“I slept with someone.”
Stuart laughed again, and again hiccupped. “You’re funny. ‘Can’t read.’ Ha! ‘Menu’! I need to think about that one.” Stuart reached into his mail cart and pulled out the letter he came to deliver. “You got a letter, Evan. It’s marked personal, so I didn’t let anyone touch it.” He handed Beckett the envelope and waited for him to open it.
Beckett tossed the envelope onto his inbox to indicate he wouldn’t be opening it anytime soon, but Stuart didn’t leave. Getting him to leave an office was often a delicate matter. Thus, Beckett folded his newspaper and rose from his chair. “It’s been fun, Stuart, but we need to get back to work.”
“Ok, I’ll let you go,” Stuart responded, as he slowly retreated from the office. “But think about my book though.”
“We will.”
With Stuart whistling his way down the hallway, Beckett entered his password to turn off the screensaver on his computer. This would signal Kak that Beckett had returned to his desk. Kak maintained a log of how often, and for how long, each employee’s screensaver ran, which he equated with absence from the office.
“You shouldn’t have told Stuart that thing about NASA,” Beckett said over his shoulder.
Corbin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s harmless. So he has to run home and dig his bunker a little deeper, the exercise’ll do him good.”
“Seriously, it’s not nice to pick on him. Blessed are those who have regard for the weak, the Lord delivers them in times of trouble.”
“Don’t get Biblical on me. Besides, I’m not picking on him, I’m just goofin’ around with him. He knows I’m kidding and he gets a kick out of it. Go ask him. I do the same thing with you all the time, only he’s got a better sense of humor than you do. In fact, I think it’s more condescending to treat him like he’s a child like everyone else does. He’s actually quite bright, he’s just a little odd.”
“I don’t agree with treating him like a child either, but you were playing with him.”
“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree, as usual.”
Beckett turned to face Corbin. “You know, for a liberal, and all that’s supposed to entail, you’re surprisingly callous.”
“For a libertarian, and all that’s supposed to entail, you’re surprisingly judgmental,” Corbin shot back. “Must be that whole church thing you’ve got going.”
“Just because libertarians don’t like the government dictating behavior doesn’t mean we don’t recognize right and wrong,” Beckett replied defensively. “Also, it would do you well to go to church once in a while; you might find there’s more to life than you realize.”
“I can’t go to church, I’d burst into flames the minute I crossed the threshold. You said that yourself once.”
Both friends laughed, erasing any tension between them.
Beckett’s phone rang.
“Small conference!” Kak roared into the receiver before hanging up. This was Kak’s way of ordering employees to come to his office. In fact, “small conference” were the only words Kak ever spoke over the phone to either Beckett or Corbin.
“I’ll be back.”
With Beckett on his way to Kak’s office, Corbin headed downstairs to the mall beneath their office building to buy coffee. He went with Molly. Molly was the only other attorney in the office around Corbin’s age. This drew them together. She was also one of the few people in the office Corbin found interesting. Molly loved attention, good or bad, and she excelled at getting it. She also enjoyed pushing people’s buttons. She was particularly interested in Corbin because he remained a riddle to her, a riddle she was determined to solve. Corbin understood this, but he got a kick out of watching her work her craft, so he let her try. He was regretting his decision today, however.
Molly stared at the cookie and frowned. Corbin stood nearby with his back against the counter. He watched her push her shoulder-length, golden-brown hair back over her ear for a third time, exposing multiple silver studs. She wore a black pinstriped pantsuitand a French-blue blouse with the collar spread over the lapels of her suit. Corbin wore a similarly colored shirt, though his suit was dark gray.
“Can we please leave?” Corbin asked for a second time. “My coffee’s getting cold.”
“Hold your horses. The cookie and I may have business to discuss.” Molly tapped her wallet against her open palm.
“You’ve been staring at it for five minutes now.”
“Technically, it’s been ten minutes. I was down here yesterday too.”
“Why don’t you just buy it?”
“Maybe I’m trying to talk myself out of buying it? Did you ever think of that?”
“Can we go now, please?”
“What?” Molly pretended she didn’t hear Corbin.
“Can we please go?” Corbin repeated.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to go with you?” Molly pointed at herself on the “me” and at Corbin on the “you.” She smiled patronizingly. “How cute, are you asking me out? What was your name again?”
Corbin bit his tongue and tossed his hands in the air, almost knocking the lid off his coffee. “That’s it! I’m done. I’m going back to the office. I’ll leave you and your cookie to whatever sordid business you two have planned.”
“Fine! We can go back upstairs,” she groaned as if she’d just made the world’s greatest concession. “The cookie’s probably just a tease anyway.” She returned her wallet to her purse and they started for the elevator. Their footsteps echoed throughout the empty mall. “So who’s this chick I hear you’re dating?” Molly asked, smirking at the word “chick.”
Gossip was the office currency, and relationship gossip was most prized. Relationships or, more accurately, tragic relationships were also Molly’s favorite topic, both her own and other people’s.
“Dating? Why is everyone saying that? I’m not dating anyone. I just went on one date, one single date.”
“And. .” Molly gave the word a dozen syllables.
“And what?”
Molly stopped mid-stride and waved her manicured finger at Corbin. “Don’t make me beat it out of you. I’ll smack you around right in front of all these people.” There was no one else in sight.
Corbin couldn’t help but smile at the show she was putting on.
“Well?!” she demanded as they started toward the elevator again.
“It was one date,” Corbin said with a laugh. “We went to this sushi restaurant and-” Corbin stopped mid-sentence as Molly veered off sharply toward the display window of a women’s shoe store. He grimaced and reluctantly followed her.
“Look, shoes!” she exclaimed. “A girl can never have too many shoes.”
“I’m sure,” Corbin said, looking at his watch.
“What do you think about those?” Molly pointed at something behind the display window. “I’d look great in those.”
“Sure. Can we go now,” Corbin replied, without looking to where Molly pointed.
“But I’m probably too tall to wear them,” Molly continued.
“Sure. Can we-. . wait, what?!”
Molly exhaled melodramatically. “Listen, my tall friend. Lots of guys are intimidated by tall women. That’s why I can’t wear heels very often.”
Corbin looked at Molly’s feet. Beneath her black suit pants, she was wearing rather high heels, as she almost always did. “You’re wearing heels today.”
“So?”
“Weren’t you wearing heels yesterday?”
“Are you keeping track of my shoes?” Molly said with faked disgust. “That’s really creepy.”
Corbin ignored her diversion. “You know you’re not that tall, right? I mean, what are you, like five eight, five nine tops?”
“Your point being?”
“You’re just not that tall.”
Molly folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Not all men are as tall as you. It’s just not something you’re going to understand. Ask your roomie. He can explain it to you; he comes up a bit short,” Molly said the word “short” with utter contempt. She was largely indifferent to Beckett, but she often tried to get a rise out of Corbin by insulting his friends.