Someone Like You

by Timothy J Beck

  He jerked himself fully awake when Jane’s voice trailed off mid-sentence.

  “Something’s always breaking here,” Christian whispered as everyone sat quietly, waiting for the film to resume.

  “I have to pee,” Vienna said.

  Davii and Derek stood so she could get past them. When they didn’t sit back down immediately, Christian got up, too, and the three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the stars frozen on the dome.

  Derek could hear the whispers of the couple across the room, then the little girl said, “Daddy, I’m bored.”

  “Shhh,” her father said. “They’ll fix it in a minute.”

  Everything was quiet again, until Davii, in a surprisingly strong baritone, was apparently inspired by the stars to sing a line from “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Christian sang the next line with him, and Derek joined in with “behind me.”

  “The only thing behind you, Dr. Bunn, is me,” Vienna said. Davii reached back and pulled her in between him and Derek.

  Derek heard the man on the other side of the planetarium say, “Fags.”

  As Davii tensed, Derek called out, “Looking for a date?”

  The couple giggled, and the man with the little girl said, “I never miss Will and Grace.”

  Davii started laughing, and Vienna softly said, “Some of my best friends—”

  “…don’t form alone, but in clusters or clumps,” Jane Pauley boomed over the speaker system.

  “Come on, clumps, let’s get the hell out of Oz,” Christian said.

  As they walked out arm in arm, Davii said, “The only thing missing is the little dog.”

  “I could borrow one of Emily-Anne’s,” Christian volunteered.

  Vienna clicked her heels and said, “There’s no witch.”

  Derek had a vision of Natasha riding by on one of Hunter’s bikes and said, “I love you guys. Let’s go to the Little Dipper and get some ice cream.”

  “My treat,” Vienna insisted.

  15

  Shuffle Up and Deal

  Natasha leaned against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee cooling next to her bagel, and thought, No one treats me that way and gets away with it. She hurled the bagel into the trash, her appetite gone, and drummed her fingers as she replayed her meeting with the man at the Aurora piano bar, her lips drawn in a tight line. She picked up the cup and turned her back to the counter, resting her backside against it as she analyzed the situation.

  Who the hell was this guy, and how did he know so much about her? She’d been pondering those questions every day since their meeting. She took a sip of coffee and set the cup down, protectively folding her arms in front of herself. Why would he give a shit about a nobody like Derek? It was impossible that anyone had any use for that loser who couldn’t sell water in the desert.

  As little as Natasha might like Derek, however, she wasn’t about to accept a directive from some queer Columbo to snoop into his private life, particularly not by befriending him, as that ferret had suggested she do. Although she wasn’t above the pretense of friendship if it served her interests, she wasn’t so sure that it did in this case.

  “What if I don’t do it? What if I don’t play your stupid little game?” she defiantly asked out loud. She pondered his threats to undermine her authority with her staff and, worse, to tell what he knew about her arrest record. “Bastard!” she spat. How the fuck had he found out all that stuff?

  Natasha picked up her coffee again, mentally reviewing the measures she’d taken to ensure that no one would know about her…passion.

  Her eyes flew open with sudden suspicion. She set down the cup with such force that it almost cracked. Racing to her bedroom, she dug out the key to the padlock and strode down the hallway to the locked door. She fumbled to fit the key in the lock, unlocked the door, and secured herself in the room, turning on the light.

  He must have broken in. There had to be some evidence. She’d find it, move her “supplies” to another location, and have this asshole arrested. Let him find out what it was like to answer a few questions for the police. He thought he held the cards. He didn’t know the first thing about who he was fucking with. She’d crapped bigger turds than he was.

  Careful not to move, she leaned against the door, taking note of the location of every wig, doll, cosmetic, and CD. Everything was meticulously in place, just as she’d left it.

  Fucker, she thought. Either he’s really good, or he found out some other—

  DeWitt! It had to be DeWitt. She knew she’d seen the Ferret before. He’d been sitting at the bar in Galileo’s Glass the last time she met DeWitt. They must be in it together. They’d set her up!

  Rage built inside her. She let herself out of the room, went back to the kitchen, and picked up the phone. As she dialed the number from memory and waited for DeWitt to answer, she reminded herself to be careful how she approached him or she wouldn’t get any information.

  DeWitt picked up the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

  “It’s Natasha.”

  “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” He sounded puzzled.

  “I have another little something I’d like to commission from you,” Natasha said, trying her best to sound sincere.

  “Great. You want to meet, or do you want to describe what you want so I can get to work on some drawings?”

  “I think it’s better if we meet to discuss this one.”

  “The usual place? Around two?”

  “Fine.” She hung up without waiting for any parting pleasantries, then walked back to her Dolly room and looked around. It was important that she have the advantage during this meeting. DeWitt would recognize her in her Dolly wardrobe, but the Ferret had seen her as Dolly and Natasha. Maybe she could sneak in early and catch them together if neither of them saw her first.

  She stared at the blond wigs with a frown, wondering, What would Dolly do?

  Then she remembered that momentous day on eBay when she’d bid on seven Dolly dolls and a 9 to 5 wig. The dolls had been a decent investment. They now stood on their own shelf, appropriately attired, really not looking much more like Dolly than the Barbies. But the wig…The shock she’d gotten when she excitedly opened the box to find a Lily Tomlin wig rather than Dolly’s 9 to 5 coif still rattled her. She’d hurled the wig to the back of her closet with a shudder. But it might finally be useful.

  At a quarter ’til two, she strolled into Galileo’s Glass in her brunette shag. She spotted DeWitt at the usual table, but he was alone, sipping on a beer. She did a quick scan of the bar but saw no trace of the Ferret, so she approached DeWitt’s table. He glanced up without recognition.

  “It’s me,” she hissed.

  “Nat? Who’re you supposed to be now, Keith Partridge?” She slid into her seat without comment, and he said, “What’s up?”

  “Funny. I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  He looked at her as if evaluating her body language. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean?” Natasha mimicked in that most annoying of child’s games.

  DeWitt let out a deep sigh. “Nat,” he began.

  “Natasha,” she corrected.

  “Sorry. Natasha,” he amended, “do you need me to make something for you or what?”

  “Yes, I need you to make something for me, all right. I need you to make something clear. Then I’m going to make something clear to you. But first I want you to tell me who you’ve been talking to about our deal.”

  “Who I’ve been talking to?”

  “Is that question too hard for you? It’s going to be difficult for me to deliver it in words less than a syllable. I’d draw it for you, but I don’t have time to play Win, Lose or Draw.”

  “If you’re going to get bitchy…” DeWitt started to get up.

  “Sit!” Natasha barked the command as if training a stubborn dog. DeWitt sat with a Pavlovian reflex, as did a few of the patrons who’d been standing at the bar. She lowered her voice in
an effort to avoid drawing any more attention to them. “Someone knows about me. Someone other than you, and they’re using what they know to—” Natasha broke off, considering for a moment how much information she wanted to divulge. “You’re the only one who knows anything about our deal. I thought it was pretty simple. You make the clothes. I pay you. You keep your mouth shut. Until now, we seemed to have had an understanding. But suddenly, there’s a third person in the equation. I know I haven’t said anything to anyone. That leaves you. Who did you tell, and what did you say?”

  “I haven’t said any—”

  She practically lunged across the table, scaring him into silence. “What do you think? That I’m as stupid as you are?” she whispered with a sneer. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence by telling me you haven’t said anything to anyone. I didn’t just fall out of a tree, you lump. You think I got where I am in this world by not knowing a thing or two about people? If two people have an agreement and one of them breaks it, then everyone who made the agreement in the first place knows who broke it. That’s the magic of math. And don’t think for one second that there aren’t things I know about you. Everyone has skeletons. You think you’re exempt? Do you think I didn’t have you checked out before hiring you? I know all about the little homo-Harley-hooligan group you hang out with.”

  “We’re not hooligans,” DeWitt protested.

  “I’m sure it’s the tip of the iceberg. It won’t take much to dig up more on you. But you’ll save me the trouble if you just tell me what you know.”

  DeWitt bit his lip and considered what Natasha had said. “I told a friend,” he admitted, looking defeated.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. Who is he? How do you know him? What, and I mean exactly what, did you tell him?”

  “Just a friend. RB.” DeWitt suppressed a brief smile.

  “Arby? What the hell kind of name is that?”

  “Not Arby. He’s not a sandwich. R-B. They’re initials.”

  “What do the initials stand for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Natasha rolled her eyes. “You mean to tell me you had sex with this guy, and you only know his initials? I’d expect more from a sensitive man like you.”

  “Who said I had sex with him?”

  “You’re blushing like a stupid schoolgirl. And God knows, someone who looks like you can’t possibly get any but a couple of times a year.”

  “What?”

  “Look at you. You dress like a slob; your hair is so oily I’m surprised we still bother to use the Alaska pipeline; and that beard makes you look like you’re attempting a hostile takeover of ZZ Top.” She watched his face fall farther with each cut but relentlessly kept stabbing the downed man. “Can we please get back to what you said to this RB jack-off?”

  “Fuck you. I don’t need this shit from you.” DeWitt started to get up.

  “Maybe not, but I know you’re strapped for money. And I know you can’t afford to pay taxes on the cash I’ve given you. Cash, by the way, that you should be declaring as income and probably aren’t. I guess we could let the IRS iron that out.”

  DeWitt sat down again, and she watched his face while he struggled with the math. “That’s a lot of money,” he said. “You’d really turn me in to the IRS?”

  “Or the EPA—whoever wants you most,” she said. “Let’s stop this charade of you getting up, then sitting back down. Although heaven knows, I’m not trying to deny you the exercise, this isn’t the time or place for aerobics. What did you say to your little butt buddy about me?”

  DeWitt regarded Natasha with disdain. “I told him that you had a thing for Dolly Parton, and that you hired me to make doll clothes for you. That it was a hobby for you. And that’s it!”

  Natasha considered this for a moment and quickly reviewed her conversation with the man she now knew as RB. All the other references he’d made were things that DeWitt didn’t know. “Christ. How could you be so stupid? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Wait just a minute,” DeWitt objected. “He’s the one who seemed to know all about you. He said they’ve been watching you at Kohl’s for a while. They thought you were a shoplifter.”

  “What? Are you insane?”

  “No, that’s what he said. He said he worked here at the mall, and they thought you were stealing from Kohl’s.”

  “Kohl’s?” Natasha was disgusted. “You moron, I’ve never even been in that place. This guy is so full of shit. I can’t believe you can’t see that. For God’s sake, all you have to do is look in the mirror to figure it out. He used you. He used you to find out something about me that he couldn’t find out on his own. You’re a fool if you think otherwise.”

  “That’s not true. He said he really liked me. He said he’d call.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure your phone has been ringing off the hook. I’ll tell you this much. If this guy actually is interested in you, I’ll put a stop to it. Just you wait. I can’t afford to have you blurting out my business to every psycho who’s willing to give you a mercy fuck.”

  “The only reason I told him anything was because he was saying untrue things about you. I knew you didn’t shop at Kohl’s. I knew you weren’t a thief. A royal bitch, but not a thief.”

  “At least you got that part right. I don’t shop at Kohl’s. I’m not a thief. And I am a royal bitch.”

  “You can say that again,” DeWitt agreed with a scowl.

  “I’ll tell you what I won’t say again.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I’ll meet you here. I have no need for people in my life who are deceptive or who I can’t trust. I don’t need you to defend me. I can take care of myself. There are lots of people around here who can sew. Your services are no longer required. I’m through with you.”

  With that, she got up from the table, abruptly leaving the bar. She adjusted her sunglasses and walked into Kohl’s, looking for the nearest undercover store detective. After so long in the retail business, she could spot one of those bozos halfway across any store.

  There’s one now, she thought, spying a young, well-built man carrying a Kohl’s bag that obviously concealed his walkie-talkie. He lurked behind a display, trying not to make it obvious that he was watching the shopping habits of a young girl with a pierced lip. The store detective wasn’t RB.

  In fact, it occurred to her that the Ferret didn’t seem at all like a store detective. Could she be losing her touch? Impossible. Or was it?

  “Can I help you?”

  The question unexpectedly derailed her train of thought, and Natasha answered, “Huh?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to startle you. Did you need help with something?”

  Natasha realized she was standing next to a display of men’s underwear. “No, uh…No. I’m just looking.” She picked up a package of boxers.

  “For someone special?” the saleswoman prodded with a suggestive tone.

  “No. For my father,” Natasha lied. The woman looked at her curiously, and Natasha realized the package she’d picked up was a pair of white boxers with red hearts and the word “Sexy” scrolled across them. “Mind your own business,” Natasha hissed, tossing the boxers back onto the display and walking across the floor to another department.

  She surveyed the store to find the security idiot who was stalking Pierced Girl. She noticed that the underwear saleswoman was on the phone. With another glance around, Natasha spotted the store detective a short distance away, talking into his bag.

  Real smooth, Natasha thought, surreptitiously watching him skirt the store while he monitored her every move. She blamed the Lily Tomlin wig.

  She resumed contemplating the accuracy of her assessment of RB. When it came to taking care of herself in the competitive world of retail management, her instinct had always served her well. It was telling her that RB was not a store detective at Kohl’s or anywhere else. For some reason, however, he’d decided to play Kojak, with Derek as his prey. In doing so,
he’d stumbled onto information about her beyond what DeWitt could have provided.

  Who had given it to him? Only someone from Drayden’s could have told him who she was and where she was from; someone who had a grudge against her. Maybe that vindictive Oscar from Men’s Shoes, who’d whined about his floor space as a way to mask his department’s weak sales. Or Melanie from Cosmetics, who undoubtedly resented Natasha’s superior management skills and was afraid she’d report the Cosmetics employees’ many abuses of Drayden’s rules. Or maybe a person still unknown, the one who’d helped that miserably inept Derek get his job in the first place.

  If RB thought he held all the cards, he’d soon learn that they were playing with her stacked deck. As far as Derek Anderson was concerned, the stakes were small. The big payoff would be in bluffing until she found a way to flush out her enemy at Drayden’s while also squelching RB and getting rid of a useless employee like Derek. It wouldn’t be a straight flush, but she’d still have the winning hand.

  Natasha smirked with self-satisfaction as she left Kohl’s and headed for the food court, suddenly experiencing a voracious desire for a roast beef sandwich.

  16

  A Model for Business and

  Technical Success

  “I don’t understand how you can eat waffles every day,” Vienna stated.

  “And I don’t see how you can eat a fruit cup every morning,” Derek said. “Doesn’t it get boring?”

  Vienna popped a slice of orange into her mouth and chewed methodically as she thought about it. Then she answered, “No. It’s refreshing. It wakes me up. Besides, the ratio of the fruit is always different. Sometimes there’s more banana. More strawberries. You get the idea. Waffles rarely change.”

  “There are different kinds of waffles,” Derek said.