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Authors: Susan C. Daffron

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BOOK: The Art of Wag
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Kat said, “What does a doctor or a cell phone have to do with anything?”

Maria held up her hand and raised her index finger. “First, I’d like to meet a hot doctor. I’m just putting that out there.” She raised her middle finger. “Two, I do not need a cell phone so that I can be on call for every stupid idea my boss has. Mark forced a cell phone on me, so he could call me at any hour, day or night, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And while I have this particular finger raised, I’d like to point out that it is not directed at you, but it
was
directed at Mark. Among other things. When I quit.”

“Thanks. I feel better,” Kat said. “I’m confused though. He used to call you all the time anyway.”

Maria slapped her palm down on the table. “Yes, but I didn’t have to answer it. I have an answering machine. I was his secretary, not his wife. What I do at my own home is my business. But he told me I couldn’t turn the cell phone off. Ever! It had to be on all the time, so he could reach me. He said I had to sleep with it on my pillow. Do you know what that’s like? He called me at midnight to tell me I had to get someone to fix his lawn mower. Another time, at three in the morning, he calls to tell me he caught a mouse in a trap. He was convinced it had some virus and I had to send it to a lab to be analyzed.”

Kat cringed. “Eww. Gross.”

“I know! Then another time he calls to tell me that a dog crapped in his front yard. He demanded that I get one of those pooper-scooper companies to come out and disinfect his precious zoysia lawn. And get surveillance equipment installed, so he could catch the perpetrator of the crime.”

Kat grinned. “Oooh, illicit dumping. Call out the National Guard.”

“Anyway, this went on for weeks. I didn’t tell you about it because I know you were dealing with your own stuff. And that was some really heavy stuff. You had a lot going on.” She paused. “Speaking of which...” she pointed at Joel, “You’re not broken, right?” She pointed at Kat. “And you’re not with kitten, right?”

They moved their heads simultaneously indicating
no
, and Kat said, “I already told you all that! Get on with the story. What happened?”

“I just wanted to establish the mood of the room.” Maria swirled her wine in the glass. “So last week, I finally told Mark that I would have to quit if he wouldn’t let me have a personal life.” Maria shook her head and peered down into her wine. “He said I couldn’t quit—that I’d never find another job. It was upsetting. He called me a lotta names and said I was stupid.”

“That’s not true!” Kat said.

“I know. But I didn’t say anything back when he said that, because I felt like I needed that worthless job. And then that pissed me off. I was so mad at myself. That night I decided to quit, but I wanted to do it right.” Maria grinned at Kat and raised her glass high. “I decided that it was time to organize an office party.”

Kat looked at Joel, who raised an eyebrow and smiled. This was going to be good. “A party? How was it?”

Maria held up the back of her hand and examined her long red fingernails. “You know I do excel at party planning. But I did hear the word
legendary
bandied around after this one.”

“Nice.” Kat waved her hands. “Okay. Go on.”

“Well, when the creepy D&D guys helped me move, they told me they had a Queen tribute band. They call themselves “Funkcan,” which they think is hilarious, because it’s a combination of Frank and Duncan.”

Kat groaned. “Oooh, funky. Ugh. That’s awful.”

“Yeah, they’re a pair of mutants, but it worked out because there’s a song by Queen that truly expresses my innermost feelings about Mark. Freddy Mercury already wrote what I would have, so I didn’t have to.” She turned to Joel. “Do you have the
Night at the Opera
album?”

“I think so.” Joel said.

Maria waved her hands toward the living room. “Put that baby on! I need musical accompaniment to give you a feel for the ambiance, so I can do justice to the re-telling of this experience.”

Joel stood up. “Okay, if you want.” He went over to the stereo and started rummaging through the pile of CDs.

“Anyway, I asked the guys if they’d be willing to play an office party.” Maria smirked. “They were all over it. It’s their first major gig, you know. I gave them their big break. So I feel good about that.”

“Silver lining,” Kat said.

“Once I had the band lined up, I moved into my full-on power-party-planner mode.” Maria fluffed her hair for emphasis. “I printed up flyers and everything. I told Mark that the party was in his honor, to make sure he’d be there. I wiped out the petty-cash fund and got the best munchies ever. There was an open bar and everyone was having a great time. By the time Funkcan came in to play their set, most of the office staff was feeling really fine.”

“I hesitate to ask this, but did Duncan dress up as Freddy Mercury?” Kat said.

Maria giggled. “Oh yeah. He had his skinny little ass in high heels and the full leather drag get-up. It was outstanding.”

Kat could hear Joel chuckling from across the room as he sorted through CDs. “So then what happened?”

“Well I hired a stage-lighting crew and they set up the lights and a wooden platform in the corner, over near Mark’s office.”

“Wow. When you blow the petty-cash fund, you really go for it.” Kat said.

“I don’t like to do things halfway, girlfriend. Then someone turned off those horrible fluorescents in the office and the stage lights came on. It was like blue and purple streamers of light. Duncan got up on the stage and started singing Queen’s “Death on Two Legs.” They’ve got these serious speakers and amplifiers and Frank was just wailing away on the guitar, doing backup.”

“I think I know this song.” Kat looked over at Joel. “Did you find it?”

“Yes. It’s one of Abigail’s I think,” he said.

Kat said to Maria, “Since Joel and I combined our CD collections with Abigail’s, we have access to almost any classic-rock album made in the last thirty years. It’s pretty impressive.”

The song began to play and Joel walked back to the table. Maria said, “Mark was standing right next to the stage. Now imagine Duncan in full-on tranny drag, crooning these lyrics—comparing Mark to a leech and calling him an overgrown schoolboy.”

Kat put her face in her hands and snickered. “Wow. There are no words.”

“So the guys finish up the last few lyrics and Mark’s kinda standing there looking confused, with his mouth hanging open. I’m not sure he actually got it.” Maria grinned. “But everyone else did, since a lot of the women were waving their arms and screaming. People were holding up lighters. It was an experience, and I think Funkcan has a major fan base now.

After the mayhem died down, Joyce handed me the cake, which I had made up special by that great bakery around the corner. I got up on the stage, took the microphone from Duncan, and said, “You can kiss my ass goodbye,” and then I handed Mark the cake, which said “I quit” in pretty purple cursive letters. It also had my cell phone sticking out the top like a wedding-cake topper.”

“Nice touch.” Kat said.

“It’s all about the details, girlfriend.” Maria took a sip of wine. “Then I left, grabbed some stuff from home, and came up here.”

“I don’t suppose anyone videotaped this, did they?” Kat said.

Maria shook her head. “I think Joyce had a camera, though.”

“Make sure you get copies. I have
got
to see those pictures.” Kat put down her wine glass. “Maybe tomorrow we can work on your resume.”

Maria leaned forward, holding her glass with both hands. “I don’t think I’m going to be asking Mark for a reference.”

“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Chapter 13

Friends & Robots

T
he next morning, Tracy was awakened by the feel of Rob running his hand up the back of her calf, up to where her leg was sticking out from under the sheets. She rolled over and looked up at him. He was holding two mugs of coffee by the handles in his other hand.

He sat down on the edge of the futon and handed her a mug. “Good morning.”

Tracy sat up and took a sip of coffee. “Same to you. A girl could get used to this. I like this no-alarm-clock thing.”

Rob set his mug down on the coffee table, put his hands on either side of her jaw, and kissed her. “Me too.”

Tracy looked into his eyes. “Is something wrong? You look like you just lost your best friend.”

“Not yet.”

She sat up straighter. “What happened?”

“I woke up early and checked my e-mail.” He pointed at his work laptop, which was sitting on the coffee table next to his glasses and coffee. “Sometimes real life has a way of intruding on your dreams.”

Tracy smiled. “I thought almost the same thing not too long ago when I was driving back up the hill to Alpine Grove. I tried to pretend I was driving your car, and The Turd almost stalled out, which really interrupted my flow.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her neck behind her ear. “Being here with you has been like a dream.”

Tracy leaned back to look at him. “Except for that whole work part.”

“No, even that was great. You make me laugh, and you’re so beautiful and sexy. Plus, you’re just fun to be around. Even when you’re trying to avoid working.”

She widened her eyes in mock horror. “I would never do that.”

He reached over and grabbed his coffee again. “Well, you don’t have to worry, because I got an e-mail from Ben Walsh. They gave the contract to some big firm in LA.”

Tracy slumped down on the futon, cradling the coffee in both hands. “I guess that’s not completely unexpected. But I think I secretly thought it would really happen. The last few days, I’ve walked through quitting my job in my mind probably a thousand times. Dr. C is always really nice about me quitting, and gives me free vet care for Roxy forever.”

Rob stroked her cheek. “You certainly have a detailed fantasy life.”

“Maybe we can change Ben’s mind.”

“I don’t think so. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I mean, what are the odds that you’d say your father’s name wrong, anyway?”

Tracy sat up straight again. “You
do
think this is my fault, don’t you? That I did that on purpose. I knew it! This is probably part of your theory of sabotage or whatever it is. You’re the one who wouldn’t stop laughing.”

Rob held up a hand. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m just telling you what he said.”

Tracy reached down to put her mug on the floor, flopped down on her side, and put her hand under the pillow. “You’re being too nice about my screw-up again. Why are you being so reasonable? You should be mad. At Ben. At me. At somebody. I mean, come on. We did all that work for nothing.”

Rob took a sip of coffee and peered over the rim of the mug. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Okay.”

“Were you a cheerleader in high school?”

She rearranged her pillow. “What? Is this a trick question?” She fisted her hand and shot it up in the air. “Cedar County High School Rules!”

“That’s what I thought. Let me guess. That guy you dated in high school. Neil or whatever his name was? He was on the football team, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He was the quarterback. So what?”

“Do you remember any of the guys who were in the chess club, the math club, or metal shop?”

She shrugged. “Not really, I guess. The high school draws from a pretty wide area actually, not just Alpine Grove. So it’s not like I knew everybody.”

“Those geeks in the math club were me. Some people go through life being sort of forgettable. Early on, you figure out you won’t be dating the cheerleaders and they don’t know you exist. Or if they do know, they just think you’re really weird, and they
pretend
you don’t exist. The end result is basically the same. That’s why being with you is kind of like a dream for me. You actually talked to me in class that first day. And then you talked to me again.”

Tracy sat up. “I would have noticed you in high school. Neil was in auto shop, remember?”

“I was not a jock. Just a tall, skinny weirdo.”

“Okay, so what? Life is not high school. What does this have to do with anything?”

He leaned back and put his arm behind his head. “Sometimes you just have to accept that no matter how much you may want something or how hard you work, it’s just not going to work out. You put yourself out there—you try. But some things are out of your control.”

Tracy shook her head. “That is such a cop-out.”

“No. It’s just the way things are. Some people are born salespeople. I’m not. I hate presentations, speaking, and all that.”

“So what? You can still do the work.”

“Not if I never get the job. I knew it was a long-shot, but I thought having you there might help. I fix someone’s network system and the next day they can’t remember my name. That’s one reason I’ve had so much fun being here. I go to the cafe and Betsy asks me about the project. When I see Joe, he talks about my hair.” He pointed at the shelf along the wall, which the paint box was now sitting on. “And your mom gave me that shelf over there because she remembered something I said.”

“Yeah, that was nice of her.” She shook her head. “But I don’t get why any of this makes any difference.”

BOOK: The Art of Wag
13.97Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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