Behind the Green Curtain (2 page)

Chapter 4

As far as conversations went, the
one he’d had with Amelia carried about as much weight as an argument with a
cat, but Jack couldn’t let it go. Over the past few months, he had let go of a
lot - late-night tiffs, early-morning cold shoulders, over-the-phone
discussions about things that didn’t need discussing. Amelia was going through
a rebellious stage, it seemed, and it was starting to show.

The first call he had gotten that
morning was from his mother, informing him that Amelia had been less than
gracious the night before, answering questions tersely and refusing to smile,
even when a smile was the appropriate expression. Righteousness evident in
every word, his mother had her own ideas about how to get Amelia back in line,
but Jack knew his wife. He knew exactly how far he could and couldn’t push
Amelia to get what he wanted from her. His mother was demanding a shove where a
nudge would prove more effective, and he wasn’t about to destroy a system that
had always worked well for him to appease her.

Lifting his eyes to the door, Jack knew
there was a simple solution to his current dilemma.

“Jenna?” he called, and she
appeared in the doorway like a centerfold, mini-skirt showing off a long
expanse of leg.

“Yes, Sir,” she purred.

“Would you please call Caton up
here?”

“Caton?” Jenna’s sensual pose
faltered for only an instant, before she forced a megawatt smile. “Of course.”

Watching her disappear to do as she
was told, though it was obviously against her own interests, Jack thought maybe
he should enlist Jenna’s help in retraining Amelia. It would take a special
sort to get through to his wife. Amelia wasn’t like most people. She couldn’t
be influenced by deprivation. At least, not her own. Deprivation only ever
seemed to increase her resolve, much in the way religious zealots found strength
in fasting. It had always been overindulgence that weakened Amelia, reminding
her where the power rested.

When the knock at the door came a
few minutes later, it was not so much hesitant as lukewarm, as if Caton didn’t
want to be there but knew she couldn’t outright refuse his invitation.

“Caton.” Jack smiled, waving her
inside and glancing over her shoulder. “Thank you, Jenna. Close the door.”

“No, Jenna,” Caton quickly
interjected. “Don’t close the door.”

Eyes returning to her at the
declaration, Jack realized Caton hadn’t moved far enough inside his office to
allow the door to close even if Jenna attempted it. Smiling at the prudence, he
considered he might be making a mistake removing her from his team, instead of
using the opportunity to try to coax her up the ladder.

“I guess don’t close the door,” he
amended, and, with a dubious glance toward Caton, Jenna left them alone. “Take
a seat.” Jack motioned to one of the chairs across from his desk, and Caton sat
in it with such rigidity, he knew she would be up in an instant if he made any
sudden moves. “I have a position for you.”

No hint of reaction in her
unwavering stare, Caton’s increasingly insolent posture tightened her shirt
against her chest, and Jack could think of several additional positions he
wanted to suggest. By the disinterested sigh that followed his statement, he
knew that was the kind of offer she was expecting.

“My wife needs an assistant,” he
went on when he finished looking.

“Your wife?” Caton returned, gaze
narrowing as if trying to figure out his gimmick. “Am I being fired?”

“No,” Jack replied, engaging his
best sales tone. “It’s really more of a promotion, a chance to make a little
extra money, get a little experience. You don’t have to accept it.”

He was overselling it, he realized,
when Caton looked even more skeptical. “What would I be doing?” she asked.

“Amelia plans a lot of events, does
some charity work,” he answered. “Mostly you would help take care of things for
me.”

“That sounds like I’m working for
you,” Caton countered, as if she’d caught him at something she suspected since
she first walked in.

“Then you’re misinterpreting.” Jack
smiled at her unabashed distrust, which could have only been more apparent if
it reached across the desk and slapped him in the face.

“What would my duties be,
specifically?” Caton put ninety-percent of the question’s emphasis on the last
word.

“Whatever Amelia asks you to do.”

“Not what you ask me to do?”

“She would be your boss,” Jack
asserted, and the response stalled Caton’s rapid-fire comebacks.

“Why me?” she finally questioned,
eyes attentive and suspicious.

“Well...” Jack settled forward in
his chair, fingers threading before him. “You’ve made it clear you have no
desire to climb on top here. So to speak.” The unconcealed roll of Caton’s eyes
confirmed she was the perfect person for the position in question. “Since
you’re low level, the company won’t miss you.”

“Really?” Caton returned with a
laugh. “Tell Jenna that.”

“She’ll make do,” Jack replied.

Head shaking, Caton’s humor faded
quickly, and when her gaze returned to Jack, it was as if she could see right
through him. “Why me really?” she asked.

He could tell he’d lost her, that
he never really had her on the hook in the first place. She was smart. She
didn’t trust him at all. Despite his assurance that the position was optional,
Jack felt a tickle of frustration. Maybe he wasn’t as willing to accept her
refusal as he thought he would be. Perhaps, he would find a reason to let her
go after all, and replace her with someone more pliable.

“Because you’re the only woman at
this office who hasn’t had my cock in her mouth,” he replied, the disgusted
look that appeared on her face some consolation. “I think my wife would
appreciate that. Unless, of course, you want to remedy that now.”

As anticipated, Caton didn’t last
another second in the chair. He didn’t even finish the thought before she was
on her feet and halfway to the door.

“What do you make?” He directed the
question at her back. “Fifteen dollars an hour? I’ll pay you five-thousand dollars
a month.”

Coming to an abrupt stop in the
doorway, Caton swayed precariously. Reaching out, she steadied herself on the
frame, but not before Jack saw it, and when she looked back, he could tell the
offer only amplified her reservations. “Why would you offer me that kind of
money?” she questioned.

“My wife can be difficult to work
with,” Jack only half lied, though it was the difficulty Amelia would have
working with Caton that was the appeal.

“Your wife?” Caton repeated, still
not believing that truth from him.

“She's a hormonal cunt,” Jack
stated. “I wish someone would pay me to live with her.”

“You could get a temp cheaper.”
There was finality in Caton’s advice.

“I want you,” Jack smiled, knowing
it was the exact wrong thing to say to win her over. If the money alone didn’t
convince her, though, maybe she wasn’t as smart as he thought.

“I’m going to have to pass,” Caton
declared, walking out the door.

~ ~ ~

“So, he wants to bring you home
with him,” Jenna taunted Caton outside the door of Jack’s office.

Irritated enough by the
conversation without unsolicited commentary on it, Caton continued to the
elevator, punching the button to take her back downstairs, finding Jenna nearly
as bad as Jack. As she waited, she could feel Jenna staring unrelentingly, as
if the fact that Jack was aggressive in his pursuit of her was somehow Caton’s
fault.

When the silver doors at last
opened, she rushed inside, hiding next to the panel until, to her great relief,
the doors began to close. Before they fully shut, a hand wedged between them,
forcing them apart, and Jenna’s fake smile glared in at her. “I’ll ride down
with you,” she declared, before carrying through on the threat and stepping
aboard.

Two undesirable options available
to her - the ride down with Jenna or waiting upstairs with Jack - Caton chose
the lesser of the two evils, leaning her head against the silver wall and
anticipating a long, excruciating return to the first floor.

Chapter 5

Maybe she was more easily persuaded
than she would like to believe. Hours after deciding with absolute certainty
there was nothing that could get her to work in Jack’s home, the pros and cons
were still in balance enough for Caton to have accidentally brought it up.

“He wants you to work at his
house?” Laura responded in a tone that left little question as to her immediate
take on the situation.

“For his wife,” Caton quickly
added, watching Laura break off a piece of the soft pretzel between them and
drop it back into the basket without eating it. “You think it’s a bad idea?”

“What did you expect me to think?”
Laura leaned across the table to be heard over the rising voices of two
completely tanked businessmen debating politics two booths away. “You know he’s
just trying to get you there so he can -”

“I know,” Caton cut her off. “I
know what he’ll try. But you know me, and that’s not going to happen.”

“He is a rich, powerful man,” Laura
reminded her. “You will be in his home. Do you really think he can’t get away
with anything he decides to do?”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,”
Caton assured her, refusing to let those concerns re-arise. She needed no
reminder about the stickiness of the situation, or the fact that Jack would use
it to his advantage given the slimmest of chances.

“You can’t trust him,” Laura
exhaled worriedly.

Leaning across the table, Caton
clasped Laura’s fingers, which, for a full minute, had been worrying at the
table like they were trying to rub the shellac from its surface. “I don’t trust
him,” she said. “But I know what I’m walking into. It’s not an ambush.”

“Just because you see it coming
doesn’t mean you’ll be able to stop it,” Laura argued, and the veracity of the
statement caused a lump to form in Caton’s throat.

Laura wasn’t wrong. All day, Caton
had been debating the merits of taking Jack up on his offer, returning
repeatedly to the possibility that the risk may well be greater than any
potential reward.  If she went to work for Jack, she put herself at stake,
there was no denying that, but it could also change things.

“This is a good opportunity,” she
said, trying to think of something she could say to make Laura get it. Not that
she could expect Laura to get something she hadn’t fully wrapped her mind
around herself. “Maybe a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

“What are you talking about?” Laura
shook her head, looking rightly confused, and Caton wished she could better
explain. “You will have other chances.”

“Not like this,” Caton countered.
It was all she could say. She didn’t expect Laura to understand. Even if the
pay barely qualified as a living wage, and it did, Laura spent every day of her
life doing something of value, while Caton spent her days doing grunt work for
grunt pay. She didn’t really need Laura to understand. She just needed Laura to
accept her decision, to have one person who had her back as she prepared to
enter the den of a legitimate and unapologetic lion.

“You’re going to do this regardless
of what I say, aren’t you?” Laura questioned, though she sounded as if she
already knew the answer.

“I think I have to,” Caton suddenly
realized, not sure at what point she had made a decision.

Unsurprised at the response, Laura
nodded, eyes no less concerned as they regarded Caton. “Just be careful,” she
softly appealed to her.

“I will,” Caton breathed in relief,
squeezing the hand beneath hers, not sure whom she was trying to comfort more.

~ ~ ~

Jack was in the middle of numbers,
a string of weighted averages to determine the cost-benefit of a venture he’d
been considering for a while. It was the kind of thing he thought he would
never do once he reached the top, only to discover some calculations were best
kept to himself.

The commotion at the door breaking
his concentration, he would have been angry if not for the unexpected vision of
the two women hovering side-by-side, once again, in his doorway.

“She insists on talking to you
now,” Jenna huffed, sending Caton an irritated glance.

“Caton.” Jack almost smiled at the
intrusion.

“How long would the job last?”
Caton returned without greeting. “I can’t give this job up and be out of work
in a month.”

At that, Jack did smile. The money
always won them over in the end, even when they tried to act as if it was
inconsequential. People who spent their lives in gravel simply couldn’t resist
the allure of so much greenery. “I’ll give you a six-month contract and pay you
through it,” he decided on the spot. “Unless, of course, you quit.”

“And after that?” Caton questioned.

“You can have your job back here,”
he promised. “If it’s still the job you want.”

Stopping for a breath, Caton looked
at him with even less trust than the day before, if that was possible. “I can
get that in writing?” she asked.

“Of course,” he returned, as
certain he had Caton firmly in his net as he had been she was getting away from
him the day before.

The beep of the phone in the outer
office made Caton jump, and Jenna cast her a leery glance before retreating
from the doorway to do one of the few parts of her job she couldn’t put off on
someone else.

“Along with my duties,” Caton added
when Jenna was gone. “All of them. I don’t want any surprises.”

“I’ll have Jenna write it up.”

“And I want more money,” Caton
declared suddenly.

That, Jack had to admit, did come
as surprise. Resituating in his chair, he studied Caton with greater
appreciation. As high as his estimations had been, it was possible he’d still
underestimated her. “How much?”

“Seventy-five hundred,” Caton
returned.

“A month?” Jack sought
verification, fingers squeezing the edge of the desk as he considered the
offer.

“I did a risk-reward calculation,”
Caton spoke his language, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh at being bested at
his own game.

“And just what are you planning to
do for that?” he questioned.

“Whatever your wife tells me to
do,” Caton countered. “That is the deal, right?”

Head angling up a little, it was
clear she knew she was overreaching, but she had chosen to go for it anyway.
Anyone else, Jack would have refused the counteroffer, or at least negotiated a
rate more in his favor, but Caton was exactly the catch he needed - she proved
it more and more every second - and he was going to net her, whatever the cost.

“I could get three temps,” he
argued anyway.

“You want me,” Caton stated, and
Jack felt the fact acutely beneath his desk.

“I didn’t know how much until just
now.” He shook his head, eyes leaving Caton’s to take her all in, imagining
what she kept hidden beneath those concealing fits and fabrics.

“Jack, there’s someone on the phone
for you.” Jenna reappeared in the doorway, shirt cut down to there, skirt
barely giving cover, a perfect contrast to Caton’s near-Puritan clothing
choices.

“I’m busy,” Jack pointed out.

“He’s with the BRC,” Jenna lowered
her voice, as if Caton wouldn’t hear her from six inches away.

“I’ll take it,” Jack uttered,
looking to his phone with disdain. “I need you to write up a contract for
Caton. She’ll tell you what to put in it.”

With an annoyed huff, Jenna
accepted the task, pulling the door closed behind them, and Jack was left to
field the unwelcome intrusion into his day.

“This is Jack Halston,” he gruffly
answered the phone.

“Mr. Halston,” a deep voice
responded. “My name is Marcus Slater. I’m with the Business Regulatory
Commission. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Wouldn’t be a Wednesday if you
didn’t,” Jack replied. The fucking lot of them were like vultures, too scared
to make their own kills, always looking for meat on bones picked clean.

Waiting to find out what they
wanted this time, he cursed the piss-poor timing, wishing the universe would
let him enjoy the moment he was about to turn his wife’s life into a living hell.