“Katie…”
“It's true.”
“Well,” Brant set aside his plate and placed an arm across her shoulders. He could see her about to succumb to tears so he hugged her tight. “As you see, that isn't the case at all.”
“I don't want to cramp your style, honest I don't. If you have a woman – a handsome man like you could have any woman you want – and you want your privacy, just text me and I can make myself scarce.”
“I'm not so sure I could have my choice of women... I've been too preoccupied to think of such things but I'm sure we'll work it out if and when the time comes.”
“Really?”
“Truly.”
Katie rubbed wetness from an eye and sniffled. “Okay. Want another slice of pizza?”
“Sure.”
“Will you watch Wizard of Oz with me?” Katie said. “We can stream it, I already checked.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
“I like the end when Dorothy says, 'There's no place like home.'”
“I like the flying monkeys.”
“You're silly. Kinda like the Tin Man.”
“If I only had a heart.” Brant grinned. “You light up my world in Techicolor. Now where's that other slice of pizza?”
“Right here, Daddy.”
Katie started the movie after they finished eating, and then they snuggled together on the sofa. As the adventure played across the screen, Brant's mind wandered.
What was Evelyn doing tonight?
Who was Evelyn doing tonight?
She'd be concerned the foreclosure was still taking place
He should mention the consulting gig
And the time he'd bought with the refinancing arrangement
But his mind drifted to:
Goals of the client to host illegal content
To digitize ancient text
To otherwise provide dark subject matter to those on-line who searched it out
Or so he assumed, since the abomination scanning the tomes couldn't speak; he'd bleakly moaned through a sewn-shut mouth when asked direct questions. Brant, afraid to cross the threshold of the pentagram, had maintained his distance. Based on television shows and films he'd watched, he had assumed the man-thing confined within the walls of the sigil and Brant wasn't prepared to test the theory of what might happen if he crossed its threshold. That's why he needed the books. Perhaps with research he might better conduct himself more professionally within the parameters of the assignment.
Parameters of the assignment? Listen to me, Brant thought.
But he knew that's how his mind worked; he always wanted to understand the reality of the thing, the system, the expectations of the person. People were stupid. Many of them sheep. But everything shared the same thing in common: a set of working rules. With computers and networks you might reconfigure them to your own devices but, for the most part, unless you designed a new aspect to it as a upgrade, you must follow the working rules of the thing. Same with people. They didn't change, not really. They might grow, but never truly change. Which is why he didn't like most people, at least beyond understanding what made them tick. If he could work within their parameters, then they became friends or regular acquaintances.
Evelyn had known Brant to be a driven individual. It's what had drawn her to him. She enjoyed the life he provided for her, the trips they took, and the ballroom dancing classes they had taken together just before he'd been downsized.
I've always wanted to take ballroom dancing classes, she had said one day seemingly out of the blue.
Sure, he'd agreed. Sounds like fun. Two days later he heard an advertisement on the radio for the classes. Perhaps she'd always wanted to take lessons, or perhaps the ad had simply spurred an interest. Either way they'd enjoyed the weekly classes and even went dancing a few times since.
But Brant supposed somewhere along the line the excitement, at least for Evelyn, had ended. Perhaps not completely, but enough so that a smooth-talking ladies' man like Greg Abrams had charmed her out of her panties and laid her right in her marital bed.
Katie is right, Brant thought. I should fuck someone. Hell, I haven't been laid since the night Evelyn left.
Brant sighed.
Katie, pressed against him, squeezed his hand, whispered, “Amazing movie, isn't it? Especially watching it with my daddy.”
“Never better,” Brant said.
“Never,” Katie agreed.
She wiggled a little to get more comfortable and Brant ran fingertips along the soft cotton covering a shoulder. A lovely fruity bouquet of shampoo tickled the senses.
He felt a stirring in his groin and knew he should text Evelyn. He'd invite her for drinks, test the waters, advise her how things had taken a small but significantly positive turn. He'd judge based on her response whether she was open to coming back home for the night. He hated to admit it but he knew, without a doubt, he wasn't ready for her to return permanently. She'd left for a reason and asking her to come back like that would only serve to push her away.
However, sharing an intimate evening, or perhaps a night, might go a long way toward repairing their relationship – should he decide that's what he wanted.
Of course he'd have to nail someone else first. He'd be a total schmuck if he didn't. And if she found out she'd bedded not only Abrams but whoever else she'd screwed since then without Brant so much as doing the same just once... Well, she'd never admit,to it, but that would plant some sort of seed in her psyche that would lead to no good. Perhaps sprout more wild oats and he could not have that.
He resigned himself to contacting Evelyn soon, trying to get her back into bed – because, face it, if she rejected him it was over. Except he knew her too well. She'd enjoyed their last time together and, even with someone else in the picture, she'd want him again.
Another encounter with Evelyn would free him up to completely focus on the new task at hand. Namely understanding what exactly he could do for his client. Brant would need to contact Joshua Elliot, set up a meeting with the mysterious client, and try to milk them for more services which, based on recent experience, shouldn't be difficult. The client needed someone to lead him out of the digital stone age.
All of that could begin tomorrow.
Brant kicked bare feet onto the ottoman and Katie adjusted herself by nestling into the crook of his arm.
“I'm so glad you're my daddy,” Katie whispered.
“I'm glad you're my girl,” Brant replied.
Brant enjoyed watching the rest of the movie despite having seen it more times than he could remember. Tonight, though, had been special; and even with Katie drifting off to sleep, Brant knew it had been special for her, as well.
Not wishing to disturb her sleep, he carefully lifted her from the sofa and carried her upstairs. For the first time in his life he tucked his daughter into her bed and, after a kiss on the forehead, wished her a good night.
“Goodnight, Daddy,” Katie mumbled. “Love you.”
Love you, too, he thought.
8
A bell ring notified Brant of an incoming text message as he stepped off the elevator. Evelyn had replied to a message of his own. Her message read: Let's meet tonight for dinner. 7Pm? You can tell me all about it.
Brant replied back: Too busy. Meet me at the house.
He'd messaged her that he had good news and that they should meet to discuss it. That had been yesterday. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since he'd sent the message and she was just now replying?
Screw dinner, he thought. You had your chance. Who the hell were you with last night that you couldn't send a quick message to your husband?
Not Abrams. Not now. Somebody else. Perhaps a female friend. No. No way. Had Evelyn been with any female friend she would have replied to Brant’s text message. Especially regarding good news. No, she'd been preoccupied with another guy, a guy Brant most likely did not know and did not want to know.
He'd order Chinese food delivered, with plenty for
three, and if that wasn't good enough for Evelyn, well, Katie and he would have leftovers for tomorrow.
Brant approached the receptionist and said, “Brant Wilson to see Joshua Elliot.”
“Please, have a seat. Mr. Elliot will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.”
Brant took a seat, curious if Evelyn might reply. He assumed she was working and found it humorous that now she wanted dinner. He knew her well and a string of assumptions passed through his head: Her date last night hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped; now she wished not just information from but an evening with her estranged husband; and now her non-reply. She was perhaps busy with work but more likely pissed at Brant. She'd feel shunned and somewhat vulnerable, and would be seeking confirmation of continued affection from him later tonight. A pompous thought by him, for sure, but he knew Evelyn well, knew what made her tick, and in the past, he'd been able to anticipate her moves far more often than not.
“Mr. Elliot will see you now. Third door on the right. Follow me.”
The receptionist wore a well-fitted pinstriped dress suit and Brant allowed himself to enjoy the sight of her womanly form as she led the way.
“Elliot...” Brant shook the man's hand.
“Please, have a seat.”
“Look,” Brant said, “I'm not one for formalities so I'll cut to the chase. I want the client's name. And I want to speak with him directly.”
Joshua Elliot rocked back in his leather office chair. “I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge the client’s name. Nor am I able to arrange any such meeting.”
Brant thought for a moment before speaking. “You have any idea what's going on at the facility in Kansas?”
“I have an idea, yes.”
“And do you know – truly know – how I came to apply for a job, for lack of a better phrase, to be employed by your client?”
“A Ouija board, as I understand.” Elliot leaned forward. “My turn to cut to the chase. Do you have the report you were hired to produce?”
Brant smirked. “You know and I know and your client most definitely knows that I'll need more information to provide a comprehensive report.”
“I see.” Elliot rocked back, folded hands in his lap. “And why is that?”
“We're not dealing with any ordinary client here. Far from it. The facility in Kansas, it's in the digital stone age.”
“Time passes differently for the client.”
“I suppose it does. Still, if I may be frank...”
“I insist.”
“No fucking joke time passes differently for the client. He's operating a shoddy, felonious enterprise, and I'm surprised it hasn't been shut down already.”
“I see. Hm...”
“That's why I was hired, isn't it?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
“I get the gist of what he – if we may call the client a 'he'—.”
“He insists that you do.”
“Okay. Fine. I get the gist of what he's doing, and I understand how time can pass differently for him. Be that as it may, technology stands still for no one. If he truly wants to be, shall we say, connected, then I'm going to need more information. I'm going to need to speak with him.”
“You see,” Joshua Elliot rocked forward again,” this is why you were selected. You contacted him. In a roundabout way, of course. You have gumption. Spunk. The client not only appreciates those qualities but requires them.”
“That is how he came to be your client.”
Elliot seemed pleased. “The client is busy. Very busy. He needs, shall we say, representatives with his best interests in mind.”
“You represent his legal interests...”
“Now you are catching on.”
Brant Wilson stood up and formally announced, “I'd like provide technological representation.”
“You do, do you?”
“Unless your client would prefer a digital toehold here, as opposed to – if I may borrow the phrase – his own lane on the information superhighway.”
“Bravo, Mr. Wilson. Bravo. I must say, despite the brevity you've pled your case. I was skeptical but, as the client said, you're the right man for the job.”
“Of course I am.”
“On my recommendation, the client will meet with you.”
“Excellent.”
“There's one simple catch.”
“Isn't there always a catch?” Anything else would have been too simple.
“I've been authorized,” Elliot said as he reached into a desk drawer, “to offer you this.”
He set a thick, leather-bound tome on his impressive desk and slid it forward.
“What's this?” The damn thing, which appeared heavily worn and nearly as large as the man's desk planner, appeared hundreds of years old and smelled like a library with a leaky roof.
Elliot spun it around so that the pentagram on its cover faced upside-down. Beneath it in Latin read: Inferum Demergis Coniungere.
“You'll need this,” Elliot said, “to make the connections you seek.”
“I anticipate needing a small team,” Brant said.
“Like I previously stated, the client wishes to hire you as a technological representative. If it's a team you need, a team you shall have. I've been granted initial discretion and shall serve as the client's representative in all matters until such time as you have gained sufficient knowledge to contact him yourself. Now, will there be anything else?”
“There is a question of my fee.”
“Of course. I'll have another check cut for you before you leave. There are a few “tweaks,” shall we say, regarding your circuit board design. Nothing major. You'll have it resolved quicker than you can boot your PC. Once approved, and installed, you'll be cut the check for your initial consultation. The client and myself realize – and this is where time passing differently for us as compared to the client works to your benefit – you'll receive monthly stipends, for you and your team, until such time – assuming a reasonable turnaround – that you're able to contact the client directly.”
“You speak like an attorney,” Brant said, “and I'm not quite sure how I'll contact the client, but,” he thrust out his hand, “you have a deal.”
“Great. I'll have the check cut and a payment schedule drawn up and emailed to you, if you don't mind.”
“Not at all.”
“Take the book. You're going to need it.”
Inferum Demergis Coniungere – Brant knew he'd need it to summon the client and discuss the finer details of his employment.
Brant sat on the sofa reading a book. Not the book Elliot had given him to read – Inferum Demergis Coniungere awaited him in his study – as he planned to give it his full attention later. He wasn't ready yet. A general introduction to the occult seemed in order, a highly-rated title he'd found on Amazon. Other texts, more promising texts, were still en route from various secondhand booksellers with an on-line presence. He'd also checked out a few titles on demonology, Satanism, and the occult at the local library.
As Brant thumbed to the next page Katie, sitting beside him, gently asked, “Is the TV too loud? I can turn it down if you like.”
“No, sweetie. The volume is fine. Evelyn should be here soon, anyway. So should the food. Are you sure you aren't hungry?”
“Not really. I'm a little nervous about meeting Evelyn, and my first day at work is tomorrow.”
“I'm so proud of you. You'll be the cutest barista at Java Joe's. I'll swing by next week for a cup a joe, once you get the swing of things.”
“Oh, my. You'll so embarrass me.”
Brant hugged his daughter. “Isn't that my job?”
“I'm interrupting you.” Katie, changing the subject, pointed to an open page. “Read.”
Brant had finished reading the page and half the next when the doorbell chimed.
They both stood up.
“Want me to answer the door?” Katie said.
“I'll get it.”
/>
“How do I look, Daddy?”
“You look precious. Cute as a bug in a rug.”
Brant answered the door to find the Chinese food delivery boy.
“Twenty-wan niny-fo',” he said.
Brant handed the boy twenty-five dollars before taking the food.
Evelyn had sold the dining table, hutch, China, and fine silverware. She'd also taken the small dining table from their breakfast nook in the bay window when she moved, so Brant took the delicious-smelling bag of food to the wet bar. A few minutes later, nearly 7:15 PM, the chimes rang again. This time it was Evelyn.
“You changed the lock,” she said when Brant answered the door.
He shrugged. “Come in.”
Evelyn crossed the threshold and stopped short. Her jaw actually dropped.
“Evelyn,” Brant said, “I'd like you to meet Katie.”
“Hi, Evelyn.” Katie waved like Miss America in a parade procession. “I've heard so much about you.”
“Katie. My daughter.”
“Oh.” Evelyn's hand actually shot to her chest, as if her heart had momentarily stopped. “Pleased to meet you, Katie.”
“Thanks for being so timely with all the checks you sent. Daddy said that was you. My mother, the witch, would've been a holy terror if you hadn't.”
“Well,” Evelyn said, “it was the least we could do.”
“Are you sure you wouldn't like to join us for dinner?” Brant asked his daughter. “We've love to have you.”
“Thanks, but I just wanna veg in front of the TV, y'know?”
“Your call, sweetie.”
“Thanks. You're the best, Daddy.”
After a quick hug and a peck on Brant's cheek Katie rushed away in the direction of the family room.
Evelyn smirked. “Daddy? Sweetie? This is a side of you I've never seen before, Brant.”
“The last year has brought a lot of surprises, that's no lie. Come. Before the food gets cold. Katie ordered all of our favorites. Beer?”
“Sure.”
Brant popped the caps while Evelyn removed cartons of food from the bag.
“So, what's the news you have to share?” she asked.
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