An Unlikely Alliance

All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.

Song lyrics used:

"All I Ask of You - Andrew Lloyd Webber (From The Phantom of the Opera)

"The Power of Love - Celine Dion"

◇-◇-◇-◇

"Julie, do you have a minute?"

No, I didn't have a minute. I was busy as hell, like always, and if Doug ever paid any attention, he'd know that. But he was the boss...and always right. I chuckled at that thought.

"Be right there, Doug."

I finished the line I was entering in the contract and clicked my monitor off, hurrying to the big office.

"Close the door and have a seat, Julie," Doug said as he rounded his big desk and swung into his chair, leaning back and tapping his fingers on the polished top.

"There's a problem, Julie."

"I knew that when you had me close the door, Doug."

"kind of gives it away, doesn't it?"

I nodded, waiting for it to hit the fan.

"I'm just the messenger here, Julie. I hope you know that."

I gave him my best bull shit look...and waited.

"Greg said you were a day late with the Anderson contract, and we lost out."

I lowered my eyelids and gritted my teeth. "That son-of-a-bitch," I muttered.

"Beg pardon."

"Doug, I told that ass hole I was working on three contracts and which did he need first. He told me to get the other two and don't worry about Anderson."

Doug stared at me-- I knew he believed me, but it wouldn't matter.

"He's already reported it to HR, and it's on your record now."

"How does he get away with this shit?"

Doug laughed. "He's the owner's son, and he runs the place."

That was all that needed to be said. Well, not quite all. We had dated for a while, and when I told him to go pound sand, I hadn't realized the consequences that would transpire because of it.

"What should I do?"

"Honest answer?"

"I guess."

"New job, Julie. You're the best, but he's not going to stop."

"I've invested ten years here. I want your job when you move up."

He just looked at me and shook his head.

At that moment, I hated him nearly as much as I did Greg. I left the office and returned to my cubicle, the largest one on this floor.

"Everything okay, Julie?" Quinn asked with a smile that made me want to vomit. She was Gregg's new girlfriend. And she wasn't shy about reminding me in indirect ways.

"It's fine, Quinn. Thanks for asking." I was sure she wanted me to snipe back, but I wasn't about to oblige her.

She left, and I was alone.

Ten years, and I was supposed to suddenly find a new job. I knew that Greg would continue to sabotage my efforts, and he'd see that I never received a good recommendation. Doug might come through, but I was afraid to count on it.

I stared at my computer screen for another thirty minutes and waited for most of the people to clear out so I wouldn't have to face them. I was sure Greg had subtly spread the word that I had screwed up again.

The trip home wasn't an improvement on the rest of the day with the usual heavy traffic and road construction that was forcing me to take a different route home.

At my building, I rode the elevator to the fifth floor, went to my apartment, and sat on my couch, sulking. It was a warm evening, so why not. I needed to think.

I left my apartment and went to the elevator. It took a while to get to my floor, but when it did, it was empty. I rode it past the tenth floor to the stop marked R--the roof. I stepped out and slipped around the corner and toward the small block structure that held some of the mechanical equipment that serviced us, the tenants. There was a ladder in the back that went to the small roof--my thinking spot. The hum of the equipment inside drowned out the noise of the world, and I was free to think for as long as I needed.

I climbed the metal ladder and stepped onto the roof.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I fairly screamed, surprised, and taken aback at someone else being in my sacred place.

"Who the hell are you?" he replied right back, glaring at me. "And what's it to you what I'm doing up here?"

I had a ready answer but realized it wouldn't make much sense. This was a roof on the roof, not my apartment. I tried to calm down a bit.

"It's nice up here, particularly on an evening like this, and I enjoy coming up here and just enjoying the view and the sky."

"So do I," he said, a little too defiant for my liking. What was he getting so angry about?

"I guess that's because it's such a pleasant place. Maybe we should bring a lawn chair up here to sit on," I added, working to defuse things a little.

"You'd fucking ruin it with that kind of shit, wouldn't you. I'm trying to get away from every day, and you want to put a cute little chair up here so we'll be nice and comfy." He looked away, off into the distance, I'm sure wishing I'd just leave.

I just glared at him--at the side of his head, anyway, while the muscles in his jaw tensed over and over. He looked at me, his eyes narrow slits.

"And now I suppose you think I should leave, bowing to you and your wishes and being polite because you're a woman."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't moved, and I was already here."

"So, what are you insinuating, that we should have reservations for being up here? I've been using this for two or three years with no problems."

"And now, I'm a problem, and you don't know how to deal with it?"

I didn't like that he was putting words in my mouth, particularly since he was right. I didn't know what to do. My day had been shitty...and now it was even worse. I just stood there looking at him with a befuddled stare.

He suddenly stood up. "Hell, take your little roof, Cleopatra. Why ruin my perfect losing record for the day?" He stomped to the ladder and disappeared, although I could hear his feet on the roof below me before the door to the elevator slammed.

Well, Julie, I hope your day is going well. What other enterprise could you undertake this evening that might turn into a shambles?

Somehow my isolated thinking spot didn't seem quite so attractive now, and I decided to just go back to my apartment and brood.

◇-◇-◇-◇

When I walked through the door the next morning, Doug was waiting by my desk.

"Julie, do you have a minute?"

Was this deja vu all over again? My troubles yesterday had started with that simple question. What did Gregg have in store for me now?

"Sure, Doug," I answered once more and followed him into his office. I sat down without being told.

He smiled. "Wipe that frown off your face; this news is a little better than yesterday's."

I changed my expression slightly but wasn't quite ready to smile.

"I had a talk with Greg," he began. "I was as straightforward as I could be. I told him I knew he hated you, but you were the very best agent we had, and if something happened to cause you to leave, I'd have to hire at least two people to replace you. That made him frown. I also reminded him that I was the first person his father had hired and that his father and I went way back."

I'm sure my mouth was hanging open.

"You did that? You almost threatened him?"

"I think he took what I said as a threat. It was meant that way. I'm trying to keep things in order here and to have them run smoothly. I don't need to have a whiny owner's son's battered ego frustrate my efforts." He sat down and smiled at me. "Unless you totally screw up, I don't think your ten years are wasted. Getting into this office...eh," he added with a laugh.

"Doug, I don't know what to say. I mean, that couldn't have been easy to do."

"I've been here twenty-four years, Julie. It's not the first difficult thing I've faced. You didn't really have a voice in it. I did."

"Thank you so very, very much. It's just...beyond." I felt like I needed to give him a hug, but the glass walls of his office eliminated that possibility.

"Just thought you'd like to hear that before your day got started."

"Thanks again," I said and headed for my cubicle.

I have to admit I worked with a refreshed enthusiasm for the entire morning. I was working with commercial property contracts, the same thing that had caused the trouble with Greg. I enjoyed that, but I also enjoyed getting out of the office to show residential properties, which I only did occasionally. It was rewarding to see people find a home that they really liked and then help them work out the details, so it was finally theirs.

I decided to eat my lunch in my cubicle so I could ponder what Doug told me. I was still smiling as I pictured Doug confronting Greg and coming out on top. It didn't remove what had happened but certainly softened its effect.

At least tonight, I could skip my roof retreat and the jerk that was there last night.

I did need to stop and grab some groceries since my larder was nearly empty. It wasn't my favorite pastime since I always seemed to get a cart with a broken wheel, and I would canvas the store with a click-bump that had me ready to scream by checkout time.

I decided to celebrate what Doug had done by grilling a thick T-bone steak. Of course, when I checked the meat cooler, the T-bone section was bare. There were plenty of other steaks, but I was in stubborn mode and found a butcher and described what I wanted.

"Are you sure there aren't some over in the cooler? I'm sure we cut some this morning." He came out of his area and marched to the cooler where I'd just been.

He missed the dramatic rolling of my eyes.

"Nope, none there," he said as he passed me on his return.

I watched as he carefully cut a thick and delicious-looking piece of meat that I could nearly taste already. When I tossed it into the cart, I saw the label and hoped its taste would match its cost.

Next came the deli, where I picked up a square of Havartii cheese, some fairly thick-sliced smoked ham, and finally to the bakery where, to my delight, they had two loaves of freshly-baked multigrain bread with sesame seeds.

After I'd put the bread in the cart, I stood there for at least two minutes, just enjoying the aroma of fresh bread.

But I had a beautiful steak that needed to be cooked and eaten, so I had to keep moving.

Some black raspberry jam for my toast and crunchy peanut butter for snacking, and I just needed OJ and some eggs. I left the cart in the main aisle, grabbed a bottle of "extra pulp" orange juice in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other. I rounded the tall Cheez-It's display when he crashed into me.

The OJ went one direction and the eggs another. The plastic bottle split, orange going everywhere. The egg carton opened when it hit the floor, yolks, whites, and shattered shells creating a mess.

"You!" I snarled at the rooftop intruder. "Can't you stay away from me?"

"I'd love to if I knew where the hell you were going to be."

"So, should I send you my itinerary?"

"Oh, an itinerary. You must be an important bitch."

I could see a store employee watching us, clearly afraid to intervene.

"Just...just get out of my life," I screamed.

"Is there a problem here?" the man in the dress shirt and tie asked quietly.

"This clumsy jerk knocked the eggs and orange juice out of my hand and then acted like it was my fault."

"It was your fault. I came down the main Isle, and you came flying out between those two displays. And that's just tonight."

I looked at the obvious manager, so angry I knew I couldn't speak.

"Ma'am, go ahead and get another OJ and eggs. We'll clean up this mess." He smiled at me.

I spun around and did just what he suggested. When I returned, the manager was alone.

"The gentleman left."

"He's no gentleman. But listen, I'll pay for the other."

"No need. Accidents happen."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded and walked away.

I went the other direction to avoid the cleanup process.

At the front of the store, I stopped and looked around--twice, before I headed to the checkout line. Somehow I was sure he'd be there, delaying everything and fouling me up once more.

But he wasn't.

Once in the checkout line, I was tempted to tell the clerk to scan the eggs and orange juice twice, but the manager had said to forget it. I thought jerko might offer to pay, but I realized how silly that was.

What else could happen?"

◇-◇-◇

"Hey, girlfriend. We haven't talked for, like, maybe a week."

"I know, Casey, and that's my fault. A disruption at work had me upset, and I just lost track of things."

"Anything serious?"

"Could have been, but Doug helped me out."

"That's good. How 'bout we meet at Willard's for dinner?"

"What, is this my birthday? Did I forget?"

I heard Casey laugh.

"It doesn't have to be a special occasion for friends to have dinner together."

"Easy for you to say."

"Six o'clock okay?"

"Sure. See you there."

Casey and I usually had dinner together at least once a week and had for several years. We'd gone through high school together, and while I'd gone into real estate, she'd become a hairdresser and now had her own shop.

We often laughed that we were becoming old maids together.

When I got to Willard's, Casey already had a table. She stood, and we hugged.

"So, Julie, were you in trouble at work again?"

"No, but yes."

"Uh-huh," she said, "and please explain."

"Greg, again. He's still trying to get rid of me, even using lies to do it. But Doug stepped in and saved me, telling him to back off. Greg's father started the business, and Doug was his first employee, so he has some clout. Unless I totally screw up, I should be okay now."

"That sounds scary but finally good."

"I hope it is. What's happening with you?"

"I finally told Marty to go play in the traffic or anything else that would keep him away from me."

"Took you a month to do that?"

"Yeah, but forget that for now. I've got something planned for you--actually, a couple of things."

"I think I should be afraid, maybe head for the door right away."

"Don't be silly, Julie. I'm just always looking out for you."

"Well, okay then. Go on."

"When's the last time you had a blind date?"

"You're kidding," I answered, knowing where she was headed.

"Why? We used to have lots of fun on blind dates."

"The key words there are used to."

"I ran into a neat guy at the play tryouts and rehearsals."

"Good. Why don't you date him."

"Because he mentioned he was partial to redheads."

"Come on, Casey. At twenty-nine, I'm a little too old for blind dates."

"Why?"

It seemed clear to me, so why was I having trouble explaining it to Casey?

"It just seems like something that kids do."

"Then do it. Act like a kid again."

I shook my head. I didn't need to be a kid again. I was an adult...with no dates. I looked at Casey.

"Do you have a photo?"

I hated the victorious smile on Casey's face.

"No, but I'll tell you he's about six-two, black hair, maybe a little wavy, slender, and his expressions are very animated."

I'm sure she thought I'd be awed by her description, but it didn't happen. I'd just decided what the hell. It had been a bad week. I was due for something good. I shrugged, which I knew she'd take as my acceptance.

"I'll give him your number, then. Or you could come to rehearsal with me."

"Then it wouldn't be a blind date," I countered.

Casey smiled, and we ordered, ate, talked for an hour, hugged, and then headed off to our places.

It didn't take her or him long as the next evening, my phone jingled, a strange number.

"Hello."

"Hello, Julie Williamson, this is Mathew Sparks. I'm a friend of Casey's."

Wow. A deep and resonant voice sounded from my phone. For some reason, I hadn't expected that.

"She said she was going to give you my number."

"With your permission, I hope," he said with a chuckle.

"She's too good a friend not to get my permission."

"She said she invited you to rehearsal, but you didn't want to do that."

"It wouldn't be a blind date then."

"Good point. An old-fashioned blind date. I like that."

I heard him clear his throat.

"I like to eat, so I'd love to take you to dinner on Saturday night."

"I've been known to eat, so that would be fine."

"I'll pick you up at seven. Do you like Richardson's?"

I didn't have enough money in my savings account to go to or to like Richardson's. It would be worth suffering through a blind date to have dinner there.

"Never been there, Mathew, but would love to go."

"It's a date, then. I'll see you Saturday."

That surprised me. I'd expected to be "chatted up" a little, but Mathew seemed content to just set up the date. I wondered what else might be different about him. Plus, he hadn't even asked for my address, so Casey must have supplied all my personal information. Bless her heart.

She came over on Saturday to help me decide how to dress for Richardson's...and incidentally, it seemed, for Mathew. We picked a green dress, not too low-cut or sexy, since this was a blind date. Of course, she would do my hair, and it would be spectacular, particularly to someone who was partial to redheads. A pair of four-inch heels would allow face-to-face.

"You know I've been jealous of your hair for twenty years," Casey said as she began to work on it.

"It's just red hair," I demurred.

"It's not just the color but the texture, the way it lays, everything put together. If he's partial to red hair, he'll be super-partial to yours."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that. I haven't even met him yet. I may just turn up my nose and run," I added with a chuckle.

"Wouldn't be the first time. Now hold still because I have something special to do here. If you run from Mathew, I'm sure there'll be a dozen guys at Richardson's that will be after you."

I snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Just hold still, please."

There were no mirrors to look at, so I had no idea what she was doing with my hair. Of course, she'd done my hair many times before, and it was always fantastic, probably why her shop was so successful, and she was constantly busy.

"Am I allowed to take a nap while you do this?" I asked after she'd been working for a while.

"Just be quiet, smart ass. You're going to love this."

Twenty minutes later, she held up two mirrors, one in front of me and the other behind.

"Well?"

I moved my head back and forth, working to get a full picture of both front and back.

"How did you do that?"

"With my two hands," she answered blithely.

"I've never seen anything like it."

"Don't move because I'm going to take photos of it to hang in the shop. I can charge nicely for a do like this."

"So, what, I was an experiment or something? And you're trying to remind me that I owe you big for this?"

"No, silly, but it is nice, isn't it?"

"Hold the mirrors up again."

Casey always cut my hair so that it extended a little randomly, about eight or ten inches below my shoulders, with gentle waves filling that length. Now there were two braids coming around from each side and meeting at the back of my head, the two becoming one braid. My hair was on the edge of auburn with lighter highlights, and it seemed the highlights dominated the braids.

"And with those green eyes, the green dress, and the high heels, Mathew Sparks will be at your mercy."

"Ugh. You don't know anything more about him?"

"Just watching him rehearse for the play. And if he called you, you've heard that voice."