Whittaker 01 The Enemy We Know (15 page)

Siggy turned away to look out the window.

“
There’s nothing out there but a brick wall. Stop being inscrutable. Just answer this: should I break up with him?”

Siggy jumped down from the counter top and padded across the floor to the litter box for some private time.

That couldn’t be good.

The breakup went about as well as Siggy predicted. Which is to say that Robert rapid-cycled from stark incredulity to petulance and, finally, hissing anger. He didn’t buy my explanation about needing to focus on the program, either. He summed his opinion up in one word:
shit
. Maybe he and Siggy had more in common than we realized.

I’d wanted to keep it amicable, especially since we would continue to see each other regularly at the club. But that wasn’t to be.

I spent the rest of Sunday in a mood as dark as my apartment, leaving barely enough energy to wrestle with utility companies on Monday. Luckily, after being routed through various departments and false connections, I was transferred to a very nice lady at the telephone company. She even gave me some security tips. In addition to considering an unlisted number, Tammy reminded me to contact my credit card companies, in case Wayne had nabbed those bills, too. She also suggested adding a password—we settled on “1asshole”—before allowing changes to my account statuses.

In gratitude, I told her about the rat and grossed her out. Didn’t seem like a fair trade really.

I was surprised at how simple making the change to an unlisted phone number was; it could even be put into effect the same day. Unfortunately, I also learned that every time I called someone I’d have to punch in *67 so my number didn’t pop up on their Caller ID. Not sure I wanted to deal with that hassle, I decided to wait.

By the time I got to work, I was feeling overwhelmed at the energy I’d have to generate and maintain in order to protect myself. Usually I only needed that level of paranoia with my family.

Lisa was at her desk when I trudged in. My heart sank further when I saw the expression on her face.

“
What now?” I asked.

“
Good morning to you, too, sunshine. Starting a new reading program, are we?” She waved a magazine lazily back and forth.

I snatched it out of her hands. Wearing only buccaneer boots and a
seriously
misplaced eye patch, a chiseled, tan-from-a-can hunk stretched supine on the golden sands of a tropical beach. A three-masted ship topped by a skull-and-cross bones flag rode at anchor in the sparkling waters beyond. From the rigging, a crew of laughing, butt-naked sailors dangled. Literally. To the hunk’s left, a battered treasure chest overflowed with scary-looking sex gizmos that, while not exactly in keeping with the theme, were at least of an adventurous nature.

I dropped the magazine onto Lisa’s desk before my blush could spontaneously combust it. “That’s
not mine!” I said.

“
Is too.”

“
Is
not
. Why would you even say that?”

She flipped the mag over, pointing to the white mailing label addressed with my name. Violet Whittaker, it said. Well, damn.

“
You’re kidding me.”

“
Hey, look at this one.” Lisa pointed a pearly pink nail at the pirate standing aloft in the crow’s nest. “Doesn’t he look like Marshall?”

Drawn like a perverted magnet, I peered closer. “I should
be
so lucky,” I thought.

“
What?” Lisa asked.
“What? Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

She looked at me with a funny grin, then slid the magazine into her top drawer as Marshall walked in. I fled down the hall, not able to meet his eyes, but unable to keep from hearing Lisa’s “Ahoy, matey!” greeting.

I was still fluctuating between guilty embarrassment and hilarity that afternoon when Marshall called an unscheduled staff meeting. We tromped into the group therapy room, and I grabbed a seat in the back. A tripod with poster paper had been set up in the front. Marshall stood next to it, a mini-frown creasing his forehead. Lisa leaned over to whisper, “The poop is about to become airborne.”

“
What?” I whispered back.

“
Wait for it.”

Marshall started the meeting by asking if there had been any additional fall out with our clients from the “incident” two weeks ago. A few patients had canceled and—except for my clowns—there was a drop in first-time appointments, but it was difficult to say if there was a direct connection to Wayne’s blitz attack. For the most part, people were proving unexpectedly resilient or completely oblivious to the situation.

After a pause in the discussion, Marshall cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. Signal for a controversial topic.

“
OK, folks. One of the things I’ve been talking to corporate about is our security situation.”

“
You mean, lack of!” Regina stage-whispered. Next to her, Bob snorted agreement.

Instead of ignoring their comments as he usually did, Marshall chose to respond. Unlike the rest of us, he displayed no embarrassment addressing Regina by her female-body-part name. In fact, he smiled every time.

“
Exactly, Regina. Thank you. I’m sure none of us is comfortable with the situation, especially since Letty’s experiencing continued harassment. Since we don’t want any repetition of violence, we need to take a look at what can be done internally to promote security.”

“
What do you mean ‘internally’?” Hannah asked.

“
He means without having to beg for money from corporate,” Regina said.

“
Mmm… pretty much.” Marshall admitted. “Let’s face it. There
are
things we can do on our own that will help. Meanwhile, I will continue lobbying for a better security system, something with a panic button and a hookup to the police. Any suggestions are welcome, but, remember, these things can be very pricey. At any rate, this afternoon I’m looking for solutions that we can implement today, without having to beg corporate, as Regina so astutely pointed out.”

Having maneuvered his nemesis into the role of ally rather than the negative pain-in-the-butt she really was, Marshall tossed her a wink. From the look on her face, I wouldn’t be surprised if she sued him for sexual discrimination. Or chopped him up into itty-bitty pieces and threw him into the Chippewa River. No sense of humor, that woman.

While I pondered Regina’s potential for mutilation, Marshall flipped the pages on the tripod. A schematic of the staff parking lot was drawn out in black magic marker. Most of the diagrammed slots indicating staff parking ran along the back fence facing the clinic entrance, leaving the majority of parking spaces open for clients. About a half-dozen squares, however, were clustered around various light posts with the nearest two situated one row back, directly opposite the front doors. My name, in red marker, was centered in the square nearest the clinic’s main entrance; Marshall’s, in the adjacent. I could feel the burn coming off Regina from four chairs away.

“
On what basis were the parking assignments made?” Bob’s pompous tone broke through the silence.

“
On the basis of safety, of course. What else?” Marshall fake-smiled. “And I want to thank everyone in advance for their cooperation. In fact, I was hoping that perhaps our resident expert in feminist psychology might be persuaded to give a presentation on self-defense strategies at our next staff meeting. Regina?”

Regina’s face was a study in conflict. She wanted to raise a stink about the parking assignments but couldn’t without sounding ridiculous and petty. Meeting Marshall’s “innocent” eyes, she offered a Mona Lisa smile and a faint nod. Bob harrumphed and started to object, but Regina placed a hand on his sleeve, silencing him. They’d been out-maneuvered; they would withdraw with dignity.

The meeting ended soon after. Regina and Bob led the charge for the door, while I hung back, feeling awkward. I wanted to thank Marshall but didn’t want to fuel the rumor mills by having a private discussion. After being his designated driver and now getting what some would see as preferential treatment, I knew that there would be speculation—most joking, but some not—on whether I’d slept my way to a parking spot. I’d like to think most of my co-workers would know that I wasn’t
that
cheap, but some people liked to think the worst. Sad to say, I worried less about the insult to my virtue than about the presumed, bargain-basement value assigned for it.

Luckily, Lisa stayed behind to gather the poster board and other materials. She’d not only serve as a chaperone, but would spread the exchange around the office like butter on hot toast.

“
Marshall,” I said. “I appreciate your new safety policy, but as soon as this thing with Wayne is settled, I would expect to have the parking spaces reassigned. After all, I don’t have seniority or anything.”

I became conscious of my lips, possibly because Marshall was staring at them. They were dry. A perverse urge to lick them almost drove me to distraction. Would he think it was a come-on? Would Lisa? Was there a way of demonstrating the innocence of dry lips without looking infinitely stupid?

Yes, yes, and not a chance.

Marshall’s smile crinkled his eyes. “Of course. This is just a temporary measure.”

Lisa, nose-deep in our conversation, dropped the set of markers, sending them skittering across the floor. “Damn.”

“
OK, then.” I said, easing toward the door. I could feel cracks fissuring across my lips. “But thanks, though.”

“
My pleasure,” he said and winked at me, alligator lips and all.

I liked it better than Regina had.

Tuesday officially started when I pulled into the highly coveted, close-to-the-front-door parking space. It was the last nice thing to happen all day.

Lisa greeted me with a stack of mail and another magazine subscription as soon as I walked in the door. This one featured a parody of an all-grown-up Heidi, breasts mimicking the mighty Alps she frolicked across, being chased by a herd of wild “goats.” A half-dozen men with fake horns and swatches of goat hair leaped after her in (apparently) full-rut. A second glance made me realize it wasn’t horns plastered to their foreheads. Eww. Swearing off cashmere for life, I dropped it in the trash.

Before I could check my schedule, the phone rang. Standing next to Lisa’s desk while she rescheduled the caller, I flipped through the real mail. Most was junk— circulars for continuing education training and an interoffice memo that I’d already read. I almost tossed them on top of the porn mag, until one near the bottom caught my attention. The return address read: Department of Regulation and Licensing.

I’d already paid the yearly fee for license renewal a few months ago. Hoping there hadn’t been an oversight, I slit the envelope and read the enclosed notice.

My heart pumped wildly, sweat beading on my forehead.

“
Letty?” Lisa’s worried voice pierced the drumming in my ears. I looked at her, blankly. Her concern had driven her to her feet; she clutched my arm. “Letty, are you all right?”

“
I need to see Marshall.”

“
I’ll see what’s available.” She sat down at the computer to check his calendar, but I was already heading down the hall to his office.

He jumped when I banged through the door. “What’s wrong?”

Fighting tears, I handed him the letter. He scanned it quickly, then sat back, looking strained.

“
Can he do this?” My voice rasped like sandpaper.

Marshall shrugged. “He already has. Look, Letty… We know this is bogus, and so will the department as soon as they dig a little deeper.”

“
Dig a little
deeper
? What does that mean?”

“
It means they’re going to need access to your client file on Wayne, or whatever he called himself at the time. You’ll have to send in your response to these allegations of sexual misconduct. Plus, they’ll need to get the police report on the break-in incident. But that’s all in your favor. He was obviously seeing you under false pretenses and there were only two sessions. Not to mention, we have the picture I took of the rat.”

“
We can’t prove that Wayne had anything to do with the rat,” I pointed out.

“
No, but we can prove that a number of mysterious incidents have occurred since he busted in and threatened you. It shows a pattern of harassment, even if it’s coincidental.”

“
Mary Kate is a witness, too.”

Marshall looked confused. “To what?”

“
She sat in the last time I met with Carrie. She can testify that I told Carrie about Wayne’s allegations.”

“
Unfortunately, she can’t, even if it concerns Wayne. We have no right to breach Carrie’s confidentiality. Unless she agrees to waive it, that is. Would she be willing?”

“
I don’t even know where Carrie is. But at least Mary Kate can testify to what she heard when Wayne was holding me at knife-point! She can say that he never once mentioned any sexual contact, because there
wasn’t
any. It was all about Carrie, and how Wayne thought—”

“
Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Marshall held a hand up and abruptly sat forward. “She heard
what?
”

Oh, yeah.

I’d neglected to mention Mary Kate’s eavesdropping behavior. It took a few minutes to explain how Mary Kate had snuck back to Regina’s office to satisfy her curiosity—or prepare my eulogy, whichever came first. By the time I’d finished, Marshall had his head buried in his hands, groaning.

“
That’s bad, huh?” As an attempt at levity, it failed.

“
Why haven’t I heard about this until now?”