I don’t want Bailey to think I don’t have faith in her abilities but … How do I word this without insulting her? “The plant started up two hours ago. Why didn’t you give it … ” Oh, God, I’m gonna sound like an ass if I finish that sentence.
Darla looks at me as if I am the most clueless creature in the world. I probably am. “Really, Wayne? You have to ask? Tell him, Bailey.”
“I tried to give it to him, but he told me to leave it there because he didn’t have time. If it is still there at the end of the month, I’m to remind him about it again. At first I thought it was an initiation, but Darla assures me this is the way things work around here.”
I flip through it. This is our entire playbook—our bible. “Should this thing be left out? What if it gets stolen?”
Bailey chimes right in. “To answer your first question, no, that’s almost as risky as walking down the street while shouting your social security number. However, you’ve tasted the stuff we make here. If that thing goes, we would have to reformulate everything. Theft would be a blessing.”
“Damn!” I jerk back. “You really are Darla’s sister!” I also can’t dispute her. I have half a mind to slip it into the incinerator myself. “Welcome to your new life, Bailey. Something tells me the transition will be seamless.”
Now I remember the thing I love about this place. As long as I work here my reality will be as bizarre as my fantasies.
With a chuckle, I head to the elevator and return to the life I once led.
Gumdrops.
Piles and piles of gumdrops.
Mocking me.
For the two hours I’ve been here, these stiff gobs of goo have had me in a staring match.
I press a green one between my fingers, slowly kneading it. Its texture reminds me of the thickness that has been in my throat ever since I saw Katherine’s beautiful face contort in discomfort. The beads of sugar dropping onto my desk form a portrait of my loss. Like anytime a special relationship ends, I am finding that moving on is not so easy.
I roll the gumdrop over the sugar in an attempt to make it whole again.
I can’t take this.
I can’t take the sorrow. I can’t take the loss of hope. More so, I can’t take the tug of war between prayers that I never hear her again and concern for her because all has been silent. As much as I miss it, I need her voice to be gone forever. Wondering if and when it will pop into my head is driving me insane.
Enough!
I swipe the sugar off of my desk with my sleeve. Dammit, I made a decision to walk away, and I will stand by it. I’m going to be certain I never hear the voice of Katherine Miller again. There has to be a way, and I know how to find it.
Shirtless guy answers my call to Jennifer on the second ring. I hate how I got so wrapped up in a mess that I lost all manners and have never asked his name. Before I can open my mouth, he says, “Hey, man. It’s Rob. Jennifer is at her fencing class, but she left you a note. You wanna fall by or should I lay it on you?”
Did he say his name because he was stating who was answering, or because he knew I was going to ask what it is? And how is it that she again knew I would be in touch? I know this should faze me, but frankly, I don’t think a cow tap-dancing could faze me now. “Yeah, sure, lay it on me.”
Rustling comes through the line, followed by the sound of paper being unfolded. “She said, ‘You and Katherine have been led to water. Partners work together, but a loved horse is one that is not forced to drink. Now that the universe has been given a nudge, you won’t hear her any more, but it doesn’t mean you are not loved. Meanwhile, get to work. You can’t afford to get fired. Retro is always in.’ ”
I can only begin to imagine how my face is contorting in response. I don’t know where to begin with questions, or even if I should. I think I am relieved about the voice but—
“Hey, sorry,” shirtless guy says. “Gotta mosey. Someone’s at the door. Later man.”
I return the goodbye in a way he can groove to. “Yeah, solid.”
Why can’t Jennifer leave me a message that isn’t cryptic? Seeing the mounds of gumdrops on my desk makes me feel even more overwhelmed. I need a break. Times like these I wish I smoked. Instead, I go for a gumdrop. Hey, both will kill you, so it is sort of the same thing. Hell, they practically taste the same.
Endeara Candy: Almost as bad for you as cigarettes.
Man, she is right about needing to get my ass in gear with work. I said I was moving on while creating a new version of myself, and that is exactly what I am doing. As of now, if I can’t get over my situation, I will work with it.
And yes, Jennifer, retro is always in. People are suckers for nostalgia because the past seems like it was more fun than the present.
What was up with the horse analogy? I get the general sense of what it means but …
How can I move forward with this new mystery over my head? This is gonna drive me crazy.
As I bite into another gumdrop, I’m reminded how people view crazy is relative to many factors.
Okay, my situation is making me think of horses. That plus the retro comment remind me of Fruit Stripe Gum. Those guys had it all—colors, stripes, animals. Did they ever make stuffed toys? That would have been perfect.
That is what we need! A cute mascot, such as … The Endeara Deer! How has no one thought of this before? Montgomery Ward gave us Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, so why can’t Endeara have a mascot? Oh man, even if our candy sales continue to suck, my inner voice is telling me we can make a killing in the toy market!
No more voice. God, what a relief.
Is knowing I am not going to hear Katherine again really a relief? How can I move forward when I miss the hope she brought me?
I need to find a new kind of escape, such as I did when I lost Amber and became engrossed in music. I also need something that gives me a prayer of keeping my job. At least this retro thing seems to be clicking. Maybe I should watch some old commercials.
No, look at what happened the last time I paid attention to a commercial. Dammit, I’m supposed to be making my situation work for me, not returning to a path that will have me back in my car and aimed at Happydale.
I start to go for another gumdrop but gather the smarts to stop stress eating. After all, there will be no new version of me if I poison myself.
I Google “famous candy marketing campaigns” and quickly get annoyed. Seriously, Sugar Daddy’s used to have prizes? Those bastards! They didn’t when I was a kid. There goes my memory of the sweet taste of childhood dreams.
I gasp at my brilliance in accidentally creating a tagline any adult can relate to. Yes! Endeara Candies, the sweet taste of childhood dreams! Could it be that just knowing the voice is gone is bringing my mojo back, or am I really determined to move forward this time? Maybe I am pissed at the madness around me and am learning to deal with it.
My desk phone rings. When I answer, my boss sounds stressed to the gills. “Drop everything and get into my office. The CEO is on his way over, and if we don’t have something—anything to help us move this crappy candy—we are both fired!”
My words are quick to come out when Dale answers my call. “I’m brilliant, and it is celebration time! I’m getting into my car now. Get out of that office at a decent hour for once, and meet me for drinks.”
“This is a welcome change,” Dale says. He sounds relieved by my attitude. “What’s got you so happy?”
A lot of my cheer is forced, but I am allowing myself to get excited about life. With how self-absorbed I have been over the last few weeks, putting a new head on and pulling off what I did is huge. “I’ve come up with a slogan to market Endeara’s candy in a way that doesn’t make me feel like a lying sleaze ball.”
Dale’s laugh sounds both humored and ironic. “You mean, you have found a way to market candy that taste like boogers without feeling as if you have succumbed to being a wretched salesman.”
“Pretty much. I also created a long-term plan that, when we w
ork the right deal with a toy manufacturer, will put my stuffed animal design on the beds of millions of little kids for years to come. It also has the power to launch a major Christmas special. Endeara the Deer will become such a cherished part of their childhood that when they are our age, they will fork over a hundred bucks just to get their hands on another one. Let’s grab cocktails and dinner at someplace awesome.”
“Wow. That sounds pretty amazing.” Dale’s enthusiastic voice turns cautious. “Actually, can you meet me at Mulligan’s? I’ve got something big I need to talk to you about, and I think I need to be here when I do it.”
Talk? Dale? “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah. How soon can you get here?”
It’s not even five, and Dale is already out of the office and at a bar? Something is up. “I’m out of the parking lot now. I’ll be there as fast as LA traffic allows. Meaning even though you are only a few miles away, I’ll see you in about two hours.”
When I arrive at Mulligan’s, Dale signals the bartender and orders us a couple of glasses of their best Scotch. My raised eyebrow asks why. “Celebrations call for something special,” he says. “Besides, I’m trying to figure out how much change I am up for.”
Yeah, something is up. “So, what’s the big thing you need to talk about? Are two new strip clubs opening and you can’t decide which one to waste your money at first?”
“Ha! I swore off of strip clubs after your visit. In fact, I’ve sworn off of a lot of things. Strange as it is, I have to admit I feel a lot more secure in my manhood.”
What? Who is this guy?
When the waitress arrives with our drinks, Dale gives her a polite thank you and a kind smile. She’s pretty, but also a little trampy. Dale may always be polite, but she’s not at all the type he shows gentlemanly respect to. This sounds like the guy I always thought Dale could be as opposed to the guy I’ve known.
Dale continues. “Our little chat in Toronto is the reason I want to talk to you now. Something big happened—something I have busted my ass for. But first,” he raises his glass, “congratulations on today.” We clink glasses, and as I take a sip, he whammies me. “I got an offer for a promotion. A huge one—like astronomical. We are talking double what I make now, and I would no longer be a slave to commission.”
“Wow. That sounds amazing.” I’m still trying to figure out what is going on. Dale has spent years busting his ass for this. He shouldn’t sound as if he has been doomed. “What’s the catch?”
Dale’s phone rings. When he gets a look at the number coming through, he groans like the world is ending. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”
Out of habit, I pull out my own phone to check Facebook while cursing myself for being an addict. This constant stalking has to stop. I delete the app and slip the phone back into my pocket. It is time to think about something else. That is pretty difficult considering the TV I first saw Katherine on is right across the room.
I stare at the screen, hoping to see her almost as much as I dread it. My leg starts jittering at the thought. Another sip of Scotch is a short-lived diversion. Dale needs to speed it up before I drink his too.
My eyes continue to feel drawn toward the TV, seeking the woman who puts longing in my soul.
Gah! I need a new obsession.
Games. I’ve got to have Solitaire or something on my phone.
Darla grabs my attention when she slips into Dale’s seat. Thank God. Looking for a diversion was driving me nuts.
She steals a sip of my Scotch before shaking her head in disbelief of what she is about to say. “I swear, Wayne, you are going to drive me crazy. I’ve met some nut jobs before, but you are a mental case all your own.”
Is she serious? She can’t be serious, can she? Sometimes with Darla, it’s hard to tell. This could be about anything.
Her narrowed eyes enhance the sarcastic tone in her voice. “I overheard the most interesting call a moment ago.”
Oh no.
I grab back my Scotch and attempt to casually take a sip while fighting the urge to down it.
“Bailey was talking to a friend of hers—someone you met early yesterday morning.”
I close my eyes and brace myself for the berating that is sure to come.
“Given how you have been acting, your back-peddling about hearing things, and with power watching a show that happens to have an actress you met when you bailed on work and wound up in a cab on the other side of the continent, things are sounding a little, shall we say, stalkerish.”
My cringe deepens. I can’t even begin to think of a way out of this one.
Darla touches her finger to her chin, tapping it as if she finds something to be curious. “Then the story took a strange turn, so much so that Bailey searched for a pen and paper to take notes.”
Oh, God! I shudder to think where this is going. Can’t she bust out with it like a normal person?
Darla slips me a piece of paper, and the joking demeanor drops and caves to … trepidation? My widened eyes scan downward, fearing what Bailey may have written. I let out a huff of surprise when I see Katherine’s name and phone number.
“Apparently Katherine thinks she owes the freak who got into her cab an apology for her being a total bitch.”
This is unreal! As much as I hoped for it and knew in my heart it was possible, I didn’t dare believe this would happen. Thank God! Maybe now I’ll be able to make sense out of everything.
Darla squeezes my arm, and the depth of her concern becomes clear. “Brandon, I can’t even begin to imagine what is going on, but I’ve been awfully worried about you, and Bailey said Katherine sounded a little weird.”
My words race out. “I didn’t mean to scare her. She thought Jason sent me, and things went crazy from there. I didn’t know what to say.”
Darla sucks in her lip. “It seems she’s a little freaked out in a different way. She didn’t give any details, but whatever you said left quite an impression.” Darla pauses, and I sense she is choosing her words wisely. “Saying she was trying to find a marketing guy from a place in Los Angeles that sold bad gumdrops got my attention. However, with the way you have been acting, hearing the guy spoke in puzzle pieces is what convinced me she was talking about you. Are you absolutely sure you are okay?”
I stare down at the note, and my thoughts jumble. Did I leave an impression on Katherine because what I said was so strange, or did she figure out what I was getting at? At least now I can have a real conversation with her. As much as I know what I experienced was real, a part of me could use some confirmation. “I’m fine. In a way, I always have been. In others … Man, there is a lot about the world I don’t get.” Darla keeps staring like she wants to believe me but is still concerned. “Really, I’m fine. When I get into the office tomorrow, I promise to tell you a story that will blow your mind.”
Darla pats my arm and chuckles. “Yeah, good luck with that. Remember, I’m the one who led you to a psychic in the first place.” She slips out of the booth. “I have to get back to the car. Poor Bailey, I swear she is so tired that when she and Katherine started deducing what happened she sounded as if she had seen a pink elephant. You truly are fine now, and I will see you at work tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, I promise.”
With a squeeze to my shoulder, Darla heads off.
A tingle of happiness enlivens my soul. I did it! I’m in touch with Katherine! A real conversation is only a phone call away.
Does she know what has been happening? Did the puzzle pieces I dropped pique her curiosity, or has she come to realize I was an innocent victim and she wants to apologize? If that is the case, should I let the situation lie and hope we become friends so someday I can tell her, or is she not supposed to know what brought us to the point that makes this call happen?
Dale slips into his seat, and although I force myself back into the moment with him, I refuse to let the wonder of what I just experienced escape me. Things happen every day that are beyond our comprehension. If people were
not so closed-minded, maybe those who experienced amazing things would speak freely, and more often we would see that wonders can unfold before us.
Dale starts his words with a heavy sigh. “That call drives home my point—other than the fact I would have to move to Chicago next week.”
“Next week? What do they think you are? Cattle to be herded?”
“It’s not that big of a deal.” From the tone of his grumble, I don’t believe he feels that way at all.
“It is a big deal. That is a lot to ask of someone.”
“They would make it worth the effort.”
“Yeah, but what about the stress?” I ask.
“Great point. That is one of the places I am going with this. I’d wind up spending even more time married to my job, which leaves me zero time to find, let alone pursue, anything else. As much as I am pretty sure I know the answer, what would you do?”
This is a no-brainer. I’ve always felt how Dale lives his life is foolhardy, yet I’m wondering what I have to do with this. “Why are you asking me? And why did we have to meet here?”
Either there are a hundred things far more interesting than me or he is avoiding eye contact. “Because, Mulligan’s has come to be a second home, and as much as it pains me to admit this, you and I have the same goals. I actually believe you are going to meet them. Me … not so much. How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Wow, did he really say we have the same goals?
“How do you keep hope for all those dreams you had with Amber when you can’t even bring yourself to go out on a date? Right now, you’ve got zip. You took a job you are not too keen on because you were promised that when your life worked out, your boss would be there for you. You don’t have a single, female prospect on the horizon. Yet here you always are, looking as if the whole world is about to burst open and pull you into bliss. How do you do it?”
Voices Carry: A Rock and Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection) Page 19