by Christy Shorey and you

ARCHIVE: NOV. 3 edited for spelling and grammar

3324 words

The interview with the university Registrar's office went well. Margot left confident that she would be a prime candidate for the position, and assured that her next interview, the one at the medical center, would be her best of the day.   She considered it a tribute to her personality, her power, that she had persuaded the admissions office to grant her an interview the same day she stopped in to drop off her resume. They were impressed with the computer skills she had, and offered her a position in their data processing unit, a different job for the one she was inquiring about. She declined, saying she wanted an opportunity to work on her people skills.

The job working with student data would honestly have worked better for her plans, but she was tired of working with computers, that much was true. Besides, the job at the medical center was overall more promising.

She stood in front of the medical plaza, letting the sun warm her face, and let out a sigh. The day was almost too nice to consider going indoors. She hated being reduced to looking for mundane jobs, trying to find ones that suited her needs, even in the most marginal way. It would be so much easier if she had access to information like she used to have at her fingers, until it was snatched away from her by her nemesis. She gave another sigh at the memory. Her rival was safely taken care of, she had seen to it years ago, but her lifetime competitor was not to be taken lightly, and had left her mark on Margot in ways she shuddered to think about. And now, to have the familiar feeling in her gut, that someone was rising to challenge her, it sent a thrill down her spine at the same time she dreaded it coming. After years it seemed her rival was finally strong enough to discover what had been done, to possibly rise to challenge Margot again.

Margot shook her head, bringing her eyes to focus on the buildings reflected in the medical center's front hall. Maybe she should consider retiring from her job hunt and resolve to become a fantasy writer instead. Taking a few calming breaths, and putting on her most charming smile, Margot headed into the medical center, to secure her next job.

****

"I'm going to get lunch," Rocky said, knocking on the counter in front of Lacey to draw her attention from the book in front of her. "Want anything, honey?"

"Where you headed?"

"Either Cuban Pete's or that pizza joint on 5th. Gotta preference?"

Lacey shook her head, and pushed a ten across to Rocky. "Either is fine, just get me what you're having."

"No problem. Hey, wanna go out with me sometime?"

Lacey looked up at her fellow ink-artist. He was kind of gruff, and some people would be frightened by his numerous tattoos and piercing, but underneath she knew he was kind. She shrugged, and bit her lower lip. "Rocky..."

Rocky ran his hand over his bald scalp, and looked down at his shoes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ask like that. I meant, well, I know things weren't going well with you and Jason, it being long distance and all, so I figured you might wanna go somewhere and talk, you know, get it off your chest. Sorry."

Lacey shook her head, a gesture missed on Rocky, who was diligently counting the eyelets in his sneakers. He gave a small cough and continued. "Well, I'm going to get some food. But if you ever need a sympathetic ear, that's what I meant, really, the offer is still good."

Lacey watched Rocky leave, the bells on the door protesting at having to work needlessly as the door slammed shut behind him. She brought her hand to her mouth, started to absentmindedly bite her nails, and tasted the bitter flavor of the special polish she had applied to break her of the habit. Spitting out the taste, she pulled her hand away from her face, and settled for examining her nails instead.

Maybe it was time that she found someone that she could be serious about. Even with her puppy George, though at 5 he was hardly still a puppy, her house felt more and more lonely as the days passed. Remembering what January had said at the session that morning, she went and pulled her file. She sat staring at the picture of the man she had drawn, and image she had pulled from her dreams, and wondered if perhaps he really existed.

The rendering of red eyes met her own brown ones in an unwavering glare. Setting down the picture, Lacey pulled out the phone book, looking up the name of the coffee shops in the area. It had been months since January's last visit, and Lacey couldn't quite recall the name on the cup, but she knew she would recognize it if she saw it, or if someone said the name. After a few minutes, she found what she was looking for. Scribbling a note to Rocky saying she had an errand to run to the dry cleaners, she turned the sign on the door to "closed" and headed to the coffee shop.

****

Logan came to in an unfamiliar bed. There was an IV sticking in his arm, and Tracy, his dry cleaner, was sitting in the chair at the foot of the bed. Her husband Larry was in conversation with the nurse who was standing in the doorway.

"So, he's going to be fine then?"

"Yes. It appears it was a bad case of dehydration," said the nurse, looking at the clipboard in his hands.

"But that don't explain the eyes being red," Larry said, his voice shaking a bit as he mentioned it.

Logan groaned, at first in irritation at himself for letting someone see his eyes when they were other than their normal blue color, then he strengthened it once he realized it would serve as a great distraction to end the conversation that Larry seemed insistent on pursuing.

His ploy worked, and suddenly Tracy was by his side, calling for the nurse. The nurse pushed his way past Larry and put his fingers on Logan's wrist. "And how are you feeling?"

Logan blinked his eyes a bit, then, unsure if the tint of red was still present, closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow. "Okay," he muttered. "Tired, and my head hurts."

"It should, you hit it on the floor when you fainted. Can you remember how you felt before you passed out? Dizzy, sleepy, hungry?"

Logan squinted as he recalled the flash of memory that had haunted him before he passed out. Suppressing the memory, trying to keep it from taking him from the moment, he muttered "A little dizzy."

The nurse nodded. "You were pretty dehydrated when you came in. We've given you an IV to get more fluids in you. You should be fine to go in about an hour, but you're to drink plenty of water or juice for the rest of the day."

Logan nodded. "Okay."

The pressure on his wrist lifted, and he heard the nurse taking a few more notes on the clipboard, then turn and leave the room. Logan cracked and eye, and saw Tracy was talking in hushed tones to her husband. Straining to hear, he caught Larry saying "But red eyes isn't natural. Maybe we shoulda called a priest instead of an ambulance."

Tracy snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, I probably just saw it wrong, panicked when he fell, and with the light from the store across the street, you know, that new neon sign they put in, it probably was reflecting off his eyes. That's ALL Larry."

Logan closed his eyes, and concentrated on the necklace he always wore. He focused on the feeling of the nurse's hand on his wrist, binding his perception of the man into his memory, into the necklace, then he fell into a dreamless sleep.

****

Dresden was dizzy. After he had fainted, his class had fallen apart. He had only been out for about two minutes, but when he came to, the classroom was empty except for him, the principal, whose eye was still bleeding, Candice, who was also bleeding, and still unconscious, the new transfer, Kyle, and a teacher from next door.

Dresden felt amazed at how little it took for the seniors to assume class was dismissed, and vaguely worried about what kind of trouble his students would get into during the rest of third period, and how that would reflect on him, when it was realized where the students should have been during that hour.

Trying to sit up, Dresden felt queasy. He realized that the teacher from next door, Mrs. Gayle or something like that, was asking him a question.

"Wha--" he started, blinking, trying to get her in focus.

"I was saying the school nurse is out, she called in sick. And the three of you should go to the hospital, but the principal is insisting the school board won't pay for an ambulance, so I someone will have to drive."

A quiet voice came from the direction of the transfer student. "I can drive. Got my license."

Mrs. Gayle turned to look at the unfamiliar face, then said, "Fine, good. Dresden, you have a car, right?"

Dresden nodded, then winced. He must have hit his head when he passed out. "Yeah, I do."

"Great, um---"

"Kyle" the student provided."

"Kyle will drive, give him your keys. I think the principal is calm enough to walk. I'll get some of my students to get you and Candice into the car, Mr. Trent is keeping an eye on my class for me. But your kids all took off."

Dresden almost nodded again, but thought better of it. "Figures."

It took them ten minutes to get everyone settled in the car, maneuvering Candice, who was still unconscious, into the back seat next to Dresden, and convincing the principal to keep his hand over his still-bleeding eye.

Dresden tried to keep focused, giving Kyle directions to the nearest medical facility, but the 5 miles there seemed to last a life time - just his luck, Dresden thought, they hit every red light on the way, and each time the car slowed to a stop, Candice rolled forward in the seat, and Dresden had to push her back. The blood from the wound on her head seemed a sickly thing, and he almost threw up a few times. When they finally got to the medical center, Dresden gave in to his impulses, and passed back out.

****

Margot had aced the interview with the medical team, even though they technically weren't starting the interview process until next week. She knew that submitting her resume in person always looked good, and this time it paid off. Well, that and her personality.

But her personality couldn't remove the bureaucratic red tape. Dr. Davis had assured her the receptionist position was hers, but they could not do the official paperwork until two weeks later, once the official deadline for interviews was done. But he had taken her to talk to the current receptionists, and introduced her as an intern who would be working with them for two weeks, and interviewing for the full time job. If she wasn't hired, Dr. Davis said, then at least she could be a warm body to cover until the new employee was available to start.

She was getting a tour of the receptionist work area, when a young man came in assisting an older man who appeared have a bad eye injury. She did a double take, the young man was Kyle. "I've got two more in the car," he was saying.

The receptionist who was giving Margot the tour picked up the phone and called for assistance to the front desk. An orderly came an assisted the older gentleman to the back, while three more went out the car. Two came back to meet a gurney, and the third was assisting a gray haired man with shoes that looked like dogs in. The orderly set him on a chair in the lobby, and said he'd be back in a moment, then helped the other get the girl set up in the back.

The receptionist watched all this, then turned back to Margot - "Sorry, it gets hectic around her some times. You don't know about the paperwork yet, so I'll take care of it. I'll be back in about 20 minutes, Sorry."

Margot took the opportunity to slip around the counter into the lobby. "Hi Kyle," she said, and smiled as shocked recognition passed over his face. Margot had the feeling that Kyle forgot she existed when he wasn't in the same vicinity as him. As if she didn't exist outside the apartment they shared.

The blond youth finally recognized her, and gave her a smile. His smile was part of the reason Margot had approached Kyle in the first place. That, and is willingness to follow her instructions, with little initiative to do his own thing, make him ideal.

"Margot. Hi. I went to school today, but then there was trouble. This is the teacher," he said, pointing to the main with dog-faced shoes. "But he got hurt before I got his name. I drove his car here. Oh," he said, sudden realization on his face, "I was supposed to put in a parking space once everyone was inside. I'll be right back," he said, and ran out the door.

Margot sighed, and watched the young man get in the car, and pull away from the front entrance. She muttered to her self, "I didn't know he knew how to drive."

The man with dog-shoes moaned, and looked up. "Are you a nurse? I hit my head, and I feel a bit woozy."

"No, sorry. I've just been hired as a receptionist," Margot said.

The man moaned again. "I'm pretty sure I just lost my job," he said, putting his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Margot said, looking around for an orderly or nurse to assist this man. The area was very quiet.

"Um, are you seeing straight?"

The man blinked, and looked at her. "Yes, I think so. But my stomach is woozy. It might have been the blood. I get icky when I see blood."

"Okay. Well, I see that you're not bleeding, so you should be fine. Would you like some water or something?"

The man shook his head, then wince. "Maybe I should." Suddenly his eyes shot open. "I was supposed to keep an eye on the new student. Where did he go?"

"Kyle? He went to park the car. Don't worry, he's reliable. He'll be back."

"Oh, you know him?"

Margot nodded, slipping into a seat next to the abandoned patient. "He's my...roommate," she said, unable to put into words the exact relationship that existed between them. Servant sounded wrong, and minion in this day and age was just out of place.

"Oh, good."

"He said that you were his teacher?" Margot asked, and earned another moan.

"Yes, he was supposed to be a transfer student today. But then, Candice was late, and the rubber band, and the principal, and I know that I'm going to be fired."

Margot reached out a hand, and placed it on his back. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be alright."

****

Lacey stood outside the coffee shop, looking in at the customers sitting at the window bar. One of them caught her eye, and waved at her. Lacey waved back, but quickly determined it wasn't anyone she recognized, and moved her gaze to the other patrons. No one there elicited the feeling of the man from her dreams. She tried to recall January's story of the morning, and was sure the young woman said she had spilled her coffee over the mysterious man at the window bar.

Lacey tucked her hair behind her ears, the green highlights having fallen into her eyes. Entering the coffee shop, she walked up the register and asked to speak to the manager. A man in a smart suit came out and escorted her back to his office, explaining it was quieter there, but Lacey got the impression it had something to do with her appearance.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"I understand from my client that there was an incident here today, scalding hot coffee was spilled, causing potential hazard."

  The manager got pale, then said "Well, yes, but it was cleaned up immediately."

"Good. My client, well, she was the perpetrator who spilled said coffee. As her attorney I advised her that a formal apology was in order. I came to get the name of the man who had received the potential damaging beverage spill. Is he a regular at this shop?"

"Oh, yes, an apology, good." The manager looked a little more at ease now that the perceived threat of being sued or closed down was gone. "I'll check with the barista, hold on for just one moment?"

Lacey nodded, and watched the manager leave the room. She picked up his name plaque, a pretentious thing for someone who merely held the title of franchise manager. The manager scurried back in, a young woman in tow.   Pushing the apron-clad girl in front of him he said "Tell this woman about the gentleman, please April."

"That fellow is a regular. Comes in most every day with newspapers, and sits there for hours looking through them. This morning though, they got ruined with the coffee, so he left soon."

Lacey looked at the girl, catching her eyes with the best professional look she could muster. "Do you know where he went? My client is most anxious to make a formal apology."

"Seemed like she apologized enough, spilled another cup of coffee on him while she was apologizing for the first one."

The manager gave a pointed cough, and the barista rolled her eyes. "Okay, no I don't know where he went. He was muttering about the papers, and his bag being ruined."

"His bag?"

"He carries a designer brief case. Really nice clothes too. I bet a formal apology would be right up his alley, actually."

Lacey tried to not sigh. "You say he comes in everyday?"

"Most every day, but not some. He's usually here between nine and noon. The time changes, but he shows up for a premium sometime before lunch."

"Thank you April," said the manager. "I could get his name for you the next time he comes in, is that acceptable, let him know your client wants to give a formal apology?"

Lacey shook her head. "Sorry, but our office policy is to handle these things on our own. It gets messy if you get involved. I'll give you my number, and you call next time he comes in. I'll come in person to deliver the apology."

"But," the manager started to protest, but Lacey held up her hand.

"If you don't, and I can't get a hold of him, I'll have to go through other means, and list in our report that you were uncooperative."

"No, I suppose that's fine. We'll give you a call next time he's here."

Lacey let her professional veneer drop a notch. "Thank you very much. I appreciate your cooperation."

The manager returned her smile, and called April back, and asked her to see Lacey out and make sure she was carrying a tall cup of their best blend with her. Lacey thanked him graciously, and allowed herself to be lead out.

She took the proffered coffee, took a sip and said how great it was, which made April smile. Once she was out the door, she dumped it in the nearest trashcan.