by Mel Walker
"I happened to be in the neighborhood, just finished a talk over at Cognizant. Figured what the hey, I know it’s a bit early but can you get out for an early lunch?"
Simpson was Justin's former boss and mentor. He was the smartest man he had ever met. Ninety percent of the protocols in effect at General Modifications had been developed by Simpson Bolle. His retirement nine years ago left a void which General Modifications struggled with to this day.
"For you, I will....” just like old times Justin could not say no to Simpson, "... there is so much for us to catch up on."
"Good because this old man can only live vicariously through you youngsters. Retirement rarely produces the jolts I was used to."
"Raymond’s?"
Without missing a beat, he replied, "Where else."
As he hung up the phone, Justin noticed the flashing message indicator. He pressed a button expecting to see an internal call, someone from the meeting looking to question his sanity. Instead, it was a different number which disturbed him just as much; it was from home, Leslie.
With the taste of the bitter conversation from the night before still on his mind and the small window given his newly formed lunch plans, Justin didn't bother to listen to the message.
For the first time all week he was going to rush off to a pleasant meeting for a change, and it felt good.
***
"Peter?" Leslie sniffed and stood suddenly looking around as if she could be seen.
"Are you crying?" The sense of concern was evident even across the phone line.
She lowered the phone, raised her hand to her nose and wiped, "no," she was a lousy liar.
"Do you need me to come over?"
"Shit no," she said louder and without thought.
She heard the shuffling on the other end of the line, "Ouch." Peter said. She could almost picture his feint expression of hurt.
"I'm sorry Peter," she began, "not just for that. I'm not ready for this."
"I'll wait."
She began to pace the narrow aisle between the tables, "that's not what I meant." She blew out a puff, her tears nearly gone as she took a swallow of the rapidly drying throat, "I’m not ready to have this conversation with you."
"But we need to - you really should take advantage - not often you hear a man say he wants to talk."
"Taking advantage of you is how we got here," once again Leslie was surprised by the words which seemed to fly out her mouth so effortlessly in his presence.
The snicker at the other end confirmed it, "there - that's the Leslie I know and ..."
The silence returned as she could practically feel her heart pushing up against the long sleeve t-shirt she wore. "This is a dangerous game, Peter ..."
"It's not a game to me."
"I am married."
"You keep saying that is that for my benefit or yours?"
The question smacked against her hard, the guilt returning instantly. “Peter?” she cleared her throat, “this is never going to happen.” She found herself standing, “I shouldn’t have let it get this far. But I have to make this clear Peter. I’m devoted to my husband. I love him, and he loves me. I do not have an interest in you, not in the way you think.”
The line went silent for a moment. Leslie slipped back down to the stool, the phone pressed hard to her ear.
A heavy sigh came across the line, “Ok,” Peter threw her a lifeline, "let's forget yesterday. Do you think we can return to just being partners and friends?"
She pondered the question for a second, as much as she wanted to ignore it she knew to ignore what stood squarely in front of her is what had gotten them to where they were, "even if we could forget yesterday, we can't, we both know what happened, what it means."
"I don't want to lose you, Leslie. You mean too much to me,”
The tears were slowly reappearing as she listened, she had made a mess of things. "I’m going to have to go Peter."
"... my business," the urgent addendum from his end. "I need you as a business partner. You know this is true. Please, let's give it a go. I promise, best behavior."
She thought it over for a second, her silence once again emboldening him.
“You know I can’t do this without you. You know what our business relationship means to my future. That is what matters to me Leslie, truly matters. You know that. You know how hard and long I’ve worked for this, and it’s finally nearly within my grasp.”
His plea softened her resolve, "define your best behavior?"
"No more shenanigans,"
"What are you ninety? Who says shenanigans anymore?"
They laughed the brief respite allowing them to relax. Leslie shifted on the stool once again, "no more late nights Peter."
"Done."
"No more one on one dinners."
"Done and Done."
"We only meet in public places, or if we meet in the office, it is during posted business hours with the doors open."
She heard a slight hesitation.
"Non-negotiable Peter."
"Ok fine."
"No more rides home, if I have to I’ll take a cab."
"That may not be practical ..."
She cut him off, "... I'm serious; these are my conditions."
"Ok damn it. Make sure you keep this approach with our negotiations with Java & Bread."
This produced a chuckle.
"So can we discuss tonight over a late night candlelit dinner over at my place."
She leaned back on the stool with a grin on her face.
"You're not going to quit are you?" she asked half-jokingly.
"You know deep down you would be disappointed if I did."
Leslie thought of the statement for a second. She knew she should object, but for some reason, once again she let the silence fill in the blanks.
***
Chapter Sixteen
Simpson Bolle sat the bar, a scotch, and water keeping him company until Justin arrived. It was barely past eleven in the morning yet retirement had no rules.
Justin pulled open the door like a third grader rushing to the auditorium for an assembly. A smiled formed on his face even before he spotted Simpson at the bar. He ignored the approaching hostess as he walked directly to the bar. Simpson spotted him, a matching smile as he stood and they embraced.
"It's been too long." Justin started. "You look great."
And he did. Retirement agreed with Simpson Bolle. The haggard look of exhaustion which he carried with him his last years at General Modification were long gone. If it was possible after nine years of retirement Simpson appeared younger, definitely fitter, at least twenty pounds lighter and immensely happier.
"Don't I?" they shared a laugh as Simpson led Justin in the direction of the hostess.
Raymond’s was a local watering hole which served a decent but more importantly quick lunch. Speed was the furthest thought from Justin's mind as they settled in quickly, neither needed to look at a menu that hadn't changed in almost fifteen years. After ordering their standard, fish, and chips for Simpson, Texas burger for Justin they jumped right in.
"Seems like I can't open up a paper without seeing another mention of General Modifications. What the hell are you hooligans doing to my stock price? You do know some of us to rely on those dividends for our retirement?"
"Yeah right, you know we stopped the dividends the minute you retired; however, I understand about the stock price, my 401 plan is under water. I’d actually lose less money if I took my investment and spent it on bubble gum." Justin tapped Simpson's forearm, "we still miss you. This latest incarnation of our so-called leadership may quite possibly be the worst yet. And that is saying something."
"Wow, so it's worse than what the papers are saying? They are predicting a thirty percent reduction in workforce and almost forty-five percent cut in expenses over the next twenty-four months. I'm assuming that means plant closures. I saw they already are selling off divisions." Simpson sipped his beer, his beverage of choice for lunch;
the suds momentarily getting trapped in his thick gray mustache.
Justin shook his head as his mind returned to the issues at the office. "Get this they are doubling us up in offices and worst still I have to apply for my job."
"Apply? What do you mean, like an interview?"
A snicker escaped Justin's lips, "if only it were that simple, they want us to present, actually put on a show because they will give us the topic twenty-four hours prior."
"That doesn't seem very professional of them. What is this undergrad again?"
"Exactly."
"Well just remember what we spoke of last time we did get together, you have options."
Justin nodded.
"I just spoke over at Cognizant for ninety minutes, and they paid me one thousand dollars." Simpson continued. "There is a lot of money out there for a man with your skills. Even more, than me, I’m retired, so all I am interested in are speaking engagements and the occasional post review report review assignment. But there are a ton of consulting opportunities. They have guys out there with half your knowledge taking home twice your salary."
Justin twirled his French fry in the small white ketchup cup. "It's a big step. I'm almost at thirty." There was no need for him to explain to Simpson.
"How much longer?"
"Nine months."
"Well then do your nine, quit, take three months off, travel, sleep and then a year from today let's meet here and get you started." As if to emphasize his seriousness Simpson looked at his watch, an old Timex with the month and date embedded in its face.
Justin continued to twirl his fry.
"Just like old times huh?"
The query forced Justin to look up.
"You’re set in your ways. You are going to ignore everything I just said. Right?"
Justin's eyes slowly rose to meet his mentors, "no sir; I am taking it under advisement."
"Which is corporate speak for shove it up your ass." The line was delivered with a rough laugh which relaxed Justin, Simpson was not offended. “That’s what I always loved about you Justin, you were loyal to a fault. Once you made peace with an environment, you are with them to the end. Regardless of that situation changes, or evolves. You always remember the good times and no matter how far reality drifts from that all you can see are the good old times.”
Justin sipped his coke as he processed the words. He had never been the grass is greener type of guy. "You know consulting is not for me. I can't take the long hours on projects I don't believe in." Justin felt the ridiculousness of his agreement as the words crossed his lips.
Simpson had the grace to the only snicker as he lifted his beer to his lips.
"Besides consulting involves way too much travel."
"Your son must be about ready for college, right?"
"Already there. The University of San Francisco.”
"Damn that was quick. I remember when he was born.” He took another sip of his beer. “No more kids at home to worry about. A perfect time to travel." Simpson continued to chip away.
"What about Leslie. We've been waiting for this period since, well forever. We're reconnecting." This time the words produced guilt.
"How is the better half," Simpson became animated, his smile and admiration of her ever apparent.
His joy, however, was not met with the same level of enthusiasm from Justin.
Simpson picked up on it, "don't tell me? Let me guess. You are still working too much, tinkering too much, ..."
"It's not me." Justin became defensive. "It’s just; she's finally started that frames business, seriously this time."
"That's wonderful. To this day every time, I have people over they rave about that frame and painting she did for Margie and me." Their mood shifted with the mention of Simpson's deceased wife, Margie.
After a few moments of silence, Simpson continued, "glad that someone in your household has finally taken my advice. But then again she always was the smarter of the two of you."
Justin relaxed and bit into his burger; the juice ran down his chin. It took him a minute to recall the last time he had eaten at Raymond’s, and then it struck him why "they've also eliminated the charging of meals to the department code."
"Does that include the breakfast club?" The original breakfast club was a Simpson creation.
Justin shook his head.
"Pound wise, penny foolish. Don't they realize that its' the informal, impromptu gatherings of employees which produce some of the most creative, cross-functional solutions? If you lock everyone in a box and have them focus only on their script all you are going to produce are a bunch of corporate robots."
Justin lifted his diet coke, "excuse you, replaceable corporate robots."
Simpson matched his salute with his own, beer tapping the glass, "inexpensive replaceable corporate robots."
Justin nodded and sipped his drink. He thought of the boxes on the organization chart. How the company had so many of them competing for so few slots. From their vantage point, they truly were deemed inexpensive replaceable robots. He lifted his drink and clinked with Simpson’s beer, “you have no idea how true those words have become.”
**
Leslie Grant stood in the foyer of her house at precisely three minutes after six. Justin was a man of routine and would be entering the door in less than thirty seconds.
As she tapped her toes, she took a deep breath. Justin hadn’t returned her phone call in the afternoon. It wasn’t unusual as they both often got tied up with their jobs. However Leslie couldn’t wait any longer, she had to tell him about what happened between her and Peter.
The sound of keys jingling broke her concentration. Before she could take another breath, the door flew open and her husband stepped through the doorway.
For a second he wore a wide grin, it appeared to fade the moment his eyes noticed her. She pondered whether her subconscious saw things which didn’t exist.
“Dear? Everything ok?” Justin asked, concern in his voice.
“Umm, yes dear. I just wanted to meet you at the door. How was your day?” She reached in for a hug, the scent of Privacy on him causing her heart to race. “You’re wearing the cologne I got you?”
He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, “yeah, I figured everything around me is changing. I might as well stop trying to fight it. It’s no Brut.”
She patted him on his shoulder and linked her arm in his as they strolled into the house, “don’t ever change dear,” she added.
He unhooked his arm and placed his briefcase on the floor, “and here I thought you were all about change these days.”
The line stopped her in her track. “That almost sounds like a criticism. I’m not sure how to take that.”
“It’s nothing dear,” he relaxed his shoulders, “I got a lot on my mind.”
She nodded, “I called you today.” Her voice came out weak, needy. Not a sound she liked. She pointed toward the couch. “Let’s talk about work.”
Justin took one step toward the couch and then paused. “You don’t need to hear about all the nonsense going on there. I met with Simpson Bolle; we brainstormed some thoughts.”
“Oh,” she said pausing right before the couch, “how is Simpson?”
“He’s fine. Actually great. I should’ve called him sooner. I think we’re going to try to get together more often. He sends his regards.” Justin bent over to retrieve his briefcase.
“That’s nice,” Leslie said following him as he headed toward the stairwell.
Justin stopped in his tracks, turning toward her. Their eyes connecting. “I assume everything is good with your work.”
She knew he had provided the opening. Now was her chance. Her throat tightened as she found her head nodding, “its …”
His shoulders had already begun to turn back toward the staircase, his feet following suit. She exhaled, realizing his question as a cursory request. One in which a response wasn’t necessarily required nor expected.
She watched him ascend the
staircase. The distance growing between them. Her feet remained frozen in place as whispered to herself, “…something happened.”
***
Justin reached the top of the step, his heart racing, and water welling up in his eye. He bit down on his tongue.
Work.
He couldn’t talk about work with her. The mere mention of the word made him think of the kiss. He knew he should just blurt it out so that they could deal with it. However, he wasn’t lying about the meeting with Simpson; he honestly had enough on his mind for one night.
The discussion had given him a lot to process. With his professional life on the precipe, he didn’t dare go down the rabbit hole with his wife on this night.
One more night he promised himself.
One more night.
Chapter Seventeen
Justin swiped his badge and stepped through the turnstile in the lobby of General Modifications. New day, new rules, time for a new routine.
Routines simplified everything. Yes, he would adapt, but to Justin that didn’t mean tossing away things that worked - routines.
Case in point, after arriving back at the office after his lunch with Simpson, every employee appeared distracted. They gossiped, compared notes and regurgitated the all-hands meeting all afternoon. Justin was sure that the Executives enjoyed a slightly different version of it as well. Theirs involving mocking employees and speculating on their next moves.
Justin skipped the pity party and dived into work, reviewing his procedures and looking at ways to make them more efficient. A much more fulfilling use of time.
He would bring that same attitude to this new day.
Justin avoided the eyes of the newly fortified security team in the lobby, one of the few groups which were upsizing in today’s economy. The recruits lacked the friendly demeanor of the older guards. They glared at each employee as they entered, their mercenary eyes laser-focused as if expecting each employee to start to destroy property right in front of them.
Justin shook his head and pulled out his phone, seeking a distraction. He quickly scanned looking for the email which would at least put some closure to the insanity of this portion of his corporate life.