And maybe not. The problem was that I knew.
As the shock wore off I moved forward again, my window full up now and destined to remain so. Id been thoroughly put in my place.
By the time I got caught up to the traffic in front of me the red roadster with the snotty little bitch had switched lanes again, merged into moving traffic and was gone.
So what does a man whos a blink away from forty do? He does what hes supposed to do. He goes to work as if nothing has happened at all.
Good morning, Mr. Travis, Penelope, my receptionist greeted me. No difference between this and any other given morning. Sometimes I wished Penny wasnt so damned cute. That morning her cuteness was slightly accusatory.
I smiled and nodded and quickly disappeared around the corner and down the hall and into my office. Comfort and safety was to be found there.
I dropped my briefcase into a chair covered with papers and marveled that nothing spilled.
I made a quick jaunt down to the kitchen for a cup of hot coffee and managed to catch Nat Bierstones back disappearing into his own office where hed probably be until about lunch time.
Back to my Corinthian leather executive chair. I propped my Dr. Martens up on my desk at the same time that I noticed a stack of bills that needed to be paid before the week was done. Id get around to it.
I sipped my coffee, read the sports section and began to enliven.
I was in the middle of an article on Lance Armstrong, who could probably ride through hell and back on a bicycle-and I was enjoying the article-when my phone buzzer went off. Thats almost always the way it happens.
Yeah, Penny?
Mr. Travis, your first appointment is here.
Appointment? I didnt have any appointments. I always kept my own calendar, so no one else actually knew my schedule.
Penny, are you sure this not Mr. Bierstones appointment?
Uh, sir, Mr. Bierstone had me leave a message for you. He wanted you to talk to her.
I didnt get any message, I said, and just as the last word was out of my mouth my eyes came to rest on a small pink phone message tear-out sheet underneath the heel of my shoe on my desk top.
Wait, think I found it.
Sure enough.
Okay, Penny. Give me a minute, then send her in. I hung up.
I quickly started clearing my desk. Where does all the paper come from? I have a theory about paperwork: Im certain it mates and reproduces during the night.
I swept the stack of bills and the large index card box on top of it (my client file system-I dont trust computers, or at least not with that kind of information) under my arm, toted it over to the file cabinet, opened a drawer, dropped it in and slammed the drawer shut.
By the time I was back standing in front of my desk and surveying the room, the door opened.
And, of course, it was her.
The roadster girl, bitch-glasses and all.
The moment of recognition was priceless.
Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped slightly open. She tried to remove her sunglasses but only managed to drop them. I took three long steps toward her, bent quickly and picked them up just as she was beginning to stoop down.
I smiled, meeting her eyes.
Hi, I told her, pressing her sunglasses back into her delicate
hand. She looked down at them as if Id given her a little present of some sort, realized what they were and tucked them into her purse.
Uh, hi.
Miss Simmons? I asked.
Um, yes. Listen, Mr. Travis, I have to say Im sorry for cutting you off like that.
What are the odds, huh? Dont mention it. Its forgotten. Come on and have a seat. Would you like some coffee?
I took her by the elbow, guided her, effortlessly.
She was beautiful. I caught the scent of something. An exotic fragrance. Couldnt name it if I tried. I successfully resisted the urge to ask her what it was.
She took the proffered chair. I sat down at my desk, facing her.
She just sat looking at me. Not smiling. There was a tiny wrinkle in her otherwise perfect forehead, the beginning knit of a frown.
How can I help you?
Mr. Travis. Im not sure you can. Im not sure anybody can.
Id heard this before. A few times its been true. Its a marvel to me the whole spectrum of trouble that human beings can get themselves into. I suppose Ive seen most everything.
I know it must really appear that way, I told her, trying not to smile. I suppose I was a little amused, and at her expense. Just about anything can be untangled, if you know which string to pull.
Which string, she said. Not a question. She was no longer looking at me but at the shelf behind me. Actually Id say she was peering into some dark space in the universe of her mind.
Right, I said. Why dont you just start-
At the beginning?
Well Okay. You can start there if you want to.
Her face reddened. Cheeks puffed up just a bit. There was moisture stealing into the inside corners of her exotic, slightly feline eyes. My stomach did a little gymnastics, a little back flip that it was out of practice on. If she started crying, I thought I might fall in love.
Please dont cry, Bitch Lady! I pleaded with her silently.