In Hot Water Pt. 03

Everyone in this room is dressed better than me.

As I'm looking at the far side, I realize I'm staring at the woman from the park bench, and my dad is next to her. They lean on barstools in front of the opposite glass wall of the restaurant, which overlooks the river. Spots of light from the east side of the city shimmer in the dark water behind them. Dad wears a black jacket over a white shirt and black tie, and has his dark hair slicked back. Kirsten sits next to him, at the edge of her stool. She leans in close, saying something, then roars back, gesturing in a laugh while nearly spilling the red martini in her hand. An emerald green dress hangs around her neck, and grows darker as it descends, becoming fully black around her ankles. One of her bare shoulders pokes out of the side of the neckline, while the rest of her remains covered. The dress faintly sparkles when she laughs, and I can't tell if it's supposed to fit like that.

"Fucking hell," mutters Jessica under her breath.

The maître d' leaves us at the table, then whisks away to notify the rest of our party down at the bar. Dad seems surprised to be disturbed, and Kirsten jolts off her stool enthusiastically at the news. I catch Dad's stare, and he turns back to the host, then picks up a glass of something brown off the bar. My sister and I stand across the table as our companions approach from the other side. Dad holds a level eye with me, while Kirsten wobbles and tries to keep the contents of her drink from sloshing out of the glass. She towers over all of us.

"I thought you said your boyfriend wasn't coming?" Kirsten sets her drink and a shiny green handbag on the table across from Jessica. The purse sparkles the same as her dress.

"Hi, I'm Alex." I hold out my hand.

Kirsten looks at me, takes my hand, then drags her eyes around my face, like she's working a math problem in her head. "Oh. Alex. Sorry."

Dad reaches in his coat pockets one by one, pulling out a folded piece of paper, then he hands his jacket to a man nearby. My father sits in front of me, placing a vat of liquor next to his plate, then he leans to the side, and reaches into his pants pocket.

"Here." Kirsten lifts a phone out of her purse, and hands it to my father, trading it for the paper he's holding. It looks like some kind of list. Her dress slides down, exposing more of her shoulder, and she pulls the neckline back up.

"Nice of you to meet us here," says Dad. He pockets the phone. "I thought it would be good to catch up."

The rest of us take our seats.

"I haven't met..." I motion as politely as I can at Kirsten.

"Oh." Dad takes a gulp of water. "Yes. Kirsten's the new big shot at Corvis. We have great new things going. Kirsten, my son Alex."

Kirsten looks at me and sloshes some red drink into her mouth.

"Alex works there too." Jessica's voice is flat. I was going to let that part slide.

"It's a great place. There's a lot going on."

"What did you want to see us about?" Jessica stares at our father diagonally across the table.

"Catch up, chat a bit. Have you been getting the checks for school deposited okay?" He gestures with his glass of brown.

"Yeah, sure." My sister does not seem amused.

"Why paper checks?" I ask.

"It's from an investment company of mine."

"Of yours?" asks Jessica.

"Well." Dad gulps some of his drink. "One that I use."

"But, why paper?" I repeat my question.

"It's a tax thing. The way it's structured I get a break if I do it that way. Only if it's for education though. It's sort of like a charity."

"We're a charity?" Now I'm the one who's not amused.

"No, but it's like that for me. Has a community-helping vibe to it. I may expand."

"It's a great way to structure things," says Kirsten. She stirs the remaining splash of red in her glass with a citrus peel spiraled on a long toothpick "It really helps if you can work it that way. Or a non-profit."

"It's working for you two, isn't it?" Dad holds his brown drink in one hand, and his water in the other.

"So far," says Jessica.

"Alex, what are you taking at school?" asks Kirsten.

"Bunch of random stuff, really. Computer science, anthropology, econ."

"Tell me about economics." She shifts in her seat and drains the remainder of her drink. The dress slides down her shoulder a bit more when she sets the glass on the table. Kirsten unfolds the red cloth napkin in front of her and touches a corner to her mouth.

"It's pretty boring, to be honest. The professor is visiting from somewhere in Eastern Europe, and I can't understand anything he says."

I stare at the red napkin in Kirsten's hand, and it's the same kind of cloth that was in the Easter baskets our parents gave Jessica and me every spring when we were young. The smooth red cloth was always wrapped around an assortment of candies, and was tied in a knot at the top. I had trouble getting mine undone, and Jessica usually helped me after she'd unfastened hers.

"You get one of those each year," says Dad. "Don't sweat it too much." He finished his drink while I wasn't looking, and he holds up his hand as a busboy passes to ask for another. I can feel Jessica's eye roll without looking at her.

Perhaps prompted by my dad's aggressive drink request, our waiter appears and takes our orders, and then he's gone again. Shortly after that, a server brings replacement drinks for our tablemates, and she asks if Jessica or I want anything.

"No," says my sister, "I don't think you guys would serve me what I need right now."

An awkward dinner ensues.

When I unfold my own napkin, the smooth weave of the red fabric immediately takes me back to one Easter in particular. It's the only one I can remember that my sister and I were the same age. Our birthdays are two weeks apart, and it was before Jessica turned eight.

Kirsten eventually stops looking at me so much, and by the time she gets to her third red cocktail she's not bothering to pull her dress up anymore. I make myself focus on my dad's tie, so as to not stare at the mostly-exposed breast of the woman who's obviously his date, and at least a decade younger than my stepmother. The last time I'd seen him wear a tie we were at a custody hearing.

After the entrees are as picked at as they're going to get, Kirsten excuses herself to the restroom, and Dad makes for the bar to go close out his card, which he left there earlier.

"So." I break the silence, and turn to my sister, who is holding her eyes shut.

"I just..." Jessica sucks in a breath, and lets it out, then opens her eyes. "I can't believe he's doing it again."

"I thought you didn't like the Red Haired Lady." I'm rubbing the napkin between my fingers, as I hold it in my lap. I'd stolen my sister's basket of candy that year.

"I don't, but... you just can't do this kind of thing."

Dad turns away from the bar at the end of the room, and starts back to our table. Kirsten appears from behind us, and steadies herself on the back of her chair, her neckline hanging as normal as that dress allows. Dad approaches, and stands next to her, putting his hand over hers. Light from above glints in the ring on his finger. He's still wearing it, whatever that means.

"Dad," says my sister, "How long?"

"How long, what?" Dad's face doesn't budge.

I'd gotten a Gameboy for my birthday just a few days before Easter. She stole it that same day, and ran off with it.

"How long has it been going on?"

Dad hesitates, and looks at Kirsten, then back to Jessica. "Oh, Jessica, it's not what you think."

Jessica leans back in her chair and crosses her arms.

I didn't get my Gameboy back until the next day. I never did find out where she hid it. When we opened our Easter baskets, Jessica tore into a Cadbury Creme Egg, and it oozed down her chin and got on her hands.

"We do team building stuff together."

Jessica breathes out a deep sigh.

While my sister was distracted by the mess, I grabbed both Easter baskets and ran outside into the garden. She didn't follow, and I found out later Mom grabbed her arm and made her wash her hands and face before she went after me. I sat under an old concrete birdbath with the combined loot of both baskets.

"Speaking of teams." I do my best to keep my voice steady. "Do I get to meet mine ever? I'm basically doing this guy Todd's job for him." It's the only thing that comes to mind to break up the ticking time bomb of the conversation.

Kirsten jerks her hand out from under Dad's and looks like a startled cat. He pulls his hand off the chair slowly.

"Who is Todd?" My sister's question is open to anyone.

"Apparently we work together, and even have the same boss, though I've never met him. We're supposed to do a Side-by-Side performance review soon, but the guy is nowhere to be seen."

My dad says, "I'm not sure I know Todd." I can see the wheels turn in his eyes. They're green, but paler than my sister's.

"Dad," says Jessica. "How long?"

I lined up candy in the grass under the birdbath, trying to figure out what would be the best thing to eat first.

Twix, Skittles, Marshmallow Eggs.

Dad pauses, then puts his hand over Kirsten's bare shoulder. "A few months."

"Does she know?"

M&M's, Peeps, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Dad hesitates. "We're going to tell her soon. There are some things you don't know about that--"

"Dad!" Jessica leaves her chair, and towers above me, palms flat on the white tablecloth, hair a black waterfall down both sides of her face. A gaze of green daggers flies at our father across the table, but I'm staring at her golden brown lips.

"It's complicated. There's some things we need to figure out."

Kit Kat, Smarties, Laffy Taffy.

"Tell her," says Jessica, "or I will."

Dad sighs. "We can talk more later. Just don't do anything."

"I promise nothing."

I grab the inside of Jessica's elbow, but she wrenches her arm free, and pulls it across her chest. Her eyes do not leave their target.

"Order whatever dessert you want, and we'll talk more later." Dad throws several hundred dollar bills next to the flickering centerpiece. He takes his date by the waist, and leads her around the table, up the stairs behind us.

I'm on my feet. "Jess. Let's go."

My sister snaps out of her trance, and looks around for whatever she'd brought to the table. I start down the same aisle my dad just walked through, when a hand presses on my shoulder.

"Alex."

"What?"

"Can you walk with me?"

"Of course." I wait, while Jessica loops her arm securely inside of mine. "What's wrong?"

"This fucking carpet with these shoes is a nightmare."

"I noticed it on the way in. Why would they make it all squishy?"

"Some asshole did it, so drunk girls have to hang on their dates, like I'm doing."

"That's a brilliant evil move."

I lead my sister up the red glowing steps out into the loading area by the street. Two cabs pull away, leaving an empty curb. I order us a ride on my phone, and the app says we have a few minutes. Jessica holds my arm still, so I take us over to a bench in front of an oak tree surrounded by a square black wrought iron fence. My sister crosses her legs under the long dress and huddles against me, chin down, both her hands wrapped around my forearm.

"You might get us in trouble." I say, sarcastically. "What if they come this way?"

"I don't care right now. They're in no position to lecture us. Does Mom have anything to drink?"

"There might be some wine."

"I want to go drink all of Mom's wine."

A short ride later, we're home. Jessica opens the house while I pay the driver. I'd forgotten Mom is off adventuring, and it's dark and empty inside. I wonder if her night is going better than ours.

"If you bring me a glass of wine, I won't yell at you." Jessica stomps into the living room, which we rarely use. She clicks on the lamp next to the couch.

I find a bottle of something red from the cabinet under the coffee maker, and open it, then take two glasses to the dim room where my sister stews. I hand Jessica a glass and sit next to her on the couch. Two thin, black heels lean against the coffee table in an upturned pile.

Jessica pulls deep from the glass. "This is..." She closes her eyes. "Better than the bark coffee. Thank you." She empties her glass before I've taken a sip from mine.

"Are you going to tell Donna?" I ask.

"I don't know yet." Jessica reaches for the bottle.

"Can you wait a bit?" I taste the wine, and it's got kind of a cherry flavor.

"Why?"

"I realized something."

"Do tell." She refills her glass, then leans back on the couch and closes her eyes.

"Did you see what happened when I asked about Todd?"

"Honestly? No. I was trying to keep from screaming at them in a crowded restaurant."

"Well." I put my glass on the table, and turn to Jessica. "Kirsten looked like she'd been struck by lightning as soon as I said the name. Dad stuttered too."

"We'd just publicly called them out for cheating."

"Right, but." I lift my glass, take a sip, and put it back. "Mentioning Todd did something else. Think about it. Who the fuck cares about some random new hire like me, after all that?"

"I don't know, Alex."

"Hear me out. This Todd guy started the same day I did. Only I've never seen him, and my boss has been gone since like my third day of work. Dad got me the job, that's nothing secret. I bring up his name tonight, and Kirsten makes a face like I insulted her dead grandmother, while Dad starts stammering even more than he was after you had him backpedaling."

Jessica opens her eyes. "Are you actually doing this guy's job for him, like you said?"

"Yeah, I am. And now I have to get his comments for this performance review thing. My boss stuck us together, and I can't do that part for him. What all do you know about what Kirsten does?"

"She does project management stuff, something to do with human resources. I don't know any more."

I lean back. "Let me go dig around at work and see what I can find on Monday. I'm going to figure this shit out. Can you wait to tell the Red Haired Lady until I do that?"

Jessica sighs. "Yes, okay. This really matters to you, doesn't it?"

"It does. I assume it was not an idle threat to tell her."

"I am very serious, but I promise I'll wait." Jessica sets her empty glass on the table, and stands, then swipes up two heels from the floor, and marches toward her bedroom. "I need to be done with this day."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 16

"How do you find who?" Garret's voice squawks through the landline.

"My boss," I say. "I'm at my computer. Isn't he in the database somewhere? How do I look up someone's contact info?"

"Click new message. Hit 'To' then click the search field, and put his last name in there. It should populate with suggestions." Garrett's voice fades out in a shrill patchy pattern, like he's in a tunnel, or has no reception. I'd just spent the whole MAX ride to work sitting next to a woman having an argument with her boyfriend, or whoever, on speakerphone. They were trying to organize some kind of protest, and already had the energy for it in place. My head hurts, and I'm done with phones, but this is too much to text.

"Okay." I pinch the phone against my shoulder, and type my boss's name with both hands. The screen floods with matching last names. "What do I do when I find him?"

"Right click his name and hit properties. It'll have all his public information. Name, email, phone, mail stop, cubicle location. All that jazz." Garrett's voice crackles and fades out.

I do as he says. My boss' name floats half way down the list, and sure enough all of his information pops up in a box. His address shows his cubicle half a stone's throw away, where I saw him sitting at his desk maybe three times before he left.

"You still there?" I ask

"Yeah, sorry, was in the stairwell."

"Direct reports? What's that?"

"Shows all the people he's in charge of. Your boss probably has a lot. He's a testing manager."

I click the direct report button, and a window pops up with a couple dozen names, mine included.

"This is exactly what I was looking for."

"You good?"

"Yeah, thanks Garrett."

"Alex, wait."

"What's up?"

"You still coming to the beach this weekend?"

"Yeah."

I'd kind of forgotten about it.

"Jess is coming too, right?"

"I'll try to drag her along."

"Perfect. Later."

I scan the list of names under my boss' direct reports. I'd met a couple, but they're mostly testing rats who run around all over the place, and I can't put many faces to names. Each employee has a cubicle somewhere nearby, and a variety of contact methods. One guy has his own direct report button, and it lists six other people. That's interesting. So my boss manages another manager. The team of six looks to all be cloistered in the far corner, and I'd heard their names mentioned regarding a new revision of Lassens. Nothing particularly suspicious stands out among any of the people within arms' reach in the organization chart. I get the feeling my boss is a catch-all for miscellaneous employees who need to go somewhere, but don't otherwise have a home. I notice there's an 'Up' arrow on employee pages, and if you click that it takes you a level higher, to their boss. I search for myself in the main search box, pull up my own properties, and click the arrow to pull up my boss. It seems simple enough to navigate.

Then I get to work, and pull up my dad.

His address and cubicle are up at the Corvis Seattle campus at the corporate headquarters. I don't know the format exactly, but I can tell he's near post E21 on the 3^rd floor of Building Two there, wherever the hell that is. I'm not even sure how many buildings are up there. My campus has five, and it's a huge sprawling complex I still get lost inside.

I click my dad's direct reports button, and half a dozen names come up, but Kirsten jumps out at me immediately. Kirsten's report page lists somebody named Todd, and a dozen other people I don't recognize, all of them having a strange '-c' at the end of their user names. I haven't seen that anywhere else so far. I pull up the properties page for each of Kirsten's reports, and they all have Seattle campus addresses. All except Todd. He's here in Portland, two buildings over from where I sit, at post C11 on the third floor of Building Four.

I lock my computer, and take a walk.

Building Four was where the aggressively bespectacled technician snapped my ID badge picture, and I vaguely remember the way Garrett led me. As I pass the crisscrossing steel beams holding up the upper floors, I pass a woman wearing a yellow and white polka dot dress that runs part way down her calves. The yellow is the exact same as Jessica's sundress, though this woman's garment has sleeves and a less tantalizing neckline. Then I'm thinking about my sister's dress. And my sister.

Earlier in the morning, Jessica sat by me on the bus, just like we'd been doing for a few weeks now. We hardly saw each other all of Sunday. She did chemistry homework, a biology paper, and something else science-related. I paced about and procrastinated, as is customary for my Sundays. I had economics to do, but I didn't feel like brushing up on the command economy components of the Soviet Union, even though I had the authentic experience of deciphering my professor's Russian notes. If I'd had anthropology work to do, I'd have been more motivated. I lay wrapped in my bed when Jessica got home, but I enjoyed no nocturnal visit from her, and I didn't think bothering her was wise. She'd been extra prickly when I saw her at breakfast. Showers and coffee this morning, as usual, but nothing particularly flirtatious.

Then Jessica snatches up my hand on the bus. She squeezes me tight, as though she's worried I might leave her there.