Your Truth is Out There (Find Your Truth Book 1) (2 page)

“No kidding.”

“Nope, no kidding. They wanted a whole new ad campaign, print, video, mobile, social media, the works, and they wanted to see what I could come up with. So, I spent several weeks developing a slogan, and then the next couple of months creating the art for all of the different media where the ads would be placed.”

“So, let’s hear it, what was the slogan?”

Henry took a deep breath. After what happened in the conference room with his former CEO, he wasn’t sure he wanted to say the slogan out loud again. He took another sip of his drink.

“Ah, what the hell?” he said. “Here goes … it was, ‘Telasco Industries, We love fish, and fish love us!’”

Henry looked up at Craig, hoping for a better reaction than he received earlier in the day. He didn’t get it. The bartender appeared to be doing everything he could not to laugh directly in Henry’s face.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” he said, unable to contain his laughter any longer, “that is terrible. I mean, it’s really, really bad.”

“Thanks,” said Henry, “thanks a lot. Go ahead and kick a guy when he’s down, why don’t ya.”

“Hey, Henry, I’m sorry buddy, but even you have to admit that it’s really bad.”

“No I don’t. If I thought it was that bad, I wouldn’t have presented it.”

“We love fish, and fish love us? Come on, Henry, that’s terrible.”

Henry stopped and thought about it for a second.

“Okay,” he said with a smirk, “I guess you’re right, it is pretty bad. And yes, you were right, I should have let someone else review it before I presented it to the CEO of the company. But so what? It’s too late now, I’ve already screwed up and I’m out of a job.”

“Maybe not,” said Craig with a nod of his head toward the door, “I think maybe someone’s looking for you.”

Henry turned to the door and saw his former boss, Jason Lesko, President and CEO of Telasco Industries.

“Oh crap,” said Henry, half under his breath. “What the hell? Is he going to fire me again?”

“Henry,” said Jason, walking over to where he was sitting, “I was hoping I could find you. It’s taken a while, but I’m glad I caught up with you.” He looked at Craig. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

“Here, sir,” said Henry taking his bottle, “allow me.” He took the glass that Craig handed him and poured his former boss a drink. “What are you doing here?”

Jason took a sip of the drink, then pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket pocket.

“I wanted to deliver this personally. It’s your final paycheck.”

Henry’s heart sunk. Whatever chance he thought he might have had of getting his job back was gone now.

“I see,” he said. “Thanks, I appreciate you delivering it, although I don’t really understand why. I said some pretty awful things, called you some pretty awful things.”

“Yeah,” said Jason, smiling into his drink, “you did at that. But I know you didn’t mean them. Look Henry, we’ve worked together for nearly a year, and in that time I’ve come to appreciate your … let’s call it, candor. Although, today’s display was a bit too direct and, well, inappropriate.”

“Jason, I’m really sorry about how I acted today. You’re right, it was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. And, you know I didn’t really mean any of it, I was just frustrated, that’s all.”

“I know, Henry. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Henry.

Jason picked up his glass and sloshed the whiskey around.

“Do you like to bowl, Henry?” he asked.

Between the buzz in his head from the alcohol and the bizarre conversation, Henry was confused as ever.

“I’m not following you, sir,” he said.

“Bowl, Henry, you know, do you like to go bowling?”

“I can’t really say for sure. I’ve never tried it.”

“Ah well, there’s nothing like it, Henry,” said Jason as he downed his drink and slid his glass over for a refill. “Nothing like being in the groove and throwing strike after strike after strike.”

Henry nodded his head, as if he understood what his former boss was talking about.

“I’m guessing you’re pretty good at it then,” he said, refilling the glass.

“I used to be,” said Jason, a far-away look in his eyes. “I used to be very good.” He turned back to look at Henry. “I was all set to turn pro … had my sponsors lined up and everything. All I had to do was show up at the first tournament in Memphis and compete.”

“What happened?”

“My father died.”

“Oh God. Oh Jason, I’m sorry.”

Jason nodded and took another sip.

“Thanks,” he said. “But that’s not the tragedy of this story. When he died, I didn’t go to Memphis to compete in that tournament. Understandably, I stayed home to handle the funeral and to wrap up his affairs. But, I didn’t just miss the Memphis tournament, I missed them all. My father left Telasco to me, on the condition that I give up my “childish fantasy” as he put it and stay home to run the family business.”

“Wow, sounds like your dad had some serious control issues,” said Henry, not knowing what else to say or do. “Believe it or not, I can relate.”

“I believe you can, Henry,” said Jason, looking at Henry in a way Henry wasn’t used to. “But, I’m not looking for sympathy or anything like that. My life turned out just fine. I’m likely a lot wealthier now than if I’d gone pro, but that’s not the point either. I didn’t chase my dream, Henry. Not many of us get the opportunity to go after our dreams, and when we actually do, even fewer of us actually take the risk to chase after it.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Henry, I was going over your presentation, you know, giving it a closer look to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“And …?”

“And … well, your artwork is … is amazing.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Henry, please don’t call me sir, you don’t work for me anymore. I’m here as a friend. You are a truly gifted artist, I mean beyond anything I’ve ever seen before and I have a pretty good eye for this kind of thing. Henry, if I can offer you this one piece of advice, don’t think of the fact that you no longer work at Telasco as a setback, but as an opportunity for you to chase your dream as an artist. Do what I didn’t. You weren’t meant to work the eight-to-five shift in the corporate world; you’re far too talented for that.”

Jason reached over and put his hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he said, “and to make sure, I added a little extra to your check. Think of it as an investment in your new future.”

Henry felt a lump in his throat, but fought it down with another drink.

“Thank you, Jason,” he said when he finally regained his composure. “I don’t know what to say.”

Jason got up and held his hand out.

“Say that you’ll consider my advice and pursue your dream.”

“I will,” said Henry.

“Good luck to you.”

“Thank you,” said Henry, standing up as well. “I hope you find someone who can create the right campaign for you.”

Jason nodded, then turned around and left.

Henry sat back down and looked at the glass in front of him, which a moment before seemed half-empty but was now clearly half-full.

“Everything okay?” asked Craig coming back from the other end of the bar.

“Yeah,” replied Henry as he picked up the glass and downed the rest.

“Did he take you back?”

“Nope,” said Henry. “Better. He told me to chase my dream.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It would be, except for one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“Not a that, but a who.”

Not bothering with the glass, Henry grabbed the Jack and drank it straight from the bottle.

“My wife,” he said as he set the bottle back down on the bar. “You’d best call me a cab.”

“We have a major snarl along Channel 1753, where a multi-vehicle wreck has completely blocked traffic. Clean-up crews are on their way, but those traveling along 1753 may want to consider alternate routes …”

Gsefx turned the vidcon off. He’d heard enough.

“Great, just great,” he said aloud, as his vehicle crawled forward, along with the rest of the inbound commuters. Like Gsefx, they were all making their way in from the thousands of outlying systems they called home, to their jobs on Laxor, the primary business hub for this sector.

He glanced at the console chronometer for the third time in the last five ebyts and slammed a fist into the top of the console.

“Gralt!” he shouted. “So much for getting to the juricking office early and catching up on my juricking work. At this rate, I’ll be lucky just to arrive in time for my first meeting.”

Even under the best of circumstances, the commute to Laxor from his home on Clangdor was a slow, tedious affair, and after nearly ten turns of slogging his way through heavy traffic, Gsefx had, for the most part, resigned himself to the fact that the commute was simply a part of the job. Sometimes, when he allowed himself to escape into the music he loved so dearly, that resignation worked. The trip to and from the office provided Gsefx with the perfect opportunity to turn the volume up as loud as he wanted and kick everything else out of his mind, if only briefly. As the amount of free time he had to simply sit and enjoy his music was such a rarity, the privacy of his vehicle could be a welcome sanctuary—when he allowed it to be. At times like this, however, when there was so much work piled up and waiting for him, even his favorite music wasn't enough to keep him from exploding in frustration.

“Gralt!” he shouted again, with another slam to the console.

He took a deep breath in an effort to compose himself before briefly considering taking the next exit to access an alternate route. There were numerous ways to get to the Galacticount offices, of course, and Gsefx knew them all. He discarded the idea as quickly as it crossed his mind.

Just be patient, Gsefx, and stay on course,
he thought.
As slow as traffic is moving,
alternates never work and usually end up taking longer.

He took another deep breath and attempted to steer his thoughts away from the traffic, and the trouble it was currently causing him.

It's not like your life is going to come crashing down around you if you don't get there early,
he told himself.
After all, you have it pretty juricking good—a great career with the single most prestigious accounting firm in the galaxy. And, lest you forget, you just got a promotion. You have a beautiful home—even if it is a bit far from the office. Best of all, you're married to Lhvunsa, the woman of your dreams. How much better do you think you can do than that? No better, that's how much, so quit pitching a fit. You're only ten turns out of Higher Learning, so I'd say you're doing pretty juricking good. Certainly good enough to not let this traffic ruin everything for you. What if someone from the office were in a vehicle close by and saw you cursing and slamming your fists into the console? How good for your career do you think that would be?

This wasn't Gsefx's first attempt at talking himself through his frustrations. He'd recited this script many times before. Too many times, in fact, for it to have the intended effect of taking his mind off the traffic. No matter that it was all true, the facts simply didn't matter at the moment. What did matter was that he’d awoken early, which in and of itself was no easy task, then left home early, hoping to beat the traffic and get to the office ahead of everyone else. All so he could catch up on his work before the chaos of the rotation put him even further behind than he already was. That was out of the question now.

“Gralt!” He shouted again, this time refraining from hitting the console, or anything else. “I'm not asking for much! Just a little time to work without interruption so I can catch up a little. Now, thanks to this juricking traffic,” he waved two of his arms around wildly, “that's not going to happen, and I'm probably going to have to stay late again … or work through the break. Either way, Lhvunsa is not going to be happy about it.”

He reached into his storage compartment and grabbed a snack bar, his fourth since leaving the house. He tore off the wrapper and tossed it to the floor with the others, then stuffed the entire bar into his mouth. As he did so, the console chronometer caught his attention once again.

“Graulgh!” he shouted, as best he could around a mouthful of junk food. According to his onboard timekeeper, getting to work early was no longer his biggest concern. At his current rate of travel, simply arriving on time was going to be a stretch. Gsefx wasn’t sure how many times he’d been late this semi-turn, but he knew it was more than once. He also knew that his supervisor, a Dremin named Qilzar, definitely was keeping track of his tardies. After a quick calculation in his head, he decided he had time for at least one song, maybe two, before he’d have to call in and admit to Qilzar that he was going to be late again.

“Albalan, random, play,” he said to the ship’s computer. Moments later, the cockpit filled with the wonderfully discordant sounds of this new form of music from a little-known planet called Irt.

Night is day and day is night

Don’t say I won’t ‘cause you know I might.

You are wrong and I am right

Don’t cross my path ‘less ya wanna fight.

As the music engulfed him, his thoughts drifted back to his wife.

Lhvunsa.

They'd been together for twelve turns, married for ten, and their love was as strong as ever—at least he believed so. From the time they’d left Higher Learning and entered the work force together, their careers had demanded a lot of them both. That was just a given with their chosen professions. But as her career in architecture advanced, she’d found more freedom—and clients—by working independently out of their home. Gsefx, on the other hand, only seemed to devote more of his time and energy to his work at Galacticount, especially since his promotion. And he knew it had taken its toll on their relationship. Still, he also knew his love for Lhvunsa hadn't changed, and he felt confident that her feelings hadn’t either. They just needed to find some time for each other—some time alone, without interruptions, to get their marriage back on track again.