Rocket to the Moon

Chapter Fourteen

Business Trip Part Two

AN. Alright, I promised myself I was going to post it today so here I am. This chapter was longer but I cut it in two parts because I couldn't finish checking it. Part three will be here on April's Fool Day. I mean it. Most of you know I'm some kind of accountant and by the end of the month I'm lost in paperwork. If I finish sooner I might post. Spanish version of this one (Part Two) will be here tomorrow. Thank you for your sympathy.

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Where were we?

.

"You're so huggable!" she laughed softly against his ear "Oh Arnold, I'm leaving now, but I didn't want to do it without saying goodbye." He turned a deep shade of red when she kissed him. "Have a nice trip, Football Head. See you then."

"I…" Arnold mustered up all his self-control to stop himself from not letting go and kissing her lips instead. His mates in the other desks were looking at them. He knew it because all those small laughers. "T… thanks."

"You'll be alright?" she asked; her face still too close. He nodded.

"Yeah," he exhaled, trying to control his breathe. She was almost his same height. Those incredibly eyes were full of sparkles. "Of course I'll be alright."

She patted his cheek.

"That's good to hear."

He knew he was smiling like an idiot, but then felt like an actual moron when she gave a step back and he could see Henry standing at the end of the hallway, looking at him with an amused expression. He waved Arnold with a single movement of his hand as Helga got close to him. Then they went on; his hand at her elbow. Arnold saw them go feeling confused, sad, knowing he wouldn't see her for a while. And wondering who the man who shared Helga's bed was. Henry or Luke?

… Or both?

. . .

"So… what time is over there?"

White letters appeared on top of the screen of his phone. Arnold smiled. Good old Claire. She was at work and still she made time to keep up with him when her pupils were at their playtime. He really appreciated her efforts. He took air as he turned to see the clock on the wall, and then wrote back.

… "Eight and…

… A quarter-

… PM."

A second later the reply arrived.

- "Here is quarter to eleven AM.

- I think I'll never get accustomed to that offset half an hour"

… "Tell me about it!" Arnold snorted

… "Though the truth is that I only recall it when it's time to talk to America"

- "Something you don't do QUITE often, by the way"

Arnold made a face. He wasn't keeping his promise to call every day.

… "We've been really busy."

… Next time I hear someone is having a business trip

… I'll show my respect.

… They're no vacations,

… At all."

Maybe he should add that it wasn't easy to shun the rest of the guys when you were sharing most of your time with them.

- "If you say so…" she answered.

There was a long pause then. Arnold understood. She was at work so she was probably busy. Nonetheless a couple of minutes later she resumed the conversation.

- "BTW,

- Isn't it too late to be still at the office?"

- I mean,

- there are still people working over there

- or

- You guys are only losing your time?"

Arnold raised his sight to see Woody also focused on his cellphone. Then he looked around. The truth was that there were only the six of them and a couple of local guys who were 'losing their time' in here. They were actually waiting for Dick and Stan to join them.

… "Well, the plant is already closed.

… We just finished our job but we're still waiting for the others so the driver takes the bunch to the hotel."

The back of his neck itched and he scratched it gently. He wasn't being quite sincere.

- "Because of Dick again?" she asked.

Arnold could almost feel Claire's snort vibrating through the wireless communication.

- "That man never gets to see his watch or what?!" She ended the line with an angry red face.

There it was. Sometimes he wondered why he told her so many specifics about his work. Feeling guilty about his indiscretion he felt compelled to defend the boss.

… "I dare to say, -

… He's the one who works the hardest."

He felt dumb just sending it. Was he becoming another one of the puppies? Claire made another pause. Arnold wondered if she was angry or if she was about to get busy again.

- "You've been there for over two weeks." She finally answered after good two minutes.

- Don't tell me the workload hasn't lessened a bit."

Arnold took an intake.

… "Well…"

… It's changed,

… But I think it hasn't lessened,

… Not even a bit…"

. . .

.

Arnold evoked when they first arrived to Tiruppur. It was Wednesday early afternoon. Someone was waiting for them by International Arrivals holding the customary 'Mueller' signboard; then they were driven right to the location.

They didn't have time to recover from the twenty-two hours long trip; nobody showed them the city; no one asked them if they were okay; if the jet lag was affecting them; nobody showered them with any pleasantries. There was no time for that. It wasn't the first time Arnold took a long trip, but definitively it was his first going right to the workplace without a pause.

The plant they arrived to was being remodeled on the exterior. About two dozen workers with safety vests and helmets were changing the old façade. Fortunately the interior was untouched and the usual activity wasn't being affected. The great amount of people in the place and their natural curiosity about the visitors didn't go unnoticed by the blond.

His partners observed everything with measuring looks, but to Arnold everything was new, colorful, shocking. It was the first time he stepped into an industrial space, let alone in a foreign one. What he saw was a place full with activity and people going all the ways around. It was until the guys started mentioning about this and that he paid attention to the details. Yes, it was true that the place was crowded; and yes it was also true that it seemed that the Hygiene, Security and Environment Department didn't follow to the letter the international regulations, but at least the feverish activity made them forget about the fatigue.

"Helga's order was clear." Leo Nielsen told Dick later as he, Stan and Arnold walked around the place. The others were already taking care of their own affairs. Leo was Helga's right hand man "She asked me to clean this up a bit before your arrival."

For 'cleaning' Arnold supposed he meant that the place was a worse mess before. Arnold understood that the principal problem they faced was that despite its size so far the enterprise had been managed by a family so it'd been lacking a proficient management. Taking in their reactions the bosses seemed to be already aware of this.

He was also conscious that there was certain feeling of suspicion in the air, coming from both parts, but once they started working together they realized the fears were unfounded. It may be some people who still saw the strangers as invaders but most of them welcomed their presence and expertise. Before working with this team he'd thought Dick's Pack was some kind of invaders; a group of people who weren't well received because they were there to conquest, to overwhelm; but they were just the guys who did the job, and that was that. He also realized it was here where everything started; the plants. Mueller could be a financial, multinational corporation but in the end its foundation laid on places like this.

He also understood that despite all what Arnold had learned about them, his travel partners were professional through and through… at least in the office. They acted like gentleman. Marty and Stan who used to be inconsiderate were now kind, gentle and helpful; Mike, who couldn't stop flirting for the sake of it, was now respectful even to the girls who looked at him with their bright, beautiful, coquettish eyes. The most changed seemed Dick himself. Despite all what he had witnessed previously once arriving to India his peculiar temper was under control. He seemed to have morphed into an entirely different person; someone nicer and approachable. It was as if the Mueller inside him stood out and made him become the image of the ideal boss. Even physically he was more appealing. He was the one who attracted the most eyes. Arnold laughed remembering the guys had started teasing Mike about being jealous.

…

- "By the way love," His phone shook again

- How is your stomach?

- Are you getting any better?"

Arnold smirked but his stomach churned anyway.

… "I think so

… I started eating again."

- "Good :)"

As if prompted by Claire's last message, Woody interjected:

"So where are we having dinner tonight?" A few grunts were heard.

"At the bar?" Kyle offered. Even Arnold rolled his eyes. The guy never learnt or what?

"I think we could get some sandwiches at the hotel." Ben, the redhead answered.

"We're not heading to the hotel, man!" Woody shook his head.

"Dude, you're the only one who thinks about food right now." Mike derided.

"I could see that…" Woody said with sarcasm.

"We should have asked the people in the kitchen for some Mueller Chicken to go." Marty pointed out what was Arnold was actually thinking.

Mueller Chicken was pan-broiled chicken breast with oil, salt and nothing else. Steamed vegetables as side plate, and that's it. A delicacy. Mueller Chicken and sandwiches were all what keep them alive after the second week. The kitchen crew in the plant made it up for them after realizing they weren't eating.

They all have fallen sick by the end of the first week after indulging themselves into the exotic and strong flavors of masala. 'No spices, please' was the collective prayer after that.

"I swear you man! The first thing I'll do back home is getting a Big Mac and super-size fries!"

Arnold chortled at the expression of deep craving in Ben's young face. He better didn't say a thing about his need to cling to any Britney Spears / Miley Cyrus / whatever pop music that reached his ears. He never thought nostalgia could felt like that; like a funny quivering sensation that wrenched your insides.

The worst part that was the end of the trip felt so far away. The intense workload wasn't the problem anymore. Arnold wondered if Mueller Chicken was going to be received with good pleasure by their stomachs for as longer as one more week. He also wondered why this kind of things still happened to guys who travel this much…

A sudden idea came to his mind as he took his phone and opened the Facebook Messenger again. He hesitated for a couple of seconds before select Helga Pataki from his chat list. He had being doing this for days now. Always wanting to start a conversation; looking for a good excuse just to ask anything to her. Today it seemed as better excuse than ever.

But then he changed his mind and opened Whatsapp instead. It seemed a better option since their last conversation in Facebook dated from about two months ago.

… "Hi Helga" he typed and sent.

… How are you doing?"

… I just wanted to ask something

… How do you do to keep your stomach settled when you travel?

… I'm feeling really ill…

Arnold paused. Then reread his rant.

… I'm not that bad,

… Don't worry.

… But eating is becoming a pain in the ass."

Then he stopped. The check marks were two already but they hadn't turned blue yet. He decided he'd wait for her response before start writing again, but at that moment the door opened and Stan appeared in there, clapping once his hands.

"Let's go motherfuckers!" he called with his thunder voice and a big smile in his face. "Ya ready to have fun?"

As they ran to the door Arnold couldn't help but think that they looked like a group of scholars at the sound of the last bell of the day; almost as if they had never seen a door before. They all got up and hurried out of the plant and towards the van walking and talking cheerfully. But instead of being a group of kids who were being delivered to their homes, this group of full-grown adults would be taken to a… strip club.

. . .

It was the second time they did it. Leo suggested the place since he'd been in town for a while and he knew better. Last week some of they were escorted by the new general manager and one of the guys from production, but tonight that the group were complete and the party was only them.

Arnold was an adult and had been at gentlemen's clubs before, so he didn't make a fuss. He was okay with having some kind of entertainment after a hard week; He was okay with reaching their table and being approached by girls who drank a drink to their expense. He was okay even with making small talk with such ladies who wore vaporous clothes at the Indian usage or just plain scarce and sexy lingerie. He even accepted their attentions for a while. He also agreed to pay for a second drink. But he turned around for a way to escape when lap dances began to sprout all around him. He saw Woody taking a seat right in front of the stage.

"Excuse me…" he mumbled and ran to his side. From his new seat at Woody' side he turned his head. The girl he had despised was now with Stan who didn't seem to have problems handling two girls at the time. The rest of the guys seemed to be just fine with a girl seated on their lap, though –truth to be told- not all of them were having an active participation like said Stan or Mike did. Marty and Kyle were gawping at the girls who 'danced' on them. Dick and Ben were slower; they were still indulging with small talks, drinks and just allowing themselves to be pampered.

"I assumed you were going to misbehave tonight." Woody said with an amused look, turning forward to see the performance of the girls onstage. "Though I'm glad we don't have another Ralph amongst us. I'd be a shame."

"You know I'm not that into it," he told him "So that was Ralph problem?" He asked after a girl brought him a new beer. He had already supposed something of the like but never dug too much into it.

Woody shrugged his voluminous shoulders. "Kinda…" but then he snorted "Actually I think he was even worse than those two." He pointed to Stan and Mike with a move of his head. Arnold turned to see the guys again and shook his head. They looked like those politicians caught red-handed of the tabloids. Then he looked around, warily, expecting that none of the presents in the poorly lit hall would be a paparazzi or worse, but then dismissed it. They weren't that important. The sight brought Helga's words to his mind then.

"Be a good kid, Football Head…"

Woody talked instead about himself and his decision to be precisely 'a good kid' as he followed the erotic movements of the girls on the platform. His thoughts were similar to Arnold's. They had all what they wanted at home; didn't think being a man meant that they have the right to play around without restraint.

Well, he looked at the girls nonetheless. He always marveled at their flexibility. Arnold thought seeing them contorting against the poles. It was also amazing how beauty could be so diverse and so specific at the same time. They were mainly Indian girls, but there were of all kind too. Europeans, Asiatic, African, Latinas. Girls for all tastes. There were patrons of all kinds too.

Woody elbowed him and pointed to the guys table. Some of them were missing, but Woody was certainly pointing to Stan who was disappearing in the midst of suggestive curtains that appeared behind a secret door, with at least four girls surrounding him. Arnold snorted and rolled his eyes. He turned to his big friend whose lips drew out a sneer.

"You don't know Stan until you really get to 'know' him." he took a sip of his beer. "Ralph was the same…" then turned to the table again "And Mike," he added "but that one you already know."

That was true. Last week they have been at the same club but it was a shorter visit. Some of the guys also disappeared behind the hidden door for a while, but to midnight they were all back at the hotel. They had a curfew. Dick and Stan hadn't made it. They both and Leo attended to a social reunion with the former owners of the plant. But today it was another story. The bosses were here and sure they knew how to enjoy life. Ben came to his table and kept them company for a while. He was about Arnold's age and the youngest of the group, and seemed that he still hadn't made his mind about being naughty or not. He kept asking Arnold if he was going to tell to his girlfriend all what had happened in here.

"What happens in India stays in India." He replied with a smirk and then Bob took one last sip to his drink and went back to the guys table. The guys table was just a way to say it. It was only Kyle and Ben now… and the girls, of course.

"Seems that we are the only ones who aren't getting fun, huh?" he pronounced, not sure if he sounded like a dunce. Woody smiled with indulgence and pointed discreetly behind him. Arnold turned his head. Dick was a few tables away, all by himself, drinking from his scotch; his eyes fixed on the girl dancing before him.

"I didn't see him coming back." Arnold mumbled taking another sip of his beer and moving his seat so he wasn't giving him his back. "He's fast!" Couldn't help but add a hint of sarcasm. Woody kept looking at the girls. Arnold also looked. The girl he'd been looking at particularly wasn't performing anymore. He turned around but didn't find the long haired blonde anywhere.

"Been there all along." Woody finally supplemented.

"Who?" he frowned "The blonde…?"

Woody laughed.

"Dick." He replied. "Your blonde went backstage."

"Oh," Arnold said, disappointed. Then looked around. She might come out. He caught sight of the boss again. He was looking at his whisky with absent eyes. "He doesn't look happy."

His companion followed his sight. "Dick is never happy."

"Why?" he asked. Woody shrugged.

"He's always been like that."

Arnold nodded, turning to see him; he was looking at the girls again. He ended his drink and left the glass on the table and raised his sight to see Arnold and Woody observing him. Dick held their sights but Arnold turned to the stage again. Didn't want to taste his luck tonight.

"He's weird." Arnold mumbled. Then held his breath; never thought he'd say it aloud; to one of his unconditional friends, nonetheless.

"Nah!" Woody dismissed him "He's just different."

Arnold shrugged. But then opened wide his eyes and turned the guy again.

"Different?" he asked, louder than he intended.

"Shhh!" Woody slapped the back of his neck as he tried to hide his grin. "Not that kind of different, you dumbass!"

"Hey!" Arnold touched his nape where he still felt the blow. Woody was laughing openly now.

"Look at you! Mr. Right - running to conclusions!"

"We're talking about girls here!" Arnold protested "You said he was different! Hellow!"

"Well, certainly not that kind of different!" Woody took another swig as he looked at him with amused eyes.

"Alright. Thank you for pointing out this clear to me. He's straight; just different. Big deal." Arnold grumbled "Why do I have to know it anyway?" he rolled his eyes, touching his nape again.

"Right."

But then remembered what 'being different' meant nowadays he turned to his partner again. "Oh, you mean 'different'" he made quotation marks in the air and turned to see Dick under a new light. He was raising his glass in the air asking for a new drink. "Kind of fits him."

"No. You're wrong again," Woody only shook his head this time, unamused. "Man!" he slapped his forehead, leaning on the table. "How hard could it be?" he complained.

"It's okay. It doesn't matter anyway." Arnold shrugged, nonchalantly. The blond boy turned to the scene letting him alone. It seemed that his friend was getting drunk pretty fast.

"Actually it does matter." Woody raised his head looking thoughtful. "I don't want to see you later saying what I didn't say; or having the wrong impression. We're here and we're gonna be here for another long week so…" he turned to see Dick and then leaned in to speak in low voice.

"Just to end with this, the boss is not gay," he started "and he's not a sadist, - so far I know, - he's just…" he vacillated.

"Different?" Arnold offered, teasing. Woody scoffed, then turned up as if giving up

"Scrupulous…" He finally pronounced.

"Scrupulous?" Arnold raised his sight, showing his confusion. "You mean…?"

"…about bugs," his friend ended. "There you have." Woody leaned back in his chair and took another swig of his beer. "He's picky. He never takes risks."

"Really?" Arnold turned to see the guy in the other table again. Under a new sight. Okay, he was still weird to his eyes but his weirdness now made sense.

"He… doesn't go out then?" he asked. But then remembered the Ball where he met him first and his stunning date. Eva.

"Oh - he goes out," Woody left the almost empty bottle on the table. "But he has his 'girlfriends'." Arnold looked at him inquiring "I mean there are several… selected… girls he sees." The big bloke disclosed "Gorgeous girls I can tell."

"Really?" the guy nodded. "I think I met one…" Arnold uttered casually "Eva?"

Woody opened expressively his eyes. "Oh, my God, Eva! How to forget her?!" he turned around to look for a waiter. "Though she's history now."

"Is she?" Arnold frowned. Why was he being so inquisitive? Did Eva's fate worry him? Because it wasn't as if he really cared about Dick's love life. What did Claire have to say if she knew he was asking about her?

What happens in India stays in India. Arnold thought to himself. Then he remembered his sweet girlfriend. Sweet…. Arnold sighed. The truth was that his 'sweet' girlfriend was far from being actually sweet. Not that she was a bad person; not at all, she was great in fact. But their relationship was different. It had morphed. They weren't the same. Arnold couldn't believe that six months ago he was planning on proposing to her… six months…. God! There had been six months already?

He had been so jealous witnessing Gerald domestic happiness that he'd wanted it to himself. But the Claire who shared his bed now wasn't what came to his mind when he thought about children and domestic happiness. Claire was changed. The time they spent together she used to remain lost in thoughts. He had always been a daydreamer himself so her retreat didn't bother him, but he should confess that hers was odd. Half of the time he didn't know what was she thinking. And then there was this newly found passion in their lives that somewhat felt misplaced. Why he felt that way? Well, maybe because when they weren't making love like animals the rest of the time their interaction was roommate-like; if not brother/sister- like.

"Well, that's the one I recall the most; Rachel was the name. She even went to look for him at work just because she 'was bored'. But that was long ago. I think that was when he lost the liking because he stopped bringing girls altogether," Woody was still talking "They even stopped coming to reach him."

"Really?" Arnold asked half interested.

Woody nodded. But then laughed. "That's why our travels last three weeks tops." Woody turned around, looking for a waiter again. "The guys say it's his limit."

Arnold mimicked Woody's snort. He turned to see the aforementioned guy and saw that he was being approached by a girl who brought him a dish and a new drink. Arnold strained to see the plate. God, he was hungry! For a second Dick looked askance but then smiled. The girl smiled too. Then she left him and came towards them.

"On the house," she smiled leaving their plates in front of them "Another drink?" then asked with her thick accent.

"Please." Arnold replied copying her nice smile.

"Don't stop bringing them up, honey!" Woody looked very happy. For a second Arnold thought he was going to slap the girl's butt. Fortunately he didn't. They went right for the plate. Grilled salmon; a pinch of pepper. It was yummy; had the taste of the roast beef. Seemed that the bar had better chefs than the hotel. Arnold questioned aloud how the bar could afford having salmon on the house for the patrons and Woody let out a good-humored laugh in response.

"It seems to me that you haven't seen the cost of the drinks, right?"

He actually hadn't. He never knew who the one who paid last time was, but it hasn't been him, that's for sure. He asked Woody then. Woody pointed with the fork to his left.

"We have a helluva boss or what?!" he answered with a laugh, adding that the girls were – of course- on their own account. They went on happily eating and delighting in the show.

"Where were we?" Woody asked after a while. His plate has been left aside; he was a big eater. Arnold ate without hurry. He still feared he'd get sick again.

"The girls go on our own." He said without thinking; then laughed. Maybe alcohol was taking its toll on him too. He laughed harder at the simple thought. "The boss is the best!" he blurted out.

"To the boss!" Woody toasted, raising his bottle. Dick was looking at his phone but raised his sight at the sound; a questioning look appeared in his face, but then smirked and went back to his phone.

"He chooses his phone instead of the view?" Arnold scoffed "Bugs aren't spread through the sight." He said with derision. Woody directed him a surprised look but then he shrugged. He didn't know why he was being so nasty. He kinda liked Dick after all. Besides, being careful about infections was a very sensible decision.

Blame the alcohol.

"It may be his girlfriend," the dark haired man uttered, exhaling long.

"There is a girlfriend?" he asked. That was a novelty.

"That's a way to say it." Woody shrugged his shoulders. "Regina Brennan?" he looked at him with risen eyebrows.

"Glen Brennan's relative?" He asked back.

"His daughter." Woody nodded. Arnold whistled. Glen Brennan was one of the principal shareholders of the company. The second on board in fact; he came just behind Henry, though Henry's almost doubled his part.

"So all in the family, huh?"

"Not so sure," Woody turned to see Dick again. He was looking at the girls but his silver iPhone was still in his hands. "They've been going out for years but the relation doesn't seem to progress. I have the impression that Dick doesn't like…

"Impositions? I have that impression too."

Woody nodded with an ample movement of his head. "That, and the fact that Dick keeps seeing other women."

"Interesting…" Arnold opened big his eyes and wriggled his brows as he nodded. Then he snorted realizing that would be exactly Claire's expression if she ever got to know…. If she ever …

"Where is the hurry when your name is Dick Mueller, right?" Woody asked as he raised his hand to call for another beer. Almost immediately a girl arrived with a double supply. Arnold got on his feet. He needed to discharge some liquid before going on.

…

As I told you up there, I had to cut it off somewhere. Here's a sneak peek of next chapter.

. . .

He looked the decoration with critical eye. It was excessive. The fabrics, colors, designs, every single detail was suggestive; it tried to put you in the mood; as if the pure sight of the girls wasn't enough.

After drying his hands in a towel Arnold drew out his cellphone. Whatsapp showed a tiny three in a red circle. Greg, Claire and Helga's names were in bold letters at the top of the list. He read Greg first; he wished him a nice weekend. Arnold used to keep in contact with Greg; at least twice a day they talked to each other, work related or not. Arnold wrote back similar wishes to the Legal sub director and went on.

Claire… she sent a snap of a big fat burger and a caption. 'Remember the Memphis? - It's back! - Only for a while…. And they aren't gonna bring it back in a million years!' Arnold grinned. The Memphis was like an urban legend. Carl's Jr. had it once about three years ago and was never seen again. 'I'm sure they are' he wrote back but stopped before sending it. When she read it she'd realize he was awake and it was past midnight. He thought twice. But then again she'd know he read it because those damn blue checkmarks. He sent it anyway. Then added: 'I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow." To make sure she got the impression he was in bed. He should keep in mind do not read any more Claire messages tonight. But rereading it he felt something was missing and added "Miss u."

Without wanting to think too much about it, or why he left Helga's message until the end he finally he breathed deeply. His forefinger touched Helga's name. He reread his last messages.

… How do you do to keep your stomach settled when you travel?

…

…

…

That's it all for now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold!and blah blah blah

See you in a couple of days.

March 29, 2015.