The Queen’s Code

by Alison A Armstrong

  KAREN read slowly, still afraid she was going to be laughed at. “If I had it all my way, we would have delicious, home-cooked meals, my favorites, and I wouldn't be responsible for food at all. Neither cooking nor grocery shopping. From Monday through Saturday of my crazy weeks.”

  She looked up, expecting a scowl but Mike merely looked interested. “Anything else?” he asked.

  “There'd be plenty of food in the fridge to pack a good lunch. Which means reloading on fresh salad stuff mid-week.”

  “Anything else?” he asked again.

  Karen found herself pursing her lips like Claudia. A habit Kimberlee had taken up in perfect imitation of her grandmother. “No, I think that's it. Can I say what it would provide now?”

  “Sure. I know what your food does for me. I'd love to know what home-cooking would do for you,” Mike replied, his dark eyes warm.

  Feeling encouraged, she responded without checking her notes. “Besides good nourishment to get me through a tough week, having food provided for me would make me feel supported. Like I'm special. Like I'm important. I think that feeling would change the whole week for me. It wouldn't take that much out of me and require the whole weekend to recover.”

  To her surprise, Mike took her hand and said, “I love all your way. You are special, and important.”

  “You're supposed to say all your way now,” she insisted.

  He shook his head, “But I like your way. You deserve that.” He shrugged. “I have some problems delivering. I can grocery shop but I can't cook like you. I don't know how to make your favorites. I can hard-boil eggs. I can reheat and microwave. I'm pretty good with peanut butter and jelly ….”

  He'd said the perfect things. A solution was forming in Karen's head. She was about to speak but Mike had more to say.

  “If we could figure out how, this upcoming week is actually a good one for me to take care of you. In the future, we'd have to put your schedule on mine so I don't have one of my hell weeks at the same time.” He shook his head. “We've done that before. It wasn't pretty.”

  Karen was thrilled. He'd never offered to coordinate his projects around her school schedule. And they had been double damned for it.

  She reached out and touched his jaw. He looked surprised. “What'd I say?”

  She shook her head. “It's not what you said in particular. It's how you're thinking. I feel like I have a partner.”

  Mike's head cocked to the side for a moment. “I always want to be your partner,” he said sincerely.

  A warm feeling spread out from her chest. “I'm getting that now,” she replied. “I guess I needed to learn how to make deals. Even without the solution hammered out, this conversation is amazing.”

  Given what Mike had offered, she was now certain this would turn out. And she suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore. She set her notes aside and moved closer. “Hmm,” she began seductively, “I'm remembering something about how to Jump Start you.”

  KIMBERLEE lay in bed, stroking Lancelot, and thought about her evening. She would never forget the look of shock and dismay on Jack's face. He was authentically bummed, she thought. It had not occurred to her that a sexual proposition could be a disappointment.

  Just when I think I'm learning to understand men, they do something unthinkable. It's a good thing I have Claudia. And Karen.

  She was glad Jack had resolved it. She wasn't sure how, but she saw it play out on his face as he came to some peace with her offer. And when he said he'd be honored, that gave her the courage to tell him one of her Cover Charge requirements. Without a hint of insult, he readily agreed to being tested and given a clean bill of sexual health.

  “That would provide security and freedom for me,” she had said.

  “Of course,” he'd replied. She'd offered to be retested but since she hadn't had a partner since her tests many, many moons ago, he declined. He seemed to like the idea that it had been a long time since her last sexual encounter.

  He'd also agreed to discuss sex ahead of time, on the telephone. He'd laughed when she said it was too hard talking about it in person. Her embarrassment had obviously been increasing by the moment.

  “What I really need is to talk to you about what I want to explore. And what I'm not willing to do,” she'd forced herself to say.

  “That would be good,” he'd responded evenly.

  “That would provide certainty for me and I wouldn't have to be on guard. I really want to learn how to have fun.” Kimberlee had been committed to following the instructions. Then she'd asked, “Is there anything you need to give me what I'm asking for?”

  He'd thought a long moment and said, “I need you to trust me, Kim.”

  Kimberlee wasn't sure which was more surprising: that he needed her trust, or that she did, indeed, trust him. “I wouldn't be asking for this if I didn't,” she'd replied and he'd nodded his satisfaction.

  The subject thankfully changed when their entrees arrived. She had practiced listening without interrupting and was delighted with Jack's stories about his childhood and his career. More than once he had said, “I can't believe I'm telling you all this.”

  But she was glad he did. Hearing about his military father illuminated the premeditated way he seemed to do everything. I bet he isn't surprised that often, she thought, chuckling now at how shocking her request obviously had been.

  She could hear the pain in his voice, as much as he tried to conceal it, when he spoke about how his mother kowtowed to his father. No wonder he's attracted to strong women, she thought happily; glad she didn't have to change that to be appealing.

  He'd finally insisted that she talk about herself and inquired about her father. She had flippantly answered the way she always did. “I only met him once,” she said. “His name is Stewart Whitehall. Of the Wisconsin Whitehalls, apparently. My mom used to complain how she wasn't good enough for the mighty Whitehalls. She thinks that's why he split when she got pregnant with me.”

  Jack had reached over and squeezed her hand, making her realize that she had revealed more than she intended. She'd shrugged and chosen honesty. “My lessons with my grandmother are making me think I only have a fraction of the real story. If men are really the providers Claudia says they are, it would make sense that my father wouldn't have a place. My mother won't let any man provide for her.”

  He had smiled tenderly. “Then you obviously don't take after her.”

  As wonderful as their evening had been, saying goodnight had been awkward. To plan such intimacies in the future, when they hadn't even kissed. What were the protocols for such moments?

  After much hemming and hawing on her part at the front gate, Jack had finally pulled her into his arms and kissed her warmly on the mouth. Even remembering it felt nice. Not threatening. Strong and safe and sincere. And a little thrilling, the way his big arms enveloped her.

  The plan was for her to go over to his house next Saturday. At the very least, she'd get a ride in his Porsche. He wasn't sure if he'd have his test results by then. But it can't hurt to keep getting to know him better, she thought, realizing that she really wanted to do that.

  She fell asleep wondering about their age difference. How big is too big?

  CLAUDIA awoke late Sunday morning to Burt sitting in the chair beside their bed. “Good morning, Sweetheart,” he said. She smiled at him and reached out for his hand. “Good morning, my love.”

  He took her hand and studied her face for a few long moments. His voice was a little rough when he said, “We need to make a new deal.”

  Claudia was not surprised. He had made several comments about what the lessons were taking out of her. She had known it would not be long before he objected.

  “I cannot stop,” she said. “It is too important.”

  “Now, now,” he replied, “you have to follow the process. And, this time, I'm going first.” He set his shoulders. “If I had it all my way, you would revisit the doctor and make sure there is nothing physical we need to know about.”
r />   She swallowed and surrendered, “And what would that provide for you, my love?”

  Burt turned her hand over and unconsciously traced her lifeline. “I would either know what to do, or I could stop worrying about you. Medically, that is.”

  “Okay,” she replied simply. “I will make an appointment for this week.”

  “And if you had it all your way?” he prompted.

  “After making sure my health has not changed, because I do not think it has, we would figure out a way to accomplish this without exhausting me.”

  “Deal,” he replied firmly and got up. She thought he was going to leave but he sat on the edge of the bed and took her face in his hands. “I'm not done needing you, you know,” he said, his eyes watering.

  She smiled and tried for a light tone, “And your needs are critical and urgent.”

  He kissed her forehead, each cheek and finally, her mouth. “I'm glad you understand.”

  After he left, she lay in bed, pondering. She could not stop teaching Karen and Kimberlee. If she did, she might as well be dead.

  VII. Beyond the Damsel in Distress

  RAUL found this process fascinating. It made him wonder how it would work at home with Sally.

  “Let me see if I got this straight,” he replied. “You're saying that if you had it ‘all your way’ you and your team would have the day off after month-end. With pay.”

  Kimberlee nodded and smiled, “Yes.”

  “And what that would provide for you is what again?” he asked. He'd been so taken aback by the sincerity and smooth logic of her unprecedented request that he wanted to hear more.

  “Month-end exhausts us. We spend all our energy and concentration getting every policy issued that we possibly can,” she began. “And as you pointed out in a previous conversation, this is what keeps the agents happy and productive.”

  “Yeah, I got that part,” he prompted.

  “But the next day, we're so tired we start the new month making all sorts of mistakes that we have to find before that month-end,” she stated intently. “We're going backwards from the beginning. But we don't have to. If we had a day of rest to recover from the push, we'd all be more productive, effective — and happy.”

  He couldn't argue with her. It made too much sense. If fact, it could be the solution to one of his biggest complaints — careless mistakes that cost precious time. But he thought of something. “What if month-end is on a Friday? Then you already have time to recover.”

  Kimberlee's eyes squinted and her lips pursed. After a moment she said, “You're right about having had time to recover. But there's another side. Besides the time off making us more effective, it would make our hard work feel appreciated. And people who feel appreciated work harder.”

  “Don't the Production Bonuses make you feel appreciated?” he asked, dismayed.

  She nodded. “Of course they do. But when you're exhausted, or pissed because you had to spend your weekend recovering from your job, money in the future doesn't have the same effect as time in the present.” She paused and looked like she was considering saying more.

  “Yes?” he encouraged.

  “It's just that ….” She hesitated and took a deep breath. “I'm learning from my grandmother that men play for points. And the trick is giving the points in the currency of highest value. My guys like raises and bonuses, sure. But they'll do more for a smile and a pat on the back. It's more immediate.” Her eyes widened and he wondered why.

  Hoping his prompting would keep working, again he asked, “Yes?”

  She grinned. “This week we're learning that what men need is ‘critical and urgent.’ That many of men's needs are immediate. We talked about food and sleep and whatnot, but I think appreciation may be another one.”

  Raul was intrigued. The effect of Kimberlee giving up Frog Farming had been obvious and delightful. But he had no idea her grandmother understood men so well.

  He nodded. “Again, you have a point. Okay, I'll agree to your gang having the day off after month-end. And the following Monday if it's a Friday.” Then he thought of something, “But you're going to have to write the memo that convinces the salespeople that starting the new month a day late is to their advantage.”

  He was rewarded with a huge smile and she looked like she wanted to hug him. He couldn't help but smile in return. If only it was this easy with all his employees.

  “Hey, Kimberlee, can I ask you a question about your grandmother?”

  She shrugged, “Sure.”

  “You know that some of the ladies were not too thrilled with you abandoning the Castration Club, and their noses were bent out of joint for awhile,” he said and she nodded. “But a few of them have mentioned how well the guys are treating you these days. And they're curious about it. I think they really want to know what you know.”

  Her eyes opened wide in surprise, “Wow. Cool.”

  “And I was wondering if your grandmother knew something about working with women which men could benefit from.”

  She shrugged again. “I'm not sure. She seems to know everything. It's like talking to an encyclopedia.” She added, smiling, “Except never boring.”

  “Well, if she does, it could be useful around here. I'd like to get the rest of the office running as well as your department.”

  KIMBERLEE, still high from her conversation with Raul, felt optimistic about seeing Melissa for the first time since their falling-out. She had never expected her lessons with Claudia to affect her work. Maybe she would be as successful with her friend.

  Melissa's welcome was genuine in its warmth for Kimberlee, but falsely cheerful. The conversation was superficial all through dinner and Kimberlee tried to concentrate on Melissa's young sons. Her study of men was making her curious about the smaller variety.

  Look how focused they are on eating, she thought, and observed how Melissa attempted to connect with them anyhow. She suspected that Scott's close relationship with the boys made her feel left out and vulnerable. Melissa's obvious frustration at their lack of response to her jokes finally provoked Kimberlee and she commented without thinking, “They're focused, M. Wait until they're done eating and then tell your elephant joke.”

  Big mistake. Melissa's shoulders stiffened and her nostrils flared. “Now you're going to tell me how to interact with my own children?”

  Kimberlee started to react and then remembered how Claudia always asked permission before teaching them anything. “I'm sorry, Melissa. You're right. You didn't ask for my advice.”

  That seemed to calm her down and Kimberlee ventured, “You did express an interest in what I was learning from my grandmother.”

  “About Scott, yes,” Melissa said tersely. “Not the boys.”

  Kimberlee squelched her reaction to the objectification of John and Bradley. Melissa had always lumped the two together and referred to them that way. Kimberlee briefly wondered how that affected them. Perhaps that's what Scott offers, she thought, treating them as unique individuals.

  “Okay, clear,” was all Kimberlee said and committed to eating her vegetables.

  The rest of the dinner conversation was stilted. Melissa inquired about her job and her love life. Kimberlee made general statements, reluctant to give any details. She didn't mention Jack at all.

  After the dishes were cleared, Melissa made herself a drink and offered Kimberlee one. She declined and poured herself some more water. Melissa put Sarah down for the night and set “the boys” up with a Disney movie in their room. She brought her drink and a conspicuous box of tissues to the coffee table. Settling on the couch, she faced Kimberlee and croaked hoarsely, “I think Scott's having an affair.”

  Kimberlee was shocked. “What makes you think that?”

  Melissa shrugged, “Just a feeling. Remember the company picnic you couldn't come to? It was the first time you went to see your grandmother about men.” Kimberlee nodded. “Well, there was this big-boobed brunette and the way she talked to Scott made me nauseous. I ignored it a
t the time but now I'm worried. She's at the office with him all day. And night.”

  Kimberlee studied her friend's face. Whatever their differences, she felt she owed Melissa her loyalty. “What can I do?” she asked.

  Melissa responded, “Is there anything you've learned from your grandmother that could help me? I do love him, you know.”

  She looked small and vulnerable; the spitfire gone.

  Kimberlee felt sorry for her and awful about herself. I've been having the time of my life, and she's falling apart. Some best friend I am.

  She remembered the rule to not teach anyone else what she was learning. But Claudia said that so long ago. And she clearly wants Karen to teach other women. She puzzled over that for a moment and finally thought, What could it hurt to tell her a few things?

  She recalled how many times she had thought of Scott and Melissa when she was learning about men playing for points. Maybe that could help.

  “I've learned too much over this last month to teach you everything in one evening,” she began. “But there is something I learned on Saturday that might help.”

  “What's that?” Melissa asked, tucking her legs up under her.

  Kimberlee thought about how to present what she wanted to convey. “I recently learned that men ‘play for points’ in every part of their lives. That's why many of them get hooked on video games. Because they get points for every effort and bigger points for tougher challenges.”

  “That's totally childish,” Melissa responded with a sneer.

  “But what if it isn't?” Kimberlee asked, trying to get through. “What if there's a good reason for it?”

  “You're not starting on that ‘good reason’ bullshit again, are you? Where it's all my fault?” Melissa snapped, leaning towards her aggressively.

  Kimberlee took a breath and calmly replied, “Melissa, you asked for my help. Do you want it or not?”

  Melissa leaned back. “I'm sorry. Yes, I want it.” She sipped her gin and tonic. “Tell me more about playing for points. But can you leave out the video games?”