by T S Wieland
“Allison!”
Ally lifted her head and spun around in her chair to see her boss, Krista, standing in the doorway to her cubicle. She stared back at Krista with a questioning expression. A rather large red mark was visible on Ally’s forehead, partially covered by her light-brown, reddish bangs above her hazel eyes. Ally reached behind her head to fix her ponytail, trying her best to appear presentable for her boss.
“Yes ma’am? What can I do for you?”
“Did you meet with Mr. Steel yesterday to sign his new contract?”
Ally’s anxiety rose as she stared into Krista’s heartless eyes, outlined by her thick mascara. Krista watched over everyone like a vulture, waiting for someone to fall behind so she could pick them apart piece by piece. Ally tried her best not to be afraid of her, only to succumb to her own fear as always. She was always easy prey.
“Yeah. I went to the coffee shop where we agreed to meet, but he never showed. I tried calling him afterward, but he didn’t answer.”
Krista sighed in annoyance and crossed her arms, glaring at Ally. Ally held her gaze, trying her best to appear unshaken and unafraid. She hated when Krista crossed her arms and stared at her. It was her own passive-aggressive way of making it clear to Ally that whatever was wrong was probably her fault, despite whose fault it really was.
“The man’s dead weight,” muttered Krista. “Call him again and see if he can meet with you today. We need that contract signed before we can start editing with him. His story is going to require some major revisions before we can print.”
Ally stared at her, confused. “Um… What major revisions? I like it as it is. If we re-write it entirely, the book might lose its appeal.”
“His books are slow and dull, same as they’ve always been. That, and his writing is too . . . childish. We’ll need to polish this one aggressively if we hope to make it into a worthy candidate.”
“Why do we still work with him then? Not that I don’t like his books,” questioned Ally.
“Because he has a reputation around here for helping put our name on the map, and my father insists we keep publishing his works,” Krista replied. She unfolded her arms and looked down at her white-gold watch. “If I had my way we would have dropped him as a client three years ago. We publish realistic works now, not childish adventures anymore.”
Ally stared at Krista with honest confusion. “Isn’t that what people would rather read though? Stories that capture their imaginations and takes them on adventures to places they’ve never been? Books about meeting the people they’ve always wanted to be and exploring worlds they’ve only dreamed of seeing?”
“We prefer to publish books that apply to modern life now, not stale science or historical fiction. He’s lucky we still publish them at all.”
“I like his newest book the way it is,” replied Ally, trying to stand her ground.
“He always writes fun and creative stories. If we leave it the way it is, I’m sure it could still do well. I’m pretty sure our newest changes are the reason his recent books haven’t sold half as well.”
Ally casually picked up the bag of almonds sitting on her desk and stared at Krista. She reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of almonds.
Krista made a disgusted face at her. Ally quickly realized she was very close to crossing the line. She crammed a couple almonds in her mouth to avoid saying anything else.
“Just… get him to sign the contract, or you’ll find yourself working for a different publisher in someone’s basement. Maybe that would be a better fit for you and your childish aspirations.”
Ally hoped she was only offering another empty threat.
Krista turned and walked away with an exasperated and disgusted sigh.
“And stop eating at your desk!” she yelled from down the hall.
“Witch,” Ally replied under her breath.
Ally placed a few more almonds in her mouth and turned back to her computer. She sorted through the phone directory on her desk to find the number for Walter Steel.
She pulled the card out, grabbed the phone, and typed in his number. Lifting the phone to her ear, she tried to think of what to say as the phone rang, hoping he wouldn’t answer at all.
The thought of going out to meet with a client scared her for some reason. Not because she didn’t want to be social or meet anyone, but because she feared the unknown. Another branch of the fear which seemingly grew in her life. The worry of something unexpected happening paralyzed her.
Ally always planned her days down to the minute. She never strayed from her plans unless it was necessary, and even then, she feared the change in destination.
She’d spent years of her life wishing and dreaming that she would one day venture out into the world and see new sights and unfamiliar faces. But that was before the fear had moved in and wrapped her in its firm, suffocating embrace. Reality had caught up with her, and now she was tethered to her boring life by that same fear which kept her chained to her desk by irons forged from anxiety.
“Please don’t pick up,”
She mumbled into the phone. She dreaded the idea of leaving the safety of her cubical, even though deep down she really wanted to. Ally waited with the phone up to her ear, organizing her desk to remain spotless as usual.
“Hello, this is Walter Steel,” said a male voice over the phone.
“Hey! Mr. Steel. It’s Ally Claude from Stallbrook Publishing.”
“Oh! Hello, Ally! I’m so sorry for missing our meeting yesterday.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. I was glad to be out of the office for a change.”
“I lost track of time working on my next story. I think you’ll really love this one. It’s a thrilling adventure in the Old West. Granted, I have to thank a friend for the inspiration.”
“Sounds great, Mr. Steel.”
“Please, just call me Walter. I hate formal greetings, remember?”
“Right, sorry about that, Walter. Would you be available to meet with me and sign that contract this afternoon by chance?” Ally glanced at the clock on her computer eagerly, wishing it would miraculously advance to four o’clock and end her day forever.
“Absolutely, seeing as how I missed our meeting yesterday. I just have to meet with my friend who needs my scientific expertise first, and I’ll be right there. Say . . . four o’clock at Barrie’s Café, same as before?”
“Four o’clock sounds perfect. I’ll see you then. Thanks, Walter.”
“No problem. Take care, Ally.”
“You too,” said Ally as she reached over and hung up the phone.
Ally leaned back in her chair and adjusted her ponytail once more. She briefly looked over her shoulder to make sure Krista wasn’t there. The vulture had moved on.
Ally stared up at the ceiling fan for a minute, resting her head back on the chair. Her eyes began to ache as they focused on the fan spinning above her, once more acknowledging the same boring repetitiveness of her life, spinning in circles. Nothing seemed to change. Nothing seemed to happen. Although she knew she mostly had herself to blame for it.
Rinng! Rinnng! Rinnnng!
Ally stared at her phone, dismayed by the flashing light that demanded she pick up. “Ugh, right on time.”
Ally lifted her head up, placed her feet back down on the floor, and answered the phone. “Hello, Stallbrook Publishing. This is Allison Claude.”
“Hey, sweetheart!”
Ally groaned to herself. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Krista wasn’t standing behind her again. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, Mom? You don’t sound very excited to talk to me.”
“No, it’s not that, Mom. Sorry, I’m just having one of those days.”
“Oh, well, maybe you should work a little harder or find a different job somewhere else.”
“Inspiring words, mother. Seriously. Calendar worthy.”
Ally leaned back in her chair and gazed at the ceiling fan again. She could hear her mother clearing her throa
t in preparation.
“You’ve given me this lecture five times now, Mom. I could recite it word for word by now.”
“Living alone in a big city is no place for a young woman of your age,” said Ally and her mother in unison over the phone.
Ally snickered while her mother grunted into her ear. “See. Word for word.”
“Well, maybe if you would move back home, I’d stop.”
“Sorry, not going to happen. The work is better out here, and I like it.”
“You sure don’t sound like you enjoy it. Maybe if you’d give David a call . . .”
“I’m going to push the pause button right there, Mom. Time is too precious to waste on such conversations.”
Ally shook her head knowing her mother had an irritating habit of dredging up Ally’s ex-boyfriend, David, at every given opportunity. She believed she and David were the perfect pair as he was the ideal student on track to become a well-paid pathologist, which was all a traditional mother could hope for in her daughter.
The two of them had begun dating their senior year of high school and moved to Philadelphia to attend college together. However, after two years of living under the same roof, Ally had learned the kind of person David really was—controlling, manipulative, and egotistical. Most of her days with him were micromanaged—being told she couldn’t go out with her friend Carley and being accused of seeing other guys.
Later, she had learned it was only cause of David’s guilt getting the better of him as he snuck around with a girl named Sophia while Ally was at work. But Ally’s mother was still convinced he was proper gentleman, and she didn’t have the heart to tell her mother the truth.
“Allisson-“
“I’m not calling David, Mom, nor will I ever. He’s a waste of human space in this city.” Ally continued to pick away at her nail polish.
“Enough bad-mouthing him. He was a sweet boy, and you two looked so cute together.”
“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving. Sometimes ugliness isn’t always on the outside.” Ally reached over and grabbed another handful of almonds out of the bag on her desk.
“You should at least talk to him.”
“Umm . . . no. Seven hundred times no.” She crunched the almonds loudly over the phone.
“He was a narcissistic jerk. I’m pretty sure every time we talked together, he was just enjoying the sound of his own voice.”
“Well you're not much better.”
Ally swallowed hard, stung by her mother’s response.
“Yeah, well, at least I consider other people’s needs when it comes down to it and not just my own. I put others before myself, and don’t crash another person’s car because I’m upset.”
“At least he apologized and took you to that nice restaurant.”
Ally’s patience was beginning to reach its limit.
“You just want me to call him because he’s finally making big money at that new hospital they opened. Though I fail to see how anyone would want to hire him as their doctor, let alone why he has yet to pay to fix my car with all that money.”
“I think he would make a great doctor. And I’m sure he’d fix your car if you just asked him and apologized.”
“Mom, if you called me just to argue about David, then I suddenly just realized, I have a lot of work to do and I’m going to have to hang up now,” Ally replied in playful sarcastic voice.
“No, I didn’t call to argue about David. I called to tell you about your father.”
Ally leaned forward in her chair with a concerned look. She had known her father's health had been declining over the last few months, and it was beginning to grow serious. To Ally, her father was like her best friend as well as her dad. Having never gained the son he so desired, he chose to mold her into the role of one. He taught her everything he knew. Everything from fixing cars, to fixing the squeaky cabinet door in the kitchen. He’d even sparked her love of history with his collection of old trinkets and junk scattered throughout her house growing up. And yet, whenever her mother criticized her for being “unladylike,” she could always count on her father for support.
“How is dad?”
“Well, he’s fine now, but the doctor thinks he has pneumonia again. He was coughing up a storm the other night, so I took him to the E.R. He could hardly catch a breath on the way there.”
“That’s the third time he’s been sick in two months.”
“Yeah, and they aren't sure why the sudden change.”
“He’s only 57,” Ally said. “He can’t be that sick.”
“Well, your dad's side of the family hasn’t always been gifted with healthy lungs. Lucky for you, it’s only the men. I’m sure all the nights you two spent in that dusty garage didn’t help.”
“So, is he home?”
“Yeah, he’s asleep now. First time he’s gotten a good rest in two days.”
“Maybe I’ll fly home this weekend and surprise him.”
Ally’s mother snickered over the phone in delight. “I’m sure he would love that. He’s been wanting your help getting that new car he bought running again. Man can’t rest without a broken car in the garage.”
“He bought another one?”
“Yeah, he sold the last one. I’m no good with car names, so you’ll have to just come see for yourself.”
Ally opened the calendar on her computer and scanned it. She had no time available this coming weekend. She was set to go to a conference in New York for two nights with Krista to do a book promotion. Despite her longing to see New York for the first time, she was still willing to move mountains or even skyscrapers to see her dad.
“Yeah, I have time this weekend, Mom. I’ll come see him,” Ally said scratching her head trying to think of what to say to Krista.
“Good, I’ll make sure he doesn’t make any other plans for the weekend then. You should look for an apartment while you're here if you’re not going to be with David anymore too.”
Ally sighed, hoping to avoid another repeat in their conversation. “Sure, Mom. Now I’ve got to go.”
“Alright. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Okay, talk to you later.”
“Bye, sweetheart, and call David.”
“Ugh! Bye Mom,” replied Ally as she hung up the phone.
Ally rested her head on the back of her hands on her desk, still feeling the red mark on her forehead.
A haunting feeling ran through her mind. The thought of losing her dad seemed unimaginable, but almost all too real. She shook her head and gazed back at the computer screen, knowing there was no point in worrying about it now. As her dad always told her multiple times when things seemed to be at their worst; Expect the worst, but always hope for the best.
Chapter 3
Mr. Walter Steel
Ally stepped into the café as the bell above the door rang in the wind. She pulled the door closed and chose to sit at the table facing the window, making it easier to watch for Walter. She sat down and placed her bag on the floor feeling relieved to be away from her office. A young waitress wearing a white tank top, with red hair, approached with a big smile.
“Hey! What can I get you?” asked the waitress.
“Decaf, I guess. Just plain. Thanks,” Ally replied.
“Sure thing.”
The waitress turned around and walked over to a booth in the corner where an older man sat, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, a blue baseball cap over a brown leather jacket. The waitress briefly asked him if he needed anything. The man shook his head before she returned to the counter.
Ally glanced through the window ahead of her as a couple sat down at a table outside and began talking to one another. Newlyweds, she guessed, based on their nonstop handholding and smiles. Ally’s skin crawled thinking of David.
She leaned over and grabbed hold of her bag off the floor. She suddenly noticed the man in the corner subtly watching her over his sunglasses, sipping his drink as she lifted up her bag. Ally hesitated for a moment and then con
tinued to lift her bag up onto the table. She could feel his gaze washing over her like an eerie wave, dragging her attention towards him.
Her eyes turned to meet his. The man looked away, pretending he was simply looking at the chalkboard menu across from him above the counter. The trick didn’t fool her. She could still sense he was watching. He brought his attention back to his cup of coffee and drank with his head turned away from her.
Ally turned her attention back to the table and opened her bag to search for her paperwork, still wary of his prying eyes.
A blast of wind rushed in through the café doorway. The bell over the door chimed as Walter entered. His curly, brown-and-gray peppered hair blew in the breeze. He pulled the door closed and removed his jacket to reveal his traditional sweater vest and bow tie he wore on a regular basis. He reminded Ally of a stereotypical science professor, just as odd as one would expect.
“Mr. Steel,” said Ally as she stood up from the table and reached out to shake Walters hand.
“Ah… Just Walter, remember.”
“Oh! Right. Sorry, sorry. Of course, Walter.”
“It’s quite alright. How have you been, Ally?” asked Walter as the two of them sat down at the table.
“I’m good. Thanks for asking. And you?”
“Excellent as always. A day above ground is always a good day, as I like to say.”
Ally grinned in agreement. Walter placed his bag on the floor just as the waitress walked up to the table, tapping her pen against her notepad. As Walter ordered, Ally looked over at the man still sitting in the booth. He was still watching her. Only this time, he didn’t bother to pretend to look away.
“What can I get you?” asked the waitress.
“An English breakfast please. Lightly steeped, not too burned please. Thank you,” Walter said. The waitress turned and walked away. “I’ve never been a big fan of coffee. I’ve always preferred tea since I was a lad growing up.”