Took me a few days, but here's chapter three. This piece is bridging the time until the next encounter, so you're in for some office fun this time. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated of course.
"Two hundred and forty-two," Harvey said to the back of Louis' head as he passed him in the hallway.
"Wait-what?" Louis stammered as he did a double-take.
Harvey smirked to himself, making sure junior didn't see. Nothing like catching the guy off-guard first thing in the morning. Behind his back, Louis hastily handed Harold the enormous stack of folders he was carrying, almost tipping the boy over.
He quickly trailed Harvey down the hall, trying to catch up with his efficient pace. "Two hundred and forty-two what, exactly? Harvey?"
"Good morning, Donna. Thank you," Harvey said serenely as his assistant handed him his coffee and a few printouts with post-its stuck to it. Completely ignoring his confused stalker, she started to sum up the tasks for the day. Harvey took it all in while calmly settling behind his desk.
"…and then there's the meeting with Mrs. Doubtfire at four," Donna finished, still not acknowledging the junior partner who was now trailing them into his office.
Harvey could hear him sigh and decided to keep him hanging just a little longer. For the fun of it.
"I guess I will just go stand over here and see which records I can use to even out my desk. It's been… kind of wobbly lately," Louis mumbled with just enough volume for Harvey to hear. He took an exaggerated step towards the rows and rows of vinyl, checking to see if Harvey would stop him.
"Mrs. Doubtfire?" Harvey asked Donna instead, raising his eyebrows. She had now started to eye Louis with just a hint of aggression, but Harvey subtly signaled for her to leave it alone. If annoying Louis meant a greasy finger or two on his record covers, so be it. They all had to make sacrifices sometimes. He would have Donna arrange for the covers to be cleaned later if necessary.
"Hmmm… Elvis Presley right next to the New Seekers? That's odd."
Harvey's toes started to curl. Donna put on her most innocent look.
"John Howard. Of Klineman & Sons? He reminds me of Mrs. Doubtfire. With the grey hair, the granny clothes, squeaky voice… Not to mention the old lady smell," she recounted, wrinkling her nose.
"Thanks for that… striking comparison, Donna. Now I'll be thinking about Robin Williams in drag for the whole of that meeting," Harvey chided her jokingly. His assistant made a mock bow.
"Wow - you have the complete King Cole Trio collection?" Louis now commented innocently, turning a stack of four records over in his hands. Okay, now he was crossing the line. Donna raised her hands in innocence as if to say: 'You told me not to do anything about it,' as she turned her back on them both and marched out of the office.
"Two hundred and forty-two dollars - and a business card, Louis. It's what you owe me after your humiliating, yet very amusing exit Friday night," Harvey replied icily, sorting through the printouts Donna had handed him. "And don't touch the vinyl."
After a moment's pause, Harvey continued pensively, "You know, Donna has really been into James Bond lately. Remember Goldfinger, with that guy Oddjob? The henchman - Japanese guy? He had a real talent for decapitating people with his hat."
He dialed his voice down to a mock whisper. "I caught Donna late last Thursday night, practicing throws with some of my broken Dylan records. Very impressive. I think I saw Harold almost losing his head there. She should have tried out for the women's Olympic discus throwing team."
Louis raised his eyebrows for a moment and threw a quick look over his shoulder to Donna's desk, before straightening his composure.
"Or maybe she should join the men's team…" Harvey continued, pondering to himself.
"So… your Dylan records are broken?" Louis retorted innocently, but he still put the records back. On the wrong shelf. Harvey sighed. "Can I have them?"
"Not to fix your desk, you're not," he grunted. And before the junior partner could continue, "Nor to show them to your wife or to secretly fondle them in bed." Louis huffed.
"I told you, I don't have a-" Louis started but then caught himself, "Look, let's cut the crap. We can do this all day and I don't know about you, but I've got work to do. Like, the Benson merger? Might sound familiar? Besides, the whole ignoring charade is really getting old."
"You don't remember, do you?" Harvey asked in a humorous tone.
"I remember drinking awful beers in that grubby place they call a 'beer café'. Then there was you trying - and might I add failing miserably - to seduce the bartender-"
"-and then I had to drag your drunk ass out of the bar, almost watch you throw up into the gutter, listen to a very badly done impersonation of Gollem and Gandalf, hand you forty-two dollars and the business card I took from the bar and throw you headfirst into the only cab passing by at that hour, incidentally causing myself to have to walk two blocks to the nearest street still populated by people at that time of night and therefore increasing my chances of catching a cab," Harvey finished.
Louis shoved his hands in pockets, consecutively looking at the record cabinet, this feet, then outside past Harvey – avoiding his eyes. His upper lip was raised in irritation.
"But you said two hundred and forty-two dollars," he finally refuted in a childish tone.
"That's for the dry-cleaning I'll be needing since you ruined my suit - clamping on to me because you couldn't keep yourself up," Harvey replied smoothly.
"I- That's- You-"
"Yes, Louis?" Harvey inquired innocently. The man cut himself off and grunted.
"You know what?" Louis held up his hands and took a step back. "I'll be the bigger man here and let this go. You'll get my check this afternoon. Right now, we need to discuss the Benson merger. Conference room, in five minutes," Louis said stiffly as he turned and walked away.
As soon as Louis had walked out of earshot, Donna trotted back into the office with big curious eyes.
"So, what's her name," she asked as she sat down on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs.
"It's Louis," Harvey answered, marking some text on a document and then looking up at Donna with a smirk. "I think that's a really unusual name for a woman, don't you?"
"She must've made an impression on you." Determined as always, Donna couldn't be distracted from her goal.
"And why is that?" Confirming nor denying, always a safe way to go, although he knew that with Donna, that wasn't really getting him anywhere. But he loved to stay and play. Especially with Louis and that annoying merger waiting for him.
"Well, beside what I just heard go down between you and baldy over there…" She nodded backwards. "There's the fact that you stayed at a dingy bar drinking beer – beer? really? - until closing time. Then there's the fact that you not only stayed 'till the lights went out, but you stayed while Louis was apparently still there as well. Not to mention the fact that he was so drunk and needy you actually lend him money. Was there a gun involved?"
"What makes you say the place was dingy? Are you… are you following me?" Harvey asked with a mocking suspicious frown.
"Unlike you, Harvey, I regularly go onto this incredible new Internet website thing called 'Google' and you know what – it helps you find all kinds of stuff," Donna ended in a conspiratory whisper.
"Give it a few years, and I reckon they'll be making a lot of money." She widened her eyes and nodded meaningfully.
He rolled his eyes at her and continued to mark the next document in the brown folder.
"But, I wasn't finished yet. There's also this pimpish dark blue Tom Ford suit" -she leaned over and fondled his sleeve for a moment- "you only wear when you're feeling incredibly intrigued and thrown off by something ánd the fact that you never take business cards from any bar. Ever." Donna ended her argument triumphantly.
"Pimpish?" was all he repeated. "Tom? Pimpish?" How dare she.
"I'll find out about her one way or the other, Harvey," Donna commented loudly as she walked back to her desk. And then over the intercom: "I did try out for the Olympic team, by the way. They said I was too good. Would make the other men look bad."
He chuckled, then finished marking the documents. He stood up and walked towards the windows facing over Manhattan in the early morning, hands in his pockets. After throwing a quick look over his shoulder, he inconspicuously tried to study his reflection in the glass surface. Pimpish? Really?
