Even if he’d never admit it.
“I’ll bet you could drag in a dozen guys—bunch of
faggots standing in line for a blow job.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Chris
smiled. Leaning forward he took his time selecting a mandarin slice from Tom’s
salad and popped it in his mouth.
Tom flushed, his mouth a thin white line. “There
are going to be some serious changes around here, just you wait. I don’t care
how irreplaceable you think you are. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”
Chris was thoughtful as he made his way back to
his desk. He knew the CFO, Saul Ruben. At least he knew his reputation. But
what didn’t he know?
His cubicle neighbor, Becky Chapman, slapped their
shared wall, then rolled her chair around into his cubicle. She glanced at his
computer, where he had just opened Google. “Working on something?”
“You know who Clarke is?”
“Trick question?” She grabbed an apple out of his
ever-present fruit basket. “Last time I checked his name tag, it said Tom
Clarke. I miss something?”
“His father’s a major stockholder. And our
esteemed CFO’s brother. How much you wanna bet Petey gets a fat bonus at year
end for bringing the kid in?”
She grinned sourly and took a bite of apple. “You
should try giving him a chance. Maybe he’s not as bad as you make out.”
“You think?”
“No. But we are stuck with him.”
“Ever the pragmatist.”
“That’s me. Plays well with others, too.”
When she rolled back to her desk Chris checked his
phone messages while he did a scattershot search for information on Saul Ruben.
One message was from Des. “Let’s do the Pit
tonight. Kyle’s got an audition. We can have dinner. Your choice. Call me.”
Chris did. The phone was picked up on the third
ring.
“Masturbation corporation—can I give you a hand?”
“Aren’t we just the cutest.” Chris rolled his
eyes. “Is Des there, Kyle?”
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Mary,” Kyle said.
“The interstate rest stop reopen for business?”
Chris ground his teeth. “Give it a rest, will you?
This hostility is so yesterday. Is Des there?”
“No, he isn’t. And if you’d stop horning in on us
I wouldn’t care what you did.”
“Des and I are old friends, that’s it. It never
was anything else.” Not entirely true. For a two-month period, during their
sophomore year at UCLA, he and Des had tried to take their new friendship to
another level. It had failed so miserably they had sworn never to try anything
so foolish again.
“Yeah, right. I see the way he looks at you.”
The dial tone filled his ear. Chris held the phone
away from him and stared at it.
Becky popped her head around the corner. “You
aren’t going to do something stupid, are you?”
“Who, me? Never.” Chris quickly hung up and swept
his fingers through his spiked hair. “Stupid how?”
“I’ve heard some things about Ruben...”
“Oh?” Chris straightened, Kyle forgotten. “Juicy
things? Tell.”
“I heard he’s a real hard-ass. Doesn’t give slack
to anybody.”
“Boring. Is that all?”
“He’s also a raving homophobe.”
Chris shrugged. “Him and all the other
Republicans. Anything else?”
“He apparently disowned his own sister when she
came out. When she died last year he refused to go to her funeral.” She lowered
her voice. “Refused to let anyone else in the family go, either. Said anyone
who went was out of his will. Disowned.”
“So anybody go?”
“Never heard. Want to bet Tommy’s daddy didn’t?
Maybe DataTEK is Tommy’s reward.”
“Well there’s a cheery thought.”
“Ain’t it?”
Return to Contents
CHAPTER
9
Monday,
11:20 am Northeast Community Police Station,
San
Fernando Road, Los Angeles
WHAT DID I see in Bellamere’s
vehicle?
David grabbed coffee from the pot, which had the
dubious distinction of always being full. He sipped and grimaced. Even copious
amounts of cream couldn’t cut the bitterness of squad-room
“I’ll bet you could drag in a dozen guys—bunch of
faggots standing in line for a blow job.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Chris
smiled. Leaning forward he took his time selecting a mandarin slice from Tom’s
salad and popped it in his mouth.
Tom flushed, his mouth a thin white line. “There
are going to be some serious changes around here, just you wait. I don’t care
how irreplaceable you think you are. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”
Chris was thoughtful as he made his way back to
his desk. He knew the CFO, Saul Ruben. At least he knew his reputation. But
what didn’t he know?
His cubicle neighbor, Becky Chapman, slapped their
shared wall, then rolled her chair around into his cubicle. She glanced at his
computer, where he had just opened Google. “Working on something?”
“You know who Clarke is?”
“Trick question?” She grabbed an apple out of his
ever-present fruit basket. “Last time I checked his name tag, it said Tom
Clarke. I miss something?”
“His father’s a major stockholder. And our
esteemed CFO’s brother. How much you wanna bet Petey gets a fat bonus at year
end for bringing the kid in?”
She grinned sourly and took a bite of apple. “You
should try giving him a chance. Maybe he’s not as bad as you make out.”
“You think?”
“No. But we are stuck with him.”
“Ever the pragmatist.”
“That’s me. Plays well with others, too.”
When she rolled back to her desk Chris checked his
phone messages while he did a scattershot search for information on Saul Ruben.
One message was from Des. “Let’s do the Pit
tonight. Kyle’s got an audition. We can have dinner. Your choice. Call me.”
Chris did. The phone was picked up on the third
ring.
“Masturbation corporation—can I give you a hand?”
“Aren’t we just the cutest.” Chris rolled his
eyes. “Is Des there, Kyle?”
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Mary,” Kyle said.
“The interstate rest stop reopen for business?”
Chris ground his teeth. “Give it a rest, will you?
This hostility is so yesterday. Is Des there?”
“No, he isn’t. And if you’d stop horning in on us
I wouldn’t care what you did.”
“Des and I are old friends, that’s it. It never
was anything else.” Not entirely true. For a two-month period, during their
sophomore year at UCLA, he and Des had tried to take their new friendship to
another level. It had failed so miserably they had sworn never to try anything
so foolish again.
“Yeah, right. I see the way he looks at you.”
The dial tone filled his ear. Chris held the phone
away from him and stared at it.
Becky popped her head around the corner. “You
aren’t going to do something stupid, are you?”
“Who, me? Never.” Chris quickly hung up and swept
his fingers through his spiked hair. “Stupid how?”
“I’ve heard some things about Ruben...”
“Oh?” Chris straightened, Kyle forgotten. “Juicy
things? Tell.”
“I heard he’s a real hard-ass. Doesn’t give slack
to anybody.”
“Boring. Is that all?”
“He’s also a raving homophobe.”
Chris shrugged. “Him and all the other
Republicans. Anything else?”
“He apparently disowned his own sister when she
came out. When she died last year he refused to go to her funeral.” She lowered
her voice. “Refused to let anyone else in the family go, either. Said anyone
who went was out of his will. Disowned.”
“So anybody go?”
“Never heard. Want to bet Tommy’s daddy didn’t?
Maybe DataTEK is Tommy’s reward.”
“Well there’s a cheery thought.”
“Ain’t it?”
Return to Contents
CHAPTER
9
Monday,
11:20 am Northeast Community Police Station,
San
Fernando Road, Los Angeles
WHAT DID I see in Bellamere’s
vehicle?
David grabbed coffee from the pot, which had the
dubious distinction of always being full. He sipped and grimaced. Even copious
amounts of cream couldn’t cut the bitterness of squad-room
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