hear it. “Well, I miss you too.”
She held his gaze for a moment, then smiled. “Well, how’s Fluff doing? He miss his momma?” They flinched at the same time, at her choice of words.
The taxman laughed. “Yes, babe, he misses you. He hasn’t stopped screaming at me since I got home.”
“Make sure you give him lots of attention.”
He harrumphed. “Yeah, yeah. I have been. But he’s not interested in me. He wants you.” This was true enough. The kitten barely tolerated his attentions, opting instead to wander the house yowling. It aggravated him on one level, but on another…well, he understood.
“This is actually a good opportunity for you two to bond.”
“Ugh.”
“Come on. It’ll be good: you’ll have to get to know each other a little better.”
“It’s a cat, Nance, not a coworker.” He shrugged. “Not that I’m particularly interested in getting to know them better, either. But at least they’ve got personalities.”
“Oh, babe – Fluff has a personality.”
“Yeah: concentrated evil.”
He smirked, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. He’s definitely got a personality.”
“By definition, Nancy Abbot, he cannot. Since you need to be a person to have a personality.”
She laughed now. “Alright, but you know what I’m saying.”
“I do.” He smiled at her. “But enough about that brat. What are you guys up to? How’s Maggie?”
“Well, Josh is taking us out to eat in about twenty minutes. As far as Maggie…well, we bumped into Dave Yankovic during our tour of one of the sets, and…” She shook her head, grinning fondly. “She hasn’t stopped talking about it since.”
“Imagine having a crush on someone named Clodhopper.”
Nancy laughed. “Come on, that’s his comic book alter ego. But when he’s not buried under CGI, he’s pretty cute.”
Alfred harrumphed again. “I swear, that’s all you nerds see in superhero movies: chiseled features and spandex-clad backsides.”
“Oh, come on, Alfred.” Her eyes twinkled. “That’s not all we see. Not that the backsides don’t help, but there’s amazing storyline too.”
He laughed. “No, there’s really not, babe.”
“You might think otherwise, if you didn’t snore your way through them,” she needled.
“That was only once, Nancy Abbot. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, you’d better believe that I can, and will, Alfred Favero.” A knock sounded at the door behind her, now. “One minute, babe.” Turning, she called, “Enter.”
A pretty young woman stepped into view. She was about the same age as Nance, with lighter hair but similar features and physique. It was Maggie Abbot. “Josh is ready, if you – oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were on the phone.”
“No worries.”
Maggie lifted a hand, waving at the phone. “Hey Alfred.”
“Hey Maggie.” He didn’t know her particularly well, but she was one of the few Abbots who liv
ed near-ish Nance, so they’d met a few times. Alfred liked her, though not especially at the moment.
Nance turned back to the phone. “Hey, babe, I got to go.”
“Yeah, no problem. I should get back to my presentation.”
“Yeah – and make sure you let me know what you end up deciding to do, okay?”
“I will. Have fun, babe. Love you.”
“Love you too. Night, Alfred.”
The next moment, she hung up, and the taxman found himself staring bleakly at his phone display, and the messaging app. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a mournful meow.
It was Fluff, who had, sometime during his chat with Nance, jumped up onto the table in front of him. “Darn it, Satan, stay the hummus off the table.”
Twitching its tail, the kitten yowled again. The sound was so pitiful that the taxman found himself grimacing. “Fine, fine. You miss her too, huh? Alright, you can stay. Just…don’t get into any trouble. Any more trouble, that is.”
Chapter Seven
Alfred made a point of stopping for a cup of coffee the next morning, like he and Nance usually did. The idea was that maintaining his routine, going about his business as usual, would help keep his mind off her.
It didn’t. On the contrary, it only made him feel her absence the more keenly. He’d received a text from her that morning. “Hey, I know you’re probably still asleep. Just wanted to say good morning. Love you, babe.”
He had been asleep, and by time he woke and responded, she must have been otherwise occupied. He heard nothing back.
Indeed, he heard nothing all morning. The hours ticked by, and his phone was silent: no text messages, no gifs, nothing. She didn’t even send one of her signature emoji glyph messages for him to translate – those cryptic, but admittedly adorable, texts that contained nothing but cartoon faces and images. There were times when he felt something like a pre-Rosetta stone archeologist milling around ancient Egyptian tombs, staring blankly at the hieroglyphs carved onto the walls. Sometimes he could make out a meaning, and sometimes he had no idea what she was saying.
But by time the lunch hour rolled around, he would have been happy to expend his mental energies translating yellow smiley faces and goofy pictures.