Always Ch. 03

Riley: I know, that's why I waited to tell you. I wanted to spend this evening with you. Thank you for supper and - everything else.

Raph: It was my pleasure. The supper and everything else.

After a brief time, his phone chimed again.

Riley: OK, I think I'm ready to go and ready for bed.

Raph: OK. Have a good, safe trip tomorrow and sleep well tonight. I love you.

Riley: I will and I would sleep better if you were here. I love you too.

Raph: Goodnight.

Riley: Goodnight.

*****

The next morning found Raph and Riley both airborne but flying off in opposite directions. Riley to Las Vegas, Nevada, and Raph to Pensacola, Florida. Riley was flying at 40,000 feet in the Barrett Oil Cessna Citation Latitude business jet at 430 knots, while Raph was cruising at 31,000 feet going 300 knots in the TBM-850. Raph hadn't had the chance to see Riley before they took off. The Barrett Oil Hangar was at a different location on the airfield but they did wind up taking off within 10 minutes of each other.

Raph had departed first with three passengers. His flight plan called for an 865-mile flight taking 2:50. Riley's flight onboard the Cessna was four passengers and a two-man flight crew. Their flight plan was for a 667-mile flight with a flight time of 1:45.

As the distance between them grew by 14 miles every minute, their minds were focused on their jobs, but in that private space, reserved in each of their minds, they thought of each other - connected across distance and time, as if each could feel the other in their minds.

*****

The sun was bright in the sky when Raph landed in Pensacola. He quickly deplaned his passengers and came back out to the tarmac. He took his phone from his pocket.

Raph: Hey you.

Instead of a text, his phone rang. It was Riley's number.

"Hey you," he said when he answered.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice," she said quietly.

"Don't apologize, I'm thrilled you called. How was your flight?"

"Uneventful, which I've learned from you is good. We're in the car now, headed to the Anderson & Anderson offices. I wasn't sure when I'd get a chance to call you so I wanted to call you now. I've been waiting for your text since we landed."

"Well, I had further to go and a slower plane," he laughed.

"I'm just glad I was able to talk to you before tonight. So what are your plans for today?"

"I'll hang around close. I think there's a Bonefish Grill just outside the airport that I may hit for lunch, but other than that, I'll just be hanging around here."

"How close are you to the ocean?"

"Pretty close. I can see the Pensacola Bay from here. It's an inlet off of the Gulf. My arrival procedure took me about eight miles out over the Gulf before I turned back inland and landed on three-five."

"I love to look at the ocean and hear the waves, but I don't like to get in the ocean. I much prefer a good old Texas lake. Is that weird?"

"Only in so much as that's exactly how I feel. I don't want to swim where there are things that I know can eat me."

"My thought precisely," she laughed softly. "Well, it looks like we're pulling in so I better go. If I don't get to talk or text with you before you take off this afternoon, be careful, and I love you."

"Always, and I love you too," he said, punching the call-end button and placing the phone in his pocket.

*****

Steve, Riley, Dalton, and Randy walked into the lobby of Anderson & Anderson. It was a stark contrast to the offices of Barrett Oil.

Steve had insisted when the Barrett Oil Corporate Offices were built that the concept was open, simplistic, and inviting. He wanted the space to promote collaboration and the open exchange of ideas and information. He wanted diverse teams to mingle and communicate and all employees to feel like no secrets or hidden things were going on behind their backs.

There were open-door policies that encouraged employees to take concerns up the chain of command if their direct supervisors were not addressing them. Management offices all had glass doors to project openness and accessibility of management. Anyone in the company could walk into Steve Barrett's office if they had a concern they felt required his attention. Steve had read Sam Walton, the founder of Walmart, who had a very people-first approach to building and operating a business.

The offices of Anderson & Anderson were on the opposite end of the spectrum. Everything here said money, extravagance, and exclusivity. There was a long, ornately carved reception desk that was so high you could only see the tops of the receptionist's heads unless you were standing directly in front of the counter. Large intricately carved frames held pictures of the Anderson Brothers. Their gaze seemed to look down upon all who entered. Both literally and figuratively.

A second wrap-around desk was the security station with room for three security guards. There were multiple security monitors, radios, buttons, and switches.

The floors were polished marble. A bank of elevators was behind the reception area.

A well dressed middle-aged man approached them as they entered.

"Mr. and Miss Barrett, my name is William Meggars. I am Mr. Anderson's assistant. If you will please follow me," he said, turning and leading them to the security desk. Four security badges were laid out on the counter. Everyone in the Barrett party took one before following Meggars toward the elevators. Once in the elevator, he placed his security badge against a card reader on the elevator panel until it turned green. He then pressed an unnumbered button and the elevator doors closed.

The doors opened to a large reception area. In the center of the space sat another beautifully carved wooden desk. The woman sitting behind the desk was young, blonde, and stunning. Two sets of wooden double doors, behind and at 45-degree angles to the large desk, stood large and intimidating like the impenetrable gates of the keep. The doors each had a polished gold placard. On each of the left doors, the placard read Anderson & Anderson. The right door placards said Will and Max Anderson, respectively, left to right.

The statuesque blonde rose as soon as they stepped out of the elevator.

"Mr. and Miss Barrett," she said, smiling sweetly. "I'm Jennifer. Mr. Anderson is waiting for you," she said, turning and walking toward the set of double doors to her left. She wore a white blouse that fit her curvaceous figure perfectly. Her black pencil skirt clung to her shapely hips and descended to long athletic legs. She wore heels and walked with one foot directly in front of the other, giving her hips a hypnotic roll and sway as she walked. She grabbed both polished brass doorknobs, twisting in opposite directions before pushing both doors open and announcing the Barrett's like nobles who had just entered the king's court.

"Mr. and Miss Barrett," she proclaimed as she stepped to the side, holding to one massive door, and sweeping her arm elegantly from the Barrett party toward the now standing Will Anderson.

"Steve, Riley," Will Anderson said, coming around the corner of yet another ornate wooden desk that seemed to cover more floor space than a midsize car. Randy and Dalton had resigned themselves to being completely invisible by this point.

"Will," Steve said, reaching out to take the offered hand. "Good to see you again."

"Mr. Anderson," Riley said, also reaching to shake his hand. "Let me introduce Randy Lyles and Dalton Stevens. Randy is our Well Products Engineer and Dalton is our Systems Software Engineer." Both men stepped forward, exchanging handshakes with Anderson.

A single door adjacent to the large double doors opened and Max Anderson entered, presumably from his office next door. Handshakes and greetings were once again exchanged.

"Max, please take these gentlemen to our R&D department so they can set up their respective demos while Steve, Riley, and I discuss the contract details," Will asked of his brother.

"Of course. Gentlemen, if you will follow me," Max said, leading Randy and Dalton out the double doors. Jennifer was there and quick to pull the doors closed behind her as she exited.

"May I offer either of you something to drink?" Will asked.

"A water, while we're working," Steve said, sitting in one of the plush chairs in front of Will's desk.

"For me as well," Riley added, sitting down in the other chair and removing her satchel from her shoulder.

Riley removed the proposal and contract documents from her satchel and started sorting them out on top of the large desk. She had come up with the idea to lease the technology to Anderson & Anderson instead of selling it to them outright. This allowed Barrett to have a steady income stream from the lease but also allowed them to maintain proprietary and creative control of the software and hardware. As she started explaining everything to the attentive Will Anderson, Steve sat back in his chair and looked on, proudly.

What was it Raph had said to him, about watching Riley talk business following the original meeting they'd had with the Andersons? - "It was like watching a sleek and powerful tigress in her natural habitat. It was beautiful." - Well, he was correct. It was beautiful.

*****

Raph had gotten back to Amarillo just before 4:00 in the afternoon. He'd finished his paperwork, got the TBM into the hangar, and was now headed home to his apartment. He stopped at Ruby's for some takeout barbecue. He parked at his apartment and went inside. He stripped out of his work clothes and put on a pair of loose shorts and a tee-shirt before sitting down with his supper and a glass of sweet tea from the refrigerator. He decided to eat half of the jumbo pulled pork sandwich and half of his potato salad and save the rest for later.

After eating and cleaning up, he did a few tasks around the house. He thought about going for a run this evening but finally decided to try to read the new book he'd bought and never started. He went into the bedroom and had just pulled the book from his nightstand drawer when his phone chimed.

Riley: Hey you.

Raph: Hey you.

Riley: It's been a long day. We stayed late, working on the contract details but we got them all done and it will be going to their legal department in the morning. Dad and I went and got checked into our hotel, and are now on the way for a late supper with the Andersons. Just wanted to touch base and tell you I miss you, and I love you.

Raph: I'm glad it's going well. My day was pretty uneventful. Supper from Ruby's and some chores. Was about to crack that new book I bought. I miss you and love you too.

Raph put his phone on the charger and laid back on the bed, opening his book.

*****

Raph didn't sleep well. He couldn't quite put his finger on why. It was almost like an impending sense of dread. He'd tossed and turned all night in his new sheets. Finally, at 5:30 he gave up and got up. He grabbed a clean pair of boxers and headed to the bathroom where he peed, brushed his teeth, and jumped in the shower.

After his shower, he thought seriously about having the other half of his barbecue for breakfast but instead decided on a bowl of cereal. He poured the cereal and milk, grabbed a spoon, and headed to the love seat. He turned on the TV and was channel surfing when he saw a familiar face. It was one of those financial news channels and the picture behind the reporter was of Steve Barrett and Will Anderson, presumably in an upscale restaurant. Riley was seated next to Steve, and beside her was none other than Archibald Anderson. As the video was made full screen and started playing, he could see Steve and Will talking and eating as the now unseen reporter continued to speculate about what kind of business deals were being crafted by a billionaire Texas oilman, Steve Barrett, and Las Vegas millionaire Will Anderson. No mention was made of Riley or Archibald, but as he watched, Archibald leaned in and seemed to whisper something in Riley's ear. Riley smiled and turned her head toward Archibald, her face close to his, and her hand nearest to him dropped underneath the table just as the video ended.

Raph sat, bowl in his left hand, spoon in his right, a bite of cereal now suspended halfway between his open mouth and the bowl. Milk dripped from the spoon down onto his bare leg just below his shorts. His mind trying frantically to reconcile what his eyes had seen. Archibald had had a snide smile on his face as he leaned in to whisper something in Riley's ear. He had seen her face, had been laser-focused on it. He'd seen the flash of a reaction before she smiled and leaned toward him. She began speaking to him, Raph could see her jawline move ever so slightly. His peripheral vision had registered her hand, dropping from the table between them, and then the screen had changed to a full-screen view of the news anchor. He finally sat the bowl on the coffee table and dropped the spoon in it. He absently wiped at the wet spot on his thigh from the dripping milk.

He wanted to call her, text her, something. What would he say? "Hey, Baby, how's it going, is Archibald giving you the hard sell?" His mind was moving a thousand miles an hour in a spiraling nosedive. He could see the metaphorical ground rushing up at him and he couldn't pull up.

Raph rose from the love seat like a zombie. He left the half-eaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table and walked to his bedroom as if in a trance. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked over at the phone sitting on his nightstand. The time was 6:15 in the morning. It would be 4:15 in Las Vegas. He leaned over and grabbed his running shoes from his closet and put them on as if on autopilot. Once he had them on, he stood up, grabbed his keys from the top of his dresser, and looked back at his phone. He stood for several seconds before turning and walking out the bedroom door. He went straight to the front door, let himself out, and locked the door.

Normally he would spend several minutes stretching before going for a run. Today, he just turned away from his door and started to run. It wasn't a slow steady pace or a build-up. He immediately broke into a sprint as if running from some macabre fate worse than death. He wanted the wind, the speed, the pain to wipe the images from his memories, the thoughts from his mind, and the fears from his heart.

*****

Steve and Riley arrived at the MGM Grand Hotel. The valets met them at the entrance and escorted them inside to the namesake restaurant owned by Joël Robuchon. They were led into an entryway with black and white checkered flooring, a grand chandelier, and French-themed decoration. Inside the dining room black tables with white cloth drapes were lined by white linen armchairs. On the other side of the table was a full-length plush blue bench or couch style seat which served four tables. They were seated at a table and their water glasses filled.

"Mr. Anderson will be with you shortly," the waiter said.

"Thank you," Steve said.

"This is really..."

"Pretentious?" Steve offered quickly.

"I was going to say, elegant," Riley smiled at her father.

"Sorry we're late," Will said as he approached their table.

"No problem," Steve said diplomatically.

Riley looked up to see Will Anderson and right behind him was Archibald, trying to peer around his father's shoulder to look at Riley. Her ire was immediately up as she remembered the conversation he had with Raph, asking him - no essentially telling him he needed to step aside as Riley's love interest so that Archibald could step in.

Will sat at the table, across from Steve, but Archibald stayed on their side, pulling out the chair next to Riley.

"It's good to see you both again," Archibald said in his customary nasally voice.

"Archibald," Steve said, nodding down the table to the younger man.

"Likewise," Riley said simply, not turning to look at the man head-on, giving him a sideways look instead.

"I hope you like French cuisine," Will said, picking up his menu. This is the finest French food this side of Paris."

Steve and Riley looked at their menus, with Riley making quiet suggestions on what she thought he might like to eat. Steve was a meat and potatoes man.

For first-service, she ordered L'Avocat, a Cannelloni of avocado and Scottish salmon with delicate cream. For Steve, she ordered Le Homard du Maine, a Maine lobster in a thinly sliced turnip with sweet and sour dressing.

Second-service, Riley ordered the La Cuisse de Grenouille, a frog leg kadaif fritter with red miso and Espelette pepper, for both of them.

For third-service, she ordered La Langoustine, which was truffled langoustine ravioli in a foie gras sauce with simmered green cabbage for herself, and for Steve, L'Oursin, a delicate flan of sea urchin on potato puree topped with Arabica coffee foam. He took one look, and one bite of this and left the rest untouched as they talked.

For fourth-service, they both had Le Saint-Pierre, John Dory fish fillet with tempura of shiso leaf on delicate squid ink risotto.

Riley had done all the ordering, for herself and Steve, in French. Will's French was also impressive. Archibald had attempted to show his skills as well, but Will had to make corrections when the waiter looked at him questioningly when Archibald would use an incorrect word, phrase, or tense. Riley nearly had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling at his butchering of the French language.

Riley noticed a film crew standing just outside of the dining room. She could tell that her father was the subject of the camera. She tapped his arm discreetly, and when he looked down at her hand, she pointed her finger toward the door, tapping her finger absently on the table. Steve had looked up slowly, moving only his eyes past Will's shoulder. He spied the cameraman and knew instantly what Riley was telling him. He tapped her foot with his gently, acknowledging her warning.

Riley sat back in her chair and at that moment, Archibald leaned over and placed his hand on Riley's thigh, about midway between her knee and her hip. At the same moment, he leaned over and whispered in Riley's ear.

"I'm glad to see you decided to leave your pet at home this time," he said quietly. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the fragrance of her hair.

Riley felt her body react in revulsion for a hundredth of a second before she regained her composure. She smiled. A practiced smile that she had put on for many years, even when she didn't feel like smiling. When she felt like doing anything in the world but smiling. Right now she didn't feel like smiling, but she smiled. She turned to Archibald and leaned toward him, the beautiful smile still playing on her face. If Archibald had been looking, he would have seen that the smile did not reach her eyes. They were the raptor eyes of her father. Simultaneously, her hand dropped from the edge of the table and grasped the index finger of the hand on her thigh.

"If you ever, and I mean ever, touch me again I will make you regret it for the rest of your miserable life," she said, starting to bend his finger backward for emphasis. "If you ever again speak ill of the man I love, I will ruin you. If you don't believe me, just look over my shoulder toward the lobby. Do you see the man with the camera? He's with a news crew, here filming my dad. If you do not get up slowly and politely, excuse yourself, and leave this very minute, I will stand up and tell everyone in this room that you're groping me under the table. If my dad doesn't kill you before I get a chance to explain, you will be ruined. A spoiled little rich kid who can't keep his lecherous hands off young women.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" she asked, still smiling at him sweetly as sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Yes," he hissed.