White Collar Blues

by Mel Walker

  "Ok. And good luck with whatever it is at the office."

  Justin felt a kick in his stomach. She felt excluded, he wanted to protect her from worry, but his actions had only caused additional concerns. "I'll explain everything after your presentation, I didn't want you to worry, but it's pretty serious."

  He heard another pause, "I trust you will do the right thing."

  "I usually do, but this one is different in a lot of ways."

  "Well, then I can't wait to hear about it."

  "Just concentrate on your issue, and we'll get there. Safe travels."

  "I love you." The words rushed across the line surprising even Justin.

  "I love you too dear." Justin returned the words filling a longing he hadn't felt in some time. He hung up the phone and turned to face a stunned-looking Everett who was biting his lower lip, words on the tip of his tongue.

  "You say one word ...." Justin held up his index finger toward him. He grabbed his portfolio and darted out of the room before the evil thought erased the warm feeling of his wife going off to conquer the world.

  ***

  Note taking is indeed an art form. A person must not only participate in the meeting but also keep track of everything going on. Every item must be quickly prioritized, analyzed and determined whether it is noteworthy and then recorded all at the same time that the next person has already begun their reaction and comments.

  After ten minutes Justin realized the reason he was so deficient in this department was that he didn't care about the conversation.

  After another five minutes of having his eyes glaze over Justin began to tap the pen on the pad. On more than one occasion he received a sideways look from one of the executives. His thoughts rotated between all the things he was supposed to be doing, all the places he should be.

  He glanced down at his watch, the third time he did so in the last few minutes. The meeting still had an hour remaining. In less than twenty-four hours both he and his wife would be making presentations whose outcomes would determine their immediate futures. He couldn't recall a more critical time he required focus yet he was stuck in a conference room with a group of people he didn't care for, talking on a topic he could care less about.

  He tapped Mr. bland executive number four lightly on the elbow.

  It took a moment for the executive to acknowledge him, leaning forward slightly.

  "Can you take notes for a moment? I have to step out."

  The old executive burrowed his brow and looked as if a protest was going to appear on his lips, but Justin pushed back from the conference room table before the objection arrived, "thanks," he whispered.

  As the door closed behind him, Justin stole one last glance at his watch, he knew without looking that he had wasted too much time this afternoon, the time he wouldn't ever be able to get back. He focused on what lay ahead, hoping and praying that he had enough time to pull off what he needed.

  He knew that these plans did not involve returning to the meeting. Not today and a strong possibility that he would never see the inside of General Modification conference room ever again.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She knew there was no way to avoid it, yet she still felt uncomfortable. A smiling Peter sat next to Leslie in a cab which seemed too small. He had complained that the airplane seat was too cramped and he needed to stretch out, hence the reason his right arm extended across the back of the seat, practically laying against her neck. She leaned forward and glanced out the window.

  "You hear that?" She attempted to make small talk to hide her nervousness. She answered before he could speak, “the streets are so quiet.”

  "It's late,... at least late for Indianapolis." She didn't respond as she felt his hand rest on her shoulder, she tensed up, "Look over there, that's Java’s Headquarters."

  She relaxed as she realized he was merely drawing her attention. "It's a beautiful campus." The building sat well away from the main road, however, even from the road, you could see the large glass lobby with an atrium built in the middle of the building. Even at that late hour, the smell of baked goods permeated the air. "You smell that Peter?"

  "Mmm smells wonderful. You're wearing my favorite perfume." his arm remained on her shoulder.

  She lowered the rear window and ignored him, "the baked goods. It smells of family, of warmth, of safety, of love."

  "I smelled the same things, but once again I got all that from your perfume."

  Leslie leaned forward and began to dig in her purse. She located her phone, glanced at it as a slight disappointment raced through her veins, Justin hadn't called. She knew she had told him not to call at this hour yet still half expected hm to reach out.. The moment of disappointment moved away quicker than the cab, fortunately, as Leslie lifted the phone and snapped three quick pictures of the building before the taxi had a chance to disappear down the street.

  "The hotel is coming up," the sound of the driver.

  Leslie was pleased they were able to book rooms at the nearby Hyatt. It was less than a mile from the Java HQ building and would allow them to prep up to the last possible moment.

  Peter shifted away from her, his arm finally returning to his side. "Hope you got some rest on the plane as it's going to be a long night."

  Leslie didn't acknowledge the obvious.

  The cab pulled into the circular driveway, and the driver popped the trunk as the bell attendant appeared out of nowhere with a cart. The pair loaded up their bags and equipment. Peter had two large sacks of peripherals while Leslie traveled with three large, heavy bags containing various versions and pieces of her frames.

  It was nearly eleven thirty by the time the pair finished checking in at the lobby.

  As Leslie stepped back from the front desk, room key in her hand, she paused. “Give me one second,” she muttered toward Peter.

  She ignored him looking at his watch as she returned to the desk. The busy clerk typing on the keyboard. “Excuse me. Can I add my husband’s name to the room and leave a key for him?” Just the thought brought a smile to her face.

  “Sure. I’m sorry, did we miss that on the reservation Mrs. Grant?” the clerk responded, concern in her voice as she typed away and pulled back up the reservation.

  “No. You didn’t miss it.” She glanced over her shoulder pleased to see Peter buried in his phone. “It’s something we do when we travel apart. We always leave a key for the other even when they aren’t coming. It’s one of the weird things we do. Our way of having a part of them with us.” Leslie knew she was babbling, but the phone call from Justin earlier had changed everything.

  She had been selfish. Her marriage may not have been perfect, but it was perfect for her. Justin was her hero, always there, always on her side. It may have been nice to get some attention from another, but it would never compare to the dedication and love she shared with her husband.

  “That’s so sweet,” the clerk returned. “I’m going to tell my husband about this. Maybe we’ll start to do the same. What’s your husband’s name?”

  Just the mention of his name had her beaming, “Justin.”

  “Wow, that’s my husband’s name. His parents had hoped for a girl, Justine, so when it was a boy, they just shortened it.” It was the clerk’s turn to beam. “There you go, all set. Can I help you with anything else?”

  Leslie reached across the counter and squeezed the clerk’s hand, “I’m good, actually perfect. We are both fortunate women.” She stared down at the lapel, reading in her name. “Sandy, please tell your Justin that you love him very much every chance you get.”

  Leslie turned from the nodding clerk toward Peter.

  "I know it's late," Peter began as the word barely penetrated. "I'm going to be up for a while; I want to go through my portion a few more times."

  Leslie nodded.

  "I would love to run it past you and get your feedback. I can't stress how important it is that we nail down our timing." Peter continued.

&n
bsp; Leslie couldn't tell if Peter was back to business mode or if this was a ploy. It no longer mattered. She was there for one purpose, her business. He would no longer prove to be a distraction, and they would find a way to work together professionally. She had the love and trust of her husband and more importantly clarity of purpose.

  "We aren't going to have any time in the morning. Sounds like an all-night cram session to me. Let’s do this." she found herself saying.

  ***

  The scent of Leslie's perfume floated in the air as Justin stepped through the living room of the house. He had missed her departure. The smell only reminding him yet again of his poor choice of priorities on this day. On the drive home, he had finally formulated a plan to dig Marcus out of the mess he had gotten himself involved.

  He headed to the one place he knew he could focus - the workshop.

  As he flipped on the lights, the emptiness of Leslie's work area caught him once again. She had packed her travel frames as well as three or four others. Her table was spotlessly clean as if she wasn't planning on returning.

  He stepped toward her table and ran his finger across the clean table top. He dropped his briefcase onto the table and walked over to the stereo. He flipped through the modest collection of CDs and smiled when his fingers came across Born in the USA by Springsteen; one of the many soundtracks which harkened back to their courtship. He slipped it into the player and cranked it up loud.

  He was instantly transported to those early days. They met at a dance of all places. Neither of them a dancer, each brought there reluctantly by well-intended friends. Justin remembered nursing a beer most of the night as he hid in the crowd by the bar and he spotted her doing the same. At some point, they gravitated to each other and struck up a conversation. Each enjoying watching others dance, each avoiding the dance floor at all costs.

  Justin thought she was just kind as she continued to chat throughout the evening. When her beer finally emptied she accepted his offer to purchase another. He recalled spending his last dime at the time, thankful that she requested the domestic on tap. When he returned with the one beer, his other hand empty, she thanked him, took a sip of her beer, and then excused herself to the bathroom.

  As he watched her disappear across the dance floor, she stopped mid-floor, turned toward him. She attempted the running man dance move, one so pathetic that Justin nearly drew blood as he bit down on his lip attempting to hide his laughter. As she disappeared toward the restroom, he finally relented and burst into a snicker that remained until she returned.

  Justin, to this day, beamed when he recalled that moment. Springsteen was playing, and he knew that something of importance had just happened. So caught up in the moment he didn't spot her returning from the bathroom until he felt a tap on her shoulder. She held a beer in her hand.

  "I noticed you were drinking Bud earlier. I grabbed one for you." They exchanged beers, smiles and phone numbers and didn't stop smiling at each other for the next two and a half years until they exchanged vows.

  They had had a beautiful love affair, which to this day Justin felt overwhelmed, honored and undeserving.

  The end of the first cut on the CD broke Justin from the trance.

  He opened the briefcase and pulled out two folders.

  The first one contained his presentation; he had less than fourteen hours to review, analyze and prepare his presentation. He knew right at that moment that Everett Cooper the Third was already working on his fourth or fifth draft yet Justin hadn't even started.

  No matter how important this task was, Justin knew there was one thing even more vital as he picked up the second folder.

  He had placed a yellow sticky note on the file and titled it Marcus' matters.

  He didn't hesitate as he pulled out a legal pad, opened his laptop and flipped the pages. His job may be in jeopardy but if the contents of the dossier were accurate and were discovered by General Modification's leadership his friend Marcus could be facing criminal charges.

  ***

  When he mentioned it on the flight, Leslie assumed it was Peter still flirting and bragging but now that she was there it made perfect sense. Peter had requested a suite with an adjacent room. Leslie was in the adjoining room which shared an interior door to the suite. Peter was in the suite which consisted of a work area with a couch, dinette table, and flat screen television.

  The doors between the suites were open as Leslie required easy access to her slew of designs.

  Peter had his laptop connected to the flat screen television, it acting as the projection screen for the two of them. Peter was on the keyboard, his turn now as Leslie stood working through her presentation. She stood by the dinette table with four of the frames on the table below her.

  After settling into the room, she had switched into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from Max's dinner. The couple had broken into a laugh when Leslie walked through the inner door and saw Peter wearing a matching Max's diner t-shirt and basketball shorts.

  "Ok one more time," Leslie said a bit of frustration settling it. The hour was late; it was well past two in the morning.

  Peter yawned. "You can do this," he encouraged.

  She smiled. Her concerns about Peter had evaporated about twenty minutes into their review session. Peter had been nothing but professional with her. As he ran through his presentation and she heard the passion in his voice, she realized how important this account was to his business, to his life. For her it had been an adventure, she had been caught up in it but knew the entire time that she had a family, a husband and a safety net behind her. For Peter this was it, this presentation would be his stepping stone toward a better life.

  He had been kind all evening, insightful, challenging when it was required and encouraging when necessary. He had been the perfect partner.

  ".... each frame is painstakingly custom built by hand, each one unique and crafted to reflect the design and atmosphere of the Java & Bread local market. ...."

  "Right there." Peter stopped her.

  "I know..." she dropped her head. It had been an issue they had been struggling with since the announcement of the presentation. It was the challenge she so wanted to get Justin's input on.

  Peter stood and stepped toward her, "I'm lost along with you... I agree we have to stress the uniqueness of the frames ... hell, it's what the executives loved so much at the dinner..."

  "But how do we address the fact that we can't produce them nearly quick enough to support a regional and or national rollout... I don't know Peter; if we can't figure this out, I’m afraid they are going to go elsewhere for their frames."

  Peter stepped next to her taking her into an embrace, "don't worry we'll get this figured out. They're not going anywhere else - they are what differentiate us."

  She leaned into him, not hesitant, not concerned, no longer tense. Her fatigue was settling in as she pressed her head to his chest. "Maybe we should pull the frames and have you present just on the technology and desks."

  He leaned back; taking his index finger, he lifted her head by the chin so that they looked each other in the eyes, "stop that talk. Look where we are." He nodded out toward the suite, "we are only here because of you and your frames. Don't you think they could find a hundred shops like mine probably right here in Indianapolis? They don't need a technician; they need a craftsman. They need you."

  "You're just saying that because you're a nice guy."

  "A nice guy who is smart enough to latch his wagon onto a shooting star."

  She lowered her head back onto his chest and yawned, "a shooting star,... .more like a dying comet." She attempted to keep her comet burning bright. However, fatigue caused her to rest her eyes. The calm and nightfall causing the light of the comet to fade away into darkness.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Four

  The email address was checked for the ninth time before Justin took a breath and pressed send. He prayed the recipient would open it early enough and understand it
s contents.

  As he switched back to the document, Justin scanned it again. He had taken him over four and a half hours to craft it and had reread it over a dozen times to make sure every word was perfect.

  He wished he had more time as he knew the email would be circulated broadly. But time was not on his side, hence the risky move. Easily the crazies one he had ever taken in his life.

  Justin stood and stomped his feet, Springsteen had long ago transitioned to Elton John, Billy Joel and now streamed Leslie's latest flavor, Bruno Mars.

  Shit Leslie.

  Justin looked at the clock; it was already one thirty in the morning. He still hadn’t looked at the information Leslie left for him. One problem down, one to go before Justin could even begin to work on his presentation which now stood a mere twelve hours away.

  Justin took the workshop steps two at a time, making his way through the dark house. As he climbed the stairwell toward the bedroom, the weight of the day and the stress began to pull his bones down. He fought a yawn as he clicked on the lights in the bedroom. The blue folder sat center bed, just as she said it would.

  He picked up the file remaining standing afraid if he sat on the bed he would fall right out. He paced as he flipped the pages.

  When Justin was in college, he often was accused of not having an empathy gene when it came to his fellow students. Professor after Professor had accused him of this, as they presented complex engineering and mathematical problems which Justin would stare at for a few seconds and something would click, and he would have a roadmap in front of him. When he came out of his fog, he would look around at the dazed and confused looks of his classmates and couldn't understand why they didn't see what he saw.

  It wasn't till grad school and Professor Xi who explained that the problem wasn't with the other students, but that Justin had a gift; a unique ability to read a haystack of information and cull out the relevant pieces necessary to solve a problem. It was a talent which he should respect and treat well, not use to denigrate others the Professor emphasized.