Chapter 5

A stranger approaches Eileen with a simple- but complicated- request.

Chapter 5
    "Sorry," the mechanic, Thomas, said, his voice noticeably lacking in regret. "But we're gonna have to replace the transmission."
    "Then do it," I replied.
    "And reapply the old sealants," Thomas continued, "and plug the oil leak, and fix the electrical bugs, and-"
    "Then do it," I repeated.
    "Lady, I'm trying to tell you that your car's a piece of junk," Thomas said. "The repairs will cost you more than a new car would. I suggest that you scrap the hoopdie."
    As if I could afford a new car! "Fine. Give me the keys," I said, sighing.
    "What for? Leave it with us. We'll dispose of it."
    "Give me the keys."
    Thomas shrugged and handed me the keys. "Okay."
    I headed toward the car.
    "What, are you gon' try to drive that thing?" Thomas asked incredulously. "The thing's a death trap!"
    "Then be glad you're not behind the wheel," I replied, closing the door.
    Thomas just watched in amazement as I pulled out.
    I drove the car to an abandoned parking lot- in no higher than second gear all the way- and got out. Night had fallen, and the parking structure was deserted.
    I sauntered around the car, inspecting it. Then I consulted the mechanic's report. New transmission needed, I read- and it was replaced- replace sealants- they were replaced- plug oil leak- the leak was plugged- no, better than new....
    I went down the list and, with a single thought, replaced everything. Then, a little carried away, I gave the dark green paint a little luster and reupholstered the seats. I applied a little age retention to the poor car, thinking of NuNu Robertson all the while. Paulatta "NuNu" Robertson was another interior designer who happened to be a 1st gen, and whose ability happened to be Age Retention- she could make something new stay new, or something seven years old stay seven years old. Age Retention was not directly related to interior design, so no one had prevented her from entering the field, but she openly and famously used her ability to keep her clients' houses and belongings from aging. Most of the gifteds in town went to her for design services. She had a knack for stealing customers from me.
    Then I drove home. The apartment was dark, as it always seemed to be. I heated up a TV dinner, stared at the TV for a while, and then went to sleep, wondering if I could remodel my life the way I'd remodeled my car.

    Remembering my appointment, I showed up for work at 9:55 AM the next day. Mai arrived at 10:05. When she came, I was still alone.
    At 10:06, Mai entered my office. "There's a gentleman here to see you, and I'm guessing he's not interested in interior design."
    I knew from the way Mai pronounced "gentleman" exactly what kind of person I was up against. "Send him in," I instructed.
    Mai complied without a word. My intuition did not fail me: Seconds later, Mai produced an undeniably handsome, poorly dressed young man. We shook hands; he did not smile. "Thank you, Mai," I said to the receptionist, who was still standing in the middle of the room, staring. "Close the door behind you."
    As the door closed, I sat down at my desk; he sat before it. "I believe we have a mutual friend," I said, in an attempt to lead him.
    It failed bitterly. "We do."
    "He seemed concerned about your lack of employment."
    "He is."
    I began to sense that he didn't want to be there any more than I wanted him to be there. "Should he be?"
    "No. I'm perfectly fine with the work I'm doing now, and anyway, the fewer people who are involved, the better."
    "I agree completely. Why are you here?"
    "My friend made a promise on my behalf, and I've fulfilled it."
    "Good. Why is Rhys concerned about your work at all?"
    "He's a busybody, as I'm sure you've noticed. And he thinks one of my bosses is gonna give me up. He's just worried about me."
    It was then that I saw his plan, and I was all the more upset with myself for willingly falling into it. "Why does he think that?"
    "Think what?"
    Annoyed, I said, "That your boss is gonna call you out."
    If he was pleased with my shameless compliance, he didn't show it. "One of the homeowners whose lawns I mow told Rhys that he voted for both the Fair Employment Law and the Fifth Generation Act."
    "Why would he admit that to Rhys?"
    "He was drunk." He shrugged.
    I decided to throw him a curveball. "If you don't think you're in any danger, why should I?"
    "I'm not asking you to."
    "Look," I said, exasperated. "We both know you're trying to play me into offering you a job so you don't have to ask for one. If you want work, come out and say it. If not, or if you want to keep playing your little game, get out of my office."
    He looked surprised- and impressed. "I want a job," he said carefully.
    The tables had been turned. "What do you expect to do here?"
    "Anything you need me to."
    "I don't need anything."
    "Your business is failing."
    "Really? What do you propose to do about it?"
    "I'd have to know what's causing it first. It's obviously not incompetence on the part of the boss."
    I smirked. "Nice a*s- kissing. You'd make a wonderful secretary."
    "Watch it. My aunt's a secretary."
    We both almost smiled. "Bring or fax me a resume by close of business tomorrow, and I may consider hiring you."
    "I'll bring one by close of business today." He stood up to leave.
    I stopped him by saying, "At this point, the law requires that you surrender a name card or other form of identification."
    "I think we both know what I think of the law."
    "I have the right to demand it of you."
    "That won't be necessary."    He took a business card out of his wallet and handed it to me. Before I had the chance to read it, he said, "Cadeyrn Ward."
    We shook hands again. "It's been a slice, Cadeyrn."
    He smiled. "Good morning, Ms. Grier."
    Mai came in as soon as he left. "What did he want?"
    "You seem excited, Mai."
    Mai pouted. "Do we at least have his phone number on file?"
    "That's all for now, Mai."
    "You can't blame me for trying. Did you see the man? You saw him, right?"
    "Yes, I saw him. Don't you have something you should be working on?"
    "Yes, Ms. Grier. I've been working on beating my own high score in Solitaire."
    I waved her away. As she left, I finally allowed myself to think about what I had blocked for our entire conversation- that perfectly chiseled face, that gentle, baritone voice and those intense green eyes.
   
    A few hours of lunch meetings later, Mai rushed into my office. "He's back," she said breathlessly.
    I went into the reception area. Cadeyrn handed me a folder. I took it and nodded, and he left.
    Mai frowned. "What was that all about?"
    "Just business, Mai," I replied vaguely. "Business as usual."