Authors Note:
Once again, my heartfelt thanks go to Dr Mark for continuing to edit my work and turning it into something readable.
Here we go...
Caleb 30 - Finding a Dojo
It didn't take much to catch up on the days I had missed. The only lecture that I was really upset about missing was in ethics, and I went to see the professor between my first two classes.
I explained that I had been called away on an emergency, but he didn't seem overly impressed.
"There's a minimum attendance requirement for the class, Mr. Stott," he said. "This is your first absence, so I'm disinclined to listen to excuses
or
to give lectures. Your work thus far has been good, so just make sure you don't fall behind. It's a terrible reason to have to fail a student when they seem to grasp the material, but I must insist. Lively debate is crucial to an exploration of ethics."
Just like that, I was a regular college student again. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I'll admit that I'd vaguely entertained the idea of flashing my ID. I did, after all, have a very, very good reason for having missed the class. A bit out of sorts from having been preempted, I shuffled my feet and turned to leave.
"I didn't see any visible injuries," he said to my back, "so I'm assuming they still didn't bring enough goons."
I turned my head and caught a smile.
"White supremacists, technically," I replied. "And this time, we went to them."
He didn't fully rise to the bait, but I got a reaction. That was good enough for me.
The other professors didn't really care about attendance; papers and tests covered ninety percent or more of the grades. I appreciated that my ethics professor felt differently, and I genuinely enjoyed the class. I hoped I wouldn't miss any more of them, but I supposed I couldn't be sure.
I met the girls for lunch, and afterwards had a couple of hypnotherapy consultations before my last class. I'd gotten lucky with those, and hadn't had to cancel or reschedule any. Still, I resolved that it was well past time to get some help. A secretary would've been able to handle things for me during my trip, had its timing been less fortuitous.
Despite my lingering hesitation about asking my girls - it seemed a bit of a conflict of interest to have a fiancée as an employee - I decided to just do it. They'd already expressed interest, and I trusted all three of them to be professional. Going through a whole interview process with strangers would add even more of a delay, and would put something else on my already-full plate.
"I'll do it," said Mary immediately.
Amanda pouted. "I was hoping he was going to recruit some hot college freshman," she said, and I smiled.
"A bit clichéd don't you think?" I asked.
Amanda grinned. "Just because it's a cliché, doesn't mean it's not hot!!"
Jules rolled her eyes.
After lunch I was approached by the head janitor, who had finished his course and had stopped smoking. He told me that he had some friends who were struggling too, and had been amazed at the results he'd gotten. He asked for cards - cards I still didn't have to give. I was a bit embarrassed, but spelled out my email address for him, which he typed into his phone.
We stopped at the print shop on my way home. The guy behind the counter upsold me on a package deal: a dedicated work email address, a single-page website, and a thousand business cards. He quoted me four hundred and fifty dollars, plus tax. I wasn't in the mood to haggle or shop around, so I accepted the offer and sat down with him immediately to talk designs.
For simplicity's sake, I decided to just use my own name. After checking the regulations on the state website as to what I could legally call myself, I ended up with
Caleb Stott, Licensed Hypnotherapist. (Licensed in the state of Oregon.)
My license number was printed underneath, just in case anyone wanted to check.
When I paid up, he told me the website would be live within twenty-four hours, and that I could come back in a few days to pick up the cards. The fee included registering the domain name, and the email address could be anything I wanted at calebstott.com. It seemed pretty cool to have my name as my email address, though that did make it harder to think of something to put before the at symbol.
The young man said I could have a single Microsoft Exchange account for less than ten dollars per month. I could create as many email addresses at calebstott.com as I wanted, and that everything sent to any of them could be diverted to my exchange account.
I looked to Jules. "Or you could just set up a gmail account - say
calebstotthypnotherapy
at gmail dot com ," she said. "Then divert all the mails to that. Best thing about that - is it would be free."
I agreed. Mary decided that the email address on the cards and the website would be
enquiries
at calebstott dot com. She was earning her pay already.
He asked me for my telephone number in case there were any problems, and then asked me what kind of things I treated with my hypnosis.
I 'heard' from him that he was hoping for help with his confidence. As a trenchant example, he wanted to ask me if I might like to get a drink with him sometime, but was far too nervous and insecure to do so. The gaggle of girls with me wasn't helping, but he knew that that wasn't the real issue. I told him that up that point I had only handled weight loss and smoking cessation, but that I could definitely help with more general concerns. He brightened at that. I promised we'd discuss it when I came back to pick up my cards.
I left the print shop wondering about the guy. He was definitely a fit young man, but there was no real attraction for me. I shook my head at both the tragedy and the comedy; it seemed to me like I'd just been given a whole month or more to decide how to gently reject somebody - once I'd gotten paid to help them muster the courage to ask me out in the first place.
Gracie arrived home just after six, and she was ecstatic. Arnold had tested her, and had found that she remembered everything she needed to pass muster as a certified accountant. I joked with her that I needed an accountant now that my hypnotherapy business was taking off, and she legitimately offered to talk me through the tax implications and how to set things up. I had half a mind to take her up on it when tax time came around, provided she wasn't undercover.
I made dinner, and then Gracie came to me and asked a favour. I had known since she had come home that she was going to ask, but I waited for her to bring it up.
"Caleb," she asked, "do you think that you could come with me to pick my stuff up from James' place?"
"Sure," I said. "Do you think he is likely to get upset?"
"I don't know how he is going to react," she admitted. "Would it be all right to take your truck as well as my car? I don't have much, but that way we should be able to fit everything in one trip. The less I have to go back there, the easier it will be for everybody."
The girls and Jules insisted on coming as well, which I initially thought was a bad idea, but then considered that their being there might prevent James from going too wild. I was tempted to let him - maybe even goad him. If anything, I decided, the girls being there would ultimately be to James' benefit.
His place was about forty minutes from our house. When we arrived, I followed Gracie to the door, but stayed outside as she entered and spoke to James. It was only when I heard shouting that I decided to follow her in. I need not have worried. When I entered the living room, James was on the floor, his arm twisted up his back and Gracie sitting astride him.
"I'll give you that one," she said. "You try anything else, and I will arrest you for assault on a federal agent. Now go sit in your chair over there while I collect my things."
She released him, and he got up slowly. He took a seat, glaring at her and then me.
"So, who is this little prick?" he asked with venom in his voice. "You cradle robbing now?"
"Caleb is just here to help me move my stuff," Gracie said. "He's a colleague from work, nothing more."
"Bullshit," he spat.
Gracie ignored him, went into one of the other rooms and began to pack up her clothes. Jules and Mary went through to help.
"What the fuck?" exclaimed James. "Who are the bitches?"