“The Brunny?”
“Yeah, I guess they sponsored his hockey team one year, and he got to know the manager.”
“Any chance you could help us out?”
I paused for a moment. I could offer to help out, but I hadn’t worked door in a long time. Can’t say I was looking forward to standing up to a bunch of drunken businessmen on a weeknight. Ted, though… He still worked door from time to time, and he was always looking for a free beer. The only problem was that he was Ted.
What was more important? Saying yes to her request, or taking the chance that Ted might make a complete ass of himself, resulting in the requirement for another apology? It was a coin flip at best.
But I owed her. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a sucker for a pretty lady. So I told her I would call Ted right there and then. And lo and behold, he agreed.
CHAPTER 11
The next three days were uneventful, other than several awkward moments when Kara and I found ourselves together. Plus the one afternoon where Chad dropped by to have lunch with her and spent the entire time scowling in my direction.
As the days passed we both relaxed and things returned to the comfortable atmosphere of the prior week. I have to admit, though — every time I was within three yards of her, the hairs on the back of my neck rose and I felt blood rushing to a certain extremity. It was like I was addicted to her fragrance. Men are dogs, and Dr. Pavlov would have found me a very predictable one indeed.
On Thursday night I was resigned to an evening in the office. John Vranic was in a bit of a panic about our GST returns, and had asked if I would mind keeping the office open one night so he could get them done. I agreed, figuring I could use the time to catch up on a few things that had fallen between the cracks with Clay out of the picture.
Jamar was the last out the door after Kara had shut down Dispatch, and couldn’t resist getting another dig in. It had become a daily ritual.
“I’m telling you, Donnie. This would be a lot easier if you two just got it on.”
Right. As if that was ever going to happen.
I took a playful swipe at him, but he danced out of my reach and threw his backpack over his shoulder.
“See you tomorrow.”
So I was the only one in the office when the walking flagpole showed up.
“Hey, thanks for sticking around. I want to get these filings completed, so we don’t end up with any late filing penalties or interest.”
“No problem.” I stepped aside, and John maneuvered past me with a barrister’s briefcase and two expanding files in his arms. “Better you than me, big guy.”
As John worked his way to the back, I glanced around the lot. Signs and More closed at six, like we did. A rusted Accord that the building janitor drove sat out front of their unit. We had him in twice a week, but I was pretty sure the other tenants had him in more often.
The Sofa Gallery was open until nine, but I had never seen any vehicle parked in front of that shop other than the Lexus that sat there every day. In front of the Urban Jungle sat ten or twelve cars — every one of them a minivan. Must be a birthday party or something. I locked up, and headed back.
John was seated and hard at work in one of the offices. He looked like one of those dipping birds, his head and shoulders at a precarious angle over the desk as though he was about to tip forward. Same white shirt, solid charcoal grey suit and black tie he was wearing the last time I saw him. His initials were stitched on the cuff of his shirt, which made sense since there was no way he was buying suits off the rack.
“John.” He glanced up. “Feel free to go casual whenever you’re in the office. We’re a pretty relaxed place.”
“Thanks.” He stretched back in the chair. “I prefer the suit. Helps me stay focused.”
“Really? I got fed up with ties.”
“I tend to forget I’m even wearing one.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll be puttering about. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to finish by ten at the latest.”
I wandered out into the middle of the staging area and stood for a moment, hands on my hips. I had a sudden impulse to throw my hands in the air and proclaim “Mine! All this is mine!” At least it might be if I didn’t keep screwing up.
I dealt with the vans first. Jim kept the car at his place, so I would take a glance at it over lunch hour the following day.
Both vehicles were in good running condition, but I had managed to make a mess of the interior of Arcane 1 in the past few weeks (Clay had swung for vanity plates a few years earlier — Arcane 1, Arcane 2 and Arcane 3). Crumpled food wrappers, empty pop bottles, the Sports section from nearly a weeks’ worth of Toronto Star issues. I dragged the recycling bins over and worked my way through the mess.
I was vacuuming when John called out, damn near causing me to soil myself.
“Didn’t hear you there.”
“Sorry about that. You want some pizza? I was going to order in.”
“Sure.”
“Pepperoni and cheese? Anything else?”
“Nah, that’s fine.”
He strode off, leaving me to finish with the van.
After dinner I finished with the sorting area, hit the lights and moved to Clay’s office (now mine too, I suppose). Maggie had put aside a tottering stack of paperwork for me to go through, and I did just that, my feet kicked up and chair leaning at an angle which threatened its structural integrity. I grabbed the top few items off the stack and started reading.
A couple of credit notes for customers who had overpaid accounts, bless their souls. One reminder letter about a past due account. Bindings bookshop, owned by a Dr. Bernie Galt. I’d met Galt on my first day, but only briefly. Clay had since warned me about him, and he was right, the guy was proving to be a pain in the butt.
Two checks to be signed — one to DeVenny Devos (John’s firm), the other to our landlord. Clay had signed those checks in the past, but he seemed delighted to pass the responsibility to me. He had online access to the accounts anyways, and seemed confident that we would let him know if anything unusual came up.
I went through the weekly cash flow statement along with the balance sheet and income statement for the prior month, which I knew were e-mailed to Clay and Harper.
There was also a commentary on the April financials, summarizing results versus prior year and prior quarter and reviewing a few key metrics. The biggies were on time delivery, customer queries and complaints, committed schedules for the remainder of the year. I’m embarrassed to admit that the analysis was more detailed and reflected more knowledge of the business than anything I had ever seen at my previous employer, which had twenty times the revenue, fifty times more employees and zero profit.
There was a letter from John confirming that payroll deductions for the month had been remitted. Also an old memo reminding Clay that March and April were tight months for DeVenny Devos due to tax time. Not an issue for us, since Arcane’s year end was October 31, like the big banks. I suppose all major organizations think alike.
We had received a recommendation from the insurance brokers regarding the upcoming renewals. Looked like a small increase, but expanded coverage. Sounded good to me, and I made a note to that effect for Maggie.
A few other odds and ends, including a note from Kara suggesting a few purchases to stock up the office. I was getting to the end of the stack when John’s voice rang out.
“Mr. Elder, do you hear that?”
Every time he called me that I aged five years.
“What was that?”
I heard him rise from his seat, then he appeared at the door. His face was flushed, and it took me a moment to realize that he was blushing. Embarassed?
“Sounded like scratching. Through the wall. And I thought I saw a light go on in there.”