by Alicia Ryan
“I think you should get down here, Herman. Something’s happened to Mary.”
“What? Price? Is that you? Where are you?”
“In the ladies on the first floor. Lucian sent me down to HR to fill out some paperwork, and when I came by Mary’s desk, she was sporting a real shiner and crying into some Kleenex.”
“Oh my,” Herman said. “But wait – are you working here now, too? And why are you in the ladies?”
“Because I’m Tricia, you moron,” he said in her voice.
A light clicked in Herman’s mind. “Oh. Oh…okay. That makes sort of sense. But why?”
“To help Charlie prove his theory,” she whispered. “Now get down here. I can explain more tonight.”
Herman hung up and made for the mailroom. The incoming rounds for the first floor were ready, and there were letters for Mary Louise, so Herman told Ernie he’d take those around before lunch.
He made Mary’s cube his first stop. There was no sign of Tricia or Price – just Mary drying her eyes.
“Here are some letters for you, Mary,” he said gently.
She turned to take them from him, and he saw the huge bruise on her left cheek.
“My God,” he said. “Did that man do that to you?”
She took the letters. “No, of course not,” she said on a sigh. “Don’t be silly, Herman.” She reached up and untucked her hair from behind her ear, causing it to fall forward and cover more of the left side of her face.
Herman slowly reached out a hand and grasped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilted her head to the side. “Don’t tell me you tripped,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s right,” she whispered. “I tripped.”
“Funny, tripping doesn’t usually leave finger prints behind.”
She turned away. “It doesn’t matter, Herman. Please don’t get involved. Frankly, the less I see of you, the better. Not that it will matter after today.”
“Why not? Are you leaving him?”
She gave him a strange look. “No. I’m resigning. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be waiting tables out at the diner on Route 8.”
Herman felt the breath whoosh out of him as a wave of anger and helplessness roiled his insides. That man was hurting Mary and taking her away from him.
“Please, Herman,” she said, “you’ve given me the letters. Just go.”
He did as she asked, finished his rounds on the first floor, and stopped in the hallway to call Price.
“Hello,” answered Tricia’s voice.
“I saw that black eye,” he said. “Did you also know she’s leaving? She’s resigning today.”
“Oh,” Tricia said, “that complicates things doesn’t it?”
“She’s going to wait tables at some diner.”
“Hmm. Well, let me see what I can do before the end of the day. Then, I guess we’ll just have to start patronizing that diner.”
“We have to help her,” Herman said.
“I know, I know,” Price agreed. “We’re working as fast as we can. Give it just a few more days, okay? We have a good plan. Trust me, if we stick with it, she won’t have to put up with him for much longer.”
Herman hung up, somewhat relieved. He even agreed to go to the snack bar on the first floor with Ernie and Oscar for lunch.
While they were eating, two young women came around and told them there would be a farewell party for Mary near their cubicles that afternoon at four – and would they like to chip in for cake and sodas?
Herman gave them ten bucks.
“Wonder why she’s leaving?” Oscar asked.
“Why does anybody leave this place?” Ernie posited. “Found something better, I’d imagine.”
“Let’s hope,” said Oscar.
“It’s too bad,” Ernie said. “She was kind of cute.”
“Yeah, she really was,” agreed Oscar.
Herman shook his head. “You realize you’re talking about her like she’s dead, right? She’s just leaving the company.”
Ernie and Oscar both shrugged.
“I’m sure it’s the last we’ll see of her,” Ernie said. “It’s not like people come back here to talk about the good old days.”
Herman made a silent vow that it wouldn’t be the last he would see of her and if she wanted her job back at this crappy company, she’d soon be able to have that, too.
***
The farewell party was a bizarre, somber affair. Cake and drinks were set up in one of the small corner conference rooms on the first floor. Lucian came down and said a few words, though he took the time to remind other employees that company policy was to give two weeks of notice. After his speech, he divided his time equally between Tricia and the cake table, trailing after each with a greedy glint in his eye.
Tricia rather adeptly kept him at arm’s length, but every eye in the room noticed her paying special attention to Charlie. She listened rapt as he talked about his accident and what he did as an accountant at the company. She even complemented Lucian on having such a clever nephew, which Lucian took with relative good grace as a reflection on Tricia’s desire to get on his own good side.
Mary sat surrounded by a few female friends, keeping her left side mostly turned toward the wall, Herman noticed. He stood with Ernie and Oscar, listening as they debated how they could get a picture of Tricia for the mailroom and whether that would be considered creating a hostile work environment. His eyes never left Mary.
When the crowd began to thin noticeably, Herman finally took his cue and went over to shake Mary’s hand.
“I do hope things work out well for you,” he said. “Sometimes change is good – maybe some changes are just what you need.”
“Thanks, Herman. I appreciate it.”
“Goodbye, Mary.”
***
Back at the apartment, Herman was as low as he’d ever been. He just lay on his bed, staring up at the white, sprayed-on ceiling. Neither Price nor Tricia had yet made an appearance. He needed to see Price to tell him there was no way he was going to a party tonight. Seeing a bruised, hopeless Mary had just about ripped his insides out.
A sudden whoosh from the living room alerted him that he was no longer alone. He got up and went to tell Price the news.
Only it wasn’t Price. It was Lydia.
“Oh, hi,” he said, taken aback. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your lover?”
He crossed over to her and kissed her long and hard on the mouth. “No, I suppose not,” he said, lifting his head. “It’s just been kind of a bad day, and I was expecting Price.”
“I’m sure Price will be back in time for the party,” she said. “Why don’t you pour us both a drink and tell me what went wrong?”
Herman nodded, stepping back.
In a long off-white sweater cinched with a red belt over caramel-colored suede pants and matching heeled boots, Lydia looked like a beautiful Christmas present. Herman had a momentary desire to unwrap her, but this was washed away by guilt and the memory of Mary Louise’s bruised face.
He poured them both a whiskey – that seemed to be all there was in the house – and told Lydia about Mary Louise.
“Guess it’s a good thing I came over then,” Lydia concluded. “You really don’t have any time to waste.”
“No offense, Lydia, but I just don’t feel like…you know…right now.”
“Well, Mr. Presumptuous, what makes you think I’m here for sex?”
Herman’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. Wow. I’m really sorry. I didn’t even ask. After last night, I just assumed…”
“Well, you assumed correctly,” she said, “but you should never assume.”
“Duly noted,” Herman said, recovering a little of his composure.
“But you’re looking at this all wrong,” Lydia pointed out. “If you want to help Mary Louise, you have to break whatever hold it is Red Bull has over her. It won’t be enough to send him away. At best, she’d just wind up with some other
jerk. You have to unfreeze her heart and make her believe in herself again. You can’t do that without some knowledge under your belt – so to speak.”
“I know…I just…”
“Herman, right now you can’t kiss Mary Louise and make all her troubles go away. Soon, hopefully very soon, you’ll be able to do just that.”
She put down her drink and took his hand. “Now come into the bedroom with me and show me what that would be like. You can pretend I’m her if you want. Show me how you’d kiss your troubled love if she were here.”
Herman followed one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen into his bedroom with a mixture of guilt and awe. When she uncinched her belt and slipped out of her sweater, awe won out as he admired the contrast of her lightly tanned skin against the lacy red bra.
He moved toward her, pulling her close, once again putting his lips to hers. This kiss was gentler than before. He did imagine she was Mary Louise, and he took his time exploring every nuance of her lovely mouth. More than that, the kiss was comforting, though by the end of it, he wasn’t sure who was comforting whom. Lydia, he knew, was giving him exactly what she thought he needed. Perhaps that was another part of the lesson.
He kissed her again, this time not pretending she was someone else, but just admiring the beautiful, intriguing woman he had in his arms.
“You know there may be some points tonight where it seems like I’m just giving you instructions,” she said when their lips finally parted. “That’s because I’ve decided we’re going to cover in one night what you’d normally get over three or four or five.”
Herman raised his brows. “You may be giving me too much credit.”
Lydia shook her head. “No, I’m positive you’re going to be a fast learner. Besides, by the end, I’m going to be begging for it.”
She stepped closer to him and ran a warm hand down his arm. “Have you ever had a woman beg you, Herman?” she whispered.
A shot of liquid heat ran all the way through him. “No,” he whispered back.
“Then trust me. It’s all going to be worth it.”
And it was.
***
Herman was roused by Price shaking him.
“Jesus, man what’s been going on in here? Just the smell is making me horny. You have a girlfriend I don’t know about?”
Herman shook his head to clear the sleep from his brain. Lydia. He looked at the rumpled, empty bed. Surprising. He would have guessed she was a cuddler, but she did mention something about having to get ready for the party.
“Lydia came by,” he explained.
“Oh. Wow. I didn’t know they made house calls. That’s some service Ariel’s got there. And she throws a hell of a party, let me tell you. You need to get up and get ready. Or rather Tuesday needs to get ready. I think it’s time to take him for a test run, don’t you?”
Price made as if to leave the room.
“Wait,” Herman called out. “Don’t you think you owe me some explanation? What’s with the whole Tricia business? I thought we were in this together. Don’t I at least deserve to be told when you change the plan?”
“I’m changing the plan.”
Herman grunted. “What are you up to?”
“Well, I just got back from having a drink with Charlie, so that should boost his self esteem a bit.”
“You’re dating Charlie now?”
“Not dating. I let him buy me a drink. We chatted. I flirted with him a bit. Nothing fancy. I told him I was just looking to make friends.”
Herman ran his hand over his face. “This could go wrong in a lot of ways. You know that, right?”
“Oh, come on. It’s less risky than what we’re planning for you and Mary. Besides, that’s only half the plan. I’m also keeping an eye out to see if I can figure out how Lucian is skimming the till.”
“Oh, brother,” Herman said. “What do you know about business or accounting? For that matter, can you even type? How are you posing as a secretary?”
“I can type as well as I need to when I look like Tricia.”
Herman groaned and lay back on the bed. “Get out of my room. We’ll talk more when I’m dressed.”
“And showered,” Price added. “And don’t you dare wear anything khaki.”
Herman heard Price leave and sat up. For all his earlier, mind-blowing exertions with Lydia, he felt surprisingly rested.
Whether he felt like Tuesday was another matter.
He remembered the look on Lydia’s face as she lay underneath him. He remembered the feel of her lips, her teeth on his skin.
Tuesday smiled and got up to get ready. He was going to a party in hell.
Chapter Six
“Whoa,” Price said when he exited his room. “Tuesday, you’re a hottie. And the linen shirt is a nice touch – classes you up a bit.” He frowned. “You know, I really hate going to parties with guys who are hotter than me.”
Herman looked down at his black designer jeans (tighter than usual), dark blue shirt (linen, not a polo), and dark gray blazer (who knew blazers were for going out?) “I don’t think you have to worry about me stealing your thunder,” he said.
“The hell I don’t. Fuck, I’m starting to hate this plan.”
“So why don’t you just change into something else, I mean someone else?”
Price hesitated. “I’m real comfortable like this, you know? People recognize me, and that’s how we’ll get into the party, for one thing.”
“Well, for the record, you look nice. I didn’t know you owned anything besides t-shirts.” The combination of dark jeans, a light blue button up shirt and a long camel coat was handsome and tasteful. “Did someone else dress you?”
“Look who’s a comedian now. Good angel – remember?”
“So how exactly does one get to a party in hell?”
Price stretched his arms out wide.
Herman groaned. “More flying?”
“Did you think we could drive there?”
He got up and gave hugging Price his manliest try. A whoosh brought them down in a short, deserted alley, and Herman looked around. “This doesn’t look like hell.” He glanced at the skyline in the distance. “In fact, I think we’re in San Francisco.”
“That’s right. Downtown Strawberry doesn’t have any man-sized manholes, and I knew we’d find plenty here.” Price pulled up the manhole cover he was standing over.
“This manhole leads to hell?”
“Every manhole leads to hell. Come on,” he said, opening his arms again, “it’s pretty much a freefall, but the wings make landing a lot easier.”
Freefall they did. The passage got considerably wider as they fell, and Herman watched layers of rock pass them by – sandy, gold, black, brown, red. The occasional angel or tiny, red…demon?…shot past them in the other direction.
Minutes ticked by, and still they fell. The air warmed noticeably, and Price extended his wings so they landed softly in a round hall of white marble. Obsidian doors lined the room, and it had a great, gaping hole in the middle of the floor. The hole was ringed by a tiny, treacherous-looking staircase, but most of it seemed to be a straight downward drop.
“This is the first level,” Price explained. “The do-gooders, at least by evil angel standards, live here. Follow me for a minute.” Price walked over to the outer edge of the room, where only a two foot, pillared railing separated Herman from empty space. He leaned over and saw a multi-tiered stone structure with rooms branching off each tier at regular intervals. It looked rather like a space station or a bizarre, upside down, stone wedding cake, and it glowed red-orange in the light from a ball of fire far below.
“So the only two rules – at least until you get your wings – are don’t fall over the edge and don’t fall down the center hole.”
“Got it. What’s down there?” he asked, still leaning slightly over the edge.
“What do you think, moron? It’s hell - fire, brimstone, and cages for the worst demons, the ones only Lucifer can con
trol.”
“But they’re caged?”
“Most of the time. Lucifer occasionally lets one or two loose to wreak havoc upstairs, just to piss off the Big Guy and also to keep them from getting too rowdy down there, I imagine.”
Herman turned back to the white room with the many black doors. “Why do I feel like I should have to drink a potion or eat a bit of cake?”
“Come on, Alice. We aren’t going through any of the doors on this level. Ariel’s place is down a few.”
Price walked toward the hole. “I’d recommend you just hang on and we fly down, but you’re welcome to try that deathtrap of a staircase if you don’t mind falling to a painful, burning, not-quite demise.”
Herman hugged Price close. “Let’s just go already.”
Price laughed, sprang upward, and then dropped them down through the hole. They passed a floor of black marble, but landed at the next one - red marble.
Quickly letting go, Herman followed Price across the red courtyard to a black door like the ones they’d seen on the first level. Price pushed it open, and Herman peered over his shoulder into a space that seemed bigger on the inside than the rooms he’d looked down on from above.
“Price, welcome,” said a red skinned, horned creature about eight feet tall and as wide as an NFL linebacker.
“Jensen, good to see you. This is my new protégé, Tuesday.”
Herman extended a cautious hand. “Nice to meet you?”
Jensen laughed and shook his hand, not quite breaking it. “Always nice to see the fear in a newbie,” he said, looking at Price. “Makes it feel like the old days.” He let go of Herman’s hand and extended a muscle-bound arm behind him. “Most of the crowd is back there at the bar. I’m on bouncer duty.”
“Thanks, man,” Price said, passing by.
Herman followed, edging closer to the red marble wall.
“What’s his deal?” Herman whispered when they were at a sufficient distance.
“Oh, Jensen’s a good guy. They say he was quite the hell-raiser back in the day, but he’s mellowed a lot in retirement, and he plays a mean saxophone, so he gets invited upstairs quite a bit.”