by Anne McClane
“Who knows? But it’s not the sort of compliment he’s likely to make often, I know that.”
“Also interesting. So, how’s the bartender?” Lacey asked.
Kevin Horner’s cheeks tinged red. “Who?” he replied, covering.
Lacey elbowed him in the ribs, a final punctuation to their moment on the Natchez. She had gone from potential hookup to wingman in less than two hours.
“C’mon. I’ve never seen anyone volunteer so quickly to get drinks. We were barely even in the door. She’s pretty,” Lacey continued after a pause. She could almost see him course-correct. He must think wingman was a good fit for Lacey.
“Well, the sex we had in the office was phenomenal,” he said.
Lacey laughed. “It couldn’t have been that great, you were only gone a few minutes.”
“It was so good it warped space and time.” He went shoulder to shoulder with her, and pointed to the doorframe around the office. “You see, you can just make out the blurred edges around the door. Where I warped space and time.”
“I’ve been in that office,” Lacey said before she could stop herself. “You’d have to warp space to fit two people in there.”
“That sounds like a story,” Kevin said.
“Oh, no,” Lacey said. “It’s not, no story.” She folded her arms.
Kevin butted her in the shoulder again. “Ha, it’s so totally a story! I want to hear it.”
“It’s a story not yet ripe for the telling,” another voice said.
Eli. He appeared and took his seat opposite them.
“Yes, thank you,” Lacey said, freaked out by his observation. “And it’s not even a story.”
“It will be,” Eli said. His eye floated toward the jukebox.
“Dude, knock off the Yoda routine,” Kevin said. He pushed his beer in front of him.
Eli took a sip, and a rare smile passed over his face as a new song started. It was LeViticum’s cover of “Time Passages.”
“Nice choice,” Lacey said to Eli. Jimmy will appreciate the support.
“Do you know the original?” Kevin said. “I just heard it recently for the first time. It sounds nothing like this version.”
“I have to disagree,” Eli said. “It’s the same structure, just taken to a minor key.”
“If that meant anything to me, maybe I would agree with you,” Kevin said.
Lacey was glad their attention had shifted elsewhere. “Which version do you prefer?” she asked.
They both agreed on the current version. “Me too,” Lacey said.
Eli said how he wished LeViticum had incorporated synthesizers into their version, but short of that, thought their version was superior. That launched an animated discussion of whether it was okay to change the lyrics when covering a song, with Kevin staunchly opposed, and Eli taking the pro position.
Lacey settled into the role of devil’s advocate, on this and most of the other topics that came up into the wee hours of the morning. She was surprised by how comfortable she felt with them. Her need to interrogate Eli lost its urgency. The artful burn marks on her back were hidden from view, and she felt no ill effects.
Kevin’s trips to the bar increased as the crowd dwindled, even though they were well set for drinks. Sometime south of two a.m. he repositioned himself there permanently.
Alone with Eli, some part of Lacey thought she should grab the opportunity. She went to speak, and stifled a yawn instead.
“I’ll make sure you get to your car,” Eli said.
Lacey looked at him and nodded. “Let me tell Kevin goodbye.”
The bartender’s back was turned. “Guess I’m going, then,” Lacey said as she approached Kevin.
“No!” Kevin said. “We’re having too much fun.”
Lacey ignored his comment and half smiled. “I’m kind of sorry I forfeited my turn for her,” she said above a whisper, nodding at the bartender. “But I like her, though.”
Kevin Horner looked very excited. “Three way?”
Lacey laughed and shook her head. “Jesus, you are bold!” She kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t share the spotlight. ’Til the next time?”
“You can count on it.” He jumped off his barstool and grabbed Lacey in a big bear hug, lifting her off the ground.
Back on solid footing, she walked toward the door.
She flipped her hair, looked over her shoulder at the once and future Dakota Kid, and said her sexiest “Bye!”
The look on his face said everything Lacey wanted it to.
At the threshold, Lacey stopped short. Tesla’s “Love Song” began to play. She turned around, but the Kid had already reengaged with the bartender. Before her, Eli waited on the sidewalk.
“Is your song selection still playing?” she asked Eli.
They stood side by side. He turned his ear, and then nodded without looking at her.
“Big fan of Tesla?” she asked, staring straight ahead.
“I like how they chose their name,” he answered, as if that was what everyone should like about the band.
Lacey had never thought about it before. They had always been grouped in her head as one of an amalgam of hair bands for which her brother had an inexplicable affinity.
She bit. “What’s behind their name?”
“They named themselves after the inventor Nikola Tesla.”
“Oh! Geez. I never made the connection before.”
Eli turned to her with a disappointed look. “They are all around you, if you would only see them.”
A car pulled up, the same one that had delivered them. Eli walked around to speak to the driver.
What does that mean? Connections are all around me? Did he know that song was in my head earlier? Lacey was dumbfounded.
Eli came back and opened the door for her.
“Reggie will take care of you; she’ll make sure you get to your car safely,” he said. He stood like a sentry, blocking her way to the passenger seat. “Have you been to the New Orleans Healing Center?” he asked.
“No,” Lacey answered. She had never heard of it, but the name struck her.
“You should go,” Eli said. “There’s much for you to learn. Good evening, Lacey.” He stepped out of her way.
Time froze as she lowered her head to enter the car. She turned to look at Eli. “Good night,” she said. Eli was already through the door of Redd’s.
The driver, Reggie, had a voice tinged with caramel and a lovely complexion. “Back to the Natchez?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Lacey said. She buckled herself in, surprised that her body was in the car when her mind felt all over the place.
Lacey stared straight ahead, replaying her exchange with Eli. And it came as quickly as a light switch. Eli’s bald head, his cryptic demeanor, his seeming ability to read her thoughts.
Eli was Professor X.
22
On Monday, Lacey was ready. She would go in late to the office, tender her resignation, and if Trip wanted her to leave immediately, she would go to the New Orleans Healing Center. She would go there today even if he didn’t usher her out the door.
But she was certain all would go as she imagined, with Trip expressing dismay but taking it in stride. Trip’s Jaguar XK was in his designated spot, so she knew he was there. She ran through her script for the millionth time as she rode the elevator up to the office.
She turned the key to the front door, strode to her desk, and prepared to drop her purse and head straight into Trip’s office. But his office door was shut. That was the first sign all would not go as planned.
The antiquated HVAC system in their building worked best when it could cool the space without the obstacles of closed doors. It was not so unusual for Trip to enclose himself in his office in the winter to tend to secretive Rex duties, but in the summer months he was too delicate a flower to withstand the heat.
Lacey sat at her desk and watched the river. Nary a ship in sight. She checked the phone and saw all lines were open. She traine
d her ear, and heard Trip in conversation with a female voice. Even more peculiar. Lacey booked all his meetings, and if he happened to arrange something himself, she was sure to hear of it because he would brag incessantly about his independence.
She opened a spreadsheet and pretended to study it. She kept her eyes on the screen when Trip’s door opened, looking over with a casual head-turn after a moment. A pretty girl seemed to hang on Trip’s every word. With her black hair tied up in a long ponytail, and her basic black business suit, she looked like the casting-call version of a fresh-out-of-college job applicant. There was a slight sheen on both their faces, and Trip’s white button-down showed a widening sweat stain. Pretty Pony shook Trip’s hand, smiled broadly at Lacey when she saw her at her desk, and walked out the door.
Trip stood in his doorway, an unusually steely gaze aimed straight at Lacey. She raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged his shoulders and motioned her into his office. He fooled with the thermostat just inside his doorway.
“Who was that?” Lacey asked in the most innocent, non-accusatory voice she could muster.
“Your replacement,” he replied.
Lacey’s stomach fell.
Trip smiled at her reaction. Which did nothing to make Lacey feel better.
“Have a seat,” he said.
She took the nearest of his well-appointed leather guest chairs, noticing only too late that it was still wet with Pretty Pony’s sweat. At least she’s human, Lacey thought.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” she said, loud enough for Trip to hear.
“I’d imagine not,” he replied as he left the thermostat and came around the desk.
He sat and said nothing, obviously amused. Lacey imagined canary feathers poking out the sides of his mouth.
Lacey asked, “Did you know I was planning to resign today?”
Trip laughed. “Were you actually going to do it today? That’s brilliant.”
Lacey couldn’t hide her shock. She wasn’t sure what confounded her more—that Trip might be more perceptive than she’d ever given him credit for, or that he’d actually taken the initiative to hire someone without her assistance.
Her stomach sank even further at an errant thought—had Nathan revealed her plans to Trip? He’d said they weren’t friends, but they ran in the same “social circles.”
Never one to play out a joke too long, Trip cleared his throat, like he was coughing out a feather. “Best Practice Number Three,” he said. “Wait, which one was that one, again? ‘Never interrupt’? Or was it ‘Never claim to know anyone higher…’”
He trailed off when he saw the desired reaction on Lacey’s face: beet red, eyes wide with mortification.
“Oh shit!” she said as she put her face in her hands.
And it began. Her breath came in short gasps, her head trembled. She looked up and faced Trip, laughing hysterically.
He looked at her uneasily.
“God, I’m so sorry, Trip, that was a joke, I was bored! I had no idea— I never intended— I can’t believe you actually saw that!”
Trip took a pregnant pause, letting Lacey settle.
“Honestly, Becnel,” he said, “I would never had guessed you had that caustic edge to you. I might be more impressed than hurt.”
That was hardly caustic, Lacey thought. She even considered saying it aloud, now that there was truly nothing to lose.
“Really, Trip, I am so sorry,” she offered instead.
“Becnel, think about it. You know, and I know, it’s time. Not to be indelicate about this, but I knew after you lost Fox that it could only be a matter of time before you sought out new employment.”
“It’s time,” Lacey repeated his sentiment.
“Yes. But I was waiting for you make the first move. I certainly couldn’t push you out, a recent widow. Besides the legal ramifications, what kind of insensitive prick would that make me?”
Lacey laughed involuntarily.
“Don’t answer that,” he continued. “So I happened to see your ‘employee manual,’ snooped around, and saw the start of a resignation letter open on the same screen.”
Lacey was horrified at the thought of Trip looking at her computer, even though she knew he had every right. What else might he have seen?
She tried to play it off. “I’m curious, Trip, why didn’t you say something to me about it? We could have come to this point sooner, and maybe I could have helped you recruit.”
“Well, Becnel, I think that qualifies as ‘none of your beeswax,’” Trip said, delighted by his use of colloquialism. “But in the interest of honoring our nine years together, truth is, this thing with Katelyn just materialized. You know of Evan Long, don’t you? Katelyn is his associate’s daughter. Evan owes him, I owe Evan. Katelyn graduated cum laude from USL, she wants to stay in the city, have a good job, but have the flexibility to plan her wedding.”
“Sounds familiar,” Lacey said as she reminisced about her first interview with Carriere & Associates, about ten months before she married Fox.
“Exactly.” He finally seemed to lighten up.
“And it’s ULL, you know,” she said.
“Pardon?”
“It’s not called USL anymore, it’s the University of Louisiana at Lafayette now, ULL. Maybe she won’t think you’re an insensitive prick if you refer to her alma mater by the proper name.”
“Hmm.” He seemed not to hear her. “And as far as not approaching you, I didn’t want to spoil your surprise. I knew it would be coming, and wanted to let you tell me in your own right.”
“So much for that,” Lacey said.
“I would like to maximize whatever time we have left,” Trip said, ignoring her comment. “You can give me at least six weeks, can’t you? To train Katelyn?”
Six weeks? It felt like forever.
“When does she start?” she asked.
“Oh, let’s see,” Trip glanced down at a note on his desk. “Not until August fifth. There’s some sort of nonsense about a trip to Europe. I tried to force her to start sooner, but she said something about a graduation present, and her parents having planned for five years, if you can believe that.”
Probably planned and saved for five years, Lacey thought.
“Yes, I can believe that,” she replied. “It shouldn’t be a problem, Trip. I don’t exactly have things lined up on my end yet,” she said. It was liberating to be so candid with him.
“What are you thinking of, if you don’t mind me asking? Were you thinking of staying in New Orleans?”
Lacey tried not to wonder why he was being so solicitous.
“I’m thinking of getting into film production. There seems to be so much work going on in the city, so maybe I could work here, but I’m also pretty free to travel now.”
Trip’s face darkened. “You know, Gus Savin has a hand in that business.”
“I’m not surprised by that,” Lacey said. “It’s a big business. Some investors might be attracted by the ‘glamour’ of it all.”
“Should I consider investing?” Trip asked. She knew he was now playing their old game. He wasn’t interested in her answer; he merely wanted to stake a claim against Savin.
“I’ll keep an ear out for any opportunities for you,” she offered, forcing a smile.
“There’s a sport,” Trip said. He had moved on to some new distraction on his desktop monitor. Lacey recognized the cue and rose from her sweaty chair.
Her back turned to him, she had nearly escaped his office when he asked, “By the way, Becnel, who are Marva and Roland?”
Lacey rolled her eyes and put a hand to her mouth. “Nothing. No one. It was all just a joke.”
“He actually said ‘insensitive prick’?” Jimmy asked.
When Lacey tried calling her brother on a whim and actually got him, she couldn’t believe her luck.
“Yes! Those words came out of his mouth!!”
“Well, think about it, Budgie,” he said. She could hear him chewing on something. “It�
��s not really that surprising how this all played out. His office—you—your position, the whole thing. It’s all window dressing for him, you’ve said as much yourself.”
“Yeah, I know,” she nearly shouted over the hands-free in her car. “It’s all there so he can have a semblance of a vocation. A profession to put on his tax returns. But still, I guess I’m just disappointed in myself.”
“Why?”
“I hate being surprised,” she said, stopping at a red light. “I was so sure how the whole thing would play out.”
“I’m gonna offer a few words of brotherly advice, Budge,” Jimmy said. Lacey knew she wouldn’t be able to keep him on the phone much longer.
“Go ahead.”
“Leaving this job is just one kind of negotiation. You’ll have to get used to that,” he said.
“Get used to what?”
“Negotiating. I’m guessing you haven’t had much experience with it. At least, not at work.”
“No, I guess not.” The light turned green.
“The thing about negotiations is that the only way to prepare is to prepare for anything. People can conceal lots of things in their day-to-day life, but when it comes down to negotiating something important, they’ll reveal their true colors.”
“But we don’t think Trip’s job is important to him. And my position, certainly not.”
“The actual work, no, but the appearance, yes,” Jimmy said. “The illusion is paramount to him—that his chumleys in Rex perceive him to be active in some sort of business and have employees. That’s important.”
“How can you live so far away and know so much?”
“New Orleans’s bullshit social-Uptown-deb scene turned out to be a pretty good primer for the music biz.”
Lacey couldn’t let one thing go. “Chump, what if he hadn’t known I was planning to leave already? Do you think he would still have done this?”
Jimmy laughed. “Christ, Lacey, you’ve got to stop overthinking this thing. Think about where you are—you’re in a good position.”
“I am?” Lacey wasn’t convinced.
“Quit being a ninny,” he said. “Look, you’ve still got six weeks’ salary coming, and you know you can short-time him in a big way. Hell, you could probably insult him to his face now, now that you’re not essential to the illusion anymore.”