Hardly Working (19 page)

“Oh, yeah? Right on. You say where and when and I'll be there with my stuff, babe.”

I don't remember actually eating the dinner, or serving it for that matter. I do remember the after-dinner entertainment though. We all ended up playing poker for real money and Ian cleaned us all out. After the others left, he asked, “Are you going to let me stay the night?” He was already unbuttoning his shirt and heading for my bedroom.

H
e crawled into the bed, pulled me close, stroked my hair for a few seconds and fell asleep.

I stared at him, fascinated, and wondered if I could ever learn to fall asleep as fast as he did.

I was just dropping off myself when I heard a rapping at my back door. I figured it would be Joey but when I opened up, there was Mike, minus Tinkerbell, so drunk that he had to prop himself up against the post where the steps met the porch.

“Di, you have no idea how glad I am to find you at home,” he slurred and sputtered.

There was a world of expectation in those few words. “God, you look so great,” he continued.

He didn't look so great. His three-day casual stubble effect just looked degenerate, as though he'd been out carousing for days and needed to go home.

“What are you doing here?” I spat. “You can't stay here.”
I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me. “Go on home to your little wife right now.”

“We made a mistake. We never should have broken up, you and I, and I never should have married…uh…Dawn.” He was teetering dangerously.

Don't throw up on my porch, I prayed silently.

“But you
are
married, Mike. It's too late for second thoughts.”

“We can still see each other, can't we? We just live around the corner from each other,” he slurred.

“Sure, we can see each other. In passing at the supermarket. But our shopping carts are never going to bump again so you can forget about it. Go home to Dawn and don't tell her you were here. She must be wondering where the hell you are. It's after one.”

“She doesn't care about me.”

“No? I really can't believe that.”

“It's the truth.” By now he was trying to insinuate his way through my door. I continued to block the path while he swayed precariously close to me. “She has a problem.”

“What sort of problem?”

“Some kind of female thing.”

“Oh, that really explains it, Mike.”

“She won't have sex with me.”

My Inner Bitch rejoiced. “That sounds more like a male/female kind of problem. Not my territory. I'm only good at charities and you're not on my list.”

“You're a hard woman, Di. But really, it's her. She has a lot of problems.”

Which reminded me.

He always did blame problems on other people, never on himself.

I tried to sound wise and motherly. “The two of you will just have to work it out. Other people can't solve it for you.”

“I want
you,
Di,” he whined.

I said nothing.

“Remember that day last year when we made love in your old bedroom?”

I did remember the day but was going to be the last person on the planet to admit it. I'd hated myself afterward. “No, I don't, Mike. And you have to leave.”

“Why? You expecting someone?”

“As a matter of fact I've got guests at my place.”

“You're wearing your bathrobe. It's a guy. It's gotta be a guy. Is it a guy?”

“A girl, a guy, a goat. It's whatever I want it to be because it's none of your business, Mike. Now go.” I tried to pull him toward the stairs but he was too heavy. And he was resisting.

“It's over,” I said.

And then Mike lost his head. He lurched closer to me, wavering, and began to pull off his pullover. Then he took off his T-shirt. He was just unzipping his pants when a noise from inside my apartment made me bark, “What are you doing? You'll catch pneumonia. Do up your pants.”

“I'm not budging,” he said.

“You're just doing this to get to me,” I hissed. “Now stop being such a baby.”

“Who is he, Di? Tell me who he is?”

I was starting to get frantic. I yelled at him, “He's the new CEO for GWI. Satisfied?”

He began to swagger and mimic me in a high squeaky voice. “The CEO, it's the new CEO for GWI. Oh joy.”

“I'm calling Dawn and telling her you're here,” I said through gritted teeth.

Mike flung both arms around my neck. “No, don't.” He was at least a head taller than me and sturdily built. “Dinah, we always had a good thing.”

I eased him away. “How's it going at the university, Mike? I want to know about that.”

“I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk about us.”

“There is no us. There's you and Dawn and I'm going to go and phone her now and tell her to come and get you. I wouldn't want you to fall facedown in a ditch and drown in a half inch of water or anything like that. Does Dawn drive, by the way?”

What I really meant was, “Do her little fairy feet reach the pedals?”

Then came the click of my back door. I froze and watched as it opened and Ian appeared. He was dressed in my amber-and-burgundy silk Chinese dressing gown and wearing a pair of black socks that came to midcalf. A forest of black chest hair gaped at the front, and it struck me in that moment, in that outfit, that he was a bit on the weedy side, physically speaking. This was emphasized by the silly dressing gown.

I stared down at the porch floor. It was the one moment in my life when he needed to thunder onto the scene looking macho and heroic so I could inspire a little envy in Mike, and what did he do? He appeared in the doorway looking like a cross-dressing accountant. I wanted him to make Mike jealous, not make him roll in the aisles.

I did perfunctory introductions. “Ian, Mike, Mike, Ian.”

The two of them sized each other up. A tiny smirk crept into the corner of Mike's mouth.

Ian said, “Ah. I see you have a visitor, Dinah. Does this happen often?”

I snapped, “He's not a visitor. He's my ex-fiancé and he's not staying.”

Ian looked weary. “Well, I think I might as well go back to the hotel. I still have some work to finish up.”

“Do you really have to go?” I asked feebly.

Ian nodded then said to Mike, “I'm sure Dinah wants to get some sleep. I can give you a ride on the way, if you like.”

I winced quietly.

“S'okay,” Mike bellowed into the night. “Dinah and I are old friends. And I can get home by myself. S'no problem.”

“My Ferrari's just around the corner.”

“Ferrari?” Mike was suddenly alert. Sober almost. “No kidding? How many cylinders?”

“Twelve cylinders, five hundred and eighteen pound unit with five point five liter capacity…”

“Love to see it,” said Mike.

“If you want to take a look at it, it's parked around the corner. I'll just get dressed. Be down in a minute.”

“Yeah, cool. Right on. See you round, Di,” said Mike. He turned and started to walk down the stairs.

I sighed audibly.

I hoped it wasn't going to end up being the two of them comparing notes on my bad housekeeping habits or chunky thighs. Maybe it was just a case of boys being boys, wanting to show off their new toys, their motorized machismo.

But then Thomas's voice was there in my head, interrupting. “You're being simplistic, Dinah, trying to cram them into those boy boxes. You have to remember that you've been guilty of Ferrari-dreaming too.”

I went back inside and watched in silence as Ian got dressed. Just what I needed. Ian and Mike, together. With no ethics committee to monitor from the sidelines.

I sat and pondered the situation while Ian made all his final adjustments. When he went into the bathroom to fix his hair, I slid my feet into my fluffy hound-dog slippers and pulled my old terry bathrobe tighter. I raced down the steps after Mike and managed to catch up before he turned the corner.

“Mike.”

“You changed your mind, Dinah? Want me to come upstairs after he's left?” He started to come nearer but I backed away.

“I get the impression that your wife Dawn is pretty well-to-do.”

There was a long silence. Mike kicked an imaginary clod of dirt. “Uh…yeah?”

“You talk her into making a nice fat donation to Green World International, and you both get an invitation to the big event at the Space Centre. It'll be a good party.”

“Will you be there, Di?”

“I will. On the far side of the room.”

He stared at me and said, “Jeez, Dinah, you have become one brutal woman.”

“Night, Mike.”

I climbed back up the stairs.

Maybe it was time for Dinah Nichols the man-eater to change partners and tango.

Sunday

Simon and Cleo were at my place.

“Here's the plan,” I announced. “I've already been around to the place three times. You can't see into the property. I've knocked. I've rung the bell. I've tried the phone number they gave me. It's deserted as far as I can tell. We just want to get closer to the house. Leave a letter on the front porch. First we knock, ring the doorbell, or whatever there is that lets whoever inside know there's somebody at the door. Exhaustively. If nobody answers after fifteen minutes, we go over the wall.”

“Are you sure about the address?” asked Cleo.

“A nice woman who works for the Census gave me the address and phone number. And she said I wasn't the first person to ask and she isn't supposed to give out any of that information. It's the one listed as residence, but he also has a bunch of rental units and other properties all over town. But when I told her what it was for, she was so amenable. It gives you faith to know that people really are interested in saving the world.”

Simon checked over his gear. “Even if she's got it wrong, babe, you don't have to sweat it. It's no problem. It'll be a
night out. We've been doing this since we were kids. Right, Di? And they only bagged us once.”

I laughed.

“But it's breaking and entering if we get caught,” cautioned Cleo.

Simon grinned. “Everybody should have one little B and E on their record.”

Cleo shook her head in despair. “He's hopeless, Dinah. He has no sense of danger. He just runs head-on into it like a three-year-old. You know how he comes into our apartment? He scales the side wall to the top then drops down from the roof. I'm getting complaints from the neighbors.”

Simon squeezed Cleo. “Your neighbors are cute old folks. I love to tease them. Just like I love to tease you.”

“And I'd love you to grow up,” she replied.

“I get such a great reaction out of her,” he said to me. “Her face goes all red and her lower lip quivers.”

“Because I'm mad, you idiot. One of these days you are going to tease them right into pressing charges,” said Cleo.

While they were arguing, Joey appeared on my balcony.

“Uh-oh. Company,” I warned.

Joey let himself in. He looked at our black clothes, flashlights and climbing gear, and said, “All right. I know when people are trying to sneak off and have an infiltration without me. I can smell it.”

“This is serious, Joey,” I said. “Several jobs and an important project are at stake. We can't afford to blow it. If you come along you have to shut up and do exactly as you're told.”

Joey did a little shimmy and crooned, “Ooooo, Mommy, beat me again.”

“Go get something black on,” I ordered.

“Will you let me lick your shoe first?”

I scowled.

“Okay, okay, I'm going.”

It was after midnight when we piled into my Mini and
headed for Southwest Marine Drive. When we reached our destination, we all got out and stood on the road, staring.

Cleo asked, “Is it legal to have walls that high? And made of stone?”

“I don't think so,” I answered gloomily. “It's a bit of a fortress, isn't it?”

There was a central gate of iron, and it would have held off an invasion by the Huns.

Simon was impressed. “Heavy metal.”

“That's one way of putting it,” said Cleo.

“Mommy,” whispered Joey, “I wanna go home.”

“Let's get on with this.” I stepped forward and leaned on the bell at the side of the gate. If it was ringing somewhere, we couldn't hear it. I tried again. No answer. “Let's make a lot of noise. Knock on the gate, everybody, just so we can say we tried.”

We all started knocking on the gate. It was loud but not loud enough to wake the distant neighbors.

Joey called out, “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Robertson, it's Avon calling.”

“Joeeeey,” I snapped.

We all continued to ring and knock. I looked at my watch. “We've been at this long enough. Let's go over.”

Simon was happy. “Right on, babe.” He scaled the wall like a gecko, leapt over, secured the cords and sent them back over to us. We went over with the speed and agility of three baby elephants, but when we reached the other side, and flashed our torches around, we knew it had been worth it.

“Wow,” gasped Cleo. “What is all this?”

“Eco-heaven,” I said.

“Fucking amazing,” said Joey.

“Suuuweeet,” added Simon.

The Spanish-style mansion and vast grounds had been given over to renewable resource experiments. There were three windmills on the property, one antique Dutch style and
two newer, innovative designs. A creek running through the grounds powered a large and small water mill. Solar panels covered stretches of lawn and the roof of the main house. There were hothouses too. I insisted on taking a look. Inside I found smaller, earlier versions of Mudpuddle.

All the vegetation on the property looked a little neglected. We tried ringing the front doorbell and knocking but there was no answer. It must have been dumb luck that Tod even knew Hamish Robertson, because, by the looks of things, the place had been deserted for a while.

I went up the front steps and left my presentation package and letter on the doorstep. We wandered the grounds in awe for an hour knowing that Hamish Robertson was the man for us. So, where was he?

Monday

At Notte's after work, it was just Cleo and me.