Call Me Lydia

by MaryAnn Myers

Lydia went to work immediately then, punching the user code in, requesting all the accounts payable for the past six months, and phoned her father.

  "I really liked Greg," he said. "He seems like such a nice fellow. It makes a father feel good to know..."

  Lydia interrupted. "He was very impressed with you too." Not that Greg had said a word about him. "Dad, are we behind on our payroll taxes?"

  "No, I don't think so, dear, but I really didn't have much to do with the accounting, as I've said before. Did you take Greg to the plant and show him around?"

  Lydia scanned the monitor. "Yes, Reed gave him the grand tour."

  "Do you think he'll take an interest?"

  "I doubt it."

  "That's a shame. I was hoping..." He paused. "Well, if the need ever arose, I'm sure he'd back you up."

  Lydia nodded, as if he could see her, agreeing with him. She was more interested with what she saw on the computer. "I gotta go, Dad. I'll call you later."

  She watched the figures flash across the screen, occasion­ally double-checking something of interest on the printout sheet. Then, lighting a cigarette, she phoned Sharon.

  "It's me."

  "I knew it," Sharon said, snickering. "It's about time."

  Lydia laughed. "I need some insanity desperately, and you were the first person I…. Wait a minute. What do you mean, it's about time?"

  "I called you earlier. Didn't Greg tell you? He said you were in the bathroom or something."

  Silence.

  "I asked him to have you call me back."

  "When was this?"

  "I don't know, sometime around two. I told him it was as close to an emergency as it could get without being a matter of life or death. And boy, was that an understatement."

  "He never told me. Damn him!"

  "Probably wanted you to himself. You know how he is. Anyway, you ready for my news?"

  "No! Goddamn, he makes me mad when he does shit like this!"

  "Maybe he just forgot."

  "I doubt it."

  "Me too."

  "Imagine what he'll be like once we're married."

  "Married? As in, you said yes?"

  "Oh, didn't he tell you?"

  "No, I barely got five words out. Now can I tell you about my news?"

  Lydia drew a breath and sighed. "Yeah, go ahead."

  "You sitting down?"

  Lydia's throat tightened. "Yes."

  "I'm pregnant."

  "Pregnant?"

  "Yes, pregnant. Me! Can you believe it?"

  "No, you never let on."

  "I had no way of knowing. I never missed a period. Though, thinking back on it, the last one was iffy."

  "How in the hell can a period be iffy? And how can you have one and be pregnant?"

  "I don't know. But I went to the doctor today for my Pap test, and he gave me the news. I peed in a cup and everything. I'm about six weeks."

  "I thought you were taking the pill."

  "I was. You know how forgetful I am."

  "Did you tell Brian?"

  "Not yet. I'm going to tell him tomorrow. We're going out to dinner."

  "How do you think he's going to react?"

  "I don't know. If I had your talent, I'd read him before I told him and spare myself if…."

  "How do you feel about it?"

  "Well...I'm not sure. It's not like I'm fourteen or any­thing. And I'm healthy, so I think I'll be all right."

  "I meant, are you happy about it?"

  "Sort of, although I'm not looking forward to getting any fatter."

  Lydia could have laughed at that, but Sharon's voice had cracked. "Well, if you're happy, so am I." Then she added, for the thousandth time in their lives, "And you're not fat."

  Sharon hesitated. "Not yet. But hey, who knows, maybe I'll get boobs like yours and not care."

  Lydia was quiet for a moment. They both were, and they were both close to tears. "Did you tell your parents?"

  "No. I thought I'd get Brian's reaction first. There's no sense telling them, if it bombs with him."

  Lydia swallowed. "You mean, you'd consider an abor­tion?"

  "I don't know. I'm trying not to think that far ahead."

  Lydia swallowed harder, a lump forming in her throat. Sharon was clear across town, and yet she could almost see her. She was wiping her nose with the back of her hand the way she always did when crying. "Do you need anything?"

  Sharon couldn't answer at first. "You mean like pickles and ice cream?"

  Now it was Lydia who couldn't answer, and again, there was a silent understanding between them.

  "Oh God, Lydia…I'm so afraid. What if Brian…? What if he...?"

  Tears trickled down Lydia's face. What could she say? She and Sharon weren't ones to lie to each other. "You call me tomorrow, okay?"

  "Okay."

  * * *

  Lydia spent half the night going over the printout sheets she'd brought home, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of Scotch in the other. Consequently, after finally falling asleep, when she woke, it was to a hangover.

  She moaned, cleared her throat, coughed, stumbled, and made some of those same old promises about never drinking on an empty stomach again, hoping she could talk herself into feeling better. But the promises didn't help, nor did the hot, hot, shower, and several cups of coffee. When she arrived at the plant, she felt like she could just die. She stopped in the cafeteria for another cup of coffee, thanking God no one was in there, and made her way to the stairs.

  The stairs….Oh Jesus, the stairs. They made her dizzy just looking at them. So dizzy she had to sit down. And that's where she was, just sitting there, her elbow on her knee and her face in her hand, when Tony opened the door and started in. One look had him shaking his head. "Having trouble making it all the way?"

  "It's either that," Lydia said in a raspy voice, "or an early coffee break. Take your pick."

  Tony stared at her for a moment, then turned. "Page me when you get your act together."

  "Why? Did you need to see me?"

  Tony looked at her. "Yeah., but I think I've seen enough of you for the time being."

  Lydia chose to ignore his sarcasm and grabbing hold of the banister, rose slowly to her feet. "You'd better come up now. I plan on going to Forrester and I may be there awhile."

  Tony crossed his arms and assumed an even more critical stance. "Well I sure hope you wait before you go over."

  Lydia frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Did you look in a mirror this morning?"

  Lydia gazed down at her gray slacks and sweater. The shoes matched too. "What? What's wrong with this?"

  "Nothing. It's you. Your eyes look like road maps. I don't think you could hold your hands still if you tried. You can't even stand up straight. You go over there now, and you're gonna make one hell of a first impression."

  Lydia' s mouth dropped. "You know you really have a lot of nerve."

  "Yeah, I know. Now come on, I've got a lot of things to do, and holding your hand until you sober up isn't one of them." He started up the stairs, stopping halfway to make sure she was following him, and was seated and going over his notes when she finally appeared at the door.

  "We lost five of our spindle operators," he said, without so much as even waiting for her to sit down. "Four off the CNCs, and eight, maybe nine out of assembly."

  Lydia lowered herself into a chair across from him and stared. On the way up, she'd thought of a gazillion things to say to put him in his place. But they'd vanished. All she could think about was how miserable she felt.

  "The only one I wish hadn't jumped ship was the lead Kingsbury operator."

  "Jumped ship?" Lydia said sarcastically. "I think you've been around Reed too much."

  Tony propped his elbow on the table, giving her one of those looks of his. "That operator's going to be hard to replace. As it is, though, we're going to be...."

  Lydia's mind wandered. How was it that he could be so nice one day and such a son of a
bitch the next? Saturday he was fine…and now today, here he was, hairy chest and all under that crisp white shirt of his, giving her a hard time. Couldn't he show some compassion?

  Tony could see she wasn't listening and waited for her to lookup. "Hey, I already know all of this. I'm just reporting in."

  "Sorry," Lydia said. "I uh...." She couldn't think of any­thing to say and, feeling self-conscious, decided she needed a cigarette. Lighting it, however, turned out to be a major feat,

  and she was just about to give up, when Tony reached over and steadied her hand.

  "I'm going to make your day here," he said, once it was lit. "I think we'll be able to roll back to two shifts starting tomorrow."

  Lydia looked confused. "Tomorrow?" She'd told Reed she hadn't read any of Tony's thoughts, and she hadn't. But that was only because she'd tried and couldn't. She was trying now and still couldn't. Yet there was something in his eyes.

  "I'd like to give them a little more notice, but...."

  "Well, you can give them a few more days."

  Tony shook his head. "The word's out, Miss Lydia. You've got to go for it now. Otherwise, given those few days, they'll rob you blind."

  Lydia sat back and took a drag off her cigarette. She hated it when he corrected her, not to mention calling her Miss Lydia.

  "With keeping six of the operators from third, moving them up and bumping others, the way I figure it, you'll only have a handful working overtime. But in the long run...."

  "Wait a minute. I said no overtime."

  "Yeah, I know. But it's the only way I could go on some of them. They lose that shift allowance and don't want to take a cut, and they can get a job just about anywhere."

  "Then let 'em."

  Tony shook his head. "With that attitude, you're going to be running the shop yourself."

  Lydia leaned forward. "I'm not in the position to pay overtime. I thought I made that clear."

  "You did. But like I said, it can't be helped. We'll have to make it up some other way." Then, as if it were a closed subject, he looked down at his notes and continued. "There's seven from first, nine from second, and fifteen from third we can let go in addition to the ones that split."

  Lydia sat back, drawing a deep breath and sighing. This man was so exasperating. Had she felt any better....

  "You’ll have to carry the hospitalization on eleven of them for another month. The rest aren't on yet, I checked, so…."

  "Okay, so we'll save money there. But how do you justify a layoff and allow overtime?" She thought for sure she had him here.

  "You just do," Tony said. "Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."

  She should've known better, she told herself. "All right. How do you intend to keep up with the production after all these cuts?" This wouldn't be so easy to dismiss.

  "Well, for one thing, and I don't want quoted on this until I check it out further, there's the brass job. It's the one we just assemble. I think we should sub it out."

  Lydia had no idea which job he was referring to, but wasn't about to let him know that. "Oh really?" she said.

  Tony gave her another one of those looks of his. "Yeah, really. And though I doubt you know what assembly I'm talking about, it ties up the whole department once it's set up, and with cutting back, that's not gonna work. We're going to need it for jobs run in-house as they're routed."

  Lydia studied his features as he explained this to her, and when he grew quiet, now looking at her the same way, she found herself stammering. "Um... what about the possibility of somebody's, uh...tampering with the parts like we talked about?"

  Tony smiled, allowing her that change of thought. After all, she had been keeping up fairly well until then. "What about it?"

  "Is it still happening?"

  "No, not since."

  Lydia looked at him, then stood up slowly, checking her balance, and walked over to the window. The Bible reader was loading his machine. "It was Forrester, Tony. I just know it."

  Tony didn't comment on that one way or the other. As she looked out over the shop and then walked back, he just watched her.

  She reached for a cigarette, lit it, and turned to say something she'd just thought of but Tony was looking at her breasts and she turned away quickly, as if she'd been the one caught looking where she shouldn't have. She sat down, flustered by her reaction, and the sudden feeling of warmth stirred. "Um...what are we gonna do? Just watch and see if it happens again?"

  "No," Tony said. "Not that I wouldn't like to catch someone in the act. But I can't be here all the time, and I don't know who…." He hesitated. "If I ask for help and approach the wrong person...."

  Lydia nodded, understanding what he was implying. "So what are you going to do then?"

  Tony rested his elbow on the table and, combing his fingers through his hair, was just about to tell her, when in came Reed, smiling apprehensively and talking a mile a minute as he sat down between them.

  "Well, what's up? You two fighting again or getting along? I can't tell. Are we still on for Forrester?" And finally, "Don't you look exceptionally pretty today."

  Lydia rolled her eyes. "Not according to him," she said, motioning to Tony.

  "Why not?" Reed turned to Tony and smacked him on the arm. "What's wrong with how she looks?"

  Tony's response to this was a cold stare and nothing else, as Reed rambled on. "Speaking of looking good, the woman we saw you with the other day in the parking lot—the one in your car. Not bad. Not bad at all. Still seeing her, or is her time up?"

  Again, all he got from Tony was a cold stare, so he turned to Lydia with a charming smile on his face. "He changes them every week," he said, sounding like the bragger and yet green with envy. "The shop even has a pool. I hear four days is a good bet."

  What this act was all about was obvious to Lydia and apparently Tony too, because he gathered his notes and, tucking them into his shirt pocket, stood up to leave.

  Reed was on a roll, though. It wasn't often he got the best of Tony. "I was just having a little fun with you, Tony," he said, sounding ever so polite. "I'm sorry. But if you have a minute, I'd like you to stick around and fill me in on…."

  Tony shut him up with a look, one that said, "Enough," and one he knew well. He should have quit while he was ahead. "Lydia can fill you in. I've been up here too long as it is," he said, walking out.

  Reed drew a breath and sighed. "Well, what do you make of that?" he said and started rambling again. "Talk about moody. Was he here all night again? Maybe he needs some sleep. So are you ready to go to Forrester? Or has there been a change of plans?"

  He reminded Lydia of a hyperactive child who'd just eaten a candy bar. "How do my eyes look?"

  "Beautiful."

  "You lie!" Lydia said, chuckling. "I can still feel them, so I can just imagine what they must look like. Give me about half an hour. Then we'll go."

  * * *

  Forrester Corporation was considerably different than Lydia had expected. "Jesus!" she said, halfway up the walk. "Look how small they are. We're twice their size. Who the hell do they think they are?"

  Reed laughed. "Small, yes, but from what I understand, they've been upgrading their equipment. And I've heard they...."

  Lydia interrupted him. "Did you hear this from Tony?"

  "No, this is since he left," Reed said, opening the door for her. "He never talks about it much anyway."

  Lydia acknowledged that with a nod and, walking in, looked around the lobby. "I wonder what this Julius Randall is like?"

  "I met him once at a trade fair," Reed said, lowering his voice. "We were both admiring a machining center. It was state of the art."

  Oh my God, Lydia thought, he's in corporate mode already, oozing clichés. "Is he young, old, fat, skinny?"

  Reed chuckled. "The strangest things interest you," he said, tapping on the receptionist's window and listening to hear if anyone was coming. "He's short, middle aged, and ugly as sin, for whatever it's worth."

  Lydia sat down on
one of the two chairs and picked up a magazine. "It's worth a lot. It gives me a head start on psyching him out. Did he seem well adjusted? You know, happy?"

  "No. He was complaining."

  "Hmph," Lydia said.

  Reed smiled. She was so confident. And she was going to be his. His and his alone.

  The receptionist opened the window behind him, and when he turned, the woman's face lit up. "Can I help you?" she asked.

  He smiled. He was used to this type of reaction. It got him through a lot of doors. "Yes. We' d like to see Julius Randall."

  The woman glanced at Lydia. "Is he expecting you?"

  "No," Reed said. "Tell him it's Lydia Merchant and Will Reed of Merchant Manufacturing. I'm sure he'll see us."

  The woman nodded, as if she were sure also, left, and was back in just a few minutes. "He'll see you. Follow me please."

  As they walked down the hall, Lydia couldn't help but notice how filthy the place was. The walls were covered with greasy handprints, the floor had an oily path down the center, and there were cigarette butts everywhere. She couldn't imagine Tony here.

  Julius Randall stood up from his desk as they were shown in, and once introductions and handshakes were out of the way, they sat down across from him.

  Lydia lit a cigarette without asking, seeing as Julius was smoking, a large cigar no less, and made herself comfortable, turning a little to one side and looking more like a beauty pageant contestant than the head of a company. She even went so far as to tilt her head seductively to feel him out.

  "I'm here to make you a proposition, Julius," she said, pausing only long enough to read his expression. "I'm bank­ing on you having the balls to take me up on it."

  Reed almost died when she said this, but judging from Julius's response, she was obviously talking his language.

  "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

  Lydia didn't hesitate. "Well, I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but Merchant is in trouble."

  Julius nodded. "So I've heard."

  "Oh?" Lydia said.

  Julius smiled, the way one does when they think they know something you don't. "A few of your people came to see me yesterday."

  Lydia took a drag off her cigarette. "Well, I guess there's no sense in my beating around the bush then, so I'll get right to the point. I think you're to blame for most of my troubles and I want you to make it right."