Blue with Black Dots (The Caprice Trilogy Book 2) (21 page)

“Your assignment had to do more with your school marks than your bristols,” said Mark, “We’re not as simply misogynistic as you would like to think.  If you must know, your marks at Yale were higher than any of your peers in the
Full House
program, at their respective institutions.  According to your director, Arthur Witt, you were pound-for-pound and stone-for-stone the brightest of the bunch, according to the metrics,”

“Then I was right,” said Georgia.

“In what way?” said Mark.

“I
was
picked for my boobs,” said Georgia.

“What do you mean?” said Mark.

“You said pound-for-pound and stone-for-stone,” said Georgia, “So you’re going by my measurements.”

“That was a euphemism,” said Mark.

“It was a joke,” said Georgia, “I suppose that’s what is meant by the British stiff upper-lip.”

“Is that a joke as well?” said Mark.

“No,” said Georgia, “That was serious.”

“Well,” said Mark, “In seriousness, perhaps it’s better that you aren’t his student.  Perhaps this is a better way for the program to proceed.”

“It’s not so much about being his student or not,” said Georgia, “It’s about being unaffiliated with the University.  Nita Harris happened to be his student.  I’m sure there would have been the same indignation over him shagging another professor’s student.  I don’t think he wants the reputation of preying on his female students or students in general, which is why it makes sense for me to be working here and not a student there.  He kept a clean bill as a politician.  Why would he want to suddenly give that up as a professor?”

“He wouldn’t,” said Mark, “Good point.”

“Where am I staying?” asked Georgia. 

“We’ll be there in just a moment,” said Mark.

“Do I work tomorrow?” asked Georgia.

“Yes,” said Mark, “You’re just going to do an orientation this week.  It’s great for you to pick up some things this week because Thursday’s a half-day and Friday is off for Christmas Eve.  I had a few suits ordered in your size.  I know you’re without any at the moment.”

“Well, it wasn’t required for being a university student,” said Georgia.

Her home was a high-class apartment house in low-lying Isleworth, West London.  The space suited her, a working girl.  It had more space than her room in the shared flat with Evie and Deirdre.  It was enough to keep organized.  She already had three suits hanging in the closet. 
Black
. 
Brown
. 
Navy
.  Her apartment had no phone once again but to keep the wheel greased, she wanted to phone Owen.  She didn’t know if he would answer.  She hoped he wouldn’t because she didn’t have anything much to say.  But she wanted to leave a message on his answering machine to let him know she got his letter and intended to maintain contact.  Georgia found a phone box three blocks away and dialed the number on his business card.  Owen did answer.

“
Owen Spice Consulting
,” said Owen, “How can I help you?”  It was his voice.  The number must have been a second line in his home or office.

“Owen,” said Georgia, dodging the word professor, “It’s Georgia Standing.”

“Hi Georgia,” said Owen.

“I wanted to say thank you for thinking about me and I do intend to keep in touch,” said Georgia. 

“I really do appreciate the phone call,” said Owen.

“Your letter said you are in London frequently.  I was wondering if you’re headed this way anytime soon,” said Georgia, “New Year’s maybe.”

“London is great for New Year’s,” said Owen,  “But I’ll be back in Leeds celebrating with some old mates from uni for New Year’s.  We usually do a thing in Leeds every year.”  Georgia thought about inviting herself but then thought against it.  She knew the file.  Owen still socialized with Karen, his ex-wife.  He said they had a thing with old mates from university.  She could interpret that.  A party was a party.  A thing was something else, which meant something was different.  Georgia guessed it was Karen.  A party was where he would take a date.  A thing was where he’d go with his ex-wife.  Georgia knew Owen and his wife started out as friends at university.  Their university was in Leeds and they shared many of the same friends.  It would follow that they were both invited to the same Christmas get-together.  The file said they were still on very good terms.  They lived together when they were married.  They could stay together for a few days, when divorced.  It wasn’t that far-fetched.

              “That sounds nice,” said Georgia, “That you keep in touch with friends, despite the distance.  I could learn something from you.”

              “I am a professor,” said Owen.  Georgia laughed.

              “Yes you are,” said Georgia, “I’ll tell you what.  Let me give you a call after the holidays.  I have to get used to my new job here in London.  But maybe we could catch up in a few weeks.  How does that sound?”

              “Sounds great,” said Owen, “Thank you.”

              “Thank you Owen,” said Georgia, “Talk to you later.”

              “Thanks for the call, Georgia,” said Owen, “Cheers.”

The weeks didn’t give Georgia time to settle in.  She started at
Roizman & Todd
days before the holiday break. 
Roizman
wasn’t affiliated with the Agency.  But Mark Miller had a relationship with the company.  He was wanted as a partner before he decided that he preferred fund management over managing real estate projects.  There were less variables with managing money because the goal was clear, generate returns.  With real estate, things didn’t always mean what they should.  Theoretically, the real estate business was about making money.  In reality, there was a lot of ego.  Having the most prestigious property or showiest designs was a big business in the City of London.  Because of that, the real estate management business ran on stimulants and ego.  Georgia realized from those first days before Christmas that she didn’t like the office at
Roizman
.  The clients were too demanding.  Georgia was put on the phone with clients from day one.  She didn’t know the ropes and had trouble adjusting.  She wasn’t shy but she was introverted, which made fielding calls from fast-talking clients, one-after-another, stressful.  She worked until Christmas break and tried to keep the recommendation from Mark Miller in mind.  She didn’t want to burn the relationship between Mark and
Roizman
because it was his relationship, nothing to do with the Agency. 

Georgia spent her holiday alone in London.  She had family she could call but she stuck with protocol.  She simulated the honey-suckle ham that was standard at her uncle’s house with sliced cuts of deli meat.  She made ham sandwiches with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise.  She drank her black tea on Christmas morning and watched Christmas programming on a small-box television set, bought from a nearby second-hand shop.  The TV was the one appliance that was missing in the apartment that she had to purchase.  The fridge worked and she had deli ham leftovers.  The fridge kept her in the deli meat game for most of her holiday.  She stayed inside and didn’t get much exercise so she didn’t need many calories to sustain herself.  Mark called her the day after Christmas.  It was Sunday.  Mark apologized for her spending Christmas alone.  Georgia didn’t mind it.  It was life in the field and she understood.  Mark told her he would have invited her over to spend time with his sister and her family but Agency protocol forbade it.  Once again, Georgia understood.  But Mark did say he got good early feedback from his contact at
Roizman
.  He said it to brighten Georgia’s mood.  It didn’t work, not because she was lonely over the holidays but because she wasn’t exactly sure where she stood with
Step Down
.  She wanted the V-sign, a victory.  But it was one thing to follow the program as planned and come up short.  It was entirely different now that she made the unilateral decision to move to London—away from her objective. 

It wasn’t necessarily the case that Georgia had moved away from the objective.  It depended on the definition of the objective.  The Agency had initially defined the objective as Owen Spice.  Hoping he’d want some time away and Georgia with him, the Agency’s theory was that he’d invite her to Leeds for relative privacy.  Georgia didn’t do anything but redefine the objective.  For her, Owen’s flat in Leeds was the objective.  In her scenario, he wouldn’t invite her there.  Instead, he would suggest it as the most convenient place for them to meet.  And it was.  She had taken control from Owen.  It just hadn’t paid off yet.

Georgia started her next week at
Roizman
on Monday, December 27
th
.  Things had calmed down since her first few days on the job.  She didn’t get ordered around as much.  She thought she remembered it worse than it actually was.  She found out on Wednesday the team had been told to be strict on her to see if she’d come back, after the short week.  It was a hazing process but it wasn’t anything worse than the Agency put her through.  It wasn’t even close.  Compared to her actual job, working at
Roizman
was easy.  She took on a semi-secretarial role.  She was in charge of answering the phone and phoning clients with responses to inquires.  The daily mail wasn’t delivered to the office; it was delivered to the building.  Every company had a box on the ground floor and had to send someone down to collect the mail.  Georgia was the newest hire, which made it her job.  She had to communicate orders to suppliers and make restaurant reservations for group partners, business and personal.  It was menial work but she did it with zeal, usually missing from new-hires.  It wasn’t the job itself that made her walk and talk straight.  It was the confidence her managers at the Agency had shown in her.  They could have easily told her to continue at Strathclyde and kept her there, for another semester.  But they took the report from the field seriously. 

Georgia’s second week at
Roizman
was also short.  Friday was New Year’s Eve so the office worked a half-day.  There was a short toast off before they would report back to work on Monday during the New Year. 
Roizman
hosted a New Year’s party at a hotel four blocks away but Georgia thought it better not to go.  She was new to the job and wouldn’t gain anything by socializing with other staff members, at least not in her mind.  It wasn’t a job in the normal sense.  She wasn’t trying to go career.  She already had one but she didn’t know where she stood with it.

Georgia spent New Year’s weekend the same way she spent Christmas weekend, alone in her apartment.  She stretched and did push ups and sit ups reminding herself that she hadn’t looked after her physical conditioning in quite some time.  The exercises were harder than she remembered.  It made her think about the differences between the boys and the girls.  They had different standards.  The boys had to run a metric mile in under 5:08 minutes.  The girls had to do the same in under 6:18 minutes.  Georgia’s fastest time came in at 6:06, slowest over all—boys and girls.  But she did it.  When she first began, she couldn’t do it.  Her first time trial clocked in at 6:37.  She improved her personal best by thirty-one seconds.  It was the second best improvement aside from Bryan, who went from 4:56 to 4:11.  But she pedaled the idea around in her mind that it was unfair for the program to force both the boys and the girls to perform at such a high level of physicality.  She had no way of knowing but she felt the boys were assigned to much different tasks.  If her imagination were anywhere near reality, then the boys were using their conditioning somewhat regularly.  She had spent the past few months reading in a library; attending classes and drinking at pubs.  High school was better training than what the Agency had given her.  She became a good marksman with her assigned
Browning 1955
but she hadn’t fired a shot since the day the Director told them they were done.  This was fieldwork for her, alone in a nice apartment.  It wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t what she expected.  It was boring, boring like reality.

She started again at
Roizman
, Monday, January 3, 1977.  She didn’t want to seem like she wanted things to move forward so quickly but she did.  She avoided her own impulse to call Owen and gave him time to settle in.  She had no idea how he spent his New Year’s holiday but for an ex-MP she figured he’d need time to recover.