Eye Candy (7 page)

Chapter 7

Unknown Territory

Tim walked into Rory’s office.

Rory was sitting in his big black office chair, his eyes fixed on his computer screen.

Tim quietly lifted the lid on the acrylic box perched on the bureau beside the door, and removed the football from within. He flopped into one of the chairs facing Rory’s desk, kicked his feet up on the edge of the desk, legs crossed at the ankles, and began tossing the football in the air.

“Get your feet off my desk,” said Rory. His eyes stayed on his monitor. “And put the ball back.”

“It’s a football,” said Tim. “Let’s go out to the courtyard and play catch.”

Rory stood and caught the football in midair. “It’s not just a football. This is the ball Dwight Clark caught from Joe Montana on January 10, 1982 during the NFC Championship game at Candlestick against the Cowboys, and they went on to beat the Bengals in the Super Bowl that year. That catch is widely regarded as one of the greatest moments in the history of sports. The Niners are the most storied franchise in all of sports. They are expected to win their tenth consecutive Super Bowl this year. This ball hearkens back to the old days. It is nearly seventy years old. It is very special. I paid a lot of money for it. I cherish it. So don’t fuck with it.”

“So put a lock on that case. Or put it in a vault.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d stop messing with it.”

“Why don’t you keep it someplace safe—like
at home
?”

“Because since Melinda and the kids left, I spend most of my time here.” Rory moved past the black leather sofa, where a pillow and blanket were neatly arranged at one end. “This ball is my most favorite thing.” Rory placed the ball on its tee inside the protective box, adjusted it ever-so-slightly, and replaced the cover. He returned to his chair. “Get your feet off my desk.”

Tim ignored Rory’s command. “Have you called Candy yet?”

“Of course. I’ve called her five times. She’s not answering her phone and Susannah says she’s out of the office today. She won’t say where Candy is.”

“She did say: she’s out of the office.”

Rory leaned back in his chair, away from his computer. “You think she’s okay?”

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Hi, guys!”

Rory and Tim turned toward the door. Harley Smythe-Robertson entered. Her black heels clicked on the floor, and her long, shiny brown hair flowed behind as she walked. She sat in the empty chair facing Rory’s desk, crossed her legs, and straightened her short black skirt.

“Hey, Harley,” said Rory.

“Um, hey, Harley,” said Tim. Tim dropped his feet from Rory’s desk and sat up straight. He stared at the sun-tanned cleavage peeking out from under Harley’s black jacket.

“My eyes are up here, Timmy.” Harley lifted her black horn-rimmed eyeglasses and glared at Tim.

Tim met Harley’s eyes for the briefest of moments and then shifted in his chair.

“What’re you guys up to?” Harley asked.

“Rory was just telling me for the millionth time how special his football is.”

“It is pretty cool,” said Harley. “I wish I could’ve been at that game. But grandpa has tickets to this year’s game. Box seats, like every year. Speaking of which, you guys want to go to Positronic tonight to get some pizza and beer? They’re replaying last year’s championship game with the Niners in New Orleans, to get ready for pre-season next month. It’s an old-fashioned ass whippin’, and you know how much the people of New Orleans hate the Niners. First round’s on me.”

“Sure,” said Rory.

Harley turned to Tim. “Timmy? You coming?” She playfully kicked him in the shin.

“Ow,” Tim massaged his shin. “I can’t. Me and Maggie have class tonight. Tonight
and
tomorrow night, a special two-night relationship-intensive.”

“It’s a shame they schedule that class on the same night as football,” said Harley. “What’s the topic this week?”

“I dunno. Something about meaningful communication.”

“Too bad,” said Harley. “I figured that if we drank enough beer, I’d let you see my boobs.” She winked at Rory.

“Really?” asked Tim.

“No,” said Harley. “You’re married. And I ain’t no homewrecker, regardless of what those bitches down in Human Resources think. They’re just jealous that I’m going to be Chairwoman of the Board one day and they’re going to be sitting in their cubicles hating me because their lives didn’t turn out the way they thought they would.”

“They’re pissed because Canary got you your job,” said Rory.

“Excuse the shit out of me, Rory, darling, but the only thing my grandfather did was let me work summers in the mail room. I was the one who became interested in robotics and went to school and got two Ph.D.’s and an M.B.A. and came back and tried to make something of this company.”

“We were doing okay before you came along, Harley,” said Tim.

“Yes, Tim, you were. But you’re doing a whole lot better now. You’re even heading up your own division. Or perhaps you’d like to go back to being a code monkey?”

“Not in a million years,” said Tim.

“I thought not.” Harley turned to Rory. “So I’ll meet you at Positronic, Ror? Kickoff is at six.”

“Don’t you want to carpool?”

“I would but I rode the bike today.”

“How do you ride a motorcycle in that short skirt and those spiky heels?” asked Tim.

“The same way I always ride: fast. Later, guys.” She stood and moved to the door. Her phone rang and she tapped her ear and answered the call. She listened. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me on this number?” Harley glanced over her shoulder at Rory and Tim.

“Who is it?” asked Rory.

“Nobody. See you at six.” Harley turned and stormed out of Rory’s office. She very nearly collided with Canary Cherrolet just as he was striding through the door.

“Hello, Har–” he began, but Harley had already gone. Canary ambled into the office. He wore his trademark black suspenders and red bowtie, with the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to well above his elbows. The image fit with his well-known and well-respected image within the company: the hard-working founder who preached professionalism at all times but who also was not afraid to roll up his sleeves and get his hands dirty. In the case of Canary Cherrolet, the rolling up of the sleeves was quite literal.

“My granddaughter,” he observed, watching through the windows of Rory’s office as Harley strode down the hall and out of sight. “She’s a firecracker. One of the best moves I ever made was letting her work summers in the mail room when she was just a teenager. And look at her now. I suspect she’ll be after my job one day.” Canary smiled broadly at Rory and Tim. “Unless of course she gets herself killed on that motorcycle of hers.”

“Motorcycles are dangerous,” said Tim.

“They can be,” Canary agreed. “But they are also a great deal of fun. Have you ever done seventy miles an hour up Pacific Coast Highway at sunset, Tim? Feeling the wind on your face, with the rumble of the bike between your legs?”

“No, Mr. C., I haven’t.”

“Well, you might want to consider it. Get that pretty young wife of yours on the back of the bike with you while you’re at it. It would probably do a heck of a lot more good than those classes. Be a hell of a lot cheaper, too. Don’t misunderstand, I commend you for working on your marriage. It takes a big man to admit that he needs help. But if there is one thing I’ve learned in all my years of business, it’s that you must not be afraid to take a chance, to try something different, to buck the trends. When everyone else is selling, you buy. When all the other guys are getting out, you get in deeper. When all the critics and naysayers and fearmongers are screaming that robots are evil and have no place in society, you show ’em that robots are a benefit to mankind, and that without them, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”

“That’s a wise philosophy, Mr. C.,” said Tim.

“Don’t patronize me. I may be an old man but I’m still the founder and owner of one of the biggest companies in the country. And it’s my signature on your paycheck which pays for those private schools your darling wife insists your kids attend. I would ask you not to forget that.”

“You’re right, Mr. C., I know,” said Tim with a sigh. “I apologize.”

“Quite all right, Tim,” replied Canary. “No harm, no foul. Speaking of fouls, you fellas going to go and whoop it up with my granddaughter at the sports pub tonight?”

“I am,” said Rory.

“I’d like to,” replied Tim, “but, uh, I think I may go shopping for a motorcycle instead.”

“That’s the spirit.” Canary clapped Tim hard on the thigh.

“Ow,” said Tim, rubbing his leg. “Why do people keep hitting me?”

“You coming to the pub, Mr. C.?” Rory asked.

“Not tonight. I’ve got a dinner date.”

“A date?” Rory glanced at Tim, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t look so surprised, Rory,” said Canary. “I know my first name makes me sound like a bird but I’ve still got plenty of batter left in the ol’ baby maker.”

“Who’s the date with, sir?” asked Tim.

“No one you know, I suspect.” Canary stood and moved to the door. He turned back and said, “By the way, how are things coming along with our special project?”

“Fine,” replied Rory.

“Fine,” replied Tim.

“We’re on schedule then?”

“We’re in unknown territory here, Mr. C.,” said Rory. “There are a lot of variables.”

“A
lot
of variables,” added Tim, rubbing his face.

“Nothing you can’t handle, I trust?”

“Not at all, sir,” said Rory. “We’ve got it under control.”

“Good. I’ve got a great deal riding on this, gentlemen. A very great deal. The future of the company, perhaps. It would be a shame if we were all out of a job, wouldn’t it? If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. If I don’t answer, it’s because I’m ass-deep in prosecutor. Dating one woman at a time is unknown territory for me. It’s kind of nice.” Canary winked, smiled, turned, and left the office.

Tim and Rory watched Canary through the windows, waiting quietly as he walked down the hall and out of sight.

“Oh, God, we’re so screwed,” said Tim. “We don’t have it under control. We have nothing under control.”

“Relax,” said Rory. “It’s not that bad. Go home to your family and try not to think about it.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I’m going to the pub to watch the game.”

“You going to Harley’s place afterwards?”

“I don’t know yet. You can never tell with her. Last Sunday, after they replayed the championship game from two years ago when the Niners beat the Packers sixty-three to three, Harley was so excited, not to mention wasted, we went back to her place and did it for five hours. The next day at work, I went to the kitchen to get coffee and she was in there, too. I told her my dick hurt like hell. She barely acknowledged me.” Rory sighed and shook his head. “I’ll get a pitcher of beer into her tonight and see what happens.”

“Maybe I should do the same thing with Maggie. We haven’t had sex in five months, let alone for five hours.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” said Rory. “It would certainly be a lot more fun than going to that class and listening to what’s-his-name go on and on for two hours about communication barriers. What’s his name again?”

“Simile. Simile Fox.”

“And what was he before he became a therapist?”

“A male model.”

“Exactly. I don’t think I’d be taking my wife to a class like that. Bring her to the pub. You guys can get loaded and go have sex on the beach after the game. I’ll call Danny and see if he wants to come. If he’s not out on another blind date.”

Out in the hall, Tim and Rory watched Canary flirting with a temp with long blond hair.

“Lucky old bastard.”

“I hate my life.” Tim buried his face in hands.

“If you hate your life,” said Rory, “it’s up to you to change it.” He picked up his phone and dialed Danny’s number.

Chapter 8

Not Just Robots

Candy entered her office.

Susannah sat at the front desk. From the appearance of it, Susannah was on the phone scheduling an appointment. She concluded the call as Candy approached her desk.

“So, the big second date, huh?” said Susannah. “See, I told you it was a good idea to put Double-D in your profile. You’re back awful early, though.”

“We didn’t make it to New Mexico. We had a little shuttle trouble.”

“What kind of shuttle trouble?”

“A blown engine and a crash landing in the Salton Sea.”

Susannah’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Some water skiers rescued us. They dove into the water and tied their waterski rope around that piece of crap shuttle and kept us from drowning. Then they towed us to shore and Danny and I rode the subway back to L.A. He just dropped me off.”