Harsh Introductions

Me: "She's fine. This was a company car. Her dad let me have it."

Grant: "One thing matches your story. There's no puke in the backseat."

Al: "You don't puke in a rental, obviously. Come on man, what are you doing with this thing? Seriously."

Me: "Trading it in for something a little more affordable and moving out into my own place. I can't afford to drive this thing down the street, much less fix it."

Grant: "You know what else? This is the loaded hybrid model from last year. Not the sport trim, obviously, but the rental places here don't have all the goodies, on the ES."

Al: "What do you mean, obviously?"

Grant: "Well this was her dad's car. She might be a racer, but he isn't, he likes the slow, heavy luxury features. Was she driving?"

Al: "Oh, I forgot, you're into all that street racing stuff. But don't you usually prefer all those Asian cars, what do they call 'em, 'rice rockets'?"

Grant: "Lexus is made by Toyota, idiot."

Al: "No shit. I thought it was made in Germany for some reason."

Grant: "Is she Japanese by any chance?"

Me: "Italian, I think. And no, she wasn't driving."

Grant: "Oh. Well if you want a racer, I can-"

Me: "Dude, no way. I can't afford gas and tires like that, even trading down."

Grant: "Hopeless, the lot of you! I'm going home!"

Grant was such a drama queen. At least he wasn't using his 'cute' anime shouting voice inside right now.

Al: "Wimp. It's only 10pm. The weekend's just getting started."

Grant: "I need to go watch Fast and Furious to get all this negativity out of my mouth."

We all went back inside anyway.

Al: "So who the hell is her dad, to give you a car for no reason?"

Me: "It wasn't 'no reason'."

I slapped Maria's business card down on Al's bar counter. Grant raised an eyebrow, confused. He didn't put it together until Al explained it, who took a little longer, but his reaction was worth it.

Al: "You - are you fucking serious?"

Me: "Yep."

Al: "Did you - did he hire you or something?"

Me: "Kinda, yeah. I got an offer. Or, a promise of an offer."

Al: "Fuck me. CEO of Spirenelli Industries. How high up did you get? I mean, a company car, man. That's executive class. A Lexus, even. I heard they treated their employees well, but -"

Grant: "Wait. They're over in Carlton, right? You ready for that commute? I mean, in that car, I guess so."

Me: "I don't really know. Call it a signing bonus, I guess, but I don't think I'll be all that high actually. I have no management experience."

Al: "Damn. I'd still love to see the Man from Martin's face when he learns you went to the light side. Can I tell him?"

Our little joke. "The Man from Martin" made him sound like an alien clone, something a little less than human to match the way he acted.

Me: "No. I have some business I need to clear up with HR first."

Al: "Alright. But I still get dibs on telling the crew. Especially that jackass Mike."

Me: "That's fine. I'm sure as soon as the paper hits his desk, The Martian's gonna have me out on my ass in under a minute."

That was the other version of his name everyone used, The Martian.

"Actually, that gives me an idea you can help me with after all..."

*****

I went in to Omnicron in a shabby suit, with a beat-up briefcase, looking for all the world like a travelling salesman down to his last dime. I walked up to the booth where Janice sat, next to the security officers.

"I need to see Mr. Martin," I said.

Janice winced.

"Uh, alright, but I have to warn you, it's really not a good time right now."

Me: "That's alright, I won't be long. He won't be sad to see me go, I'm sure."

"Aw, you're leaving us? That's a shame! I don't care what anyone says, you didn't deserve that whole mess he put you in. I'd be willing to be a reference for you, if you want!"

"Thanks, Janice. That won't be necessary, but I appreciate it."

I flashed my new Spirenelli Industries badge on the inside of my jacket at her quickly and nonchalantly.

Her mouth dropped open.

"Good for you! Just, uh, do me a favor? Don't tell the man when you see him. I don't want to smell that smoke and brimstone pouring out of his office the rest of the day."

"Sure. Good seeing you again, Janice. Take care."

"Bye Tom. He doesn't know what he's missing."

"Thanks."

Buzz. Door's open now. I walk in, calmly, almost as if my heart isn't pounding a hundred miles an hour. I'm thankful I patted some talcum powder on my hands, or I'd already be losing my grip on the briefcase from the sweat I'm working up. There's Al. I wave subtly. He nods. Just another day at the office. I go to the door marked S. Martin. Smartin'? Ironic I've never noticed that plackard before. Oh, but - there's always been a poster on the door, that snarky comic depicting a grinning devil with a whip and a bunch of shirtless slaves. I wonder why he took it down. I knock, then enter.

"Felter. Come to grovel for me?"

"I'm done. I can't fight with HR. I quit. Just sign my resignation and I'll be on my way."

I open my briefcase awkwardly on the corner of his desk. I pull out a manila envelope.

"I've got the last page on top. Just sign at the bottom."

He flips to the beginning. He flips to the end. He skips the middle page.

"Security," he says into his desk phone. "To my office immediately."

He pulls out a fancy pen, with relish.

"...You know we can still bury you. You're done. You'll never work again in this town."

"I know. At least this way I don't have to guess."

He signs it. I stuff it back in the envelope, and hand him a copy.

"There's your copy, for HR," I said.

I close the briefcase, and walk to the door. Two men with SECURITY badges have come in the door, and flank me.

"See him out, gentlemen. Make sure he doesn't touch anything, by any means necessary. See you on the street corner, Tommy boy. I might toss you a couple bucks, if you're missing enough teeth by then."

"You'll do more than that," I said, gesturing to the envelope on his desk. "So long."

His eyes narrow, and he pulls the envelope open to have a closer look. I slip the envelope into my briefcase and snap it shut. The security guys waste no time getting me back into the hallway before I hear him yell through the closing door.

"Tom Felter! Get back here! This is an outrage!"

I turn, slowly. The door slams open.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem?"

"Security! This ex-employee is in possession of confidential company information! I want him detained immediately!"

The men standing on either side of me take aggressive positions, holding out their hands to hold me and take the briefcase.

"Give me that paper!" my newly-former boss demands.

"What paper?" I say, acting innocent.

"This man has confidential documents in his briefcase. I want them on my desk, right now!"

One of the security guards holds his hand out. "Can I have a look before I escort you out?"

"Sure," I say. "It's just the separation paperwork he signed."

"Come on, let's go to the-"

"I WANT THAT PAPER!" The Martian screams.

He yanks the briefcase out of my hand, throws it to the ground, and wrenches it open. The single manila envelope left inside bears his wrath poorly, and tears into several small pieces in front of everyone. It's full of colorful confetti, too.

"WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT!? YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THIS TO ME, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!? WHERE IS THE PAPER I JUST SIGNED!!"

"Just, uh, just go," one of the guards said, seeing that I have no papers tucked away anywhere. "I'll make sure I get the briefcase back to lost-and-found for you."

The other guard moves to intercept the man who is now doing his best to frisk me using his fists from six feet away. He trips on the briefcase, and I slip away with the security guard. Their other job is breaking up fights, which happens more regularly than you'd think. He's fallen into that role instinctively.

"Let him have it. He really wants that thing," I said.

"I'm just doing my job, you know," the security guard says, shaking his head while pulling me by the elbow.

"No worries, man. I know you are."

We walk outside, to the sound of screaming and cursing. But the shower of paper scattered on the floor wasn't the real treasure, even if I did want to frame The Martian's signed guarantee that he would hang all of his underwear in Omnicron's courtyard, as found on Page 2 of the (subtly-amended) Separation Agreement. The real treasure was the camera phone still in Al's hand, transmitting everything that was still happening to Spirenelli Industry's corporate servers. I knew about the recording, and this was a one-party state - that was all that was needed to make it legal. Especially now that my employment contract no longer applied.

*****

My phone rings. Blocked number. I shrug, then answer it, expecting a telemarketer.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Felter?"

"Speaking."

"Hi, Joseph Spirenelli. Maria's father."

"Oh, yes, I remember."

"Good, good. I have a few questions for you, if you have a minute."

"Yeah, go ahead. Uh, sir."

Something in his tone caught my attention - or maybe it was just an abundance of caution.

"Mr. Felter, I seem to have come into possession of a video of an altercation between you and another individual. Does that ring any bells?"

"I feel like you might have to be more specific."

My blood ran cold. This did not sound like a congratulatory call. It sounded like a lawyer interview.

"Yes, I believe you have had more than your share of such things lately. I feel for you, son. I mean, specifically, an argument about a piece of paper you had in your briefcase yesterday."

"I recall the event rather vividly."

"Mr. Felter, am I to understand that you contrived to bring about this specific series of events? That you perhaps expected your former supervisor to react in an emotional manner and, in a particular manner of speaking, possibly brought it upon yourself?"

"Well, if you want to put it that way... I don't have anyone else to blame. I mean, my buddy Al held the camera, but it was my idea. I took the separation template and added a few, uh, unusual stipulations. He should have read it before he signed it."

"And am I to understand that the series of events as depicted - and let me be clear; you emerge from his office with a signed document, escorted by men whose explicit instructions are to remove you from the facility, are then accosted by said former supervisor for that only remaining copy, the signed copy, of your legal separation paperwork, are assaulted and robbed of this legal document which is destroyed in front of your peers - does that sound like a true and authentic representation of the events which occurred?"

"Yes sir. That's a pretty good summary."

"Mr. Felter, our employment offer to you has presented us with some difficulties. These events have changed the circumstances enough that I think a second interview is in order, but I believe a mutually agreeable solution has been developed. Please present yourself as soon as you are available to the headquarters building here in Carlton. Do you have the address?"

I had Maria's number, if nothing else.

"Yes."

"Can I expect you sometime today?"

Shit. What the hell was going on? Car shopping would have to wait, apparently.

"I can be there in two hours."

"Thank you. I apologize for the short notice. I'll see you soon."

OK. Shower, put the crappy suit back on (it was the only one I owned, although I could probably put on a shirt that wasn't three sizes too large as I had for the Omnicron visit). The time passed in a heartbeat. I walked into the conference room where Maria had met me before. She was there again, grinning widely and waved excitedly, but did not get up. Her father was running this show.

"Mr. Felter, come in. Tom."

"Uh, thanks, Mr. Spirenelli."

"Call me Joseph."

"Sure, Joseph."

"Have a seat, Tom. Are you hungry? We have some fruit left from the sales meeting."

He gestured to a tray. There were grapes bigger than I knew existed. Blackberries. Strawberries. I couldn't help myself. They were amazing.

"Care for a date, Tom?" Maria said.

I looked again. There were no dates. I looked up at her, confused. She winked.

"Settle down, kiddo. Don't tease the poor man, he's had a hard week."

"Well then you'd better tell him before I do."

"Tom, I had to take her cell phone away and all but tie her to this chair to keep her from rushing over to you with the news we're about to discuss. That's why I wanted you to come here as soon as possible; she was going to find a way to do it if I didn't get to it first. So here it is. Tom, I'm told you have an exemplary work record up until this week. You've been through a traumatic experience and supported my daughter through it as well, which I take as a personal favor I may never be able to repay. And then you've sacrificed your employment in order to secure evidence that will strike a major financial blow to your former employer, jeopardizing your entire career and personal dignity. Tom, you're a risk taker of the highest calibre, and there's only one position in my organization I can think of that might satisfy both our needs."

"I should warn you, I drive a hard bargain. I've already been offered a push cart and a mop," I said. "Can you beat that?"

Joseph laughed - a deep, baritone belly laugh. Maria squeaked and then nearly passed out from being unable to suck in a breath. He continued while she regained her composure.

"Son, my legal team need a liaison - someone to put a human face on the safety rules and corporate policies which keep my partners and friends safe in the shop and out in the field."

He held up a wine bottle with a ribbon wrapped around the neck. A bottle the same vintage as the one I had thrown in the house, to break the glass sensor and set off the silent alarm. My jaw dropped.

"This is for you as well. You have an eye for important details. I think you'll be a wonderful addition to the team. For some of us, the most important detail is that you'll officially be working for our law partners, Beachum and Fitch. They're a separate company."

"I can't date anyone inside the company. It doesn't say anything about corporate partners!" Maria gushed.

"I admit I was concerned when I realized what I had promised you, Tom. I told you that you could date my daughter before I had even a moment to think about it, but I was obligated not to let events render you homeless as well. And I couldn't bear to insult your dignity by offering you the obvious charity of free room and board. This way, you'll be working closely with my HR team, headed by-"

He gestured to Maria. She waved again, giddily.

"-my daughter, so there won't be any particular shortage of opportunity to spend some time together even though she is an incredibly diligent worker, and has a habit of staying in the office far too late for someone her age."

I detected a hint of gentle reproach in his voice.

"Daddy! You heard what happened the last time I went out clubbing."

"I'm just repeating the things your mother says that I agree with. Although I think you might have a chance to make up for any perceived mistakes in this particular case. And speaking of your mother, I've promised her three whole hours of unbroken time this evening, and you know I always keep my promises. So with that, as of this moment, consider yourself hired. I leave you to discuss the details of your new relationship, at whatever venue my esteemed head of HR deems appropriate. Tom, you might try to convince her to get out more, but that's just a suggestion."

I shook his hand gently, and then - then, there was just Maria. Maria, in no particular hurry to hug and press her face against mine, in much the way that a mass-produced hand grenade isn't particularly choosy about whether it goes off three seconds or five after the pin has been pulled, but is most emphatic about the outcome. I've read about military explosives, and our first kiss had many similarities, including the breathlessness of the survivors.

"So there's this lounge-" Maria said, clearing her throat huskily.

"Let's go," I said.

I was suddenly aware of how unprofessional it would be for her to be found shaking with adrenaline on her boardroom table in my arms. I had a duty to be mindful of morale, now. Although, the table was just the right height to put our pelvises together if she was lying on it - already I was struggling with temptation. Does one simply book the boardroom? I bet in my new position I could do that!

*****

The lounge was ritzy, in subtle detail. Mood lighting was carefully placed not to overwhelm, but to provide visibility in all corners to avoid being too dark. The carpet was new and soft, but thin enough to be stable in heels. There were booths lined in some kind of better-than-suede upholstery. There was an enclosed box in the middle of a fountain, with a real dancer inside, who you couldn't quite make out, and another dancer doing some kind of aerial yoga with a hoop in the air, rotating in time to every fourth beat.

"Thank god, I just want to relax," Maria said.

"This place is amazing. What on earth were you doing at that junky little club?"

"This is a place you come with people you know, or to meet with the regulars. It's members-only. You won't meet many new people here once you've come a few times. After 10, it's clothing-optional."

I did a double-take, uncertain I'd heard her correctly in the pervasive jazz sound. She winked.

"Is there a VIP area?"

"Kind of. That fountain shadow box is a small room attached to the lower level. There's no cameras down there. After 10, anything goes."

"Gosh. That sounds exciting!"

"I know, I've always loved to go back there! I've got a pass. But I've never had a boyfriend that didn't freak out about it. So I've been that dancer sometimes, right there, but I've never... had a partner to put on a real show."

I blushed. This was crazy. Lifestyles of the rich and famous... right?

"But I really just want to relax today. Is it OK if we get a booth, and some food? The salads are actually amazing. They do vegan, if you're into that. And the meat is responsibly farmed, even if you're not."

"Let's do it."

So we got a booth, and drew the curtains. We could see out, and from the outside our silhouettes showed that it was occupied, but not much else. There was a light under the table, and menus tucked away somewhere down there. There was a server summons too, apparently, because as soon as we picked something out a girl in classy white fringed vest and matching pants that caught the light and made her look like she was glowing from inside. Her long platinum-blonde hair was drawn into a ponytail that reached her lower back.

"Maria! Glad to see you back!"

"Layla! Happy to see you too! I hope you'll be seeing more of me."

"What can I get you?"

"I'll have my usual."

"And for you sir?"

"I'll have the Mediterranean citrus salad, with salmon."

"A lovely choice! One of my favorites. I'll have it right out for you."

"Thanks," Maria said. "And bring me my celebration mix. Two, please."

"Ooh, is it his birthday? Shall I assemble the choir?"

"No, we've closed a great business deal."

"Awesome! Coming right up!"

Maria settled back next to me, stroking my arm and clasping my leg between hers and rubbing up and down the front of my shin with her foot. She'd slipped her shoes off, and she had some crocheted leggings I hadn't noticed which had an interesting floral pattern. Her head was rolled to the side to look up with a dreamy expression. Her fingers stroked my hand. Between that and the smell of her at this close distance, something inside my head was waking up and sharpening my focus on her.