One Step Ahead

Our Little Secret

February 3rd, 7:45 AM

      As he pulled his car into the lot and turned off the motor, he sighed, staring at himself in the rearview mirror. Since the close call at Ashley Purdy's house, his nerves had been nearly raw, and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hide the fact. While visiting his father the previous day, in fact, he had been forced to submit to being quizzed about his poor concentration and diminished appetite. Fortunately, he had been able to convince the old man that it was nothing more than job-related stress, but he wasn't as confident in his ability to persuade others, such as his brother, or certain of his office colleagues.

      He forced himself to relax, drawing in several deep breaths, in a concerted effort to compose himself , and reminded himself that he genuinely enjoyed his job. Unlike his previous employment, this one provided him with the wherewithal, and the time, to accomplish his true calling: ridding the city of its dregs, in spite of the idiocy of the bleeding-heart social workers and the utterly useless judicial system, which insisted on pumping the junkies and whores back onto the street as if they were coming off of an assembly line. Since they didn't seem to feel the need to do what they had been elected to do, he had decided, it was up to him to see that these people didn't continue to be a drain on society. The discovery that he actually relished the task was, in his mind, simply a bonus.

      Exiting the vehicle, he walked into the crowded building, occasionally exchanging casual greetings with co-workers as he strode through the halls to his office. He hoped for at least a few minutes to himself before a day of organizing files and searching through the internet, but to his dismay, his officemate had already arrived. The other man was already seated at his desk, a crumpled Burger King bag on the desktop, coffee mug in one hand, and a sausage Croissan'wich  in the other, As he entered the room, his colleague spun in his chair, calling out, "Hey, buddy, how was your weekend?"

      "Had a playoff game with the kids on Sunday, and visited with Dad yesterday," he answered. Then, despite an utter lack of interest in the answer, he inquired, "How about you?"

      "Slept in, watched ESPN, had Sunday dinner with my sister and her husband, and did my damnedest not to think about work," was the reply. "But maybe it won't be all that bad, the boss just posted this week's schedule, and it looks pretty easy."

      "I wouldn't say that if I were you," he replied, giving the man a small smile. "Because as soon as you do, it's sure as shit that something will go wrong." Approaching his desk, he glanced disinterestedly at the printout lying on the gleaming surface. He gave the words a cursory scan, but as actual meaning penetrated his mind, he focused his attention on the document, reading it carefully. As he did, he had to force himself not to smile, which might draw attention from the other man.

      "Oh, things are definitely going to go wrong," he thought, as he looked over the paper yet again. "But not for me. This gives me all the time I need to find out what I need to know, and if I'm lucky, I can have this taken care of before the weekend." 

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8:30 AM  

      "Damn, you're fast with that!" Ashley remarked, as he lounged on the sofa in his pajama pants and a T shirt, watching  Briar finish off the thumb of the glove that she had begun the night before. " You just started that a few hours ago, and you're already done! How long have you been doing this, anyway?"

      "Our housekeeper taught me when I was about nine, and I've been doing it every since," she informed him. "This was actually one of the few things I did that wouldn't totally piss off my grandmother. I mean, she wouldn't have been caught dead wearing something homemade, of course, but it was always acceptable to steer me toward one of her groups of society matrons when they decided that they needed to make themselves look good by doing some charity work. I've made who knows how many baby blankets, hats, stuffed toys, et cetera, for different groups, so unless it's a new pattern, or complicated, I've gotten to where I can knock things out pretty quickly."