"Who the hell does he think he is?"
It had taken Janine two days, six hours and thirty-two minutes to weasel out of Ray the exact reason that Peter was so hot with Egon and Egon was so cool with Peter.
Ray squirmed in the driver's seat of Ecto. It was only after Janine pushed him into the car and ordered him to spill it, in an environment where it wasn't likely anyone would overhear, that Ray reluctantly confessed to a very sanitized version of the discussion in the lab.
"Um, which one?" He fidgeted unhappily. "Do you think we can get out of the car now?"
"Dr. V., that's who!" Janine exited the passenger side seat and slammed the door.
Ray cringed. There were two ways to draw the guys downstairs. One was to hit the alarm button. The other…Winston could hear Ecto's doors being slammed from two blocks away; he was probably already on his way.
Ray hurried back to Janine's desk and turned up the volume on the tape player, inadvertently blasting the song throughout the first floor.
"Take another little piece of my heart now baby…"
Wincing, he quickly turned it down, keeping it just loud enough to cover their conversation but not loud enough to be heard on another floor.
"Janine, please don't make me wish I hadn't said anything – well, don't make me regret it more than I already do. I don't think you should be angry with Peter. I think he was just trying to look out for your interests."
She swung into the chair behind her desk and eyed him sharply.
"So just who am I supposed to be angry with then, Ray? Egon? Myself? I'm not Dr. V.'s pet project and he has no business poking into my private life."
"Janine," Ray employed every bit of his considerable wide-eyed charm, "it's just that…"
"When you turn your private life into an off-Broadway musical and play it all day at work you shouldn't be surprised that other people have an opinion." The gate slammed shut behind Peter. "Oh, and nice going, Ray."
As Janine popped up from her seat, Ray dropped into the chair next to Janine's desk and buried a bright red countenance in both hands. He mentally uttered a few of the choicer swearwords he'd never say aloud.
"What's the matter, Dr. V, don't have a relationship of your own to screw up? Or do you get your jollies messing around in other people's personal lives?"
Sighing, Ray raised his head, prepared to referee if…no, not if, he corrected himself, when necessary. Janine looked taller when she was angry, a lot taller.
"Personal is when you keep it out of the office, Melnitz. If I wanted a daily dose of relationship hell, I'd watch the soaps or call a few ex- girlfriends. I don't need the 'Top Fifty Songs to Commit Suicide By.'"
"You're still here so I guess it didn't work," Janine drawled. "Although how you'd know anything about relationships when you never get beyond two or three dates with the same woman…"
Ray scrunched his eyes closed. They weren't shouting but their normally mock-hostile banter was edged with real emotion. He sighed and jumped in.
"Peter, Janine knew there was something wrong and she could tell that things were strained between you and Egon." He tried to signal frantically with his eyes that he hadn't told her everything.
"Hey, no sweat, Big J. You want to do the bump and grind with Dr. Spengler and pretend it's a relationship, be my guest. Just don't come moping to the rest of us when there's no fairytale ending." Peter stepped back and crossed his arms, a grim smile on his face.
"Do the… What did you say? …" Janine flushed purple. Not a good color with her red hair, Ray decided.
"Did I stutter?"
"Look Janine, I know you're upset," Ray interrupted a tad desperately, "but Peter was just giving Egon some advice, you know, one friend to another. I mean, we all know how you feel…"
"How I feel is my business," Janine snapped. "It's not yours, Ray, and it's certainly not Dr. Venkman's."
"It is when you wave it in our faces. I've got a song you can add to that little tape of yours: You Can't Always Get What You Want."
"I got more than one for you, buster: Hound Dog, You're So Vain…"
"Jesus, this really is like an off-Broadway musical. Girl meets boy, girl chases boy, boy reiterates his position. The same story, played over and over and over again except that instead of it happening every night, each show runs a couple of weeks, a few months. Then we get to live it all over again, right down to the soppy music."
"If you don't like the music, I'm sure I can arrange a death march or a Requiem Mass. And just where do you get off telling me how to run my life? I don't know how you're even able to walk 'cause you must have the biggest pair in recorded history."
"Janine," Peter affected mock shock. "You've been peeking again, haven't you?"
The desk phone rang. Saved by the bell, thought Ray in considerable relief. It rang again. And again while two pairs of narrowed green eyes maintained a standoff. Peter broke first.
"Janine, in case you don't remember, we pay you to answer phones. You gonna get that?"
"It's after five." Janine yanked open the bottom drawer of her desk and grabbed her purse. "And I'm out of here. I don't get paid enough to get abused on my own time."
Ray's eyes followed her to the door, admiring the straight back and the controlled stride. She wasn't giving an inch.
"Ghostbusters, this is Dr. Peter Venkman. How may I help you?"
Ray blew out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and noticed for the first time the figure of Winston Zeddemore posed halfway down the staircase. Winston's face was pale, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted, every feature frozen. Wondering just how long Zeddemore had been perched there and how much he'd heard – based on his expression, it was more than enough – Ray turned his attention back to Venkman who stood at Janine's desk with a deceptively calm exterior.
"Yeah…uh-huh….sure, no problem…uh-huh…well, we could do it tomorrow afternoon…okay, yeah, I understand…well, if we come out tonight it'd be at emergency rates…ok, no problem, we're see you in about an hour."
After Peter dropped the receiver back into the cradle, an uneasy silence pervaded the entire first floor. Ray and Winston were motionless.
"Yeah, well that sounds like a fixed repeater." Peter finished jotting down the last of his illegible notes and glanced around carefully. "Some yuppie couple just bought a brownstone and want to start renovating it. They bought it from the estate of some old lady who recently died. Sounds like the old lady's dead husband is still hanging around or something. Should be an easy one and we get paid extra for going out tonight."
Ray raised his eyes to Winston, pleading mutely.
"I guess I'd better go get Egon," Winston said, every word as stiff and awkward as his hurried exit.
Ray waited a discreet ten seconds or so. "Peter, I think Janine was really upset."
"You think that was upset? You should see our quarterly reviews and salary negotiations."
The wheels on Janine's chair squeaked as Peter pushed it in; he walked away from the desk and leaned against the gate that bordered his office area.
"What the hell were you thinking, Ray?"
Ray stood and brushed imaginary lint from his knees before meeting Peter's gaze and smiling ruefully.
"I told her you were busting Egon's chops because she seemed blue and that Egon got annoyed and told you to mind your own business."
Peter stood stock still, a myriad of emotions running through his eyes, his expression frozen. "That's all you said?"
"Uh-huh."
"Shit."