Shallow? Now I'm shallow? He has no idea. “Turns out my shopping has incited some international intrigue, actually. I'm deeper than you know.”
“Listen, I never really got a chance to explain about Arin. And I want to.”
I roll my eyes. “You know, Seth, it really doesn't matter to me. And I don't mean that lightly or even callously. I mean, it
really
doesn't matter to me. If you up and marry Arin tomorrow, I'll send you a nice wedding gift.”
“So you're just over me? Like that?”
Like this is so shocking
. “Yes. Yes, I am actually.” I rub my hand along Rhett's snout. “Look, Seth, when you left for India, that sent me a pretty clear message. I may be the loyal sort, even a bit naive, but I'm also not stupid. There are Christian men out there who want to be with me. Someday, I'll find the right one. Or I'll continue to live in a gorgeous Palo Alto bungalow. Soon to have granite countertops. Not a bad life, actually.”
“I'm not with Arin. I just need you to know that.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I'm thankful he's found what he wanted in India. Seth wants everything that goes with marriage. He wants the comfort of me by his side, my support for all his actions, and yet he wants to offer me nothing in return. Nothing but this mutt, and it's the best part of himself he ever gave me.
“Look, I'm in a little trouble with the law at the moment. I need to go.”
“Maybe we should talk more. You know, later.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say.
“I heard you turned the tables over at church yesterday over Kay's thank-you notes.” Seth laughs.
Christians sure can gossip. Now I'm fodder around the world, which gives me an odd sense of satisfaction. Short-lived, as I realize that my job promotion is now part of a drug/embezzling investigation.
R
hett and I come home to find Kay on the rooftop, fastening strings of Christmas lights together. She's wrestling with the wires, and when I let Rhett out of the car, he whines at my feet. “I know exactly what you mean, Rhett.”
I live with Clark Griswold. Kay snaps a plug set together. She smiles and waves at me.
“What are you doing up there?” I slam the car door. “Get down.”
“I just thought I'd get started on Christmas decorations.” Her eyes light up like a child getting her first look at Santa. “We're going to have the best house on the block. You know, we live on Candy Cane Lane, right?”
Do I even want to ask? “Candy Cane Lane?”
She spreads her hands out. “Everyone on the block decorates their house, and we have this steady stream of cars every night. You'll have to take your turn handing out candy canes to the kids.”
I must say, this inspires a bit of fear. Every holiday from Valentine's Day to Admission Day (California flags everywhere), Kay has decorated for the occasion. It should have dawned on me that my house at
The
holiday is going to be something of an event, you know? But the fact that the whole neighborhood gets into it makes me wonder how I got here. I think about the torn-up inside of our house, and life without a toilet, but it's all good.
“What are you doing home, anyway?” I ask her suspiciously
. Lord help us if we're both out of work and have to support this month's festive electric bill.
“I'm working from home today. I have a couple of phone meetings tonight from Taiwan, so I'm taking the morning off.” She approaches the ladder and starts to descend. “Why are you two home?”
“I'm just really contemplating the whole job thing. Maybe I didn't take long enough to decide if Gainnet was the proper place for me.”
“Ashley,” she says like a disappointed mother. “Did you lose another job?”
Pause here. “I'm not sure exactly.” I fiddle with my hair and check my split ends. Time for a haircut. “They're going to let me know more after the investigation.” I shake my head. “No, no. I have a job, but I just want to make sure it isn't simply for show, you know?”
Kay rolls her eyes. “There's a bouquet of flowers in the house for you.”
“They're not black, are they?”
She looks at me twice. “What? No, I think they're from Kevin. But Seth called here, so who knows?”
Ooh! Flowers. Enough of this conversation
. I rush into the house and see a huge array of orange and red sunflowers mixed together in a vase with a big red bow around it. There's a card and I rip it open like it's Christmas morning.
Dear Ashley,
Roses are red, Violets are blue.
Some guy ruined tulips
So these sunflowers are for you.
Kevin
Another poet! I'm thinking we could be the next great love story, like Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. Ack! Doorbell. I shove the card back in the envelope, and Rhett starts barking. I pull myself up off the floor where I've just been having romantic fantasies about the out-of-my-league doctor.
I open the door expecting to see Kay strung in Christmas bulbs, but it's my boss, Hans. Well, my former boss. I look around outside, and yank him into the house. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to explain things a bit.” He sniffs, and suddenly that habit has a whole new meaning for me.
“You know,” I hold up a palm. “Don't tell me anything. I don't want to be an accessory to the crime.” I walk into the center of the living room and point to the sofa. “Go ahead and sit down. Do you want anything?”
He shakes his head. I look at his handsome face, and I'm just struck that he would do anything like he's been accused of. I knew what he represented, what his life's works added up to, but I still didn't believe him capable of criminal acts, and really, doesn't the Bible say to look at a person's fruit? Well, Hans was a rotten apple in everything that mattered: as a father, a husband, even a beau. I wanted so badly to believe something different. To be utterly charmed by his brighter side.
“Why would you do all that?” I ask him.
“Listen, Ashley, it's standard practice to pad a contract so things don't look so bad to the stockholders. I didn't do anything dishonest.” He doesn't sit. He's still pacing the floor frantically, like a dog at the pound.
“It's standard procedure to pad a budget, Hans, not a contract. Do you think I'm a complete moron? Is that why you hired me? All your talk about my genius patents! I should have known better.”
“On the contrary. I hired you because you were the intellectual I needed in that position. Remember, I'm the one who knows about patents being key to a company's success. Ashley, you've got to trust me, I didn't lie to you. Stand behind me, and we'll both have our jobs back tomorrow.”
“I didn't do anything wrong! I'll have my job back if I just bide my time.” I say this with more confidence than I feel. “Anyway, you did lie. You lied to every shareholder in that company.”
“Don't let them lie to you, Ashley. You're done at Gainnet without me. There's no reason they wouldn't replace you if there's a question about your integrity.”
What is it about me that attracts trouble like a toddler in a china shop? I'm just trying to live my life. I tried to do a good deed here, to tell Hans and Sophia about God, and look where it's gotten me. The office admins think I'm a loose woman, the board of directors think I'm a thief, and my own steady roommate thinks I'm as unstable as the Russian ruble.
Oh Lord, tell me where to go. Give me words, Lord, because I don't know what to think. What to feel
. . . I don't even finish the silent prayer when this overwhelming distaste for Hans overcomes me. It's like all his ugliness has been laid bare before me and he's standing in front of me like some hideous creature. Lost behind the gorgeous European suits, and the elegant façade, is a heart that's hard as a diamond. I blink a few times, but it doesn't go away.
“I'll find another job, Hans.” I head to the door and open it.
“Of course you will, but I can make it easier on you.”
My reference list is a little sparse at the moment, what with Selectech accepting my resignation when I refused to harm Purvi, my boss, in their takeover bid. It would be so easy to weaken, since I've paid the price once for being honest, but something props me up and holds me steady. Rhett barks, reminding me that I'm not alone. God is here, too, and doing the right thing is always better than doing the easy thing. God says that He'll always provide you a way out. I either believe His Word or I don't.
“You'd better leave,” I say quietly. Rhett barks again. I'm scared. Don't let my strong response fool you. This is a desperate man, who most likely has a drug habit to support. He's alone now because he actually took my advice and sent his girlfriend back home to Italy. My heart is pounding in my throat as I wait to see what he'll do. I'm so grateful for Rhett and Kay being home at the moment, I want to lie prostrate at their feet.
“I'll tell them you charged that ring to the company.” Hans makes a final threat. He looks to my finger, and sees the ring is conspicuously missing. Yep, let that be a lesson to me: impulse buys are never a good idea.
“I gave the ring back this morning. I knew what they'd think, and I should have known better. It's my own fault. I've been naive, but no more of that.”
He scoffs at me. “I have a lot of respect in Silicon Valley. These charges won't stick. You've got what? A degree from a so-so school and a few years' experience?”
“I beg your pardon, but Santa Clara University is not a so-so school.” My employment experience? Another story altogether. “I can't help you, Hans. You knew I was a Christian when I started this job, and while you may have expected that to make me completely naive, you never counted on the fact that God has the power to make things right for me.”
“Oh please, don't talk about your fantasy heavenly realms. My stomach is shaky as it is.” He jumps off the porch without a stair and jogs to his car.
The righteous will live by faith,
I say to myself as Hans slams the door to his Jaguar.
Hans won't go to jail. No matter how many millions he's managed to scrape off the top of some poor schmuck's 401k plan, he won't go to jail, because to convict him will only make matters worse for shareholders. He'll find another start-up and he'll begin his game all over again.
Kay brushes herself off on the front porch. “What was that about?”
“That was my boss.”
She pauses. “What was he doing here?” Then her eyes widen and she brushes her frizzy tendrils off her face. “Your boss? Or your former boss?”
I exhale a sigh. “My former boss.”
“Why can't you just go to work like normal people? Life is not a Greek tragedy.” She nods to the flowers as she comes in the house. “Who were they from?”
“Kevin.” I start to tell her about his poetry, but decide against it.
“So he seems pretty interested, huh?”
“Either that, or he's apologizing for his parents. Mei Ling called last night. Apparently, his mother pointed out some âwork' my mother might have done at the plastic surgeon's office. Then gave her a card, and invited her to stay with them in Atlanta.”
“I can't see that riling your mother, Ashley. She wouldn't even consider such a thing.”
“No, but then Dr. Novak suggested my brother come to Atlanta, and said he could make as much being a caddy as a bus driver.”
“Still, it's Dave. Why would he care what Dr. Novak said?”
“Because apparently, he offered Mei Ling a free gift of blepharoplasty.”
“In English?”
“An eyelid lift to rid her of Asian heritage.”
Kay chokes on her bottled water. “Oh, Ashley, I'm so sorry. Did he see Mei Ling? Did he happen to notice how gorgeous she was?”
“He's a bigot, Kay, so I doubt it. He thinks everyone should look like Elaine Novak, with that constantly surprised look of hers.”
“Does Kevin know?”
I shake my head. “I don't think so, and I don't know what to tell him.”
“You've got to tell him. They can't be coming into the international melting pot of Silicon Valley and offering plastic surgery to various ethnic groups so they can look like white folks. What, does he think we all want to be Michael Jackson or something?”
I shrug. “I'll tell him. Right after I mention my unemployment epidemic.”
“Maybe you should get the flu shot this year, Ash. You've had some bad luck.”
“Couldn't hurt.”
Kay's over any annoyance about my job status already. “Do you want me to make something for lunch?”
“No, but thanks.” Maybe I can find some grunt job in the basement where I never have to meet face-to-face with anyone. Nah, nix that idea. Who would ever see my fabulous clothes?
It must be me. I'm the common denominator in all these situations. Maybe I put too much pressure, too many conditions on being employed. And loved. Seth wouldn't commit, and it's hard to overcome that one. Hans has a love affair with cocaine, and he's definitely not dealing with all eight cylinders there. And Kevin has white supremacists for parents. I let my head fall into my hands. If I'm a Reason, my dating repertoire consists of a Who's Who list of Losers 'R Us. It's definitely not me. Right? I'm only a victim of circumstance.
S
o, it's Tuesday, and I have a six-day weekend to explore. Actually, I have an infinite weekend now, but I'm looking at the bright side of life. So yea! Six days. I've been avoiding Kevin's phone calls. I'm just not sure how to tell him that I'm underemployed. Again. Or that his parents have a race issue. I mean, how does one start that conversation exactly?
Oh, Kevin, nice to hear from you. Did you know your parents are . . . segregationists? Would you like me to quote the Civil Rights act of '64 for them?