We're sick of reality, so this week you get fiction. Actually, both of our takes end in cliffhangers so it looks like you get fiction next week too. If you're lucky. ;)
His Take:
He fell into the seat on the train. He was exhausted before getting on, then had become even more so when he spent way to much time wandering around looking for a seat that wasn't near any other passengers. He just wanted to sit back and go to sleep. His trip was a few days long, so he didn't have to worry about waking up on time. When he was a child and couldn't sleep his parents would put him in the car and then they'd drive until he fell asleep, which was maybe ten minutes. He hoped the motion of the train would do the same thing. He wasn't disappointed..
He snored so loud that he woke himself. Half pissed, half asleep he went and got a drink and sat back down in his seat. He couldn't shake the feeling that his whole life had been leading up to this trip, or rather, what awaited him at his destination. He was low man on the totem pole at work when he was assigned this case. Everyone had poked fun at him for being assigned it, but when the case became headline news, his coworkers had come out of the woodwork offering to help "in any way possible". He politely told them all where they could go. He took a long sip of his drink and held the glass to his forehead. He had woken up with a bit of a headache, but he wasn't worried, he knew it would go away as soon as he had something to eat.
As he sat, he couldn't calm his mind down. "Where do I go from here? What's the next step in my career path? Open my own firm? Do I even WANT to keep practicing law?" He had initially gotten into law because he didn't want to have to worry about living paycheck to paycheck like his parents did. And his grandparents before them. While he wasn't rich by any means, he was comfortable. Comfortable enough not to have to worry about what he spent and focus on the important things in life. Finding a wife, spending time with his family, socializing with his friends. The kinds of things you say you're going to do, but never get around to doing because you're busy working.
He thought about not going back after the trial. Just settling down in Atlanta, where you could buy a house with a big yard and grass so green and so deep and soft, that you could lay down in your front yard and take a nap. You couldn't do that in New York City. He wondered what stars looked like when there weren't layers of air pollution and clouds between you and them. He decided then and there that he would stay there a week after the trial ended to look at some properties in the area. The only criteria were that it had to be in the same neighborhood as some good restaurants. He wasn't much of a cook and wasn't too interesting in learning.
That's when he was distracted by the opening of the door to the dining car. What he saw next was something both wonderful and strange..
….
Her Take: Chapter One: Kevin
Her Take: Chapter One: Kevin
Kevin thought he had the best job ever even though he, decidedly, did not.
He could remember sitting, arms wrapped around his tented knees, on the floor next to his mother’s chair while she watched L.A. Law and smoked Pal Mals.
“Corbin Berson is the shit.”, she would say, her voice husky from what he now knew was a combination of the smoke, the vodka tonic she was drinking, and desire.
The day he passed the bar exam Kevin called his mom. He’d never been that excited in his life.
“Huh.”, she said.
He liked to tell people that she loved her in the best way she knew how. That was not true.
As far as careers in law go, his had not been illustrious. He had worked his was up from primarily filing other layer’s briefs so they wouldn’t miss their 2pm tee time and then bowing gratefully out of the way as they collected the accolades, and raises, that came their way. Now, 5 years into his time with Jordan and Kohl, the only law firm in his small town, he had managed to be assigned a few clients, not the most popular ones, or the ones that, strictly speaking, paid their bills. But still, he had clients.
For example, remember that guy with the bad toupee you saw yelling at the waitress at Chili’s that one time? The one who screamed, “Bottomless chips and salsa MY ASS!! I’m CALLING MY LAWYER!!!”?
Kevin is that guy’s lawyer.
That’s why he was so surprised when on one totally unremarkable Thursday, the Senior Partners, Mr. Jordan and Mr. Kohl, called him in to consult on a very important task for one of the firm’s most well-heeled, and most recently deceased clients.
He knew that the matter of Mrs. Sullivan’s estate had been complex and time-consuming. It had been all-hands-on-deck to settle things for a few weeks. Well, all hands except for his. In fact, his hands, or in fact any of his appendages, hadn’t been called for until that Thursday.
Now he sat in a perfectly cube-like and uncomfortable chair across the vast landscape that was Mr. Jordan’s burnished mahogany desk, waiting as Messrs. Jordan and Kohl turned their uncannily similar grey heads toward the wall and whispered to each other. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the whispering or the fact that he had sunk so deep into the weird cube-chair that the anxiety about whether or not he would be able to extract himself once the meeting was done was making him sweat.
After what seemed like hours but was just a few minutes, Mr. Jordan moved to sit in the large leather chair behind his desk as Mr. Kohl made his way around to perch on corner of the desk close to Kevin in a way that was meant to be casual.
“Calvin-”, He began.
“Uh, sorry sir, Kevin, sir.”
“Kevin. KevinKevinKevin, how would you like the opportunity to help us finalize the remaining conditions of Mrs. Sullivan’s estate so we all can put that matter to rest?”
“Well, I-”
Mr. Jordan interrupted, “Of course he would, you’ve been working night and day on this thing, right son? You want to see it done just as badly as any of us.”
“It’s just that I actually didn’t-”
“Of course,”, agreed Mr. Kohl, “Just this one last thing… a small road trip to deliver some precious cargo to Mrs. Sullivan’s daughter in Arizona, and Calvin will have the peace of mind he deserves.”
Kevin tried to rock his body forward into something resembling an eager and responsive position, but the chair wouldn’t allow it.
“I’ll be happy to - um, road trip? A delivery? This is something that can’t be shipped? Is it safe?”
As if on cue, both of the Senior Partners launched into a fit of convivial and not-at-all reassuring laughter. Mr. Jordan leaned forward to slap Kevin on the shoulder.
“Oh Calvin, do you think we’d place such a valuable junior associate as yourself in harm’s way?”
The older men laughed again. They were still laughing as they told him to go back to his desk and their assistant, Joyce, would email him the details. The laughing continued as Kevin rolled awkwardly out of the cube chair, scrambled back to his feet, and backed out of the room. He could still hear the laughter as the big wooden door slammed shut in his face and he was left alone in the hallway, wondering what had just happened.
Chapter Two:Roy
Back at his desk, Kevin sunk into the familiar ergonomic comfort of his normal, non-cube-like, chair. He noticed a small tremor in his forefinger as he clicked the mouse to open his email, and took one slow, deep breath.
To: Kevin Allster
Subject: Delivery Instructions
Kevin,
Roy will arrive today at 11:00 A.M. Please plan to leave for Phoenix immediately thereafter.
I’ve attached the address and an expense voucher with details on the per diem policy. The budget will cover 4 nights of hotel accommodations, there is no company car available so take your personal vehicle and claim reimbursement for mileage at the conclusion of your trip.
These are all the details I have.
Joyce
Roy? Who’s Roy? Was he bringing the ‘precious cargo’ for Kevin to deliver? How would he make it to from Wisconsin to Phoenix and back in four days without driving around the clock?
Why did he have to use his own car? Was that even legal?
Kevin looked at the clock. It was 9:37 a.m. That gave him just enough time to run back to his apartment, pack a bag - what did he have to pack? Would he even have time to sleep or change clothes? - and get back to the office before Roy arrived.
At 9:58 a.m. Kevin was walking through his own front door. In one familiar movement he dropped his keys in the bowl in the entryway and set his phone on the charging pad right next to it. He pulled his suitcase off the top shelf of the hallway closet, and continued deeper into the apartment to his bedroom.He placed five identically folded pairs of briefs, five pairs of charcoal grey chinos and five dress shirts expertly rolled together, and five matching pairs of socks in his case, admiring the symmetry he had achieved. He hesitated for a moment and then included his best blazer, the one he had paid too much for at Nordstrom, just in case he felt like he needed an extra shot of gravitas when he met with Mrs. Sullivan’s daughter in two-days time.
There was exactly the right amount of room for his toiletry bag to slide neatly into the suitcase so he headed to the bathroom to gather those supplies. He was nearly ready, his hand was just about to grasp his deodorant from its spot on the shelf when he heard his phone in the entryway.
Kevin covered the length of the hallway in four long, loping strides and snatched the phone just in time to miss the call. ‘Mom’, the notification said, and he set the phone back down gingerly, in case she could somehow sense he knew it was her.
Back in his bedroom, Kevin closed his toiletry bag, slid it in that perfect space in his suitcase, zipped the case shut, dropped it on it’s wheels, and headed back to the front door. As he walked the familiar path to his parking space, he checked the route he would take to Phoenix with his phone. Twenty Seven hours. Two days there, two days back, if he could drive 14 hours straight, that was. And not pee. Or eat.
Ah well, it was clearly an important part of settling Mrs. Sullivan’s estate, the Senior Partners had trusted him, and only him, to handle it, and it was going to be fine. He stowed his suitcase carefully on the floor behind the passenger seat of his 2016 Camry and gently cleaned a small water spot on the trunk as he walked around to the driver’s side. Yes, it was ‘only’ a Camry, but he had bought it with his own money and he was proud of that
It was 10:55 a.m. when Kevin settled back into his desk chair at the office. He had run through a list of things that he needed to button up before he left and was resolved to make those last minutes count.
Instead, he found himself staring at the door, wondering what he was doing. Not, you know, cosmically, although, a little of that as well, but what this ‘precious cargo’ was, why he had to drive it across the country, why all the mystery, why and what and how. He had drifted entirely away in that line of thought when his laptop dinged with a chat notification.
Joyce: Roy is here to see you. Don’t stare.
Ok, well, Kevin thought, not sure what that’s about. I’m a professional, I know how to handle myself.
He replied:
Kevin: Fine, thanks. Send him in.
The door to his office featured a frosted window that started at around knee height. It was opaque enough to give his some privacy, but he could get a good idea of who was outside before the door opened. He could see Joyce’s sensible, squat shape, and hear her talking to someone. She sounded flustered, that wasn’t something he was used to.
“Oh, uh, it’s this door right here… Mr- um-”, She was saying.
He heard a deep male voice say: “You can just call me Roy, dollface, Mr. Um was my father.”
Joyce and the man laughed. His was hearty and full, hers somehow sounded like a middle-schooler about to vomit in the hallway. Even though they were clearly standing right outside the door, he couldn’t see the person he now knew was Roy.
He saw Joyce reach for the door handle and fixed his gaze roughly where Roy would walk through. The door swung open, Kevin fixed a welcoming smile on his face, and it froze there as he stared at the empty spot where a person should be standing.
Joyce was saying, “Kevin, this is Roy.”
It was all very confusing. He heard the man’s voice again, in his office this time.
“Hey! Eyes down here pal.”
It took a moment of scanning the doorway for Kevin to register what was happening. Finally, his eyes rested on the figure standing just inside the door, too small to have been seen through the frosted glass. What he saw, he didn’t understand. It was a Yorkshire terrier, standing on its hind legs, looking directly into his eyes. The dog’s left paw looked like it was holding on to the edge of the door and it was adorable.
Then it spoke, in the voice of the man he had heard just moments before.
“Ok, Kevin, let’s stop gaping at each other and get down to business. Whaddya say?”
….
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