"Jim, may I call you Jim, great, Jim, I'm hearing a lot of anger and frustration in your voice right now. I sense that you feel that I disrespected you and it sounds like respect is really important to you. Does that sound about right, Jim? Respect is really important to you, isn't it? Again, I'm truly sorry I made you feel disrespected. That was wrong of me. Jim, I need you to understand that respect is really important to me too. Not just respect for me, but also for my friends. I feel like you are not showing Sebastian respect when you interrupt his very rare vacation time. I feel angry when people don't show my friends respect. I'm afraid that you caught me exhibiting my famous Irish red-head temper and again, it was wrong of me to allow my temper to take over. But, that being said, Sebastian works very hard for you and does an excellent job, doesn't he Jim?" Heather remarked calmly. "From my understanding, Sebastian got your approval to visit me for a few days. Jim, do you have other staff members who can help you out with the situation you are currently facing? Does Sebastian have an assistant or second in command? Maybe that person can fill in for Bash while he is spending some very well-earned vacation time. Jim, does that sound like a viable option?"
Jim was speechless for the first time in his entire life. Who the hell did this chit think she was? Was she trying to psychoanalyze him? Over the phone? "Miss Weire, I don't –" said Jim.
"Actually, sir, it's Dr. Weire, but please call me Heather," smiled Heather.
"Dr. Weire, like I was saying, I don't know who you think you are, but you know nothing about me. And your pathetic attempts to psychoanalyze me are insulting. Sebastian is MY employee and as my employee, he is required to do anything and everything I request, no matter what. If I want him back in England this instant, he is to find a way to instantly appear before my eyes."
"Well, Jim, that sounds a lot like slavery and as I'm sure you are aware, slavery has been illegal in the United Kingdom for some time now. And again, please call me Heather. I feel like we can all be friends here, don't you? You said that you don't know who I am, so let me introduce myself a bit. Sebastian and I have been friends since 2008. I am a Trauma Surgeon, with a medical degree, Ph.D. in Medical Bioethics, and Ph.D. in Psychology, with a concentration in Trauma Counseling. I'm 5'5 and 120 lbs. In my spare time, I run marathons. I like Pina Coladas, getting caught in the rain, the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne. I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you. It would be incredibly unprofessional of me to do so, as we have never met. What I am trying to do is apologize for my abject rudeness by letting my temper get the better of me and hopefully, keep you from killing Sebastian and/or me. Sebastian and I have plans tonight and I would love to keep them. We are going to a really great Irish Pub. If you are ever over here, I would love to buy you a pint as an apology for my behavior tonight."
"Let me talk to Moran," came Jim's terse response. Heather handed the phone back to Sebastian and stuck out her tongue. "He wants to talk to you again."
"Y-yes, boss," stuttered Sebastian. Heather sat back down on the couch and started a game of Solitaire on her phone. "Yes, sir, she is quite something." Sebastian looked at Heather on the couch. "Yes, sir, I understand. Thank you, sir". Heather looked up and met her friend's gaze. His face was beginning to gain a little bit of color, but was still quite pale. "'l'lI text you the information after I'm done and meet you at the airport in the morning. Until later, sir." Sebastian hung up the phone and sighed out a long breath.
"So, I guess you have to kill me now, huh, Sweetie?" asked Heather. "Well, it was good while it lasted. Just make it quick, Bash. Quick and painless if possible. One last request. Make sure that Downey and Calypso are well taken care of. I don't want either of them going back to the pound. They deserve better than that filthy place."
"I'm not going to kill you. It's worse. Jim extended my vacation to a full 5 days."
"Bash, that's not worse. That's great! Give me a few minutes and I'll see if I can arrange to find coverage for my shifts for the next few days. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I get to live AND have you for an extra 3 days!"
"Heather, Jim wants to meet you. I have to book plane tickets for him tonight. He wants to arrive tomorrow morning. This is bad. Really bad."
"Oh, this just keeps getting better. I get to meet the famous Jim Moriarty, too. This is going to be so great. Man, am I excited now. But, you are still staying with me, right? Do you need hotel suggestions for Jim? The Crown Royal is nice. The Yorktowne just finished its renovations and I understand it is absolutely lovely. Their penthouse is supposed to be fantastic. I assume he'll want the penthouse. Let me call and see if it's available. The General Manager owes me a favor."
"He wants to stay with you. He insisted on it."
Heather raised her eyebrows. "Umm … I don't offer turn down service or mints on the pillow. I really think he would be happier at a hotel."
"He insisted and frankly, neither one of us is in a position to refuse."
"I am. It's my house and he is nothing to me."
"Kitten, please. This is supremely important. Please just do this for me! He is my boss and I'm kind of on thin ice because of you now."
"Alright, alright! He can stay, but I will not tolerate any prima donna behavior. There is only room for one Alpha in my house and that's me. Now, can we please go already? We still need to swing by the house to at least drop your stuff off and I would love to change into something more fun."
Sebastian sighed and picked up his phone. "Let me just book the plane tickets and then we can go."
"Fine," grumbled Heather as she threw herself back down on the couch. "Do you want to use my travel agent or does the Almighty have his own?"
Sebastian ignored her while he logged onto the airline's website. He found a direct flight from London to Baltimore with 1 more first-class ticket. He booked it immediately under the name of Tim Morrie. The flight left Heathrow at 7:45 pm. He texted Jim the information and slipped his phone into his pocket. "Alright, I'm all set. He'll arrive at 5:30 am. If I can borrow your car, I'll go pick him up and bring him back."
"Make sure you feed him on your way home, cause I don't get up that early for anyone," said Heather as she stood up and started to walk out the door. "Come, we have much drinking to do before Hurricane Jimbo arrives." Heather pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Simon, it's Heather. I'm calling in a favor. You know how I covered for you when you had that little "problem" with the bottle. Well, I'm calling in that favor now. I need you to cover my shifts on Wednesday and Thursday. Why? None of your business. Called in favors don't need explanations, unless you would also like me to explain a few things to the Chief about you and his son. Yeah, I didn't think so. Thanks, Simon. You're a doll." Heather slipped her phone back into her bag and locked her office door.
The drive home was uneventful. As a sign of penitence, Heather let Bash pick the music. It made her uncomfortable, but she figured she owed it to him. She had put him in an awkward position with Jim. Damn that temper of hers. Everyone who knew Heather knew that she was a control freak when it came to her car. Temperature, music, route, even food and drink consumption were all things she needed to control and to allow someone else to alter them was a huge concession on her part. Truth be told, she was a control freak about everything. It was how she was so successful at such a young age. Control meant power and Heather needed to be in power. She had spent too much of her early years having no control over her own life that she was profoundly hesitant, scared really, to give it up now. Sebastian knew all this and thanked her for the gift.
They arrived at Heather's home at 4:30 pm. Heather asked him to pick out which guest room he wanted. As usual, both rooms were ready for guests. It was a habit Heather had picked up from her mom, to always be ready in case company dropped by. Sebastian picked the room next to the master bedroom, which left Jim with the room at the end of the hall. Bash and Jim would have to share a bathroom, but it was almost as big as the master bathroom so Heather hardly thought it would be a problem.
"Bash, I want to get a shower. Did you want one too? If so, you can go first. I need to feed the cats, sort through the mail, and empty the dishwasher."
"Yeah, that would be great. I'll get in now and let you know when I'm done."
By 5:30, both of them were showered, dressed, and ready for the night. Sebastian was wearing a pair of tight fitting jeans, a blue t-shirt that hugged his upper body in all the right places, and a pair of fierce looking Bruno Magni oxfords. Heather thought to herself, "Wow, I forgot how good Bash looks when he puts in some effort." She had chosen her new black leather skin tight pants, a very intricate red bustier she had recently picked up for Fredrick's of Hollywood, and a black shrug. On her feet were her favorite black patent leather ankle boots. The six-inch heels brought her eye level up to Sebastian's lips. As she walked into the living room, Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. He had also forgotten what a dish his kitten was. He felt an involuntary stirring in his groin and remembered a particularly good time from the past.
Heather's phone dinged. "The Uber is 5 minutes out. Are you ready? I prefer to meet the drivers at the curb, rather than make them come up to the door." Sebastian nodded and Heather grabbed her purse. "Our carriage awaits, my Lord. Let's go paint this town red."
When the car arrived, Sebastian held the door open for his friend and then climbed in beside her. "My name is Steve and I'm your driver tonight," chirped the man in the front. "Well, good evening Steve. I'm Heather and this is Bash and we will be your passengers tonight. We are headed to Glen Livitts. Do you know where that is or do you need the address," greeted Heather. "No, ma'am. I know exactly where that is and I promise you a safe and speedy ride there," said Steve.
During the drive, Heather told Sebastian about the paper she was writing. She was working on a new form of blood replacement therapy for out of hospital trauma situations. It was based off some military research that she had been involved with after she returned from Afghanistan. It was beginning to show some progress after some initial disappointing early results. Heather was very excited about the possibilities that this type of technology could provide, particularly in wilderness situations. Sebastian smiled listening to his friend excitedly talk about her project. Heather's face lit up with the most beautiful light when she talked about things she was passionate about. He didn't understand all of the science, but he did know that his friend was on the cusp of a revolutionary breakthrough.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of the restaurant. Heather thanked Steve for the drive and promised him a five-star review. They exited the vehicle and walked in the front door of the pub. Heather walked up to the hostess stand. Fiona, the hostess greeted her and showed them to their table. Heather and Sebastian sat down and picked up the menus. "Bash, I highly recommend the Sheppard's pie or the Bangers and Mash. I'm getting the pie, myself. It is to die for." Heather paused and wrinkled her nose. "Ooo, sorry, poor choice of words considering earlier. Let's just say, it's quite good."
"Sounds good to me. Your secretary said that they have an impressive whiskey menu. Where is that?"
"You read my thoughts. It's right here." Heather handed him the sizeable spirits menu. "Let's do this right, my dear. Care to make a bet? I bet that I can still drink you under the table, old man," teased Heather.
"I am only 5 years older than you. I'm hardly an old man! And since when can you outdrink me?"
"Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically? Looks like the dementia is setting in early," mocked Heather.
"Harrumph, you're on, little girl. Let's do this!" Sebastian signaled the waitress that they were ready to order. "Hi, we are each going to get the Sheppard's pie and bring us a bottle of John Powers 12 year and two glasses. I'm going to have to teach the good doctor here a lesson the hard way." The waitress looked at Heather with a questioning gaze.
"Go ahead, Erin. My elderly gentleman friend here thinks that I can't handle my whiskey. I think by the end of the night, it will be HIM being picked up off the floor," smirked Heather. "Whatever you say, Dr. Weire. I'll be back shortly," answered Erin.
The waitress returned a few moments later with the libations. "Give him your worst, Dr. Weire. I'm rooting for you."
"Thanks, Erin. I will not disappoint. Bash, let's get started. May the best woman win," jeered Heather. She poured an equal measure in both glasses and they clinked them together.