by Lee Alan
Mr. Moyer looked her up and down, his expression of disinterest disappearing. “Résumé?” The abrupt command emerged from a mouth filled with bright, white dentures that appeared way too large for his face.
Anna reached into her new Calvin Klein bag and produced the document she’d thrown together the previous night. He half–snatched it from her outstretched hand before proceeding to lean back in his brown leather recliner. After giving her a creepy wink, he scanned the paper with beady, little eyes.
“Waitress, huh?” He asked, his cocky smirk irritating her.
“For six years.”
The lawyer dropped the document onto his desk after a few seconds and then fixed his hands behind his sweaty head. He stared up at a stuffed deer, as if it were the subject of the interview, rather than her.
After a minute of this awkward interlude, he pulled himself forward to face Anna again. “Lucky for you, I need somebody right away,” he said, talking to her breasts rather than her face. “No offense, Miss… ?”
“Price. An—”
“No offense intended, Miss Price, but my clients need something pleasant to look at when they arrive. As I’m sure you’ve already noticed, Blanche is about as welcoming as a mule having its balls squeezed.” He smiled to himself, evidently finding his coarseness amusing.
“Oh, but I’m sure I spoke to someone else when I called about the position?” She replied, deciding to change the subject, rather than respond to his repulsive manner. “Someone other than Cru—Blanche, I mean.”
“Jenny only works Tuesdays,” he answered, waving his plump hand at such trivialities. “Yes, I think you’ll do fine,” he concluded, sucking his huge teeth.
Although she felt like slapping the filthy, old toad, Anna thanked him for the opportunity. You can handle this one, she thought, her urgent need for a paycheck outweighing the prospect of his sleazy attentions.
“Good. You start tomorrow at nine. Blanche will fill you in with the details,” he replied, dismissing her with another arrogant wave of the hand. While leaving the lawyer’s toxic presence, she could almost feel his gaze on her rear.
Blanche didn’t seem surprised in the slightest when Anna announced the news. “As I’m sure Mr. Moyer explained, I am needed for more important legal support work. So, a more junior person is needed to cover the reception area,” she said, obviously having been spun a line by her employer.
Anna didn’t bother to contradict and instead asked for any relevant paperwork. Blanche thrust an employment contract before her in response. While Anna signed the document, she reflected on the unwanted attention of Bill Moyer. It remained a concern, but, she also felt certain he wasn’t fit or young enough to pose a real threat. On the plus side, the job would offer far better pay than the poor earnings of the diner, and the part–time hours fitted with the schedule for her forthcoming English course.
That evening, she celebrated in the local bars with Julia, sensing her new life starting to take shape. But, as they laughed over too many tequila shots, Anna realized that one unfulfilled aspect of her days bothered her more than she cared to admit: she felt lonely. Although she treasured the time spent with her wonderful sister, Julia couldn’t replace the love of a good man.
***
The next morning, Anna barely made it to the office in time after sleeping through her morning alarm. With the help of her hungover big sis, she managed to walk through the heavy black doors of the old building just in time. It became clear, however, that her concerns about being late were unfounded, because the building appeared empty, including the reception area, which had been left unattended without so much as a note of guidance. Whoever had opened up seemed long gone.
Unsure of what to do, she decided to seek help from Mr. Moyer. But after finding his office door locked without signs of activity inside, she slumped in front of the reception computer with growing feelings of frustration. Clearly, Blanche couldn’t resist her petty torments.
“Sour–faced bat,” Anna muttered. Determined not to be defeated, she turned on the PC. I’ll just have to wait until someone arrives, she thought.
A few minutes later, the phone rang. Anna picked up the receiver, hoping for Blanche or Mr. Moyer to be calling to offer a late welcome.
“Good morning, Howard and Moyer, attorneys at law. How may I help you?” She said into the mouth piece, trying to copy the greeting she’d received when applying for the position.
“Hello, this is the office of Congressman Peterson. I’m calling to confirm his appointment with Bill Moyer at two thirty this afternoon,” a clipped, female voice replied.
Not expecting a genuine query, Anna looked around for any kind of visual clue to help answer the question. Sticky notes lined the desk, but they said nothing about a congressman. And, she didn’t have the details to log in to the computer terminal—not that she would know where to look on the system, anyhow.
The moments ticked by, while she fretted until the voice politely prompted again, “Hello?”
“Yes, that’s correct: two thirty PM,” Anna found herself saying, forced to decide.
The PA thanked her, and the line went dead. Anna replaced the handset, while puffing her cheeks out in both relief and anger. True, she’d expected some sulky behavior from Blanche, but not outright refusal to provide her with any training. Reluctantly, she decided a chat with Mr. Moyer would be needed when he arrived. Not that she enjoyed the idea of giving the perv another opportunity to lech over her.
By the time the portly lawyer strolled in at noon, Anna had taken a few other calls and given similarly awkward answers to the first. Luckily, there’d been no actual visitors.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Moyer. Could I speak with you, please?” She asked as he passed, apparently oblivious to her presence.
He waved her away. “Later.”
“Congressman Peterson’s office called to confirm your two thirty meeting—and I told his PA that would be fine,” Anna called after him, attempting a different tactic to gain his attention.
“You did what?” He stopped mid–stride, turning in her direction. His pudgy face was a picture of alarm.
“Mr. Moyer, I’ve sat here since nine this morning without any training or support,” she retorted, rising from the reception desk as her frustration boiled over.
“Oh. Well… er, I didn’t know Blanche…” he mumbled in surprise, seemingly uncertain of how to respond to the suddenly assertive blonde. “I’ll be in my office, if you need me,” he added, before retreating toward his room with haste.
Just as Anna was about to protest further, the phone rang again. With an exasperated growl, she answered the call, allowing him to escape.
The next few hours became hectic. Everyone wanted to speak to Bill, but he’d locked himself in his office without giving her any idea of how to transfer calls. The fact that she could hear him having several loud phone conversations of his own through the door only heightened her annoyance. During one particularly frantic–sounding call, she heard him say to an unknown person, “Got to see Peterson at two thirty,” followed by, “Tell me about it—new fucking receptionist.” Embarrassment flared in Anna at the horridly unfair statement. She continued to listen. “I’m not sure. He’s got me over a barrel, and we both know it.” He paused, presumably while the caller pressed him further. “Okay, okay already. Look, I’ll think of something. I always do,” he said finally in a resigned tone. It left Anna wondering what a congressman and a lawyer could have between them to cause such obvious friction.
The afternoon left Anna dealing with a stream of annoyed clients demanding access to Mr. Moyer. When he finally responded to her repeated attempts to gain his attention, he fobbed her off, claiming he had critical work to do. Anna got the impression that the work he referred to had something to do with his unwanted meeting with the congressman.
***
The door to the reception area opened d
ead on two thirty. A heavy–set man with a shaven head strolled in, followed by another man in a very expensive–looking designer suit. The larger of the two stood to one side with his arms held behind his back. He had the certain air of a security professional. The second man held an expression exuding supreme confidence, as he approached Anna. His grey–eyed gaze contemplated her with curiosity.
“Hello. Sorry, we’ve not met,” he said in a rich voice accompanied by an engaging smile, which framed his boyish dimples.
“Anna,” she replied, her cheeks reddening.
“Pleased to meet you, Anna.” His marvellous smile grew wider. He had a strong Roman nose, which added a quirky, yet fitting effect to his features. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you new here?” He asked pleasantly. “Unless you’ve had a lot of work done lately, I’m pretty sure you’re not the same lady who greeted me on my last visit.”
Anna couldn’t help but laugh at the obvious flattery. She had little doubt that this must be the mysterious congressman. “You mean Blanche? No, she doesn’t work on the reception desk any more. This is my first day.”
His handsome grin widened. “Well, I can’t say I’m totally disappointed.”
A long silence followed, until it dawned on Anna that he was being too polite to ask her to announce his arrival to the waiting lawyer. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she blurted, her face reddening further. “I’ll tell Mr. Moyer you’re here, Congressman.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he replied, seeming to be unconcerned by her flustered outburst.
Just as she rose to carry out the task, a smarter version of Bill Moyer appeared in his office doorway. He had an exaggerated look of pleasure on his face.
“That will be all, thank you, Annie,” Bill said, dismissing her. The fact that he’d still not learned her name left Anna seething—especially in view of his other shoddy behavior.
“Congressman Peterson, it’s been too long,” the lawyer’s voice dripped with southern sincerity.
The congressman turned to greet the lawyer with a neutral expression. “Bill.”
As the young law maker was about to shake Moyers’ hand, he paused and turned to her, again. “Thanks for your help, Anna.” He emphasized the letters of her name, prompting a flicker of embarrassed recognition from the lawyer.
“You’re welcome,” she replied happily. After the men disappeared into the adjacent office, Anna let out the breath she’d held in.
This guy is something different, she mused. Polite, urbane, and powerful: it was a combination she’d not experienced before. Disappointed the fleeting banter had passed, she settled back down at the computer screen and returned to fuming about her lack of access to the stupid thing.
Her day had become so tedious that she’d contemplated trying to strike up a conversation with the still–waiting guard. But, one look at his thick arms and severe expression, discouraged her.
So, big fella, shot many people this week? It was the only question she could think to ask. Deciding that wouldn’t be such a great idea, Anna sighed with boredom, instead, before becoming aware of the rising voices coming from next door. It wasn’t possible to hear everything being said, but it seemed clear that Jim Peterson was giving Bill Moyer a hard time—pressing for something. The context remained elusive, but seemed to involve pointing out a few home truths. At one point, the garbled argument became audible.
“How does a junky even run a law firm?” Peterson asked. She blinked in surprise at the revelation.
Moyers response sounded inaudible, but contained a definite note of pleading.
Peterson said, “You know what’s expected.” She couldn’t make out the rest.
That explains a few things, Anna thought. She wondered what the congressman wanted from her new employer. Maybe he’s threatening to fire the pompous asshole as his lawyer?
The conversation became less heated, then, with Mr. Moyer making conciliatory noises. He said something like, “Please, I need more time.”
The last thing she clearly discerned came from the congressman. “Just do it, Bill. You have no choice.”
Shortly after, the two emerged again, and a dark shadow clung to the younger mans’ attractive features. She noticed, however, as soon as he saw her gazing at him that his expression returned to his previous affable facade. To Anna’s surprise, he made straight for the reception desk before placing a white business card in front of her.
“Call me,” he said.
Anna’s heart fluttered with excitement when she glanced down at the official–looking card. In the top left corner was the emblem of the great seal of the United States: a bald eagle in pure gold, with wings outstretched. In the talons of one foot, it held a sheaf of arrows; in the other, an olive branch. At the center of the card sat the congressman’s full title:
James L B Peterson
Member of Congress
1st District, Arizona
(2013 – 2016)
Chairman, Committee on Energy and Commerce
Shocked by the unexpected offer, Anna wasn’t sure what to say. “Err, thanks,” she said, her inner ego screaming at the goofy response.
James Peterson gave a final, sunny smile, and then strolled out the entrance with his stocky companion following him. Moyer gave a derisive snort after they’d left and immediately returned to his sanctuary without further comment. This left Anna alone, feeling both drained and elated.
Did that really just happen? She thought. Wow, wait until I tell Julia about Congressman Hot Pants! The possibilities were tantalizing.
***
By six PM, Anna desperately wanted to go home. Unfortunately, the sound of loud snoring coming from Mr. Moyer’s office made it clear that he wasn’t planning to go anywhere soon.
Stop being such a wuss—you’re going to have do something, Anna realized.
With her resolve stiffened, she decided to wake the sleeping lawyer and inform him of her impending exit. But, to her further exasperation, she found the door locked again. Anna knocked.
“Mr. Moyer, hello? It’s past six. Is it alright if I leave?” There was no response.
She returned back to the reception, cursing her rotten luck. Bill Moyer be damned, she thought darkly.
After searching through the desk drawer, she found a pot full of keys. And after several fumbling attempts, the office door creaked open. Sure enough, the fat attorney sat in the recliner, hunched over a pile of folders he’d fashioned into a makeshift pillow. He lay fast asleep in a puddle of his own drool. Bill presented an oddly vulnerable figure in his currently prone position, with greasy hair sticking out wildly from his bald pate. He was hardly the image of the high–flying courtroom bruiser.
More like hopeless bum, she thought. No wonder James Peterson is pissed with him.
Anna tiptoed toward the slumbering man, while the failing light cast eerie shadows across his creepy hunting trophies. She poked his shoulder gently.
“Mr. Moyer…” There was a snort, and then nothing. “It’s past six, and I’d like to leave, please.” He still gave no answer.
After trying three times, her patience reached its breaking point and the frustrations of the day exploded into fury. Without considering the consequences, she gripped Moyer by his comb–over, pushed aside the stack of documents, and then released the handful of grubby hair.
Thwack!
For a heart–stopping moment, Anna feared the result of her efforts would require medical intervention. But the lawyer’s red–rimmed eyes, suddenly opened and blinked.
“Arrrgh,” Bill groaned, raising a trembling hand to his temple. “Who the hell are you?
“It’s Anna, Mr. Moyer,” she replied, relieved that he seemed unaware of her morally questionable methods. “Mr. Moyer, can I please leave? It’s late. Would you like me to lock up?” She spoke slowly, as if to a child.
He appeared to mull over this challenging concept. While he did so,
Anna noticed a discolored glass tube protruding from his suit pocket. Although she’d not been around hard drugs before, Anna recognized the device.
“Yes, yes,” he replied groggily, giving an exaggerated royal wave, as his head already started to droop toward the leather–trimmed desk.
Chapter 7
Julia watched on with a tinge of sadness as Anna scrolled down the estate agent’s website, searching through apartments to rent. Although it was the next logical step for Little Bird, she simply didn’t want her to go. The time they’d spent together recently had brought them closer than ever. And, to witness the incredible transformation from the broken person who had walked through the door just a few months before, to the confident, young woman blossoming in front of her had been a privilege. Still, she found it jarring. Of course, Anna was a grown woman, and the present arrangement could never be more than a fleeting pit stop on their journeys in life. She just wished it would last a little longer.
Maybe you’ve come to feel so maternal toward her because Mom’s gone, she reflected.
Her thoughts turned to the big night ahead. Anna had returned from her disastrous first day at the law firm in an oddly happy mood. After some probing, she explained the encounter with her unexpected visitor. Naturally, it was the duty of any big sis to hound out more information. This had produced the congressman’s card and, bingo: the confession. He wanted her to call. Three long days of relentless persuasion followed until she did just that. When Anna eventually did, it had amounted to a brief anti–climactic conversation with Jim Peterson’s PA. Seconds later, a window in the congressman’s calendar had been identified: this evening.
Julia looked down at her wrist watch and noted the time with a small thrill.
“Okay, kiddo, it’s time,” she announced, trying to contain her own excitement.
“Oh,” Anna replied, as if unconcerned.