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The Mover Ch. 01

By: ktfa1



I'm not prone to tears. It takes a lot to make this girl cry. I know that people look at me and think of me as a small, submissive little girl, but let me tell you, buster, there's a lot of fight in this little cookie! I don't give up easily, but the day I met Mike, I was just about ready to throw in the towel.

"What's the matter; couldn't they find you a broom closet? If this is too spacious for you, I can get you one."

"I beg your pardon?" I nearly jumped out of my chair, he startled me so. He laughed, and when he smiled I noticed that his teeth were crooked. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes that told me he meant no harm.

"I didn't mean to startle you; it's just that there are other cubicles available, why would they put you in this? This is the smallest cubicle in my area."

to be continued

I made a brave effort to compose myself. So much had happened that day, I'd already met so many new faces, all with different titles and positions. He said this was his area. Was he some kind of section head? That couldn't be, a section head wouldn't be dressed like this man.

He looked to be about fifty. He was tall and bone thin. His hair was stringy, shoulder length and held out of his face with a pony tail. A long sleeved t-shirt with a Grateful Dead logo, faded Levis and funny looking suede boots completed his costume, for that's the only way to describe it. Add the round gold granny glasses, the little strand of beads and he was the perfect hippie, just a little long in the tooth and forty years out of his era.

"I'm Penny Collins-Lynch; this is my first day, so forgive me if I don't know you." I extended my hand and noticed for the first time that he was wearing leather work gloves. He removed his right glove and shook my hand. His hand was as soft and warm as his crooked smile.

"Well, Penny Collins-Lynch, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Mike, and I'm also the last person whose name you'll need to remember. "However, he smiled, "I doubt that you will; I'm the one who has to empty your waste basket."

Well, okay, he was only the janitor, but I needed a friend and he was handy. This had been one of the worst days of my life. I'd shaken hands with so many faces, today. I'd had so many people tell me that all I needed was a little time to adjust. Mike was the first person to mention my tiny little cubicle. He was right, in a sea of two hundred cubicles; mine was the last cell in the last corner of the building and at least half the size of the rest.

"I'm sorry to bother you, you must be anxious to get out of here. I'll bet you've had a long day." He reached around the corner and pulled a plastic barrel on wheels toward him. The barrel had a plastic apron that contained a variety of cleaning products, feather dusters and rags. Suddenly, I didn't want him to leave. I had piles of work on my desk, but I felt it was more important to talk to someone, even if it was only the janitor. Besides, I realized that he might be of assistance.

"No wait, I said, "You're not bothering me. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mike. I'd offer you a chair, but as you can see..." 

"Don't worry about me. Trust me, I have all the time in the world to sit and chat, but if you're ever busy and want me to take a hike, just say the word and I'm gone. The last thing I want to do is keep you from your work or from getting out of here."

"Thanks, Mike, that's very considerate of you. Have you worked here long?"

"This December, I'll celebrate twenty-six years with the company. Of course, it was Hughes Aircraft then. I started to work the night John Lennon was killed."

"Wow, that's a long time! You must know everyone in the company."

"Not really. I was transferred to this facility five years ago, when the Fullerton plant was torn down."

"It's interesting that you consider five years to be a short time, but I was wondering if you might be able to help me."

"I like helping people, it's what I do best. What can I do for you?"

I took a deep breath and plunged in, hoping for the best. "Would you happen to know who the ad officer is?"

"The what?"

"I mean the Administrator, the person in charge of this department." He smiled and looked a little sheepish as he replied.

"Penny, I've been dusting toy tanks, cleaning glass cabinets full of widgets and vacuuming floors in offices and laboratory clean rooms for twenty-five years. I've never paid any attention to what I was cleaning. I'm sorry, but I have no idea what this department is or what it does."

As I've said, I'm not one to cry, but at that moment I could have burst into tears. I pride myself on being able to conceal my emotions, but I wasn't fooling Mike. I realized that I was being pitied by the janitor! I felt like falling through the floor and into oblivion. Mike's friendly demeanor turned instantly into one of concern. He bent at the waist and peered into my eyes. Since that day, I pray that others will find in my own eyes at least a fraction of the compassion that shone through those funny spectacles. 

"I'm so sorry, dear; I didn't intend to be so insensitive."

"Oh, it's not you, it's this." I swept my hand across my desk, across the stacks of folders, spreadsheets and my two computer monitors. "I have all of this work I'm expected to do, and I can't do it!"

"Sure you can, this is your first day, you just need to adapt to your new environment. You'll do fine, I know you will."

"That's all I've heard since I walked in the door. You don't understand! I know what to do, and it's making me crazy because I can't!"

"Why, dear, why can't you?"

"Because I don't know the codes; I don't even have the passwords to get into the programs."

"Isn't there someone who can help you with this? How about the guy that hired you?"

"That's all he does, Mike. He hires people that are qualified for the job, and that's all he does. Even if he could help, I wouldn't know how to contact him."

"Surely, they wouldn't just stick you in this egg carton and expect you to know their protocol."

The thought of a janitor using the word protocol in that text passed quickly through my mind, as well as the way his speech pattern fluctuated between concise and articulate to just plain slang, but I felt compelled to make him understand that I was qualified to do this job.

"They gave me someone, alright. Her name was Denise. She was supposed to show me what to do before she retired. But four hours ago Denise left me here to attend her retirement luncheon. She wished me good luck and said that she wasn't coming back. Now I can't pin anyone down to show me the things I need. Everyone I've tried to speak with has patted me on the head and said, "Relax, you'll get along fine." 

I wanted to reach for a tissue, but I didn't want him to know that I needed one. As if having read my mind, he pulled a Kleenex from the box and handed it to me.

"Penny, dear, I know that my problems don't have the same magnitude as yours, but I had a lot of trouble when I was transferred from Fullerton. I have at least as many years with the company as my coworkers, so they all expected me to know what to do. If I asked where a certain room was, or even where to find a mop, they would roll their eyes at each other like I was an idiot."

"Oh my God, do they still treat you that way?"

He laughed and said, "They don't know how to treat me, now. Eventually, I learned my way around enough to demonstrate that my work ethics and my abilities were more than sufficient to do my job. The same thing will happen to you, for sure." He pronounced it 'fir shure.'

"Well, I said as I wadded the tissue in my hands, "That's comforting to know for the future, but I need some answers for the present."

"Penny, there are three ladies who work here, Patti, Sheri and Debi. Oh man, it sounds like I'm presenting the Mouseketeers! Anyway, they're all really nice. I'm here until midnight, and they often stay late. If I see them before you, would you like me to ask them to speak with you?"

"That would be great. I have to be in meetings all day; I don't know when I'll get to meet them, so I'd really appreciate the help. Besides, I'm used to working late. I'm sort of a workaholic, myself"

"Then it's settled. Now, I'd like to ask a favor from you."

He'd caught me off guard. "Sure, anything; what can I do for you?"

He smiled that crooked smile at me and said, "Would you please not drop your paperclips on the carpet? They clog up my vacuum cleaner."

I gave him a little smile of my own, perhaps the first sincere smile of that long, hard day.

* * * * *

Penny Lynch got home around midnight. Thank God, the market stayed open all night. She dropped her purse and bulky briefcase on the sofa and dragged the groceries into the kitchen. She looked at the dirty dishes and sighed, wondering if it wasn't better to come home to find that Don was out. At least the kitchen would be clean. She cleaned the counter with a lick and a promise, and started to prepare Don's dinner for tomorrow night. She grabbed a bagel and collapsed on the sofa. She awoke four hours later, with Don shaking her to get up and make his breakfast.

The Mover Ch. 02



I know this sounds funny, but the following evening I couldn't wait for Mike to come around. I was bursting with the news that only Mike would care to hear.

"Well, Penny Collins Lynch, you're here awfully late. How was your second day on your new job?

I swiveled my chair around to face him. How in the world could I have mistaken this man for a middle management officer? Mike looked as if he stepped out of time warp, like he'd stepped right out of Woodstock.

"Well, it seems that our administer is a man named Kevin Johnson. He's in Austin, Texas for a seminar. Our main office is in Austin."

"No wonder you were ignored yesterday. Everyone just assumed this Johnson guy had already opened a dialog with the new employee."

"Exactly, I said, "They weren't being mean; they just thought I was already up to speed, ready to take over this desk. Besides, they were saying good-bye to a friend and coworker. I can't blame them for that."

"Well, I can see that frown has disappeared. Just look at you! You look like a filly that's ready to run!"

"Oh, Mike, that just how I feel! It's wonderful to finally begin my job."

"Penny, that's so far out. Have you met the girls, yet?"

I could hardly contain my excitement. "Yes I did! Well, it was only for a moment, but I found out that their cubicles are right on the other side of mine. You were right; they seem very nice."

"Right on! So, did they show you the tools to access the program?"

There it was again, the dichotomy of his diction, but I was much too excited to think about it at the time.

"Well, we didn't have much time, I was leaving a meeting just as they were going in, but Patti showed me how to access the program. Now I can at least find out which of this stuff requires attention." 

"So, now you can sort the seeds from the stems." There was that crooked smile, again. I had to laugh. In his funny way, Mike was kind of cute.

"I don't have the access codes yet, but at least I can get started. I'll be here late, tonight. The more folders I have in the system, the more I'll be able to process."

"Don't be too late; it's not good for you. Besides, when I run the vacuum cleaner, it's gonna be hard for you to concentrate."

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm a veteran workaholic. I'm used to putting in long hours. I've always been this way.

At that moment, I'm not sure if I was trying to convince Mike or myself. There was a faint sadness to his smile which should have told me that it wasn't Mike who was being fooled.

* * * * *

Don's car was not in the driveway when Penny got home that night. Her poor, exhausted mind was a mixture of emotions. According to Don, it was she who drove him out of the house. He went to the Sports bar because he was bored, so lonely, that he couldn't stand to sit at home. Somewhere deep in her heart, Penny knew this wasn't true. Still, she was grateful for the chance to thoroughly clean her kitchen, to have a bite to eat and sleep in her own bed, if only for a few hours.

* * * * *

I said a small prayer when I heard the wheels squeaking on his trash barrel. I listened to the rustle of plastic waste basket liners as Mike made his way to my cubicle. His thin, haggard face and crooked smile was so welcome, it was as though someone had thrown me a life preserver. I don't know how I missed him last night; I was at my desk until midnight, but he never came. 

"Hi Mike, I'm so happy to see you!"

"Well, I'm happy to see you, as well, Penny Collins-Lynch. Forgive me for being so forward, Penny dear, but you look exhausted. Are you getting enough sleep? I know you were here very late, last night. You've been keeping some long hours. Is everything alright?"

Mentally, I pushed Don and my miserable home life out of my mind and tried to focus on the business at hand. I must have looked awful. I'd been running on three or four hours of sleep and I was surrounded with stacks of folders and files, spread sheets and invoice orders.

"Oh, I sighed, "I'm just a little swamped, is all."

"I'm sorry, I'm intruding. I'll just get your waste basket and be on my way."

"No, please stay awhile; I'd like the company. There isn't much more I can do with this, anyway."

There was that look of concern again. His kindness was a soothing balm to my battered nerves.

"I thought the girls were helping you find the information you need. What's going on, what's wrong, Penny? I thought everything was going so well."

"Oh, they help me, Mike. Just when I think Patti or Debi has shown me what I need, I find that it's still incomplete and of little use. When I try to find them, they've all disappeared and I'm left to myself again."

"That doesn't sound like the girls, they seem so friendly."

"Yes Mike, they're all friendly, just not very nice. It feels like they are deliberately keeping me from learning my job."

Mike knelt until we were face to face. I noticed the lines on his face and the weariness in his eyes. He must have had his share of hard times, I thought to myself. With a thin smile, he confirmed my suspicions.

"Penny, I told you how I was treated when I first came here to the El Segundo facility. I soon came to realize my coworkers felt threatened by me. I wasn't like them; I read books while they played video games on the computers. I've learned over the years how to work smart. I know how to use my time wisely; I can do more work in less time than they've been accustomed. It's only natural that they would see me as a threat, or a disruption to their habits. I was a stick in their status quo."

I didn't fully comprehend at the time how Mike had turned the tables on me. Suddenly, it was I who felt sorry for him."

"Mike, that must have been terrible for you."

"It gets worse, dear. My supervisor, even the manager saw me as a threat. They weren't used to someone who could do his work so efficiently. They were definitely not prepared for a janitor who could use words with four syllables. I think that's what's happening to you. You've already shown that you are concise and articulate, it's only natural that they would think you might be raising the bar, causing them to rethink their own work habits."

For the first time, I noticed the picture on his employee badge. He looked completely different; his hair was short, he wore no glasses and the polo shirt he wore had the Ralph Lauren logo.

"So that's why you changed your appearance; that's why you sometimes use slang when you speak."

He smiled and said, "When in Rome..."

"So what do I do? I can't pretend to be a hippie just to please them!"

"Of course not, but what you can do is divide and conquer. Start with Patti and appeal to her ego. Folks just love to show off. Let her show off a little; show you how much she knows her job and the others will soon be falling over themselves to impress you."

Once again, with just a few kind words and a personal testimony, Mike had lifted my self esteem back where it belonged.

"Thank you, Mike. I needed to hear that."

"Anytime, Penny Collins-Lynch, I'm glad to help."

"Mike, do you work on the weekends?" If he said yes, I would need to come up with an explanation why I would be here at my desk.

"I'm off on Saturday and Sundays, but I'm usually helping someone move."

"Oh, I said, "I hate moving! Why on earth would you want to help someone move?" He smiled that crooked smile again.

"Because everyone hates to move; it's stressful and hard work. All too often, the friends who promised to help figure that the person moving has plenty of help, so they don't show up. There's been lot's of times when I'm the only one who does."

"You must have a lot of friends, if you're helping so many move."

"Not really, it's sort of escalated over the years. Once people realized that I never refuse to help and that I always show up, I began to get calls from friends of friends. Eventually, I was getting calls from friends of friends of the room mates of the folks I'd helped. Now, my old pickup and I stay pretty busy."

"How much do you charge to help?"

He laughed a merry chuckle and said, "I'm happy with a burger and fries, maybe a pizza if I'm lucky. They always promise to take me out to a nice restaurant, but I know that we're all going to be too tired and filthy for anything but fast food. I've gotten so good at this that I know when the stress has gotten the better of them. That's when I take over the moving and let them fret over the small stuff, like getting the utilities turned on."

"Well, you must be a saint, Mike. I don't know anyone who would do that."

Laughing again, he replied, "I'm no saint, Penny. I once read how farmers in the old days would all come to a new neighbor's place. In one day, they could build a barn that would have taken one man weeks, even months to build alone. Then, they would all sit down for a meal the women had been preparing all day. I look at moving in the same manner. Everyone wins, because they know that the day will come when they'll find themselves in need of help."

"Well Mike, if I ever need to move, I'm calling you first!"

With his crooked smile, he winked and said, "I'll remember that, Penny Collins-Lynch."

* * * * *

Penny spent the entire Saturday cleaning the house. She scrubbed floors, cleaned the stove, washed windows, cleaned the bathroom and dusted the furniture. Penny was as thorough with her housework as she was her job. All that remained was to vacuum the carpet and start the laundry. She planned those chores for later, so as not to disturb Don watching television.

She showered, dressed and put on her best cologne. She checked her makeup and went to join her husband on the sofa. She didn't expect a reaction from her kiss; after all, the game was on, so she waited for the commercial.

"Who's winning?" She asked.

"The Lakers are up, but I doubt they'll make the spread."

"Honey, I rented a movie, I thought we could make some popcorn and watch it tonight." Don's eyes never left the television.

"Sorry, babe, this is the playoffs. Nicks and Pistons come on tonight."

"I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together."

"So watch the game with me." 

Penny eased closer to him and placed her head against his shoulder. She hoped her perfume would work the same magic it had in the past. In a sultry voice she purred, "I could make it worth your while, big boy."

He never took his eyes off the screen. He shrugged her off his shoulder and reached for his beer. "Yeah, right; like I'm going to miss the playoffs to watch some chick flick."

Penny realized it was useless to argue. She started to rise from the sofa and said, "Fine, you can watch your game. I might as well go into work and try to get some invoices entered into the system."

He was so fast, she never saw it coming. Suddenly, Don was on his feet. His face was inches from hers, his hand held her bicep in a viselike grip. Penny could only stare, wide eyed, while her husband seethed through clenched teeth.

"It's always your damn job, isn't it? Nothing matters to you except your damn job. Go ahead, go sit at your damn desk; go work on your own time when you should be at home with your husband. Go ahead, but don't expect me to be here when you get back. I'm going to the sports bar."

"Don, you're hurting me, let go of my arm!"

Don pushed her away, hard enough to send her falling onto the sofa. Penny watched, terrified of the anger in his eyes as he grabbed his coat and stormed out the front door. At least she wouldn't need to drive into El Segundo, she thought to herself.

Not prone to tears, Penny methodically began to sort the laundry. She separated the whites from the colors, the dark from the light, being careful to empty the pockets of Don's slacks. She placed the three poker chips from the casino on the top of the dryer alongside the plastic card for the hotel room. Hotels needn't worry about keys, nowadays. The plastic cards are disposable.



The Mover Ch. 03



I nearly jumped out of my skin when my desk phone rang. I'm not used to many calls, especially so early in the morning. I picked it up and said hello.

"Good morning, Mrs. Lynch, this is Isabella De Carlo. I'm calling from Mr. Blackwell's office."

I'd never heard of either of them. "Hello, Miss De Carlo, how may I help you?"

"Mr. Blackwell would like to see you immediately; do you know where we're located?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Take the elevator up to the top floor; we're in the executive suite."

A million thoughts raced through my mind as I rode the elevator up. I had no idea what I was walking into but I was confident that I would maintain my composure. The elevator opened to a corridor with linen wallpaper, crown molding and plush carpet. I followed it down to a mahogany doorway and was met by a young woman sitting at a beautiful mahogany desk. She was strikingly beautiful, olive complexioned, with exotic dark eyes and full red lips. Her hair was black and as shiny as a raven's feathers. She rose from her seat and said, "Mr. Blackwell will see you now. Please come with me."

She led me into a corner office that was beautifully decorated with dark wood, heavy drapes and tapestries. Mr. Blackwell was seated behind an imposing desk of dark mahogany. I was aware of an acrid odor in the suite and noticed that he was smoking a small, black cigar. I believe it's called a cheroot. How important could this man be, to ignore a state law against smoking in the workplace? I was expecting him to be at least cordial, but he came right to the point. I took a seat in front of him and waited.

"Mrs. Lynch, you came to us highly recommended, yet it seems you are having difficulty adjusting to your work assignment. Perhaps a mistake has been made; perhaps you are not qualified for your position?"

"Mr. Blackwell, I'm trying very hard, I assure you, it's just that—

"Mrs. Lynch, the company has invested a large sum of money in you. Just the amount spent in acquiring new employees is considerable. When a new member of our staff fails to display even a fraction of their potential in the first two weeks, we must decide if that employee is worthy of the position."

"Mr. Blackwell, I apologize for getting off to such a bad start, but the woman who was supposed to train, excuse me, to acclimate me to my position, left me on my first morning. Also, as I'm sure you are aware; Mr. Johnson has been in Austin, Texas since I started. So you can understand my predicament."

If Mr. Blackwell understood my predicament, he sure wasn't letting on. He puffed thoughtfully on his nasty cigar and finally spoke.

"Mrs. Lynch, while there is indeed some merit to your defense, you must understand that if we make an exception for you, the rest of our staff and our other new employees will expect to be mollycoddled, as well."

"Mr. Blackwell, I don't expect to be mollycoddled, I just require the tools to collect the information I need to perform my duties."

I waited for an eternity while he filled the room with malodorous smoke and pondered my fate. Finally, he set down his cigar and leaned toward me.

"Very well, Mrs. Lynch, I'm going to allow Isabella to spend some time with you, to teach you the essentials you require. Of course, you'll have to do this on your own time. Our company is not in the business of education. Additionally, this favoritism cannot leave this office. If I hear one word of this from anyone besides the three of us, you will be terminated. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Blackwell."

"Very well then, you'll report to Isabella every morning at five for one hour of tutoring. This will continue for the standard ninety day probation period. However, I'm sure you'll be up to speed before then."

"Yes, sir; I just need a few things. Thank you for your time and patience."

"Good day, Mrs. Lynch."

*****

I spent the rest of the day kissing up to anyone I could corner. Mike was right about the girls, they really were nice, and once I began to flatter them on an individual basis, they soon warmed up and began to give me the codes I needed to process the invoices and account contracts. I found that Patti knew the codes, where Debi was the expert on contracts. Sheri was probably the sweetest of the three but, unfortunately for me, not qualified in any of the areas I needed to be proficient.

I also found out something I hadn't known, something that would explain a lot regarding my relationship with the girls. In a kind moment, Sheri revealed something I hadn't known. It seems that I was hired to be their contact manager; they were supposed to be working for me! It's no wonder they felt resentment when asked to teach their new boss how to do her job. Once again, Mike's gentle advice had come to my rescue. 

Nevertheless, the more I could learn on my own, the less time I would have to spend in that stinky office with that despotic man and his creepy assistant. I also realized that there were things to know that I couldn't get from Patti, Debi or Sheri. I was so lost in thought; I didn't realize that I had worked through lunch again, and that Mike was standing at the entrance to my cubicle.

"Hi Mike! How did the move go?" He smiled and groaned, holding his back as if it were killing him.

"A lot of stairs, Penny Collins-Lynch, a lot of stairs. I was sure happy to get that move over with."

"I'll bet they were happy, too. Did you get your pizza?"

"Even better, he laughed, "A bucket of chicken! I even got some to take home!" I had to laugh at an old hippie who would work his butt off for a bucket of greasy fried chicken.

"It looks like you got some bruises to take home as well." He began to examine the bruises on his skinny arms as if seeing them for the first time.

"Bruises are a part of moving, Penny Collins-Lynch; you can't move without getting a few bruises here and there."

"Well, you certainly got your share, Mike."

"It looks like you've got some bruises of your own. How'd ya get that?"

Flustered, I dropped my hands into my lap and grasped at the first excuse I could think of. "Oh, I was cleaning the kitchen and bumped into the edge of the table. Really, it's nothing."

"Don't be so sure, Penny Collins-Lynch. Trust me; some bruises are hematomas that can be life threatening. Let me take a look."

Before I could object, Mike was gently holding my arm. He held my elbow with his right hand and ran his fingers softly over the bruises on my upper arm. "That's not so bad," he said. He brought his right hand up to my bicep and gently wrapped his hand around it, so that his fingers matched perfectly with the bruises Don left when he grabbed me. He raised his head until his eyes met mine.

"You were lucky, it could have been much worse."

* * * * *

Don's car was in the driveway when Penny got home that night. The first thing she did was check the laundry room. She wasn't surprised to find that the poker chips and hotel pass card were missing. She debated whether to prepare his dinner for the following evening. She decided to fix his dinner, but she also decided to come to bed, if only to see what he would do. The moment she slipped under the covers, Don rolled over stiffly and turned his back to her. When Penny awoke, the alarm was buzzing and he was gone. At least I don't have to get up and make breakfast, she thought to herself. Remembering that she had to be at work by five, she dragged herself out of bed and prepared for another long day.



The Mover Ch. 04



Isabella De Carlo turned out to be as exotic as her name. True, she was drop dead gorgeous, but she was also aloof, mysterious and sensual. She spoke with an accent that was as ambiguous as her name; neither betrayed her ethnicity. She could have been Spanish, Italian, or Greek; there was no way of knowing. I could see how men would be attracted to her, had it not been for her cologne. It was musky, like Opium, but with an acrid undertone that smelled for all the world like someone had been lighting matches. When combined with the disgusting smell of Mr. Blackwell's cigars which permeated the suite, I became so nauseous that I could barely pay attention to her.

Not that it mattered, for Isabella's tutoring was proving to be practically useless. There was little that she showed me that I didn't know and what she did show me seemed specious, illogical and just plain wrong. However, I managed to keep my breakfast down until the hour had passed. I would have been offended by her curt dismissal had I not been so anxious to get out of that office and away from her. You can imagine my surprise when the door to the elevator opened and I ran right into Mike.

"Good morning, Mike. What are you doing here so early in the morning; don't you work the night shift?"

"Good morning, Penny Collins-Lynch. I'm here for an asbestos abatement class. We have to take one every year, so we can't sue the company, I suppose. At least I get to leave early, so that's not so bad. How come you were coming from upstairs?"

"Oh, I must have pressed the wrong button. Would you help me carry one of my bags?" I seemed to have dodged his question, because he smiled and grabbed the largest briefcase and walked with me to my little cubicle. We chatted while I waited for my computer to boot up."

"So, Penny Collins Lynch, how's the world been treating you?"

"Oh, I sighed, "It's getting better. I'm getting a lot more cooperation from the girls, but it still makes me uncomfortable, the way they call to each other from their cubicles. It makes me feel so disenfranchised and left out of the loop. The department meetings are a problem, as well. They give me no support, it makes me appear incompetent. They leave me to twist in the wind."

"There was a man at the old Hughes plant in Fullerton who coined the phrase, 'Fix the problem, not the blame.' Everyone who hears it grabs on to it and eventually makes it their own. I use it every chance I get."

"Mike, you're right, that's a wonderful concept. I'm going to make a note of that."

"Here's another little trick you can use. Whenever you speak with anyone here at the workplace, be sure to focus on the customer. Throw that one in whenever possible. Folks can't refute someone who puts the customer first."

"Mike, where do you come up with all of this? That's so intuitive, so clever!"

Mike just flashed that crooked smile and said, "Stick with me, Penny Collins-Lynch; I got a million of 'em!"

"Thanks, Mike; I don't suppose you have some magic words to make me 'one of the girls,' have you?"

"Penny, dear, you have to remember that their friendship goes so far back that you'll never be as close to them as they are to each other. Twenty-odd years is a long time, sweetie."

"I know, I just wish that once in awhile they'd invite me to go to lunch with them, or at least not talk about going right in front of me."

I realized just how pitiful I must have sounded and expected him to offer his sympathy, but instead, his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers.

"I almost forgot! Come with me, there's someone I want you to meet."

So I followed Mike through the maze of cubicles that eventually led us to a short, narrow hallway with a single door at the end. From inside, there was the sound of a woman who was obviously singing while wearing headphones. Mike was giggling, although I couldn't be sure if it was due to the cacophony in the office or my reaction to the woman's singing.

"She actually sings beautifully, but you know how it is when someone sings with headphones. Come on, let's go inside."

We stood inside the doorway and gazed upon the woman at the computer. Mike ushered me in, and we stood there and waited for the woman to acknowledge our presence.

"Mike, lets go, she obviously doesn't want to be disturbed."

"That's just how she is, he cackled, "She's got both sides of her brain going at the same time. The right side is working on that spreadsheet while the other is grooving on her gospel music. Just give her a moment; she'll be with us eventually."

While we waited, I studied her, for she was a sight to behold. She was a large woman, not heavy, just big. It was hard to tell while she was sitting, but she had to be a least six feet tall. She looked strong, and sat with perfect posture. Her back was straight, her shoulders back and her head held high. 

She was dressed in a beautiful dress and blazer of midnight blue silk, embroidered with black lace and sequins. The buttons were pearls that perfectly matched her earrings and painted nails that had to be three inches long, at the very least. She wore rings of white gold and pearls. A bracelet of white gold, diamonds and pearls graced her wrist. Her diamond necklace couldn't possibly be real, yet it was. Her high heel pumps also matched her ensemble perfectly. The heels were lying carelessly at her bare feet. 

Her skin was the color of Godiva chocolate; her eyeglasses were designer and also accentuated her outfit. Her hair was straight and cut in a stylish bob that cut across the left side of her face. In short, she was exquisitely breathtaking. She closed the program, removed the headphones and turned to face us with a friendly smile.

"Michael! What a lovely surprise! How nice it is to see you! How are you, my dear?"

"Well, Ms. King, you know how it is. I've been better, but it costs more."

"Don't I know it? Who's your pretty little friend?"

"Ms. King, I'd like to introduce you to Penny Collins-Lynch. Penny, this is my good friend, Mary King."

"Hello, Penny, dear; it's so very nice to meet you." She extended her hand to mine and I couldn't help myself.

"My goodness, Mrs. King; you have such beautiful rings!"

"Goodness had nothing to do with it, darling."

"Ms. King, you should be ashamed of yourself for stealing that old Mae West line!"

She laughed and said, "I know, Michael, but I just couldn't resist. Penny walked right into that one." She turned to me and said, "Honey, goodness had everything to do with this bling."

"Ms. King is one of the finest women you'll ever meet, Penny Collins-Lynch."

"The Lord has blessed me with many wonderful things, Penny."

"That discrimination settlement against the company didn't hurt, either," Mike said.

"Michael, don't make me get up; you know I'll smack you!"

"Ms. King, Penny started work less than two weeks ago, and she's not getting much cooperation. She's kind of lost around here. I just found her coming down from the top floor."

Mary King's demeanor changed in an instant. Her eyes blazed, her jaw clenched visibly. 

"You met that son of a bitch, Blackwell! Oh, Penny, you're too nice a young woman to have to put up with that old goat!"

Never mind the incongruity of her language; I felt my knees turn to water and my heart start to pound. I cast a furtive glance to the open door.

"Please, I said, "I could lose my job; no one is supposed to know!"

"It's okay, dear; we're alone in here. Tell us what's going on."

I recounted the events of my meeting with Mr. Blackwell, and how I was being tutored by his assistant. Mrs. King listened, casting knowing glances at Mike as I spoke. They seemed to have come to a conclusion before I'd finished. Like a judge in his court, Mary King laid down the law.

"Here's what we're gonna do. Penny, you will continue your visits upstairs, but you're gonna come to me and I'll undo everything that witch feeds you. I can give you all the information you need to do your job, honey. Michael will keep a look out for you. We don't want to get anybody else mixed up in this shit."

"I don't want you and Mike to lose your jobs, Mrs. King."

"Don't you worry about us, honey. Don't you worry about Blackwell or his bitch, either. He can't fire you, but he can sure make some trouble if we don't handle him right. You just come to me whenever you have the time."

"I don't want to impose, Mrs. King, you have your own job to do."

They both laughed until Mary had to reach for a tissue to dab her eyes. Mike had to explain why they found this so amusing.

"Ms. King won her settlement, but the company wouldn't buy her out of the five years she needs to reach her retirement. Instead, they agreed to let her work off the hours at her own discretion."

"Honey, I'm the first to come in and the last one to leave. I'm working out those hours as fast as I can. I'd sleep here, if I thought I could."

"Tell the truth and shame the devil, Ms. King. I've heard you snoring in here." Mike had to jump to avoid being slapped.

"Speaking of which, Michael, when am I going to see you at church?"

"As much as I'd like to hear you sing, Ms. King, you know I've got people to help move."

Her smile beamed with love for Mike as she replied, "I guess I can't fault you for that. In his own way, Penny, Michael does the Lord's work."

"You'd better give me some credit, Ms. King. Don't forget who helped you move."

"I haven't forgotten, Michael, and I never will."

* * * * *

Penny Collins-Lynch came home that night to a dozen red roses in a vase on the dining room table. She picked up the letter next to the single candle and read it by the small flame. 

My darling,

I was so angry when I got home from the sports bar that I didn't realize what you must have thought when you found the chips and the card key. My darling, I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never betray my commitment to our marriage. Please believe me that the card was Ron's. He was in town and you know how much he loves the blackjack tables. I went to the casino to see him, and yes, I did play a few games, but we spent most of the time in his room. I haven't seen my brother in over a year, so it was nice to see him. You know how we go on, once we get started.

I'm sorry that I snapped at you. It's just that we hardly see each other these days. I swear that I'll try to be more considerate in the future. I love you, my darling. I always have and I always will.

-Don

Penny read the letter three more times before she finished making his dinner and crawled into bed. He hardly stirred as she wrapped herself around him. Things were finally beginning to work out, she thought to herself.



The Mover Ch. 05



Some say that the darkest hour is just before the dawn; others maintain there is a false dawn, a slight glow in the early morning, before dawn's early light. I had no time to ponder this paradox, I was far too busy. I was in Mr. Blackwell's office at five o'clock in the morning, in meetings from six until two in the afternoon, at my desk until nine and working with Mary King until ten thirty. 

I hit the market on the way home, prepared two meals and crawled into bed with my husband, who seemed to have rediscovered his appetite for making love. I was exhausted, but happier than I'd been in ages. Sleep seemed such a small priority, hardly worth the effort.

My only regret was the time spent with Isabella. I hate to waste time, for time is a precious commodity. The woman did nothing to hide her contempt for me. She did even less to improve my skills. It was difficult to hold my tongue and even harder to keep from retching from the stench of her cologne.

Mary, on the other hand, was a joy to work with. Her skills were phenomenal, and she shared them comfortably and generously. Her perfume was French, and as exquisite as her extensive wardrobe. It was a bittersweet day when we both realized that I was ready to leave the comfort of her nest and fly on my own.

We decided, for the time being, to continue the charade with Isabella. Mary was convinced that Mr. Blackwell had a hidden agenda. She cautioned me not to reveal my skills until she could figure out what he was up to.

Mike was a dear. His intuitiveness of human nature was incredible. His little prompts helped me keep my head above water in those dreadful staff meetings. It wasn't long before I began to feel the approval of my superiors and the grudging respect of my subordinates. I was finally in my element; I was finally able to enjoy the work I loved so much.

*****

There was a playful side to Mike. He was full of good natured mischief. One day, I remarked on the candy dish the woman across the aisle left out for people to help themselves.

"It drives me crazy, Mike. I'm trying to watch my weight and eat well, but I look across the aisle at those chocolate peanut clusters, and I just can't resist them." Mike smiled a wicked grin.

"Don't you know why Dorothy leaves that candy out?" 

"I assume that she's just trying to be friendly." Mike craned his neck to see if anyone was in the office, and then whispered like an old woman snitching on her neighbors.

"Dorothy used to weigh over two hundred pounds. She had her stomach stapled, joined a gym and lost seventy pounds. She's very proud of her accomplishment."

"Then why would she buy candy and leave it for others to eat?"

"Every office has a woman like Dorothy. Inside that fit and trim body hides a fat lady who is terrified that others will judge her, belittle her. She feels secure in the knowledge that she has more willpower than they."

"Mike, that's so sad, in a sick kind of way."

"Then, do what I do. I use her candy as an incentive to keep me from eating fattening junk that isn't good for me."

"Yeah, like you couldn't afford to gain a few pounds."

"Come to think of it, you're absolutely right." 

With that, he reached over to the dish and took one of the chocolate clusters. He winked and tossed it into the air. He smiled his crooked grin before catching it in his mouth as it fell.

"Um, you're right, Penny Collins-Lynch, these are good!"

"You're crazy, Mike. You know that, don't you?"

"Oh, we all have our little crosses to bear. Let me show you something."

He disappeared around the corner and returned with a waste basket. He lifted the plastic liner and carefully set it on top of his full trash barrel, with the bottom of the bag now facing up He took a pocket knife and carefully slit the bag up the side.

"Let's see what we have here, let's start at the bottom. Here's an empty can of Slim Fast, that's a sensible way to start the day. Now, here's a breakfast bar, still good. Oh, oh, rice cakes and an apple core. That sounds good, but they digest quickly and tend to make you hungry for more. 

"Look, it's time for lunch. Lean Cuisine, very nutritious but hardly satisfying, that would explain the two energy bars. People think granola is a healthy snack, and they are, if you're running a marathon instead of sitting at a desk all day. I wouldn't be surprised if this person paid a little trip to Doreen's candy dish. That was the sugar that broke the camel's back, which brings us to the end of the day and the top of the pile, and what do we see? Why, here we have not one, but two Reese's cup wrappers. That's where this one threw in the towel and promised themselves to do better tomorrow."

"I'd think your demonstration was hilarious, if my own waste basket wasn't filled with the same stuff."

"Life is full of temptations, Penny Collins-Lynch; the trick is to understand human nature and apply it to our daily lives. From now on, when you look over at Dorothy's candy dish, you won't see temptation; you'll see resolution. To every thing, there is a season, that's for sure."

"Speaking of seasons, have you seen this?" I handed him the flyer announcing the Fourth of July office parade.

"They did the same thing on St. Patrick's Day, he said, "Everyone brings a treat and leaves it in their office or cubicle."

"Isn't that neat? People walk around throughout the day and sample everyone's goodies. I think it's a wonderful way to get to know everyone."

"This is happening tomorrow, are you bringing something in?"

"Of course, I said, "I hardly know anyone here. I can hardly wait!"

* * * * *

"Don, please, it's almost dawn!"

"What's the matter, babe, don't you like that?"

"You know I do, but it's almost midnight. I have to get your dinner made and all of the stuff I'm taking in to work."

"Don't worry about my dinner, honey, I can feed myself. I'm not helpless, you know. You've got enough to do."

"Oh, Don, you don't mind? I've got so much to do, and you've been such a dear." Penny kissed her husband softly on the lips. "I just wish I didn't have to see that awful woman this morning."

"Honey, if she can help you with your work, it's worth the time she spends with you."

"She's worthless, a waste of my time. Besides that, she stinks! I spend the rest of the day trying to get that smell out of my head. I swear I can smell her right now!"

Don touched his wife's cheek and gently kissed her forehead.

"That's ridiculous, babe. Don't let your imagination get way from you."

* * * * *

I'm not prone to tears. It takes a lot to make this girl cry. I'm not one to bottle my emotions up inside, either. I just deal with them. After all, just because someone hurts my feelings, it doesn't mean that I have to broadcast it to the world. Just because I've made a fool of myself, that doesn't mean I have to wallow in self pity.

"Hello, Penny Collins-Lynch. How was your Fourth of July gig?"

"Well, I spent most of the day in a meeting, so I didn't get to see any of people I don't know, but that's okay; they'll be other events."

"That's a bummer, and you really went all out for it. Just look at you!"

Mike was referring to my red and white striped slacks.

"There's a vest that goes with them," I said and held up the blue satin vest with the white stars. "Here's the hat."

"Wow, that's not one of those paper Uncle Sam hats, that's real silk!"

"Yes, it is. I made the costume myself. I just got back from a meeting. Would you like a cupcake? There's plenty leftover."

Mike picked up a cupcake and examined it carefully. "Red white and blue frosting, how cool! They even have little flags on them." He peeled the paper back and devoured half of it in one bite. "These are far out! Where did you get them?"

"I made them myself. The frosting is homemade, too."

"Um, such tasty munchies! Would you mind if I took some for the other janitors? They'll scarf these up, for sure."

"Take them all, if you want, no one else did."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry to hear that. Well, they sure missed out on something good. You know what they say, you snooze, you lose."

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. 

"Penny, you're too young to remember this, but in the early Seventies, there was a fad called 'streaking.' People all over the country were peeling off their clothes and running naked in public, just for a hoot!"

"I can't imagine doing that, Mike. I'm too modest to do anything so bold."

"So am I! I can hardly look at myself in the bathroom mirror, but for some reason, I wanted to do it. It seemed like it would be such a rush to streak naked through a crowd."

"Mike, tell me you didn't!"

"I sure did! I was working in this little plating shop. I'd only been there for a few weeks, and one day, I just stripped and ran through the whole place, screaming like a madman!"

"Well, I said, "What happened?"

"Nothing, nada, zip. They stared at me like I was insane. Some didn't even look up from their work and no one said a word."

"Oh Mike, you must have been so embarrassed. Didn't they know about the fad?"

"Sure, they did; and the following week, someone else did the same thing, and they laughed and cheered for him."

"That's the meanest thing I've ever heard, why would they treat you that way?" Mike stopped grinning and became very serious.

"Because I was new, Penny Collins-Lynch; they didn't know how to react. Some of them had never spoken to me, so they didn't know what to say, they didn't know what to make of me."

He'd done it again. One little story, and he'd made me understand what I'd done. "I overdid it, didn't I?" There was that compassion in his eyes again.

"Give them a chance, honey; give them time and they'll come around, for sure."

"Thank-you, Mike, you're a sweetheart."

"Stick with me, kiddo, I've got a boat load of stories. Say, let's bring back the Seventies! Let's streak the office! What do you say?"

"I'd say that you're one crazy janitor!"

* * * * *

Penny dragged herself through the front door and headed straight for the bedroom. She stripped off her homemade costume and slipped into bed, grateful that Don was sound asleep. She drifted into a deep sleep, troubled only by the smell of Isabella De Carlo's disgusting cologne.



The Mover Ch. 06



I watched the tiny digital clock at the bottom of the tool bar. Just five more minutes and my hour would be up. I could leave this ridiculously posh, horribly smelly office suite and return to my little cubicle. I'd come to love my cubicle. It was tiny, safe and all mine. I could do my work without Isabella's cleavage pressed against my shoulder. The tiny clock read 5:58 when a cloud of foul smelling smoke curled around the monitor.

"Good morning, ladies. I trust all is well?"

Isabella turned and arched her back, allowing Mr. Blackwell the full benefit of the plunging neckline of her tight sweater.

"Good morning, Mr. Blackwell, she purred, "I'm afraid our progress is rather slow. I'm doing my best with Mrs. Lynch, but she doesn't seem to be catching on."

"That is most unfortunate. I'd rather hoped that you could conclude tutoring with Mrs. Lynch and concentrate on your current assignment. This arrangement doesn't seem to be working out."

I'm not prone to tears. I pride myself on maintaining my composure, regardless of the consequences. I waited quietly for the ax to fall. Instead of firing me, Mr. Blackwell handed me a compact disc in a black plastic case.

"This is your last opportunity to save your position with the company. Take this back to your work desk and follow the instructions on the disk. You have until the end of the workday to learn how to accomplish your duties. If you fail, you can clear out your desk and I'll have security walk you off the premises."

I skipped the morning meeting and went straight to Mary King. I waited patiently for her to address me, and then told her about the disc. Mary withdrew a laptop computer from her desk drawer and loaded Mr. Blackwell's CD into the tray.

"I wondered why they would put it on a CD disk, but they said it was because my computer was the only one left in the company that could still play a CD. They said everything these days are stored online or in flash drives.

"This laptop can play a CD and isn't connected to the Internet. Before you put his disk in your computer, let's play it safe and see what he has for you."

Together, we watched the application load. I gasped in horror at the laptop's monitor.

"Oh my God, Mary, it's a virus!"

"It's worse than a virus, honey. If you had put this in your computer, it would have allowed anyone on the Internet to view the company's entire files. That means that our competition, other countries and even terrorist groups could download the company's proprietary files. I knew that son of a bitch was up to no good!"

"Mary, what am I going to do?"

"You don't have to do a thing, sweetie; just hold on to it, and when his bitch comes looking for you, just give it back. But first, I want to make an addition."

Mary retrieved a marking pen from a cup on her desk and wrote "Go to hell, you devil!" She signed her named in an elegant script.

"Don't you worry about your job, Penny. He can't make you use this, and he can't use it without you. You'll have to trust me, honey, it's not going to be easy, but things are gonna work out fine."

*****

It was a little after four in the afternoon when Isabella appeared at the entrance to my cubicle. I started to rise to see if anyone was left in the office.

"Don't bother, she snarled, "They've all gone home to their families. Did you complete your assignment?"

Without saying a word, I handed her the CD. She opened the case and read Mary's message. She dropped it on the floor as if it was a red-hot poker. She gazed down at me and smiled cruelly.

"You've made a huge mistake, Penny, darling. You've already lost your husband, and now you've thrown away your career. I hope you're happy."

I was about to ask her what she meant by losing my husband, when she opened her hand and dropped three poker chip into my lap. When I looked down at the chips, Isabella sailed the hotel card into my lap, as well. She turned on her heel and walked away. I could hear her laughing as she walked down the aisle. If I weren't so frightened I might have detected the flicker of uncertainly in her laughter, lighter than a wisp of smoke.

* * * * *

Penny Collins Lynch didn't work late that night. She didn't stop at the market, either. She drove straight home and stormed into her house, catching her husband completely by surprise.

"You son of bitch, I believed you, I trusted you!"

"Honey, what's wrong, what's happened?"

One at a time, Penny threw the poker chips at her husband.

"I don't understand, babe; where did you get these?"

Penny waved the room key card at Don. "From the same place I got this, from your whore!"

"Hey, babe, calm down; let's talk about this."

Penny didn't answer her husband. Instead, she went to the hall closet and removed a suitcase. Don was on his feet and trailing her into the bedroom.

"Now, Penny, don't be foolish. Don't do something you're going to regret."

"Foolish, you think I'm being foolish? You lied to me, you cheated on me with that, that smelly slut that you know hates me. You cheated on me with the same whore that cost me my job!"

"Isabella has been trying to help you, can't you see that? I was trying to help you, babe. Isabella has a lot of influence on Mr. Blackwell, can't you see that?"

Penny continued to stuff the suitcase while she hissed at her husband. 

"You must be insane! You must think I'm stupid. Well, I'll tell you something, buster; if you really think sleeping with my boss's secretary would help my career, you are the stupid one!"

Penny never saw it coming. One moment, she was emptying her drawer; the next moment she found herself lying on the floor. The side of her face burned from the force of Don's open hand. Before she could react, Don picked her up and tossed her on the bed, not before slapping her on the other side of her face.

Don came to his senses when he realized that Penny now held the telephone in her hand. He knew that she needn't press 911; he knew the phone was set to call the police with one button. He knew when it was time to leave, and this was it.

* * * * 

I was on my knees on the floor of my cubicle when I heard Mike's voice.

"Don't worry, Penny Collins-Lynch, I took care of it. I saw Mary's autograph on it and went to see what was going on. We missed you yesterday. Is everything okay?"

"Mike, I need a favor."

"Sure thing, dear; what can I do for you?"

"I'm moving tomorrow, would you help me?"

"Sure thing, Penny Collins-Lynch, I'd be glad to help. What time do you want to start?"

"Mike, before you agree to help me, you have to know that I'm leaving my husband."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"We had a terrible fight. He promised the police that he would stay away until I moved my things, but I don't trust him. He's a big guy and I don't want him to hurt you."

Mike smiled his crooked smile and said, kindly, "Sweetie, I've been moving folks for a long time. I've faced every kind of scenario you can imagine. Don't worry about me. Have you got boxes?"

"I spent all day packing yesterday. I have some more to do, but I have enough boxes."

"That's what they all say, he laughed, "I'll bring some with me. How does eight o'clock sound? It's going to be a scorcher, tomorrow."

"Mike, I don't know how I can thank you." 

"Sure you do, you can buy me a pizza!"

I've should have seen that one coming.

* * * * *

Don Lynch reached for the little glass pipe on the nightstand. He took a hit and blew a small plume of smoke into the hotel room. He offered her the pipe, but she brushed it away and lit a cigarette.

"Blackwell's pissed, she said, "He says that now we have to start all over. He says that he'll have to find another pigeon."

"So, how is that my problem? I have no control over what goes on at the company. Let him find his own pigeon."

"True, but he wants you to take care of Penny. As long as she works for the company, she poses a problem. He says the gospel singer is a formidable enemy, and he doesn't need another."

"So, what am I supposed to do, whack her? Do you think I'm in a position to do that?"

Isabella took a long drag on the cigarette. "Not at the present, but you can persuade her to come back to you. You can also convince her to quit her job."

"Great, I'll have a wife that I don't want who isn't bringing in any money. How am I supposed to cover my gambling debts? This is your fault, remember; you're the one who told her about the two of us"

Isabella wouldn't admit this to Don, but she secretly glad that she had botched this assignment. She had to make it right, she thought to herself. But what was right? She wondered if she ever understood the meaning of the word, right.

Don lit the pipe again. It wasn't that he needed more, but the smoke helped mask the smell of her cologne. It's strange, he thought to himself. Despite his wife's complaints, he'd originally found Isabella's perfume to be intoxicating. Now, it just upset his stomach.

* * * * *



The Mover Ch. 07



Isabella De Carlo lay crumpled in a fetal position and tried to protect herself as Blackwell kicked her repeatedly in her ribs.

"What were you thinking? How could you be so foolish? You know how much I need her cooperation, and you tell the pigeon that you've been sleeping with her man!"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't stand the look on her face! I couldn't just walk away, knowing Don still loved her more than he cares for me!"

"So you let your foolish pride compromise our mission?" 

Isabella continued to fend off the blows to her body as Blackwell raged on. She stifled a cry as he grabbed her long raven hair and pulled her to her feet. He pulled her toward him, until she stared into his cold dead eyes. She could feel the heat of his breath as he seethed. 

Suddenly, Blackwell's expression changed. He smiled at her, releasing his grip on her hair, and smoothed it into place.

"Such a beautiful face, such a beautiful woman you are. Are you aware of the power you possess in your beauty? Isabella, you have the power to bring the most pious man to his knees. Yes, you are really quite lovely."

Isabella had seen this side of Blackwell before. Terrified, she said nothing. His eyes captured hers, and there was no smile that could betray the malice in his gaze.

"But, you were born beautiful, were you not? You were Homecoming Queen, the cheerleader who all those randy high school boys lusted for and dreamt of, weren't you, my dear?"

"What a pity, you took your beauty for granted. You were the life of the party, the belle of the ball. And those high school boys grew older, and their parties grew wilder. And you indulged yourself, didn't you, Isabella? Soon, the alcohol wasn't enough, so you smoked the pot, and snorted the cocaine, until you grew bored with your life. Then one night, an older man with an expensive sports car and a luxurious home offered you a different kind of pipe, a different kind of smoke, and as you exhaled the smoke, your life changed, didn't it?"

"Oh! Those long nights you spent in luxury, allowing those wealthy men to provide you with the glass pipe in exchange for your charm and beauty. But something happened, Isabella, your beauty began to lose its luster, and soon, you found yourself asking, then pleading and finally begging for another taste of the pipe."

Isabella, in tears, opened her mouth to stop his tirade, but Blackwell grabbed her jaw and held her tightly.

"Things took a turn for the worse, didn't they? Soon, the men required more than the sight of your lovely body at their side. Soon, you found yourself in elegant bedrooms, using your fading beauty to pay for the pipe you craved. You were too interested in the next drag on the pipe to notice that the bedrooms were becoming less elegant, even shabby, as your beauty faded and your addiction grew."

"Please, stop! Isabella managed to gasp, please don't do this!"

"Perhaps it was you who should have stopped, Isabella. But you didn't, and when your beauty had deteriorated into the face and body of an addict, what did the men with their expensive cars do with you? They turned you out into the street. They pimped you out, as they say. They made you into a common whore, and when your beauty would no longer attract even the most desperate of men, you found that there were men even more desperate than they."

Isabella crumpled to the floor, where she listened to her own horrid biography.

"Where do you want to be, my dear? Shall you continue to be the ravishing Isabella De Carlo, personal assistant to Damien Blackwell, or would you rather return to being Lisa Carlton, and go back to the gas station rest room and the men who are waiting to be served?"

Isabella slowly raised herself to a sitting position on the floor.

"What do you want me to do?" Isabella asked, but she was already making plans of her own.

Isabella had changed. She'd changed when Blackwell recounted her past, and all of her mistakes. Isabella had realized that the biggest mistake of all was to fall into the hands of Damien Blackwell. In that lucid moment, she knew that there are worse places to be imprisoned than a filthy rest room.

* * * * *

"Don, listen to me. You and I have both made some terrible mistakes, but it isn't too late to make things right. You have a pretty, intelligent wife that you are going to lose if you don't listen to me."

"Say, what is this? I'm not sure, but it sounds like you've switched sides."

"Don, I'm telling you what's best for all of us. It's never too late for us to have a good, wholesome life. But you have to quit gambling and you have to stop using this."

With that, Isabella threw the glass pipe against the wall. Don got up, picked up the pipe and then began to get dressed.

"I don't know what's got into you, but I'm going home and tell that stupid wife of mine that she's not going anywhere until I say she can!"

"Don, don't do that, it will only make things worse. You know she has a restraining order. If you really want her back, you have to do it the right way."

"The only right way is my way!"

* * * * *

Mike was right, it wasn't even eight o'clock, and the temperature was already in the eighties. I'd been busy packing all night. I wanted Mike to say that I was the easiest person he'd ever helped move.

I had everything boxed and ready to go when I heard the sound of his truck in the driveway. I went out to meet him, not before making a quick check in the mirror. I looked ghastly, even worse than I'd imagined. I hadn't eaten in twenty four hours and hadn't slept in thirty. I told myself that I would be out of this house in a few hours. I'm not prone to tears, so I pushed aside the thoughts of leaving my home behind and everything Don and I had worked so hard for.

Mike's truck was old, the tan paint faded. He'd put boards on the sides of the bed so it could hold more cargo. He climbed out and waved.

"Good morning, Penny Collins-Lynch, are you ready to go?"

"I think so, come in and have a look. I've got all the boxes sitting in the living room."

There was something different about Mike. He didn't look the way as I was accustomed to seeing him. Perhaps it was the shorts and tank top, but Mike didn't appear nearly as skinny as usual. Not that he was buff, by any means, but I'd never noticed how toned his muscles seemed. I couldn't help staring at him.

"What's wrong, sweetie, you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Mike, you look so different, I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Well, duh! He snorted, "You don't suppose that I'm not wearing my glasses and I'm wearing a baseball hat instead of a ponytail would have anything to do with it? When was the last time you got some sleep, sweetie?"

"I'm okay; I just want to get this over with. Here are the boxes." 

Mike took a quick inventory and said, "Piece of cake, we can get all of this in one load. Where are you clothes that go on hangers?"

"Oh my God, I forgot all about them! They're still in the closet. I'm so sorry, Mike, I can't believe I forgot to check the closets."

"It's cool, sweetie, that happens all the time. Once we get the boxes loaded, we can lay the clothes on top. Now, how much of this furniture is going with you?"

He had me there, I'd been thinking about that all night. I'd never left my husband before; I wasn't sure what the protocol called for. I told him as much.

"Well, Mike said, "Is there a bed in your new apartment?"

"No, Mike, there isn't a bed."

"Okay, then, we'll take the bed. How about a sofa, have you got something to sit on?"

"I don't have a sofa, either."

"Well, now you do. I suspect you're going to need the fridge, too?"

I was beginning to panic. All I could think about was how angry Don would be when he came home to find that we'd raided his home.

"I don't think Don will be happy about finding the house empty."

Mike laughed, "Don't worry about Don. When this is over, you'll be back in the house with all this stuff and he'll be living in a trailer so he can pay for it. A couple more trips, we'll have this done before dark."

So, we loaded the boxes and piled the clothes on top. I kept looking at Mike as he drove I could barely hold my head up, I was so tired, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that he'd changed, somehow. I'd never seen his legs in shorts before, but his calves couldn't be that toned. His biceps were those of a gymnast, not an old hippie janitor. Even his hair seemed thicker and blonder.

"Is this the place? It's nice; a lot better than I'd imagined. It's close to work and even has a swimming pool."

After a quick tour of my humble abode, we unloaded everything and I climbed into the passenger's side. Mike wanted me to stay at the apartment.

"Come on, sweetie, you are one tuckered out little girl. Get yourself a Coke and lay down by the pool; I can take care of the rest. Besides, there's nothing left but the big stuff. There isn't much you can help with, anyway."

I climbed in, anyway. I was afraid Don would show up at the house, and I didn't want Mike to face him alone. Don is a big man and I've seen him when he's mad. He fights dirty, too; He loves to sucker punch his opponent. Mike looked fitter than I'd imagined, but he was still no match for Don. By the time we pulled up to the house again, I was so lightheaded that I was seeing those little pinwheels before my eyes. We were almost done, I said to myself, just two more loads and we would be out of harm's way.

"Penny, dear, I wish you'd go sit in the shade, but if you must help, you can start bringing the cushions from the sofa and set them on the lawn. I have to untie the hand truck."

I was making my second trip with the cushions when I heard voices outside. I ran out onto the front lawn, still clutching two cushions. Just as I feared, Don was there. He looked like he was ready to blow, when they both turned and saw me standing on the walkway.

"Go back in the house, Penny. Don was just leaving."

"Like hell, I am! He said." He turned to me and said in a voice so saccharin, it was almost funny. "Come on, babe, can't we talk about this? I just want to talk; can't you give me five minutes? Come on, babe, after five years, can't you give me just five minutes?"

"They'll be time enough to speak with your wife later. But right now, she's moving out. You aren't supposed to be here, so why don't you just leave and save everyone a lot of trouble?"

"Listen, hippie, this is my home and this is my wife. Where do you get off, trying to tell me what to do?"

If Mike was frightened of Don, he sure wasn't letting on. In fact, Mike stood his ground. Even when Don snatched his baseball cap, Mike never flinched. Then, I saw it coming. I know my husband and I've seen him do this more than once. He pretends to be disgusted and begins to turn away, only to come back and slug his victim, right between the eyes. I tried to warn Mike, but I was too weak to call out to him. Dan reared back and hit Mike with everything he had.

But Mike didn't budge, he didn't even flinch. I looked at Don, and he was more amazed than I. Not only that, but to my tired eyes, Mike seemed nearly as tall as Don.

Don hit him again, and Mike made no attempt to dodge the punch. My head was spinning, for this couldn't be happening. Mike was now as tall as Don, his arms were massive, and his legs were thick and sturdy as tree trunks. His tank top, which only moments before had hung on his body like a drape, now stretched to its limits across his chest. Suddenly, Mike slapped Don with his open hand, and Don fell in a heap at Mike's feet.

"Is that how you do it, man? Is that how you hit defenseless women?" Mike's eyes blazed with anger and retribution. 

Don climbed to his feet. He wasn't used to losing because he'd never been in a fair fight. He put up his hands to defend himself, but Mike slapped him again, and Don sank to the grass that we pay the gardeners to keep so lush and green. In my fugue I wondered why the gardeners would come to mind while I heard Mike speaking to Don.

I knew that I was about to faint. If you've ever fainted, you know that there is an instant before the lights go out when your mind becomes overwhelmed with information. Like a dream, you can't be sure if what you are seeing is real.

"Get up, you worthless creature! Get up and defend yourself!

But it wasn't Don who Mike reached down and picked up by the neck. Before the cushions and I sank to the lawn, before I collapsed into a dead faint, I watched as Mike's thick golden mane blazed in the hot summer sun. I watched his biceps ripple, his bulging quads and the beauty of his magnificent golden wings as he held the writhing snake in his viselike grip. 

* * * *

Don awoke on the lawn stunned and exhausted. He must have been hit from behind, he thought to himself. One minute, he was about to clock some old freak and the next moment, the lights went out. He must have been hit from behind.

As he slowly picked himself up, he saw something lying on the lawn. He reached down to pick up what he thought to be a branch from the elm tree. "Someone must have hit me with this." As he was about to pick up the weapon, the snake twisted itself and sank its fangs into his wrist. 

* * * * *

When I came to, I was lying in the shade of the elm tree. Mike was hovering above me, smiling his crooked grin. I knew that I was not in danger, because his eyes peered through his spectacles with kindness and compassion. 

"Hey, sleeping beauty, are you going to sleep all afternoon, or would you like to get up and have some more pizza and Pepsi?"

"I, I must have fainted," I said. I was trying my best to clear my head.

"Sweetie, that was hours ago. It was a good thing you had those cushions to fall on. You could have been seriously injured. Honey, next time you try to move on a summer's day, make sure you drink plenty of liquids. You were so dehydrated; you drank two sodas and nearly a quart of water."

I had no memory of drinking any water, or even waking, but my main concern was the fight.

"Are you alright? I can't believe how you stood up to Don. You looked so courageous. You looked like a warrior!"

"Sweetie, I've dealt with more than my share of bullies. The one thing bullies have in common is that they all think they have the upper hand. I just explained to Don that he wasn't welcome and that you would speak with him with a marriage counselor after he'd received some professional help on his own.

He brought me another slice of pizza. I don't remember having pizza at all, but I could taste the pepperoni on my tongue. I must have suffered a case of sunstroke. 

I was standing alongside Mike's truck as he prepared to leave. He looked as tired and dirty as I felt, and I told him so.

"It's all a part of moving, dear. It comes with the territory. The good news is that my work is done. The bad news is that you've got a lot of unpacking to do."

"Mike, there aren't enough words to convey my gratitude. I can't thank you enough. I'd like to be the first one to make good on that offer of a nice meal in a fine restaurant. Could you possibly come in to work a little early on Monday? I'd love to take you to lunch. You wouldn't even let me pay for the pizza, so what do you say?"

"I'd say that I'll see you at one o'clock, sweetie."

* * * * *

The alarm clock woke her at four-thirty on Monday. She'd spent her Sunday unpacking her belongings and doing all of the things needed to make a home. Her neighbors were Gene and Donna Hill. Gene was a paramedic and Donna worked for The Company. She was kind, helpful and fun to be with. Penny was confident that they would become very close. 

She reveled in the luxury of not having to make the long drive on the freeway. She looked forward to beginning and ending her day at reasonable hours.

She'd slept well, safe in her new home. She dreamt of serpents, villains, gardeners and knights in shining armor.



The Mover Ch. 08



"Penny, there you are!" Where were you yesterday? You missed the meeting!" 

Sheri was so sweet; I regretted that I hadn't spent more time with her. Truth be told, I'd been so busy trying to hold my own life together, I hadn't time for anyone else. I decided, then and there, that I would change. From then on, I resolved to allow more people into my life. I also reminded myself that I may not be employed any longer. 

"Thanks, Sheri; did I miss anything?"

"Nothing much yesterday, but guess what? Kevin Johnson is back from Austin. He'll be at today's meeting. Come on, the girls are waiting!"

As I allowed Sheri to drag me to the conference room, I reveled in the thought of Debi and Patti waiting for me, not to mention covering for me the day before. I felt as if I'd awakened from a bad dream, or falling asleep to a good one, I couldn't be sure. Mike was right; I guess I did get too much sun during the move. Mike was right about a lot of things. I couldn't wait to see him!

Debi and Patti waved us over to the end of the conference table. They'd saved two places for us. Once everyone was seated, a tall man with silver hair in a grey suit stood at the podium.

"I'd like to start today's meeting by saying how happy I am to be home. When I use the word, "home," that's exactly how I feel. Sometimes in life, we tend to forget where home is, and what it means to be home. While I was in Austin, I thought about all of you, and I realized how much you've all come to mean to me. I am so proud of each and every one of you. I was proud to represent our family, for our achievements preceded my arrival and could not be denied. You should all be very proud of yourselves."

"Before we get back to business, I would like to extend my belated welcome to our newest employee, Mrs. Penny Collins-Lynch. I also wish to apologize for leaving her to find her way in the dark, so to speak. I wasn't aware that Denise Swanson was leaving The Company the very day Mrs. Lynch began. In spite of this, Mrs. Lynch has done a remarkable job with her assignments. Frankly, I don't know how she's done it, but she has made it clear that she has become a welcome addition to our family. Mrs. Penny Collin-Lynch, would you please rise, so that we may all welcome and congratulate you?" 

My face burned with pride and embarrassment as I stood up to face the applause of my co-workers. If that weren't enough, someone yelled, "Speech!" until it became a chant that was quickly hushed. With all of their eyes, all of their attention on me, I grasped for the right words, and then I thought of Mike, and I knew exactly what to say.

"Thank-you, Mr. Johnson for the kind words. Although I've only just met you, I think it speaks well of you that you have taken full responsibility for the unfortunate misunderstanding regarding myself and Denise Swanson. Many would have passed the blame on to a subordinate. I believe in fixing the problem, not the blame. After all, our primary goal is to satisfy our customers, so why not take the most efficient course of action?"

So far, so good, I thought to myself. I held the room captive with my little speech, so I plunged ahead.

"I have found the same integrity in your staff. In your absence, they were all willing to lend me a hand, whenever possible. I don't know what I would have done without Sheri, Patti and Debi, in particular."

I was rounding third and heading for home. Mike was right; the best way to get someone's attention is to flatter them, even if the praise isn't warranted. Besides, some may actually try to live up to the compliments I was handing out so freely.

"I have always considered myself a team player, but it seems that you and your staff have taken that concept to its highest level. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Johnson, and I am proud to be a member of this family."

The conference room burst into applause. I was bombarded with handshakes, pats on the back from the men and hugs from the women. Suddenly, all the weeks of doubt and frustration seemed to melt away. I wasn't buying the family spin, not for a moment, buster, but if that's what it took to have my voice heard, just call me cousin.

After the meeting, I spent the rest of the morning in Kevin Johnson's office. I listened attentively as he regaled me with stories of his trip to Austin, his rise up The Company's corporate ladder, his home life, and his ethics on doing business in the aerospace industry. He seemed like a good guy, well intentioned and knowledgeable in his field. I had to keep a straight face when he actually used the "fix the problem, not the blame" slogan on me. Mike was right again, he'd already made it his own!

* * * * *

When I got to my cubicle, Mike was sitting in my chair. I couldn't believe my eyes, he looked so different. His suede boots were replaced with saddle back oxfords, his slacks were linen khakis, his shirt had the Ralph Laurent logo. But the main thing was his hair. The pony tail was gone, replaced with a stylish short haircut. He wore no eyeglasses. 

"Mike, oh my gosh; you look so different! I can't believe you cut your hair, you look ten years younger!"

"That's why I'm sitting here; I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me."

"Mike, it doesn't matter what you do with you hair or your clothes, I'd know you anywhere."

"I suppose you're right, my teeth will always give me away. I heard that you bowled them over in the morning meeting." 

I smiled and pretended to stretch my nose with my fingers. "Mike, I used every trick you taught me, I threw them everything but the kitchen sink!"

"Congratulations, Penny Collins-Lynch; you've finally found your footing."

"I'll admit that it's been a slippery slope, but I think you're right. I also know that I couldn't have done it without you."

"Nonsense, I just gave you a few tricks to expedite your rise to fame and glory. They would have seen your abilities; I just helped them open their eyes a little sooner."

I was just about to ask him if he was ready for lunch, when Patti called from across the cubicle wall.

"Penny, come on! We're all going to The Red Pepper for lunch. Hurry up; we're taking my car!"

Mike saw the indecision on my face before I even knew it was there. I'd promised him lunch; I promised to be the first to make good on that promise. I also wanted so much to be a part of "the girls," I knew what I should do, but then again...

"Go on, Mike said, "You've been waiting for this. You've been working so hard for this, it's time you joined them for lunch."

"Mike, are you sure? I promised you, are you sure you don't mind?"

He smiled his crooked smile and rose from my chair. "Go on, sweetie, go have a good time."

The next thing I knew, I was in his arms. I didn't care that this was inappropriate behavior in the work place; I raised my head up to kiss him, but Mike took my cheeks in his hands and kissed me tenderly on my forehead. He then put his arms around me and hugged me the way my dad used to do. I relaxed in his arms and returned his hug. I knew then that this was right; this was the way it was meant to be. 

"Tomorrow, I said, "I'm taking you out tomorrow, if I have to drag you!" Mike smiled his crooked smile and looked at me kindly.

"For once in your life, Penny Collins Lynch, just enjoy the moment. We have so many worries in life, we forget to stop and just enjoy the moments."

"I will, Mike, I'll enjoy my lunch with the girls, but I'll remember this moment with you for the rest of my life."

* * * * *

Lunch with the girls turned out to be a chaotic affair. For one thing, they all talk at once. As lunch progressed, their voices became shrill, their chatter so rapid that no one seemed to be listening. I basked in the glow of girlish camaraderie until there was a moment of silence and Sheri turned to me.

"Wow, Penny, you were sure a hit in this morning's meeting! You should like, run for office or something. What a speech!"

I tried to be modest, but still, I felt my face flush. "Thanks, but I can't take all the credit. I couldn't have done it without Mike's help."

"Who's Mike?" The girls had stopped talking and were looking at me.

"You know, I replied, "Mike, the janitor that works at night."

Debi frowned and said, "I don't know of any janitor named Mike."

"You must know him. He knows you, he knows all of you."

"The only janitors I know of are those women in the blue smocks that work for some outside contractor, and none of them speak English."

Patti put her arm around my shoulders affectionately and said, "Girlfriend, you've got to stop working all those late hours. I think you're starting to make imaginary friends."

I'm not one to reveal my emotions. I pride myself on maintaining my composure. So when the conversation quickly changed to something else, I joined in without revealing the panic I was feeling. I thought lunch would never end.

* * * * *

Once we were back in the office, I went searching the hallways for Mike. I had no idea where I was going, because I had never looked for him; he would always show up at my cubicle. Always, that is, except for that one time at the elevator. I practically ran to it.

When the doors closed, I pressed the button for the top floor and waited for the doors to open. It seemed like an eternity, but when the doors finally opened, I had to look at the panel of buttons again, just to make sure I had the right floor.

There was no linen wallpaper, no crown moldings or plush carpet. There wasn't even a hallway. The top floor was a storage area full of dirty, dusty old metal desks and file cabinets made obsolete by the computer age and modern, modular office furniture. 

I must be mad, I said out loud, I must have lost my mind, or this is all some crazy dream. My high heels crunched over bits of broken glass and papers. I bent down to pick up a paper, looking for a date, when I saw the stubs of several small, black cigars. I stood up and sniffed the air. Underneath the smell of stale dusty air and rotting paper, the unmistakable scent of Opium perfume mixed with the odor of someone burning matches was undeniable.

I had to make some sense of this. I had to get a grasp on reality or I really would go insane. I knew of only one person who could help me, and I prayed that she was at her desk, and not merely a figment of my dysfunctional imagination.

* * * * *

I was more than happy to wait for Mary King to shut down her cerebral engines and turn her attention to me. I was grateful just to see her, in all her velvet and jewelry. I was glad to know that she was a real, live person. Eventually, she turned her chair to face me.

"Penny, dear; how nice it is to see you! How are you, honey?"

"I think I'm losing my mind, Mary. First, the girls tell me that they've never seen or heard of Mike. Then, I go up to the top floor and I discover that Mr. Blackwell and Isabella don't exist."

Mary shifted in her chair. "Oh, they exist, honey; don't you ever forget that. They are evil, and fighting evil is like trying to nail down mercury. But it's nice to know they're not upstairs, anymore. You can thank Michael for that."

"I'd like nothing better, Mary. Can you tell me where I can find him?"

"I'm afraid not, Penny, he comes and goes. He does his business, and then he leaves. I can't tell you where he goes. He helped you move, that's all I know."

"Yes, he did. There aren't many guys that would help someone move without expecting something in return." Mary looked at me kindly.

"Honey, he didn't just help you move into your new home, he helped you move on with your life. I don't know why or how, I just know that he helped me when there was no one else. He also prevented the evil ones from carrying out their malicious plans, just like he did with Damien Blackwell and his demon bitch."

I felt a swelling sensation in my chest, in my heart. I felt warm, like a great light was bathing me with its rays.

"Mary, who is Mike? What is Mike? Is he a ghost? Is he an angel?"

"Honey, I can't answer that. But, you are welcome to come to church with me. You might find the answer there, but that is between you and God."

I took a deep breath and readied myself for the answer I was afraid to hear.

"Mary, Ms. King, will I ever see him again?"

Mary smiled, her eyes sparkled like black pearls.

"Penny dear, I wish I could say that you will, because you might. But then again, you might not. I can tell you this: if he does come to you, it will be because he needs your help. It means that he's helping somebody move. You've got to trust his judgment and do what he says. That's how it works, and that's all I know.

I'm not prone to tears. It takes a lot to make this little girl cry. But that's just how I felt, like a little girl, and I fell into Mary King's arms and sobbed like a baby; and Mary King held me, but not before placing several tissues between my running nose and her black velvet jacket.



The Mover Ch. 09: Epilogue



"We have only one chip to present tonight, but it's a very special one, for a very special person. In all my years with the program, I have never seen anyone come so far in so short a time. It can only be called a miracle. One year of being drug free and sober is an important event. Please join me in celebrating the first birthday of Miss Lisa Carlton!"

And while Lisa Carlton blew out her birthday candle and accepted her One Year Chip, the last trace of Isabella De Carlo vanished with the smoke.

* * * * *

Donald Lynch, as he did seven nights a week, scanned the floor of the casino for fallen chips until he was thrown out on his ear one more time. If he was lucky, he just might find a lost poker chip or two. He is avoided by everyone now. Even the homeless people who hide in the landscaping near the freeway onramp, those who dig through dumpsters and trash cans for empty soda and beer cans and bottles; even those who hadn't had a bath or a shower in months told him he wasn't wanted in their camp.. It wasn't because of his ghastly appearance but for the smell he emitted. No one calls him Don anymore. He is known as Sulfur. 

* * * * *

Ms. Penelope Collins sat behind her desk for the first time that day and slipped off her black pumps with a sigh of relief. She'd spent the entire morning at the podium, detailing her market strategy to the corporate committee from Houston. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon escorting the group on a tour of The Company's facilities. She was pouring herself a much deserved cup of tea when there was a soft tapping on the heavy glass door to her office. She looked up to see a security guard and a nervous young man.

The guard was tall and thin. He appeared to be about fifty, with thinning hair and aviator eyeglasses that were popular in the Eighties. As she motioned for them to enter, the guard smiled and she noticed that his teeth were crooked. She returned his smile affectionately.

"Michael, how wonderful it is to see you! It's been ages since we've spoken. How have you been?"

"Hello, Ms. Collins, I've been better, but it costs more. It's certainly a pleasure to see you again, as well. I hope we're not intruding."

"Certainly not; I was about to have some tea. Won't you join me? Who is your handsome young friend?"

"Ms. Collins, this is Jonathan David Potter. John is new here and appears to be just a little bit lost. I found him wandering the hallways. I was hoping you might be able to help him out."

"Why, Michael, it would be my pleasure. Welcome to the company, Jonathan. Have a seat, both of you, and I'll pour us some tea."

The security guard smiled his crooked grin and replied, "Thank-you, Ms. Collins, that's very kind of you."

"Nonsense, Michael, the pleasure is all mine."

* * * * *

And Mary King sings in the choir. She sings for Love. She sings for her faith. 

She sings for all of the souls lost in sin, and for all of those found in Grace.

She also sings because she looks so damned good in her choir robe!

End

*****

Author's note: A couple of things. I was up to chapter five before I realized I'd been copying and pasting from three different versions of the same story. My transition from Word to Pages is not going well. I think the only thing lost was Mike's tour of the cubicle area. Not necessary for the plot, but an interesting view of the office workplace through the eyes of the janitor.

Just as every artist needs his paintings to be seen and every musician needs his music to be heard, every author needs to have his words read. Thank-you for taking the time to read my little story. I hope it warmed your heart and made you smile, for that was my intention.

—Pat Benny