“There won’t be any cabs,” the pilot predicted. A gust of icy wind came to punctuate his remark. “We’d better go.”
_____
10:30 AM. She found Lydia and Delilah out cold on opposite ends of the couch, a picked over platter of pretzels and cheese between them, a blank television screen casting a blue light on their upturned faces. She pulled the curtains aside and turned the TV off.
Delilah was the light sleeper. “Hey, nice coat…Helaine?”
“Good morning,” Helaine whispered, giving her a peck on the cheek. She knelt beside Lydia and took her hand. “Darling, I’m home,” she said, stroking her face until she finally stirred.
“Lana?” Lydia asked insensibly. “Is that you?”
“It is. Here, come with me,” she said, helping her to her feet.
“Geesh,” Delilah mumbled, glancing out the window. “It’s a winter wonderland out there. What time is it?”
Helaine chuckled. “No school today, girls. Can you rustle up some coffee, Del? We’ll only be a few minutes.”
“A few–what are you going to do?” Lydia inquired groggily.
“Well, since you ask…first I’m going to spank you.”
_____
She couldn’t resist poking her head in to say hi to Kate. “Ms. Fitz-Simone, holding down the fort all right?”
“Yes, ma’am–oh, I like that, Ms. Angelo.”
“The fort?”
“The hair.”
“Flatterer. Anybody else coming in?”
“Your new guy for overseas.”
“He better be good.”
“Ms. Treadwell sent him.”
Another of Paula’s princes? “Then he must be, huh? I’m still not here, okay?”
“Okay…?”
“Queen for the day, Kate. Someday this’ll all make sense to you. As for right now, I’ll call if I need anything.”
Up in the ivory tower Venus discovered JP Beaumont’s lair locked. She wandered the presidents’ compound delivering officious sounding hellos to those staff members who had braved the weather to come in this morning and making a mental note of which cubicles she had found empty. She’d be stuck in the role of a greeter today, she realized, if she couldn’t gain access to the joint president’s office. She raised her brow when red-eyed John strolled in with the winning numbers.
“She doesn’t know we have the combination,” he said as Lydia’s door slid open.
“Gotcha,” was her only response.
“You won’t say anything?”
“I’m here for appearance’s sake only, John.”
“Meaning?”
“That I don’t give a shit.”
He liked Venus Angelo. She was bitching. “That’s the ticket,” he said wryly. “Fabulous do, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“Hit that button there if you need me.”
“I will.”
She would be perfect behind that desk, he suddenly thought. “How do you like your coffee?” he asked.
“Light and sweet.”
He refrained from saying: I heard that about you.
_____
First she spanked her. Twenty minutes later she left her to collect herself and met Delilah in the kitchen for a jolt of caffeine. She was operating on a second wind and she knew it couldn’t last. In the meantime, though, she was deliriously happy, searching the pantry for dinner ideas, on the assumption, of course, that Carlos had been able to notify the maid not to bother to come in today.
She should call Carlos. Let him know she arrived saf–
“Whoa,” Delilah blurted, as Lydia entered the kitchen wearing nothing but Helaine’s fur and one of her grins. “Nice coat.”
_____
She hung up her coat on a peg beside the door and looked around. Aside from the view, which today constituted nothing but a whirlwind of snowflakes, there was nothing too exciting about JP Beaumont’s office. Bare walls, Venus noted. Not even a photograph of Helaine. Scribbles on scraps of paper were strewn across the desktop. She held them to the light. That perfect penmanship. A prep school script, she guessed, a holdover from those olden days, from a bygone era that Venus had only read about, when Lydia was just a girl, when she was most certainly called Miss Beaumont.
There were so many things she would like to ask the woman formerly known as Miss Beaumont. When did you get your period, Lydia? Who gave you your first French kiss? How old were you when you lost your virginity?
“Good morning?”
“Sebastion, it’s Venus.”
“Venus! Where were you last night?”
“Busy–listen, I think my phones have been tapped. You know anybody who can check them out for me?”
“Home or office?”
“Both. Probably more than just the phones, understand?”
“Wow…yeah I know a guy. You home tonight? We’ll stop in.”
“Come around seven.”
“Seven, weather permitting. Who’s bugging you, Venus? Any clue?”
(To tell you the truth, everyone is.) “I know who’s doing it. That’s not important.”
“Okay. See you later.” (Click)
So take that, Venus said aloud, knowing perfectly well that if her office was bugged, Lydia’s would be, too. “Come in?”
“Here you go. Light and sweet. Just how you like it.”
“John,” she said, mustering a pleasant smile, “you’re indispensable.”
_____
Noon: she sent a text message to Carlos. Everything’s hunky-dory.
Twelve-thirty: she served a makeshift brunch for everyone. Pasta and frozen vegetables.
Two: she bid farewell to Delilah and filled the Jacuzzi.
Three-thirty: she put her wife to bed; called her maid to say hi and gave her a grocery list for tomorrow morning; called the Keagans to say hi and made tentative plans with them for an early dinner at Frank’s Place tomorrow night.
Four: she poured scotch and gin down the kitchen sink, locked the liquor cabinet, and undertook to clean the penthouse.
Seven-thirty: she poured herself a glass of merlot and crashed on the couch to Handel’s Messiah.
_____
Sebastion and Venus sat cross-legged and silent in her kitchen while Sebastion’s man crept around on all fours searching every nook and cranny of the apartment, pulling up the rugs, investigating the outlets and appliances, disassembling the remote controls. He looked absurd with his earphones and goggles, his high-tech devices and laptop. She felt absurd having him there.
“They usually put them way up or way down,” he said authoritatively. “People don’t typically look up and down a lot when they’re at home.”
That made some kind of mad sense to Venus. She gave him the go-ahead to dismantle the ceiling fixtures and wall vents, provided he could get them back together again.
He could. This final chore completed he took his earphones and goggles off and addressed her as he packed his bag. “The hallway and elevator are clean, your phones and electronics are clean, the entire interior zone is clean. There’s a couple of motion detection sensors out on your patio, infrared, but I can’t get to them with all that snow out there. They’re probably fine though. The vents, plumbing, lighting, alarm system…no indication at all of any tampering anywhere. There’s no bugs in here, ma’am. Never was.”
Sebastion slapped him on the back and handed him a wad of cash. “Good job, my man.”
The man shoved the bills into his jeans pocket.
“That’s great, but what about my office?”
“I can sweep your office for bugs, but I’ll tell you it’s most likely in the switchboard and I won’t mess with that. Felony trespass if they choose to prosecute.”
Felony trespass. Crap.
“But the good news is that surveillance is still pretty primitive in corporate America,” the man said scornfully. “Since managers and bosses aren’t ashamed to let their employees know they’re watching them, practically nothing’s hidd
en from view. Look for cameras and listening devices in the halls and elevators, in cafeterias and copy rooms, lobbies and bathrooms, and especially near those popular water fountains,” he told her with a laugh. “Any communal space in your building is big brother domain. Eavesdropping on your telephone calls is fair game, too. Like I said, that’s done by switchboard, generally, and then computers sift through everyone’s faxes and e-mails–a permanent record by the way, e-mails, even if you delete them. Phone taps and e-mail searches on employees are routine. Random in most cases. In some cases not. Your cell phone, I’m sure you’re aware, is never secure. Absolutely anyone can overhear those conversations. Anytime, anyplace. Don’t use a cell phone for anything but ordering pizza.”
She groaned and sat on the bar stool. “I want my office swept for listening devices. What can I do if it’s in the switchboard?”
He shrugged. “You’re a vice president there?”
“Yeah.”
“Change the policy.”
He was turning out to be a lot brighter than she had initially credited him to be. She deflected his jab with a self-effacing grin. “Right now, I mean.”
“Oh, right now.” He opened his bag of tricks again and like a wizard with his potions produced a tentacled box about the size of a cigarette lighter. “I can attach that to your phone cord. There’s an LED right here. That’ll flash when someone’s opened your line. You can’t stop him from listening in, but at least this way you’ll know he is.”
“And he won’t know I know?”
“Not unless you start stuttering or he searches your office, which, of course, he doesn’t need a warrant to do.”
Would Paula go that far? Venus wondered. Search her office? Nah, she wouldn’t search her office. She’d have John do it.
“That’s the best I can offer,” the wizard said.
“It’s better than nothing,” Sebastion interjected.
“Yeah,” Venus had to agree. “I guess I’ll have to risk it.”
_____
Ten o’clock. Another nightmare for Dr. Kristenson as she slept on the couch. Carlos is calling to her, half his face in darkness. Up, he says. Get up. But she can’t get up. He holds his hand out to her, his face disappearing in darkness. Up, Dr. Kristenson. Come to–a ball of fire.
“Helaine?”
Helaine woke disoriented. She squinted at the figure in the light. Was this Munich? Was it Prague?
“Helaine?”
It was Rome? Where’s Carlos?
“Wake up.”
“Lydia?”
“You’re having a nigh–what are you doing out here?”
“Oh, god, Lydia, I’m dreaming. Awful dreams.”
“Lana, you’re….safe.”
“Safe?” It made no sense to her.
“Here,” Lydia whispered, “come to bed.”
Chapter 42
To Win or To Vanquish
Forty-eight hours disappeared in the blink of an eye and Lydia returned to work on Wednesday satisfied but still wearing the dark circles of Sunday, Cicero’s tempting youth still lurking in the recesses of her mind, jumbled there with vague apprehensions about everything, which good judgment and Delilah implored her not to voice.
Robert and Kay were right. Helaine had lost weight, too. Yes, the Keagans insisted, they both had. Lydia thought it best not to trouble them about nightmares.
Her brief discussion with Carlos after Helaine had boarded the airplane this morning had helped to allay the most prominent fear. Carlos had taken it upon himself last week to hire Dr. Kristenson a burly Australian bodyguard and in her absence this week, had retained the services of yet another, an eagle-eyed Italian currently assigned to meet her at the airport today, posing innocuously enough, Carlos hoped, to pass as her new driver. Hereinafter, he assured Lydia, the doctor would go nowhere without these fellows, whether she liked it or not.
Bodyguards she wouldn’t like, Lydia already knew.
The joint president didn’t recall leaving her office unlocked but who knows, she said to herself, as she stepped inside it. Clever Venus had filled in for her. Maybe she figured out the combination.
“Black with raw sugar–how’s Ms. Beaumont?”
“John,” she said, startled by his greeting. Her office seemed in order. “Good,” she replied, taking the coffee from him and regaining her composure. “Thank you.”
“You left it unlocked,” he explained, as if reading her mind. “Which turned out to be rather convenient…considering.”
“Oh,” she said, blowing steam from the rim of her cup. “I swear I don’t know where my head’s at these days.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he said, over his shoulder. “We got you covered.”
Moments later JP Beaumont flew by his desk with her coat flung open, her eyes blazing, her face taut with a controlled rage. “Is everything all right?” he called after her. He saw her lift her fists in the air. “Ms. Beaumont?”
“Take my calls, John. I’ll be right back.”
She took the stairs down to VP Angelo’s.
Kate smiled to see her so soon. “There,” she said, indicating the stack of quarters on her desk. “She said to take these coins.”
Lydia pocketed the coins. “Are you in charge here?” she muttered angrily.
The rest of the staff hid their heads behind their cubicles and began feverishly banging at their keyboards.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lydia lowered her voice. “Don’t ever aid and abet her again. Do you understand me? Or you’ll be cleaning the bathrooms for the rest of your professional life.”
Kate giggled nervously. “Yes, ma’am.”
_____
“Give me my ball back. I don’t have time for this sh–for these shenanigans.”
“Shenanigans–that’s archaic for bullshit? How are you, Lydia? You sound livid.”
Venus had removed the little beige ball from JP Beaumont’s mouse, left her a note stuffed in the mouse’s belly. If Lydia was following instructions right she should have placed this call from the pay phone around the corner from Soloman-Schmitt. Or never see her ball again!
“Are you at the pay–”
“Venus, how dare you! How dare you play pranks on–PLEASE DEPOSIT…THIRTY…FIVE…CENTS…FOR…FIVE…I’m the …MORE MIN–oint presiden–EASE DEPOS…amnit!“
Lydia could still operate her computer, but it would be a pain in the ass. She could call maintenance to fix it, but she would look ridiculous. Venus smiled at the sound of coins falling in the slot.
“TWEN-TY…FIVE…FIF-TY…SEVENTY…FIVE CENTS…THANK YOU–Venus, are you–HAVE…TWELVE MORE MINUTES…CALL TIME…CREDITED–eal jerk!”
“Lydia, you’re going to waste this call screaming?”
“Where is the ball?”
“I have your ball. It’s with your present.”
“My…present?”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Venus, I didn’t get you–where–your place?”
“Would you like that? I have a fire going.”
“I’d–it’s cold, Venus. Please. I need to get back to the office.”
“Kate has your present.”
“Kate does? Then why are we doing this?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you, to hear your–”
“You could have called me upstairs!”
“The whole building’s bugged, Lydia.”
“What?”
“Big brother. Or should I say Big Paula?”
“Come on…you sound like Helaine now. How do you know this?”
“You doubt it?”
(Silence.)
“Anyway, Kate’s got some paperwork you need to review. She’ll bring it up in a half an hour.”
“She knows, Venus? She understands all this?”
Kate was a bright girl. Venus wasn’t sure what she knew but she trusted her. “She’ll understand if you act goofy about it.” She threw another log on the fire and watched the sparks scatter in the air. “So b
e cool, Lydia. It’s a Christmas present.”
“Venus Angelo.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to give me presents. I’ve got everything I–”
“Lydia Beaumont.”
“Yes?”
“I’m your Xs, you’re my Os.”
“What?”
“Merry Christmas, your highness.” (click)
_____
“Ms. Fitz-Simone to see you.”
“Thanks, John. Send her in, please.”
“Right away. Are you feeling okay? You look feverish.”
“I’m fine. Just send her in.”
“Good morning…again,” Kate said, after John had left.
“Kate. You have my ball?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lydia held out her hand and Kate placed a small gift box in it.
“It’s in there, I’m told.”
“You’re told?” Lydia put the box in her lap and signaled the girl to sit.
Kate sat.
“Assistant or accomplice?”
Kate hesitated. “Yes, ma’am,” she responded bashfully.
“Yes–that’s for life you know?”
Kate nodded. “I gathered.”
Lydia studied her face. She was shy but forthright, fidgety with that wedding band, which meant that she would, inevitably, lose it. A small-town girl, Lydia guessed. Probably from the Midwest where she was the class valedictorian. Peaches and cream and cream of the crop, and from there she went on to graduate with honors, again and again. Here she could have gone unnoticed for years, but she had stepped in it with Venus Angelo. She was a polite, small-town girl serving the hip and street-wise vice president, who was, Lydia suspected, only a few years her senior. Good instincts to know to be loyal and honest to Prince Angelo. For a prince Venus had to be to get away with as much as she had.
Her gift weighed heavy in her lap. “How old are you, if I may?”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“How long have you worked for Soloman-Schmitt?”
Fortune Is a Woman Page 25