Be Mine 8

It was a silly thing to be upset about. There was really nothing that made Valentines Day a holiday other than the florists and the greeting card companies. Carter had no reason to be upset and he knew it and it made it worse knowing that he shouldn't be upset and still was.

He had picked up flowers and chocolates on his way home the day before. They had been hidden in the garage. He also had a pretty little gift bag tied with a bow in his trunk that held a small but expensive chemise he intended to give her. There was also a bracelet. It was in his briefcase.

He had put out the flowers and chocolates after she had gone to bed. She had to move them to make coffee that morning. He had hoped she would slip in after discovering them and give him a kiss or a thank you or even something a little more adult but it was after seven when he rolled over and looked at the clock. He got out of bed and went to the kitchen for coffee. The flowers were moved - he didn't see them. The chocolates were moved as well. They had been placed on the refrigerator. She was sitting on the couch watching the news.

"Good morning." He said, as upbeat as he could manage just getting out of bed.

"Good morning." She answered. She was more awake than he was but the inflecting in her good morning was as deadpan as a stock pricing report. That wasn't accurate. The guys on TV got rather animated with the stock reports these days.

He asked how busy her day was. She said not very.

He wasn't going to mention the gifts.

He asked if she had thought about where they might go to dinner. They tended to eat early, they would be able to get in even with the extra business the restaurants would have today. She didn't want to eat out. She was dieting.

He asked if she might want to meet at lunch, he would come by her office. No, she responded. She had her frozen meal to eat.

He showered and dressed. He chose a pink tie. It matched well with the gray suit.

As he was ready to leave he passed her in the kitchen. She looked good. She wore a pencil thin black skirt and a white blouse. He liked that he could make out the lace of her bra through the thin material.

"Happy Valentines Day." He said, moving close to her, placing his hand on her hip. She smiled an emotionless smile, twisting the corners of her lips upward in a way that suggested she had recently had oral surgery.

He moved in to kiss her. She turned her cheek. She had done her lips in a light red lip-gloss. She also didn't like to have her hair touched once it was done. These were all the things he knew. You learn things in 12 years. His younger son had left for school. His daughter typically left just after him.

"Have a good day, Tiny." Her name was Tina; he just never called her Tina.

"You too, dad." She was a junior in high school and was a right proper woman already. She had been eating a grapefruit and got up from the table and quickly moved towards him. She moved in a way that was part skip, part jog, and looked like a dancer exiting stage right. She hugged him with both arms and kissed his cheek. "They are really pretty." She said. There was sadness in her voice.

"I bet you could put them in your room, if you want." He said. He resolved to pick up two dozen on his way home for her. He would get bright pink, the most ungodly overdone arrangement they had.

"Its okay. I thought I might steal the chocolates though." She smiled. He smiled back. He supposed it was all worth it.

His drive to work was pleasant. He had treated himself with a large Mercedes a few months earlier and he was amazed not on the test drive, and not when he brought it home but in the weeks that followed. It seemed to get more pleasant each morning. Audrey had said he was compensating. A man like him didn't need to showboat like that.

He agreed compensation was the correct word but that he felt it held the wrong connotation. He liked recompense. He was making up for what he was doing; he was simply being made whole. She just smiled at him with a sad smile.

He had only had Audrey for a couple of years but he had trusted her instantly. She was on the payroll as Office Administrator and he had tried to rectify that. She did a great deal more than that. Effectively, he just sat at his desk now and signed what she brought him. She would already have rejected the items he would reject. She ran the company, she should have a better title and probably her own assistant he said.

"I'm your assistant?" she said, as if offended.

"That's what I'm saying, you shouldn't be just my assistant. Seriously, let me fix that, would you?"

"And let you hire some nubile twenty something to make you coffee and shake her cans over your desk, not likely."

"She would be thirty something." He teased her.

"And a man, and black, and six-three, and have gorgeous teeth." He liked the way she smiled. "Teeth are very important to me." They both smiled.

The news was talking about the actual Saint Valentine and how very little was known about him. The woman argued what an appropriate metaphor it was for love. He pulled the car into the garage. He had passed his entire drive thinking about love whether he wanted to admit it or not. Last year he had roses delivered for her, friendly roses. They were yellow. He wanted as far from red as possible. This year he hadn't ordered anything for her and he felt badly about it but felt it was necessary. He didn't think about her that way.

As the elevator rose to the 19th floor he thought about the Christmas party. He still held one. It was a good one. Families were invited to lunch. There was a Santa. After lunch the families typically left and he would end up buying drinks for the staff that stuck it out the rest of the afternoon at TJ's across the street. The bar bill was typically more than the catered lunch. His wife had left after lunch. She found having to attend an inconvenience. She never came back to the bar after, she didn't like putting on the show and she didn't like him when he drank.

He had been sitting at a table. His staff would come by in small groups and thank him and discuss different things. He liked when they wanted to talk football. He loved to talk football. He had been talking football with a couple of his youngest traders. When they finally wandered away he found himself alone at the table across from Aubrey. He looked over at her. She had the largest darkest brown eyes he had ever seen. He caught himself thinking of her the way he wasn't supposed to and resolved to order a diet soda next.

"I wont sue you if you kiss me."

"What?" He hoped his mouth wasn't hanging open.

"I mean, I can write something up and put it in my file if you want." She said. Her lips were rich and full. She had dark skin, not olive but chestnut. Her real name was Aabharana and the few times she had spoken it for him he had found it beautiful. She teased him he couldn't say it correctly and rather than calling her Jewel he called her car tire. He suspected she was lying. "Just something to think about." She said then stood and sauntered away. She had a special saunter she could use when she wanted to. She used it on him when she needed to change his mind to her way of thinking. He had taken to thinking of that moment at the party each morning on the elevator. He felt it was a wise decision.

His morning had gone exceedingly well. His largest competitor had finally given in to the last of his requirements. He had never been the right sort of person to run a wealth management firm. He had stumbled into the partnership on accident. He had been successful based on intelligence and charm and had managed to acquire complete ownership after the stress had driven his partner to drink and drive his way into the side of a building. Selling the firm would allow him to keep his office, manage the clients he wanted to manage, purge the headaches, and play a lot more golf. His beloved Vikings also cut the wife beating troublemaker defensive end he despised and Amazon had delivered the first press vinyl of Rumors he had ordered. He placed it delicately on the turntable and let Stevie fill his office with Gold Dust Woman. It was simply luxurious - so much better than digital.

"Mein Gott!" Audrey declared when she opened the door to his office. He had turned the stereo somewhat louder than he should have.

"Ach du Lieber!" he relied. He teased her about sounding German when she allowed her accent full reign.

"You best get going, traffic will be awful today." She barked at him. She was telling him to go surprise his wife for lunch. She suggested he avoid the ten and gave him several more motherly instructions.

That was it. He didn't think of her that way because of the way she mothered him. He loved her, but he loved her as you would a strong maternal figure in your life. He smiled at her as she continued to bark at him as she left his office. He would get her an arrangement on his way back. No roses, one of the mixed ones with the little Mylar balloons that said "mom" on them. She would appreciate it.

The drive out to the suburb took longer than he had anticipated. He had planned to arrive a little before noon and find her at her desk about to "nuke" her frozen meal. Instead, he had arrived at a quarter after. She worked for a contractor and he didn't like pulling the large sedan into the narrow spot between two work trucks but he had little choice. He fetched the bracelet from his briefcase in the trunk and looked at it briefly. "BE MINE." Was stenciled on a small pink stone that resembled those little sugary candies. He could have gotten her more and even thought about it after the way his morning had gone but it was just a token really and he thought it quaint. He rounded the end of a beat up old white ford to watch her exit the front door. Behind her walked a stout man, not even as tall as she was. She walked to the passenger side of an overly long pickup with a rack over the bed that held pipes and a ladder. He opened the door for her and worse; he placed his hand on the small of her back as she got in. It was his go to move, it caused him physical pain in his chest to watch it done so well by another man.

He slipped back behind the truck as they pulled out of the opposite end of the parking lot. He was happy they had left in that direction. The trunk of his car would have been obvious. He shirked his way back to the drivers seat and crawled inside.

Carter was a tall man, a large man. He stood nearly six foot four. His hair was graying but thick. She had been sad when he had shaved his goatee but he felt he had to, it looked out of place. He was a buttoned down white-collar businessman that voted republican and drank scotch. He was the type of man that didn't draw a lot of sympathy because frankly there was no reason to pity him. He had done his best to woo her to the lifestyle. He took her shopping to Bloomingdales and forced her to spend money. He realized, as he drove away in the opposite direction from where they had gone none of it had ever taken hold for her. He still found Wal-Mart sacks in the recycling. Despite being a large man he didn't have pec's or delt's or trap's. She was a fan of such things. He pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. He was close to home. He was going to get Tiny her flowers and sneak them into her room before she got home from school. He was going to buy something for his son too. The large superstore carried Legos. He was going to get the massive battle station, just because he could.

The guy was bald. She liked bald. He had a giant tattoo running all the way down his arm. He had a goatee. It was completely gray. He suspected the carpenter had to be older than Carters own 46 years. His wife was older than he was by a couple of years so it made sense. He wandered in a stupor carrying building blocks and flowers. She had never cared about Valentines Day before. He wondered if maybe he just wasn't her Valentine. He was standing in the checkout behind another man in a suit buying flowers. They nodded at one another.

Randy

The man had looked familiar. They had redone the kitchen, what, three years ago now? He had gotten three bids and taken them to the office to decide. He was going to pull credit and whatnot on the contractors. One clearly had a better record and he called his wife to tell her he had settled on a bid.

'Too late." She had said. And then rather than name Whitehall Building, Summit, or even Black Sheep Remodeling she told him. "I already called Randy. He said he would start next Thursday or Friday." When he thought about it, he had called the other two contractors; she was the one that had insisted Randy get a chance to bid. Randy hadn't even known how to put together a bid. He had given Carter a yellow piece of paper out of a pad that he had made noted on. He had written Bid on the top and had affixed a business card to the bottom with electrical tape.

Carter only drove by the house. When he saw the white Chevy pickup in the drive he had just let the car roll on past the house. At her school, Tiny had left the top down on her bug. He put the flowers in the drivers seat. He mulled the logic of driving an hour back to the office to sit for an hour and then drive an hour home but he had no desire to get home now, not early anyway, and he pointed the large car at the Interstate.

Audrey was at the front desk when he entered the offices. Chrissy had to be at lunch still. It was Valentines Day after all; her lunch probably went better than his.

"Are you okay?" Audrey asked as he entered. He would have been curious how she could tell except that she could always tell.

"Do I have anything this afternoon?" he asked. It was easier than checking his calendar and more accurate.

"You had a commodities review but I moved it to tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." He said.

"There is a letter. I don't think she knew to mark it personal."

He understood more quickly than he should have. Audrey's comment hadn't been specific but who else could "She" be today and why else should it have been marked personal. "She mailed it?"

"Courier."

He nodded.

Alone in his office he restarted the Fleetwood Mac album but this time turned it on quietly. It was a subtle soundtrack to the next few minutes. He felt separated from himself anyway, as though he were watching a film. He wondered who might play him. He liked to think of it as a George Clooney vehicle.

He took off his tie as he settled into his desk. He wouldn't be working much more today.

"Dear Carter," it began. It had been done on her computer. It was on her company letterhead. She should have hand written it. He would have written it out by hand. He would have taken several drafts to make sure it was worded properly. He would have probably had to rewrite it one last time just to make sure his handwriting was legible. That was how it should have been done. Instead, dated two days previous, his Dear John letter began Dead Carter.

"We have been pretending to be married too long. I think we both moved on some time ago. I'm sure you suspected something was going on the same way I did. I hope you will be happy in your new life."

He wondered whom she suspected he was having an affair with. He presumed she meant Aabharana and felt a spiteful regret that he had not given into her already.

"I know you are quite wealthy but I am not interested in that. I never was. I hope your money can keep you warm as you grow old. I don't want you to think that means I don't want a fair settlement. I hired a lawyer to take care of that. She will need you to send her the retainer. I suspect you can have your girl take care of that for you." She had never understood money. She didn't understand what he did or why he did it. She didn't care. That was really all it was about. She suspected Randy could burn through whatever he paid her.

"As for the children, I suspect you will be fair and reasonable. You may never have loved me but I know you love them. I don't hate you, I know I can trust you to be fair with them." He appreciated that she recognized some good in him.

"I would take them with me now, or fight for them in the courts but they would fight screaming and hollering to stay with you. Dr. Wolfe says I am holding onto resentment because I feel that they love you more. Dr. Wolfe is full of shit. They do love you more and I don't resent it. I resent the years I have lost to pretending to be a good wife and mother to a family that thought I was a bitch." He began to feel less sadness. He wondered if he was feeling relief. He didn't want to be. He wanted to feel heartbroken.

"I am not going far. When we are settled I will let you know. I understand there is good work to be had in Austin. Real work, not pushing papers and collecting fees from rich people for babysitting. I think if you had ever had to really work for a living we might have been able to make it work." One half of his sullen face twisted into a smile at the irony. Someone did pity him.

She signed it "Regards," and beneath her complete name was her title of Front desk Administration and Accounts Payable. She had used the business letter template. She had signed it in red ink. She liked to sign in red ink. She thought it made letters look more personal. He had tried to explain it was bad luck and she had given him that look of disdain she gave him when he tried to offer advise or council. He set the letter aside and the attorney's business card had dropped out. She had scrolled $7,500 on the back. From his desk he hand wrote a personal check for a dollar, hand addressed an envelope to the woman and put the check aside on his desk. Legally the dollar would be enough to retain her services. She could fight his legal team for the rest of the $7,500. In his mind he plotted a strategy. Whatever she asked for they would offer double and send papers. It would make it hard for the attorney to bill for more than a couple of hours. He would never cheat his wife but he would joyfully do his best to steal from her attorney.

"Ex-wife." He said aloud as if practicing.

He had a package, wrapped in plain brown paper and several other letters to open as well. He thought he would worry about all that tomorrow. Tiny would be home soon. If he hurried he wouldn't beat her but she wouldn't have to wait long.

He clicked the icon on his computer that served as the intercom to any office he selected. He buzzed the front desk but Chrissy answered. He told her she could close up shop at three O'clock. He asked her to pass the word.

He pressed the button for her office. "Aabharana?" he said, almost in a whisper.

"I am not a car tire." She said back.

"I checked. It doesn't mean that."

"You don't trust me?"

"No."

"I'll be right in."

"Thanks." He said. It was ridiculous banter and it cheered him if only slightly.

"I'm headed out for the day." He said. She had on her sad motherly face. He appreciated it.

"It is good that you go. Do you suspect she typed them letters as well?"

"God, I didn't even think of that. I think she might have." He nodded towards the envelope. "Can you see that that gets delivered this afternoon?"

"Of course." She said. "Should I expect you tomorrow?"

"You shouldn't but I need to be so I will be here. Find out what time Robert Roost has available tomorrow. Here or there is okay." He added. He needed his attorney.

"Is it personal or business?"

"A little overly curious?" he teased her.

"I am hoping either to be to my benefit." She said. She did not smile. She could be the very epitome of professionalism even when what she was saying hinted at only the most personal of matters. He wondered if it was cultural, or just her own personality but suspected she did it just to torment him. He had seen her once in her traditional sari. She was an attractive woman normally but he knew her to hide a radiant beauty that she could release at will. He smiled at her.