The Mover Ch. 06

I watched the tiny digital clock at the bottom of the tool bar. Just five more minutes and my hour would be up. I could leave this ridiculously posh, horribly smelly office suite and return to my little cubicle. I'd come to love my cubicle. It was tiny, safe and all mine. I could do my work without Isabella's cleavage pressed against my shoulder. The tiny clock read 5:58 when a cloud of foul smelling smoke curled around the monitor.

"Good morning, ladies. I trust all is well?"

Isabella turned and arched her back, allowing Mr. Blackwell the full benefit of the plunging neckline of her tight sweater.

"Good morning, Mr. Blackwell, she purred, "I'm afraid our progress is rather slow. I'm doing my best with Mrs. Lynch, but she doesn't seem to be catching on."

"That is most unfortunate. I'd rather hoped that you could conclude tutoring with Mrs. Lynch and concentrate on your current assignment. This arrangement doesn't seem to be working out."

I'm not prone to tears. I pride myself on maintaining my composure, regardless of the consequences. I waited quietly for the ax to fall. Instead of firing me, Mr. Blackwell handed me a compact disc in a black plastic case.

"This is your last opportunity to save your position with the company. Take this back to your work desk and follow the instructions on the disk. You have until the end of the workday to learn how to accomplish your duties. If you fail, you can clear out your desk and I'll have security walk you off the premises."

I skipped the morning meeting and went straight to Mary King. I waited patiently for her to address me, and then told her about the disc. Mary withdrew a laptop computer from her desk drawer and loaded Mr. Blackwell's CD into the tray.

"I wondered why they would put it on a CD disk, but they said it was because my computer was the only one left in the company that could still play a CD. They said everything these days are stored online or in flash drives.

"This laptop can play a CD and isn't connected to the Internet. Before you put his disk in your computer, let's play it safe and see what he has for you."

Together, we watched the application load. I gasped in horror at the laptop's monitor.

"Oh my God, Mary, it's a virus!"

"It's worse than a virus, honey. If you had put this in your computer, it would have allowed anyone on the Internet to view the company's entire files. That means that our competition, other countries and even terrorist groups could download the company's proprietary files. I knew that son of a bitch was up to no good!"

"Mary, what am I going to do?"

"You don't have to do a thing, sweetie; just hold on to it, and when his bitch comes looking for you, just give it back. But first, I want to make an addition."

Mary retrieved a marking pen from a cup on her desk and wrote "Go to hell, you devil!" She signed her named in an elegant script.

"Don't you worry about your job, Penny. He can't make you use this, and he can't use it without you. You'll have to trust me, honey, it's not going to be easy, but things are gonna work out fine."

*****

It was a little after four in the afternoon when Isabella appeared at the entrance to my cubicle. I started to rise to see if anyone was left in the office.

"Don't bother, she snarled, "They've all gone home to their families. Did you complete your assignment?"

Without saying a word, I handed her the CD. She opened the case and read Mary's message. She dropped it on the floor as if it was a red-hot poker. She gazed down at me and smiled cruelly.

"You've made a huge mistake, Penny, darling. You've already lost your husband, and now you've thrown away your career. I hope you're happy."

I was about to ask her what she meant by losing my husband, when she opened her hand and dropped three poker chip into my lap. When I looked down at the chips, Isabella sailed the hotel card into my lap, as well. She turned on her heel and walked away. I could hear her laughing as she walked down the aisle. If I weren't so frightened I might have detected the flicker of uncertainly in her laughter, lighter than a wisp of smoke.

* * * * *

Penny Collins Lynch didn't work late that night. She didn't stop at the market, either. She drove straight home and stormed into her house, catching her husband completely by surprise.

"You son of bitch, I believed you, I trusted you!"

"Honey, what's wrong, what's happened?"

One at a time, Penny threw the poker chips at her husband.

"I don't understand, babe; where did you get these?"

Penny waved the room key card at Don. "From the same place I got this, from your whore!"

"Hey, babe, calm down; let's talk about this."

Penny didn't answer her husband. Instead, she went to the hall closet and removed a suitcase. Don was on his feet and trailing her into the bedroom.

"Now, Penny, don't be foolish. Don't do something you're going to regret."

"Foolish, you think I'm being foolish? You lied to me, you cheated on me with that, that smelly slut that you know hates me. You cheated on me with the same whore that cost me my job!"

"Isabella has been trying to help you, can't you see that? I was trying to help you, babe. Isabella has a lot of influence on Mr. Blackwell, can't you see that?"

Penny continued to stuff the suitcase while she hissed at her husband.

"You must be insane! You must think I'm stupid. Well, I'll tell you something, buster; if you really think sleeping with my boss's secretary would help my career, you are the stupid one!"

Penny never saw it coming. One moment, she was emptying her drawer; the next moment she found herself lying on the floor. The side of her face burned from the force of Don's open hand. Before she could react, Don picked her up and tossed her on the bed, not before slapping her on the other side of her face.

Don came to his senses when he realized that Penny now held the telephone in her hand. He knew that she needn't press 911; he knew the phone was set to call the police with one button. He knew when it was time to leave, and this was it.

* * * *

I was on my knees on the floor of my cubicle when I heard Mike's voice.

"Don't worry, Penny Collins-Lynch, I took care of it. I saw Mary's autograph on it and went to see what was going on. We missed you yesterday. Is everything okay?"

"Mike, I need a favor."

"Sure thing, dear; what can I do for you?"

"I'm moving tomorrow, would you help me?"

"Sure thing, Penny Collins-Lynch, I'd be glad to help. What time do you want to start?"

"Mike, before you agree to help me, you have to know that I'm leaving my husband."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"We had a terrible fight. He promised the police that he would stay away until I moved my things, but I don't trust him. He's a big guy and I don't want him to hurt you."

Mike smiled his crooked smile and said, kindly, "Sweetie, I've been moving folks for a long time. I've faced every kind of scenario you can imagine. Don't worry about me. Have you got boxes?"

"I spent all day packing yesterday. I have some more to do, but I have enough boxes."

"That's what they all say, he laughed, "I'll bring some with me. How does eight o'clock sound? It's going to be a scorcher, tomorrow."

"Mike, I don't know how I can thank you."

"Sure you do, you can buy me a pizza!"

I've should have seen that one coming.

* * * * *

Don Lynch reached for the little glass pipe on the nightstand. He took a hit and blew a small plume of smoke into the hotel room. He offered her the pipe, but she brushed it away and lit a cigarette.

"Blackwell's pissed, she said, "He says that now we have to start all over. He says that he'll have to find another pigeon."

"So, how is that my problem? I have no control over what goes on at the company. Let him find his own pigeon."

"True, but he wants you to take care of Penny. As long as she works for the company, she poses a problem. He says the gospel singer is a formidable enemy, and he doesn't need another."

"So, what am I supposed to do, whack her? Do you think I'm in a position to do that?"

Isabella took a long drag on the cigarette. "Not at the present, but you can persuade her to come back to you. You can also convince her to quit her job."

"Great, I'll have a wife that I don't want who isn't bringing in any money. How am I supposed to cover my gambling debts? This is your fault, remember; you're the one who told her about the two of us"

Isabella wouldn't admit this to Don, but she secretly glad that she had botched this assignment. She had to make it right, she thought to herself. But what was right? She wondered if she ever understood the meaning of the word, right.

Don lit the pipe again. It wasn't that he needed more, but the smoke helped mask the smell of her cologne. It's strange, he thought to himself. Despite his wife's complaints, he'd originally found Isabella's perfume to be intoxicating. Now, it just upset his stomach.

* * * * *