Girlfriends (Patrick Sanchez) (18 page)

“What’s that?” she asked. “It smells really good.”

“Just leftovers from the weekend,” Peter said, wishing that just once he could eat his lunch without Doris inquiring as to what it was.

Peter was ready to dig in, when his phone rang.

“Peter, it’s Mark, I need to see you in my office right away,” Peter’s boss asked with an uncomfortable tone in his voice. In all the years he had worked at the firm, Peter had never heard such an odd tone in Mark’s voice. “I’ll be right there, Mark,” Peter replied before realizing that Mark had already hung up. He got up from his desk and maneuvered through the maze of cubicles that led to Mark’s office. When he got to the doorway, Mark motioned for him to come in.

“Would you close the door behind you, Peter?”

Peter closed the door and sat down next to a perky young lady wearing a pink business suit and reeking of expensive perfume. Immediately after looking at her, Peter decided he didn’t like her. Every hair was in place, and her makeup was perfect. She was sitting straight up in the chair, projecting confidence and authority, even though she was barely over five feet tall. She was just like those girls in high school who wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Bitch, Peter thought to himself.

“Peter, this is Cameron Hartman. She’s an operations analyst in information services downstairs.”

“Nice to meet you, Cameron,” Peter said, extending his hand and managing a slight smile.

“Yes, my pleasure,” Cameron replied with an overly firm handshake.

Mark cleared his throat and looked at Peter. “Peter, Cameron called me this morning with some concerns.”

“Concerns?” Peter asked.

“Yes, Peter,” Cameron interrupted. “Part of my responsibility is to monitor and generate reports of staff member activity on the Internet.”

Oh, shit, Peter thought while his heart started racing. He tried to look calm while Cameron continued.

“We’re concerned about the substantial amount of time you’ve been spending on the Internet accessing sites that have nothing to do with our business. Honestly, it’s hard for us to understand how you get any work done at all, considering the amount of time you spend hopping from one site to the next,” Cameron added while handing him a report.

Peter eyed the document that listed the date and amount of time he spent at various Internet sites. Most of them had something to do with health or disease—migrainecontrol.com, multiplesclerosisforum.com, coloncancer.net.

Cameron rattled on, but Peter was so busy reviewing the report and trying to think of something to say that he didn’t hear her. When she finally shut up, both she and Mark looked at Peter and waited for a response.

“Gosh, I’m not sure what to say. I guess I got caught up in the whole cyberspace thing and it got out of control. It won’t happen again.”

“Do you have anything else you want to say?” Cameron asked.

“I really don’t know what else to say,” Peter replied, shrugging his shoulders and trying to look apologetic.

“Thanks, Cameron,” Mark said, signaling her to leave.

“Sure. Nice to meet you, Peter,” she said as she got up to leave the room.

“You too,” Peter replied. Maybe next time you can smash my balls with a sledgehammer.

“Peter, what were you thinking? Didn’t you know you were being monitored?” Mark asked, sounding more like himself.

“Obviously, I didn’t, Mark. I’m really sorry. How embarrassing this is.”

“I haven’t looked closely at the report, and actually I don’t intend to. You’ve done good work around here. I can’t imagine you’ve spent as much time screwing off on the Internet as Cameron implied. Let’s forget this happened, Peter. And make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Thanks, Mark,” Peter said, getting up to leave. He left Mark’s office and went back to his cube. He didn’t feel much like eating anymore. He was about to throw his lunch into the trash, when his phone rang again.

“Hello, this is Peter.”

“Yes, Peter, it’s Cameron Hartman. I just got back to my desk. I forgot to mention earlier that I need to get a copy of any written documentation about your inappropriate conduct on the Internet.”

“Written documentation? From who?”

“From your supervisor, Mark Koffman.”

“As far as I know, there wasn’t any documentation,” Peter replied, just slightly showing his annoyance with the pushy little woman.

“Well, it’s company policy for anyone misusing the Internet to receive a written warning.”

“Really? Mark and I discussed this, and he didn’t feel it was necessary.”

“Okay, I will talk to Mark directly.”

“About what?”

“I just need to remind him about the policy and make sure a warning is placed in your file.”

“If I may be so bold, Cameron, can’t we forgive and forget? After all, if my supervisor is willing to let it go—”

“Peter,” Cameron said condescendingly. “Wasting company time and money going to hundreds of Web sites for
afflicted
people is hardly something we can just let go.”

“Afflicted people?” Peter said, seething. “Well, do what you have to do. I’d better go. Don’t want to waste any
company time or money.”

What a fucking bitch, Peter thought, hanging up the phone. It was almost as if she got some pleasure out of getting him into trouble. If Mark didn’t write him up, what did she care? Something was seriously wrong with this chick. First she humiliates him in front of his boss, now she was going to see to it that he got a written warning in his personnel file, and, worst of all, she had called him afflicted. He was going to get back at her even if she was just doing her job. But how? He needed to come up with a creative plan for getting even. This called for some consulting services from an expert. He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Gina, hey, it’s Peter.”

Responsible Pet Owners

“G
osh, Peter, this is a bit of a tough one. I hope I’m not losing my touch.”

“Come on, Gina, I’m counting on you. Cameron embarrassed me in front of my boss, she got me written up, and she’s just plain mean. I’ve been here for over five years and never had a problem, and now all of a sudden I have a written warning in my file.”

“Don’t worry, Peter. We’ll think of something to settle the score. I need to know a little about this girl. Tell me about her.”

“I barely know her myself. I know you wouldn’t like her. She’s one of those I-have-it-all-together little bitches.”

“Then I definitely wouldn’t like her.”

“And she’s little and cute. She was probably a cheerleader in high school.”

“Okay, okay. You didn’t have to play the
cheerleader
card. Gosh, we could harass her by phone, but it’s so hard to do nasty things with the phone these days, with caller ID and *69. If you want to get to her by phone, you’ll have to do it with a pay phone.”

“Gina, we’re not in first grade. I’d like to do something a little grander than a couple of prank phone calls.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Peter. Phone calls would just be the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“The beginning of a steady stream of events. We could make her think she’s crazy. Oh, the wheels are spinning now,” Gina said, pausing for a moment when she saw Shirley walk into the bank with Gomez.

“Peter, I think I have a pretty good idea, but Shirley’s here, so I have to go. We’ll put our heads together later and flesh everything out. I’ll stop by tonight,” Gina said before hanging up the phone.

“Shirley, you know you can’t bring him in here,” Gina said, bending over to pet Gomez. “How’s my baby? Have you been a good boy today?” she said to the pooch before looking up at Shirley. “We’d better get out of here. I’m in enough trouble around here without Liz getting on me for having the dog in the bank.”

As Gina tried to usher Shirley and the dog out of the bank, Liz poked her head out of her office.

“Gina, you can’t have that dog in here,” Liz said sharply.

“What? This?” Shirley said, pointing to Gomez. “He’s my Seeing Eye dog.”

“Shirley!” Gina said, trying not to laugh before calling to Liz, who was not amused by Shirley’s antics. “I know, Liz. I’m sorry. We’re taking him outside right now.”

Gina took the leash from Shirley’s hand, and they went outside. Shirley generally worked nights at the restaurant, so she often stopped by Gina’s apartment during the day to walk the dog. She loved to spend time with Gomez. He was always thrilled to see her and put on a big production every time Shirley came to visit. He barked and wagged his tail and ran around in circles at her feet to greet her.

The dog and Shirley had a special relationship. Gomez was the first living creature that she felt really gave her unconditional love. Gina and her mother certainly loved her, but they were always nagging about something—telling Shirley she should go back to school or get some vocational training. They always had some idea about how to reorganize Shirley’s life and get her on track. Gomez never bugged her about anything. He just listened to her, gave her doggie kisses, and provided an often much-needed lift to her spirits. She hated giving him up only a few weeks after she adopted him.

About six years earlier, during a brief stint selling futons in Dupont Circle, one of Shirley’s coworkers offered her the purebred mini dachshund pup, and she gladly accepted. Or, at least Shirley’s friend told her that Gomez was a pure-bred mini dachshund. Gina found it somewhat suspicious that someone would
give
Shirley a purebred dog, not to mention that neither Gina nor anyone she knew had ever seen a dachshund with such a long, fluffy coat.

When she set out to name the puppy, Shirley was somehow under the impression that Gomez was a Chihuahua—maybe because he was so small. She had seen something on television a few months earlier that mentioned Chihuahuas were originally bred in Mexico. One of the deliverymen at the futon shop was named Gomez, and he was from Mexico also. Anyway, Shirley just liked the sound of “Gomez.” She didn’t get to say words with the letter “Z” in them very often, so Gomez was just a fun name to say. Gina didn’t have the heart to tell her that Gomez was, in fact, a dachshund, a breed that originated in Germany. To this day, Gina wasn’t sure if Shirley ever figured it out. It didn’t really matter anyway. Gomez became the German dog with the Mexican name and, if anyone asked, Gina just told everyone her mother was a fan of the Addams family.

Shirley and Gomez became instant friends, and she took great care of him; however, it was just a few weeks after she took him in that one of the managers in her apartment building gave her forty-eight hours to get rid of the dog or be evicted. Gina’s building allowed pets under thirty pounds, so she hesitantly agreed to take the pup until they could find him another home. Six years later Gina and Gomez were still together.

“Shirley, what’s the matter with you? Are you trying to get me fired? I’m on thin ice already without you being smart with my boss.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I couldn’t help myself.”

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“You know Gomez, he loves to go for a ride in the car. I thought we’d drive out here, and I’d take him for a walk along the W&OD Trail. He needs some exercise. You keep him cooped up in that apartment too much. Want to come?”

“Sure. Let me tell someone I’m taking lunch. I’ll be right back.”

The girls and the pooch walked along the trail while Gomez ran ahead of them with his nose to the ground. It was a pleasant summer day, especially for D.C., where summers tended to be overcast, hot, and muggy. It was only about eighty degrees, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The trail was rather busy for a weekday during work hours. A fair number of people must have called in sick to enjoy the nice weather. Gina and Shirley kept to the right of the trail while an occasional biker or jogger whizzed by.

“So, whatever happened with that career improvement plan you were supposed to develop?” Shirley inquired.

“Linda and I worked on it last night. It’s going to be a royal pain. I’m going to write a report to Liz twice a month to document my efforts toward improving my performance. I’m also going to start exactly recording my arrival and departure times to show that I’m putting in extra hours and arriving on time, and I promised to develop some programs to improve morale at the bank. It mainly consisted of things like that. Linda actually came up with most of the ideas.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’ve made it this far.”

“I guess—” Gina didn’t get a chance to finish. From what seemed like out of nowhere, she heard someone scream and, before she knew it, an overweight woman on Rollerblades came crashing into her—pushing Gina on the ground and tumbling on top of her. As soon as Gomez caught sight of this, he began frantically barking and running to Gina’s aid. As Shirley tried to help the ladies up, Gomez started growling at the fat woman and nipped her on the leg.

“Calm down, Gomez. It’s okay, boy,” Gina said, trying to calm the dog as she got up.

“Are you okay?” the lady asked Gina, pulling herself up.

“I’m fine. You?”

“Well, I was until your dog bit me,” she said, pointing to what looked like a minor scratch on her shin. “He has his shots, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Shirley replied before Gina had a chance to respond.

“Why doesn’t he have a rabies vaccine tag on his collar?”

“It’s at home,” Gina lied. In fact, Gomez hadn’t been to the vet in a couple of years.

“I really need to see it, just to make sure. Do you live nearby?”

“No, I’m just on a break from work, but I can assure you he doesn’t have rabies.”

“Well, I need to know for sure. What’s your vet’s name? I’ll call him directly,” the woman persisted.

“Look, lady!” Shirley interjected abruptly. “Fact is, the dog hasn’t had a rabies shot recently, so I guess you’re out of luck.”

“Then I’ll have to call the animal shelter,” the woman snapped while whipping her mobile phone out of her pocket. “They may have to quarantine him to make sure.”

“No one’s quarantining anyone,” Shirley yelled, not knowing what the word “quarantine” meant. “If you hadn’t plowed your fat ass into my daughter, the dog wouldn’t have bit you in the first place.”