by Melissa Good
A snort. “Where? Your earlobes?”
Kerry emerged, tugging on a bright blue pullover. “It’s there.” She walked over and sat down on the couch with her sneakers in hand. “Anyway, I have to find something to wear to the thing. If you help me, I’ll get dinner. How’s that?”
Colleen chuckled gleefully. “You’re on.” She got up. “I’ll go put me boots on, and we’ll be walking out the door.” She ambled out, leaving Kerry to tie her laces in peace.
**
It was very quiet in the office. The air conditioner cycled on, its fan stirring a single piece of paper sitting in lonely exile in the outbox on the desk. The monitor screen saver painted pacing jungle animals across the dark surface, unnoticed by the figure seated in the plush leather chair.
Been a long time. Dar mused, as she gazed out the floor to ceiling glass windows. A long time since she’d just sat and watched the sun set. She let her eyes track a small sailboat cutting across the waves, then lifted the cup she held in both hands and took a sip.
Her intercom buzzed.
Dar half turned and glared at it then slapped the button in disgust. “Yeah?”
“Just me, boss.” Mark’s voice emerged. “Got some turnips asking me to let them store crap in our wiring closet on fourteen. Okay?”
“No.” Dar frowned. “What is it?”
“Just some party stuff.” The MIS manager explained. “Black hats, and webs and crap.”
“Oh.” Dar rolled her eyes. “That.” She released an aggrieved sigh. “Last time we let them store anything in there, they took down half the conference rooms on the floor with the damn wire hangers poked in the sixty six blocks.”
“Yeah. I told em if they came within a foot of the back wall, you’d squash em like a bug.”
Dar snorted softly in wry amusement. “Did they piddle on the carpet?”
“Like newborn puppies!”
Another sigh. “All right.” Dar relented. “I’ll go let em in. I was on my way out anyway.” She pried herself out of the soft comfort of her chair and stood, stretching her body out and wincing as a kink made itself known in her back. “Did those servers come back online?”
“Not yet.” Mark said. “Working on it.”
“Keep working.” Dar cut off the intercom and circled her desk, picking up her keycard as she headed for the door. Most of the floor was silent, its occupants gone home for the day, and Dar found it refreshingly peaceful as she padded barefoot across the carpet. The closet she was heading for was next to one of the large presentation rooms, where they would have their annual Halloween party the next day.
Bah. Dar wasn’t fond of parties, especially ones that involved her coworkers putting on weird hats and makeup. With a sigh, she pulled the presentation room door open and stalked inside, finding the setup crew gathered in one corner near the closet in question.
They were all juniors. Dar glowered at them just for fun, and watched as they backed off from the door, nervously watching her as she approached. Something almost hit her in the head and she barely kept herself from ducking, stopping and examining the large, hairy spider hanging from the drop ceiling. Then she turned around in a circle and reviewed the room, shaking her head at the lurid decorations.
She swiped her card in the reader next to the door and opened it, stepping back and gesturing to the workers. “G’wan.”
They timidly crept past her into the fairly large size chamber, all of them escaping save the last.
Dar put a hand out. “Whoa.” Her nose twitched slightly. “What’s in there?” She pointed to the bag the woman was carrying.
“Candy.” The woman replied, opening the top hurriedly and displaying it.
Dar peered inside curiously and then stuck a hand in and pulled out a fistful, giving the woman a wicked grin. “My fee.” She drawled, before she retreated, leaving the workers peeking out of the door and watching her go.
Mm. Dar regarded her booty with interest. Peanut butter cups. She unwrapped one with her other hand and popped it into her mouth, chewing it as she sauntered back down to her office. As she passed a doorway, however, she paused.
Once, it had been an empty room she would never have looked twice at in passing. Now, behind its smooth, oak door was something new and different. Dar peered at her handful of goodies, then changed direction and swiped her keycard near the door, hearing a light click as the lock released. She pushed the handle open and entered, letting it close behind her as she walked into Kerry’s office.
It was still mostly empty. Dar acknowledged, as she let her eyes wander over the interior. But Kerry had been adding little bits of her personality to it. She strolled around the desk, approving its neat surface, and leaned on the back of the chair for a brief moment.
Her nostrils twitched again, detecting faint traces of Kerry’s perfume on the leather surface. It was a fresh, slightly floral scent she found herself liking.
Impulsively, she gave up three of her treats, leaving them in the center of the desk before she turned and headed for the back door that led to her own office.
She paused, with her hand on the latch and turned, leaning on the door and looking back to see the desk’s surface with its little offering. “What the hell did you do that for?” She wondered aloud. “You don’t even know if she likes them.”
The peanut butter cups nestled in their little huddle, mutely providing no answer to her.
“Well, she can throw em away.” Dar shook her head and went through the doorway, making her way back to her office and closing her inner door as she entered it. Feeling oddly restless, she decided to pack it in for the day and take off.
To that end, she fastened the catch on her laptop case and slid its strap over her shoulder, regarding her heeled shoes under her desk with an evil eye.
Scandal or no scandal?
Dar reached down and snagged the shoes, then tucked them into the outer pocket of her bag.
Scandal.
With a satisfied nod, she headed for the door.
**
“How about a cat?” Colleen investigated some very lurid makeup as they browsed through Burdines. “You’d look cute as a cat, Ker.”
“A cat?” Kerry leaned on the counter.
“Yeah, draw whiskers on your face...” Colleen took a purple stick and mimed the action. “Put a little tail on you… got a dance leotard? You could wear that.”
Kerry plucked the pencil from her fingers and put it down. “No cats.” She said. “No cats, no bats, no rats, no fuzzy mammals of any kind, thanks. I don’t want to look like a stuffed animal.” She pushed off the glass case and wandered on, searching for some kind of inspiration.
“How about a Scottish look?” Colleen suggested, fingering a plaid skirt.
Kerry studied it warily. “You mean, like a kilt?”
“Yeah. White shirt, plaid skirt, patent leather shoes... you know.”
The blond woman sighed. “I think I’d look like an escapee from a prep school.” She continued on as they came even with a section of frilly, ruffled shirts. Kerry paused and fingered one. “Now, what does this remind me of…?”
“Lemon chiffon pie?”
Kerry chuckled, touching the light tan stitching at the edges of the ruffles. “Fifth grade, actually.” She reminisced. “We acted out the signing of the Declaration of Independence in school. I got to be Thomas Jefferson.”
“Hm.” Her friend considered. “Y’know, the new jackets the guys are wearing for the proms this year are cutaways... you could get away with that, this, and a pair of knickers and go as a revolutionary.”
Revolutionary. One of Kerry’s very blond eyebrows quirked. She imagined herself in the outfit Colleen was describing, and decided it had possibilities. Not too outlandish, definitely dignified. For some reason, that was important to her since the whole company was going to be there. Halloween or no Halloween, she wanted to look…
For no particular reason, an image of Dar flashed in her mind.
Right.
She didn’t want to embarrass Dar for picking her as her new assistant, so she wanted to look good. “Okay.” Kerry decided. “We can work with that.” She sorted through the ruffled shirts and selected one in her size. “Can you find some capris that look something like velvet?”
Colleen snickered. “Honey, this is Miami. I can find capris that *are* velvet, in six colors, with sequins.” She patted Kerry on the shoulder. “Be right back.”
“No sequins!” Kerry called after her. Linen would have been more accurate, but in Kerry’s mind, if she had to wear short pants, at least she wanted to wear a pair that felt nice. She draped the shirt over her arm, and started towards the area that featured men’s dress jackets.
After a moment’s checking the sizes, however, she chuckled wryly to herself and headed for the boy’s section. They had cooler looking stuff anyway.
Colleen caught up to her there, holding two pairs of soft, colorful pants. One in crimson and one in rich, royal blue. Kerry took them, and two jackets, and her shirt, and trotted off to the fitting room, the attendants giving her collection of odd items a knowingly wry look.
Inside the room, she shucked her jeans and top and examined her choices. “Blue, I think.” She had to admit, pulling on the velvet capris. The short pants came to her knees, and fit snugly, but not too tight. Kerry surveyed the results critically, then donned her shirt and buttoned it. The tails tucked into the pants, and then she put the rich, silk navy jacket over it all. The jacket’s soft, but heavy folds neatly outlined her body, and she gave her reflection a faint nod before she opened the door. “Hey, Col?”
Colleen poked her head around the corner, and then stepped out into the hall to examine her friend. “You know, Kerry?” She spoke seriously. “That looks really good on you.” She stepped forward and fluffed the ruffles of Kerry’s shirt, arranging the frilly cravat. “Need to get you a pin, a belt, and one of those three sided hats, and you’re set.”
Kerry put her hands on her hips and grinned, quite pleased with herself. “I think I know a place to get a hat.” She said. “And it’s right next to that Italian place.”
“She shoots, she scores!” Colleen chortled, giving her thumbs up. “Let’s go, Tommy!”
**
Dar wasn’t sure why she’d ended up down on South Beach. She’d left work, and headed home but found the thought of just going to her empty apartment unappealing for some reason. So she’d detoured, and kept driving on the causeway instead of turning into the ferry terminal. She’d parked down at one of the public lots and just started walking.
Halloween was definitely in the air. She found a grin pulling at her lips as she passed the outdoor cafes, strung with lurid skeletons and slightly comical bats, with the odd real pumpkin flickering wickedly at her from its table.
“Hey, pretty lady!”
It took a minute before Dar realized she was being addressed. She’d traded her business clothes for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt she’d had in her always packed bag, and didn’t particularly think she stuck out in the crowd, but... Her eyes met the street vendor’s, and her eyebrows lifted in inquiry. “Whatcha got there?”
“Ghool grog.” The man grinned, and held up a plastic mug filled with... something… that was emitting smoke and fog that rolled over the edge of the cup and half obscured his hand. “Just the thing to hit the spot on a night like this.”
Dar studied the concoction. “Who pays the emergency bill if you swallow a chunk of the dry ice?” She inquired curiously.
“Straw.” The man popped one in, evading the question. ‘It’s safe, honest.”
Ah well, you only live once, right? “Sure.” Dar accepted the mug, shaped like the head of a skeleton and paid the vendor. “What’s in it other than the obvious?”
“Rum, banana liqueur, coco libre, a little vodka, and lemonade.”
Dar took a very, very cautious sip, and then relaxed as the mixture of unlikely ingredients proved surprisingly tasty. “Not bad.” She gave the man a grin, and then moved on, looking for more trouble to get into.
It didn’t take long. She wound her way between groups of laughing skaters, idly looking at some of the trendy stores and boutiques tucked between the cafes. One caught her eye, and she strolled over to look inside, the tiny store filled with Native American clothing and artifacts.
Dar had always felt ambivalent about the original inhabitants of the state she now lived in. She’d spent a lot of time in high school studying the current local tribes, the Seminole and Miccosoukee, and the prior ones, the Tequesta all of which had, in her private opinion, gotten thoroughly raped by the white colonists who took over the area.
Having the tribes now recouping a lot of their income from running gambling establishments had always seemed to her a bit of poetic justice. Growing up military, though, she’d found her viewpoints in somewhat of a minority, though there had always been an undercurrent of respect, and intrigue revolving around the native’s warrior culture.
Just as she’d been fascinated with it as a youngster.
Now, she fingered the beautiful tribal war shirt near the front of the store, leaning close to confirm that the substance fashioning it was, as she suspected, the spines from sea urchin. Meticulously cleaned, patiently bored, they clicked together with a faint musical sound she recognized as akin to one she’d heard many times underwater.
“Nice, huh?”
Dar looked up, to find the single salesperson leaning on the counter watching her. He was tall, about her height, and they were built somewhat similarly with long, lanky frames and dark hair. She figured him for at least part native, though, either by birth of by choice. “Never seen urchins legs used like this.”
The man grinned and walked over. He was wearing well worn jeans and equally worn boots, with an intricately carved belt buckle centered on his midsection. “Yeah, I thought it was a cool way to mix tradition with local resources, you know?”
“You made this?” Dar asked.
He nodded. “Everyone kind of tosses in something for the store. The guy who owns the building gives it to us rent free, cause he makes his money on the café next door. So everything practically is profit.”
“Nice.” Dar eyed the intricately tooled item, and the pair of well tanned leather pants that were propped under it on the mannequin.
“Usually I steer the girls over to the mini dress area, but that would work on you.” The salesman commented.
Funny. Dar had just been thinking the same thing, quickly followed by a mental slap to the back of her head as she chastised herself for even considering it. “What in the hell would I do with something like this?”
The man shrugged, and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding her with chocolate dark eyes. “You could wear it to some of the clubs down here... betcha it gets you looked at.”
Dar snorted. “I think you just want to make a sale.” But she glanced at the price tag anyway.
“True.” He grinned. “But you want to buy it, so I’m just doin my job, right?”
A thought wormed its way into Dar’s mind, as she tasted the faintest hint of peanut butter on the back of her tongue. Slowly, a dangerous grin appeared. “All right.” She flicked her eyes to his. “I’ll take the whole getup.”
“Cool.” Not quite stifling a triumphant smile, the salesman carefully unlatched the sleeveless, almost backless vest from its stand and laid it over his arm. “It’s got an underlining, so you can wear it… “He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “Without anything under it, if you want.”
“I know.” Dar followed him to the register, quickly browsing and selecting a pair of soft moccasins as well.
He folded the items neatly into a few squares of tissue paper. “You know, we’ve got a pay out plan, if you’re interested.” His hands paused as Dar’s platinum card landed on the paper. “Then again, who needs compound interest, right?” Respectfully, he lifted the card and glanced at it, before he swiped it and handed it back ‘Interesting name.�
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“Not my choice.” Dar tucked it away. She took a sip of her ghoulish mug while she waited for the receipt to print, trying not to think about how ludicrous it was that she was actually considering not only going to the company Halloween party, a first in itself, but dressing up for it.
“Thanks.” She signed the slip as he presented it to her, and picked up her bags. “Good luck with this place.”
“No problem.” The man smiled at her. “You know, you could almost pass as native yourself, except for those white man’s eyes.” He extended a hand. “Nice talking to you, Paladar.”
Dar took the grip, and returned it, finding a strong, calloused hand clasped in hers. “Same here.” She replied briefly, before she turned and edge out of the small store, wandering over to the seawall and sitting down on it as she regarded the bag in her hands.