Chapter 32…Moments…
"Right now, I need a few minutes, so take a short break and we'll start up again at eleven." He can't keep the triumphant grin off his face and I can't keep the admiring smile off mine, watching him. "Smithers, get with Silent Bob about lunch, have it delivered at twelve-thirty…"
"Cowgirl Sea-Horse. Cowgirl Sea-Horse," Silent Bob mutters, head down. "Cowgirl Sea-Horse."
Leif says, "Great restaurant choice for a welcome lunch, Bob. Okay, Smithers, find the menu for Cowgirl Sea-Horse and get everyone's order together. When you're done with that we'll get to naming the rest of you newbies and then I'll announce our first joint Boiler Room project." Leif makes a motion to me and a few heads swivel my way when I start to get up to follow him.
"What about her?" The one I now know as Farmer Ted asks Leif. "Is she going to join our welcome lunch?" Jeez, he's practically leering at me.
Leif, still riding this jovial wave, looks to me with a question in his eyes and I nod eagerly because I definitely want to stick around. I'm really, really digging this Leif. "She can stay for lunch, but no, she's not part of the Boiler Room."
Behind me, I hear Cherie say to Farmer Ted, "Can it, dude!" But even she's smiling at his ridiculousness.
"What?!" Farmer Ted says. "We just want to be the first to welcome her to Falk."
Quag wiggles his eyebrows, "Yeah…We want to be the first to get acquainted. Giggity!"
These two are reminding me of the twins—an inappropriate, sexist version. Leif and I start walking again toward the Captain's office.
"You're too late there," Roddy pipes up. "She's already well acquainted with Pretty Boy."
Merde! Leif comes to a dead stop and turns once again to me. My eyes dart to his in alarm, silently imploring him to understand that I didn't say anything about knowing him as Roddy goes on to explain. "Yeah, I took her on a tour first and up on the fourth floor, Pretty Boy took it over. Apparently, they know each other."
Oh. I'd just assumed Pretty Boy was Leif, because…well…but Roddy's clearly referring to Vick Falk, thank heavens.
Leif doesn't seem relieved, though. He looks thunderous now and then I recall both what Vick said about him—they are obviously not friends—and also that I never told Leif I met him in Philly. Several of the guys talk over each other about Vick, but I can't hear specifics because I'm withering under a glare. The glare focuses on Roddy now.
"Roddy, when the Captain tells you to bring someone to the Boiler Room, you do exactly that," Leif snaps.
Roddy is stung by this, muttering, "Sorry."
This is the precise moment when that jovial atmosphere dries up. I instantly feel guilty for this, as if it's all my fault. And now I feel like I'm being pulled into the principal's office for some grievous infraction as Leif ushers me into Captain Gray's office, pointing me to the same chair I was in earlier, but I don't sit in it. I don't want him towering over me and besides, he's not the boss of me. I stay standing, meeting his blazing eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me you know Vick Falk?" Leif asks tersely after shutting the glass door. Au revoir, mon Prince Charmant.
"I don't know him, I just met him. Briefly. This weekend."
"Where?"
"The restaurant. Saturday night."
I watch him scanning his memory. "You were with me the whole time."
"Out on the patio, looking over the river, before you came out."
"Did he see us together? You and me?"
"Yes." I really hate how small my voice is in the face of his anger.
"Dammit!" He takes in this information, shaking his head, muttering, "I don't have time to deal with this."
"What's there to deal with? Captain Gray knows and he didn't see any big deal about it."
"The Captain doesn't know everything." This he says almost to himself, looking away before those eyes of fury land on me again. "You told him, but didn't see fit to tell me?" He's searching my eyes as I stand there looking and feeling guilty. I see his face harden before he says softly, "Why don't we have you go home for now and we'll call you when Captain Gray returns."
"Lei…Vince," I plead, a bit of panic taking hold. "I really, really need this job. I need these hours."
"Why?" he snaps out.
"Henry's got some pretty major medical bills from his stroke and rehabilitation, things insurance didn't cover. I need to get that paid off." Leif's eyes drill into mine and I don't look away. "Please," I whisper.
And like I've seen of him several times, a kaleidoscope of fleeting emotions crosses his face.
Finally, he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. "Well, I guess for now you can translate the company policy book into Spanish. We've needed to do that for a while now. But I want you to stay quiet on the second floor." This is the precise moment I realize I will be reading that whole thing. Several times, probably. And following right on its heels is a way worse realization.
At least for now, he is the boss of me.
As we wait for the elevator, I'm trying to muster the courage to ask Cherie a question, but she kind of intimidates me. I study her out of the corner of my eye. She's got that same sort of commanding physical presence Leif does—Bo, as well—with that ramrod straight posture and athlete's body. She would probably be near as tall as I am if I weren't wearing heels. Her brown hair is cut in a shoulder-length bob and her light brown eyes are intense. When Leif called her into the office to tell her to accompany me to personnel to get the computer disk of the manual, she'd snapped, "Why me? So we gals can get to know each other? Compare nail polish colors? Swap recipes?" Leif, Vince—I'm really going to have to work on that—rolled his eyes and said, "Just go, Cherie."
"What was that bet about? With Bo's name?" I finally ask.
"Damn, that was masterful," she shakes her head. "During a meeting with Captain Gray, Bo, and me, Vince said it would be too hard to call Bo by anything but the nickname he's had his whole life." Entiendo, I think. I've only known Leif for a few weeks, but I'm already having trouble calling him Vince. "So he bet that he could work the Boiler Room into naming him Bo, by only asking questions or recapping Bo's answers. We started at fifty dollars and dropped ten dollars for every question Vince asked of him. He only asked the one, although we really should've docked him for that 'Commander-in-Chief' mistake."
I think back to how Leif finessed the whole thing. "I'm impressed."
"I know, right?" she smiles, as we board the elevator. "I couldn't see where he was going with that—toward the President's dog, for heaven's sakes. I should've never bet against him."
I'm emboldened enough by her openness to ask about something else that piqued my curiosity. "When he announced you as a new Quartermaster, he said you didn't have a Boiler Room name."
She swings her gaze to me. "With my name pronounced in the French way, like Sha-ree, but spelled starting with a c, h, e, and r, I knew exactly where it would go."
I have to think for a moment. "Oh. Cherry."
"You got it," she says grimly. "Farmer Ted and Quag were already interns when I came on last summer and you can tell immediately what sexist idiots they are—really smart and good guys somewhere underneath those engineering brains, but complete idiots socially, especially around women. Or 'females,' as they call any human being without a penis. So when it came my turn last year I took a risk. I stood up and looked everyone in the eye and before they asked me any questions I told them I would end them if they even attempted it with me."
"That's badass," I laughingly say. I couldn't pull that off. Good thing I'm not going to be getting one. I can't imagine what it would be.
"Thank you!" she smiles. "Yeah, it was badass. I have to be diligent if I want to rise in this company, and I figured it was best not to start my time here with a stripper name that evokes virginity in every man's brain, even the more evolved ones. It worked out okay, though. That's the exact moment Vince and I became friends. He and Captain Gray both thought it was hilarious. That's probably also the exact moment when they tapped me to come back, too."
"Wouldn't that have been Connor's decision with the Captain?"
"No. Vince was offered the Second's position last year, but turned it down and suggested Connor instead. Vince ran the Boiler Room anyway."
Shocker.
I have a million more questions, but we've arrived at Julie Thomas' office. Wendy, the assistant, says Ms. Thomas will see us in a few minutes and asks if I have my paperwork. I tell her and Cherie I'll get it from my office.
I round the last corner of the corridor to see Vick walking ahead of me. He stops in the doorway of my office, leaning against the frame. Knowing Leif has a problem with him, and maybe it would be best to avoid him further, at least on this first day, I duck in an alcove for the women's restroom to wait for him to leave.
Instead I hear him talk to someone.
"Interesting," he drawls out each syllable. "I come to find Ellawayn to ask her to lunch later so we can get better acquainted and instead I find you rifling through her drawers." Vick makes this sound almost lascivious. "My guess is it's not the first time you've rifled through her drawers, is it?" Not almost—definitely.
I peer out from the alcove and his head quirks to the side for a moment. I quickly duck back in. Crap! Did he see me? I carefully peek out again to see Vick disappear into the office. I can't hear any answer. I walk a few feet down the hall. Closer. Then a few more feet—I'm almost at the door. Who the hell is he talking to?
I hear Vick say, "That's not very nice at all. Maybe you can't, but I can sure understand the appeal. Ellawyn seems very bright. And she really is quite pretty."
"Sure. If you like spindly little gawky girls shaped like prepubescent boys," a voice replies. I would know this voice anywhere. It's dripping with disdain, just like it was yesterday after graduation. With that girl. I feel sick. "But as I recall, Varick, you've tended to go for real women. Particularly sleeping beauties, if you know what I mean."
I feel a hand on my arm and almost yelp. It's Cherie, looking positively murderous. She pulls me back into the restroom alcove and I let her, before she moves back down the hall. I open the women's restroom door and go inside.
I swear I will never eavesdrop again. I want to unhear this.
God, I am so stupid. Em was right; I don't know the first thing about boys. Men. I have only to be embarrassed at those thoughts that began last night that he might find me…desirable. That was, to quote Leif's note, the stuff of fairy tales. I live in the real world. Where gods and geeks don't mix. Not in that way, at least.
Cherie marches in a few minutes later, fuming. She paces the tiled room, letting loose with a string of good ol' American curse words. "I expected more from him!"
"Who? Vick?" He is the son of the company owner, after all.
"No, Pretty Boy's useless." She waves her hand dismissively as she continues pacing. She must not know he's being groomed to run the company. "Vince! I expected more from Vince!" She's looking at the floor, shaking her head.
"He doesn't speak about women this way—so disgustingly disrespectful!"
"Pfft…Right," I smirk, leaning back against the sink counter. "Vince Vincent, champion of women everywhere." Strangely, I find it easy to call him Vince now.
She looks up at me, as if seeing me for the first time. "Yes, he is!"
"Yeah, but when he asked you to take me up here, you made that comment about us gals getting to know each other."
"That was a joke. I like to keep him on his toes. He's not like that!" I raise my eyebrow at her. "Look around!" She throws her arms out. "Falk is bro-culture central! Almost all the women who work for this company are in support positions—assistants and personnel and record-keeping. Vince is aiming to change that! Captain Gray knows it needs to move into the twenty-first century, but he's got too much on his shoulders already so he's tapped Vince to help him modernize Falk and that's one of the reasons I threw in with his vision of the company's future!" Honestly, she's acting almost hurt, as if someone told her Santa Claus doesn't exist and fairy tales aren't real, the poor dear. Maybe she's not so badass. "Oh…he and I are going to have words about this."
"He doesn't know you overheard them?"
"No, but believe me, he will."
"Cherie, please do not tell him I was there. That I heard anything. Please."
Her phone chirps in her pocket. She pulls it out to read a text. "Change of plans. Apparently, you're now moving to the Boiler Room."
I follow her out of the restroom to my empty and soon-to-be ex-office.
"You're being cool about this." She appraises me with something like respect as I sit in the chair to reach under the desk to where I'd put my bag. "Even though you were the subject of their stupid testosterone display. Initially, at least." I almost want to ask her what else was said, but I don't dare. What's the point anyway?
Cherie doesn't know Vince's and my history. She doesn't know, thankfully, that I was under a ridiculous and childish misapprehension about our relationship, even if it only lasted from around midnight last night to a few short minutes ago. I now realize that Prince Charmings are the stuff of fairy tales. I don't even blame Vince, really, because I was the childish naive idiot. I was the one who was engaging in a pointless endeavor. But not anymore.
Because it was not midnight at all, but it was standing in the hallway listening to Vince disparage me to the scion of the company that was the precise moment I turned into a pumpkin.
And it was the few minutes alone in the restroom when I put down childish things.
I slide the lower drawer open anyway—another pointless endeavor, because I already know. I'm actually glad to find that the box I smiled about just a short time ago has…Poof!... disappeared; I couldn't stand the sight of it now anyway.
"Whatever," I shrug insouciantly at Cherie, sliding the drawer closed again. "It makes no difference to me what they said." In this moment, I'm not even lying.
"But it does to me. That's not like him at all."
Yeah? She should've seen him in Philadelphia. I collect my bag and the company manual. We start to walk out of the office when she stops, an evil grin spreading over her face. "I have an idea," she says.
When she relays this genius idea of hers, a mirroring grin creeps onto my own face. "I'm game," I say. I may not really blame Vince for my own idiocy, but…sure, yeah…I'm totally up for it.
And this, right now, is the precise moment when Cherie becomes something like my own personal fairy godmother. A decidedly badass one.
I heft the company manual onto my new desk in the Boiler Room with a sigh. This office set-up is a mirror of the Captain's, but along the adjacent wall.
"Why is she special?" Cherie spits out bitterly from the outer office, possibly loud enough for the guys outside in the main room to hear. When we'd walked in, they were naming the handful of new interns. Vince had left the group to show Cherie and me to my new office, insisting to her I was still separate. Our whole plan is predicated on the naming thing, so she's improvising. My guess is she's counting on Vince not to want an embarrassing spectacle.
"Keep your voice down!" Vince swivels to look at me through the glass.
"What? Is she too fragile to join the Boiler Room properly?"
"Cherie! I'm disappointed in you!" Vince hisses at her, aghast.
"You're disappointed in me?" The glare she shoots him is real this time. "Why don't we ask the little Princess over there." She stabs a thumb in my direction.
I stick my head out the door to the outer office. I make my voice small. "It's okay, Vince. I won't turn into a pumpkin." Been there, done that.
He looks kindly at me, almost tenderly, and yeah, I flash back to all the sweet moments I've had with Leif before I shove them back.
He turns to Cherie. "Fine," he says exasperated, eager to be done with this spectacle. Oh…she's good. "But you and I are going to talk later."
"We most definitely are. But you know… Ella has just given me an idea." Cherie lowers her voice. "Let's make it interesting. A hundred and twenty dollars says I can guess what they're going to name little Princess Ella." That was the sum of his winnings from the Bo bet.
Vince has a disconcerted, almost panicked expression as he looks out the glass wall to the interns who've stopped to watch. He turns back to Cherie. "Same rules?"
"No. Totally brand spanking new rules. I can ask or comment on anything as can you. And either of us can stop to recap at any time, but if you do it, it goes to double. And…" Wait! There's not supposed to be any doubling, nor any ands—she's improvising again. "I'm also thinking the entire Boiler Room's going to do something unprecedented in the history of naming. I'm not going to say what that is, but I'll write it down with my name choice and seal it in an envelope. If that happens and they choose my name, I also get to pick my projects and my team for them. And institute one new Boiler Room rule. No, two new rules. And you have to let me in more starting now, including whatever that secret project is you and the Captain started cooking up last summer. Don't think I didn't notice that! And…you have to answer any question fully that I ask of you for the next month, no evasions." That's a lot of ands.
"Pending the Captain's approval on letting you in, sure. And when I win, you have to do…let's say, five favors for me. And without any lip about any of it."
"What are they?"
"I don't know yet."
"Okay then." They shake hands.
She goes around the desk to grab a piece of paper, a marker and an envelope from a drawer, humming, "Some Day My Prince Will Come."
Vince strides out to the main room, where the rest of the Boiler Room is waiting. "Looks like we've got one more newbie to name!"
We follow him out with Cherie whispering "Trust me!" I don't know what this new thing is she added, but it's too late. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Someone calls out, "I thought she was with personnel."
Cherie answers, "Your evil Second, Vince, has decided he's not going to make her stay in the cinders. Although she might belong there."
Farmer Ted coos, "Ooo…cat fight!"
"See! Two females can't get along. I read it somewhere. They'll always compete for the attention of the males." This gem from Quag, of course.
Cherie and I shoot each other surreptitious disgusted looks. We'd only agreed to take Vince's money, but our subtle nods to each other indicate that now…all bets are off.
Cherie says to everyone, "Speaking of competing, there are always games afoot here in the Boiler Room and Vince and I just made a little bet that I could guess what you're going to name this new girl. Do any of you…males…want to join in? It'll be your clearly superior manly brains against my feminine intuition."
I stand at the front, my countenance one of all innocence. At least a dozen guys put money on the front table and I really hope we've strategized correctly because if this doesn't work I'd probably be liable for half that growing pile.
"Where's your money, Cherie?" Quag asks. "How do we know you're not going to welsh?"
"I'm not some evil stepsister," Cherie scoffs. "I'm good for it. But I'm not going to lose." She looks behind the grouping of interns to where Vince and Bo stand next to each other with matching crossed arms, but only Vince has a stupid pompous look on his face. "Bo, I've not seen you put in? You scared of a little feminine intuition?" she taunts, waving the sealed envelope in the air.
Bo nods, his eyes toggle between Cherie and me.
"Smart man. Here, the little princess can hold the envelope." She hands it to me then goes to stand next to Silent Bob to my left. "Gentlemen, let your questions begin!"
"What's your name?" someone asks.
"Ellawyn Ellis," I emphasize just the right syllables.
"What kind of parents name their kid Ell Ell?" Quag sneers.
I'm close enough to him to read his name patch for the first time. This is going better than expected already and it irks me just a little that he disparaged my parents, so I deviate from the script a little. "Says the dude whose name patch reads, Quagmire? Seriously?" There's scattered laughter at this.
"My real name's Glenn and I'm from Rhode Island! Ring any bells?" I shake my head. "It's from Family Guy? You know, the TV show?"
"Not everyone spends their nights sitting around watching stupid animation," Cherie says, narrowing her eyes at me in a way that I know is meant to say that I need to get back on track. "We females have floors to scrub and stuff."
"Is your middle name Ellen?" Farmer Ted.
"Or Elizabeth? Heh heh." Quagmire.
"No, it's Junefleur." I sneer back. An amalgamation of both my grandmothers' names.
"Oh, she's cool, this Ell J Ell," Cherie mocks.
"Where were you born?" someone asks.
"Well, I was born on a plane over the ocean…"
"For reals?" I don't know who asks this.
"Yes," I say, "That's probably why I like the ocean. But the longest I've ever lived anywhere is in Cali. I went to Stanford." I glance at Vince, who's looking ever so slightly confused. He hasn't said anything yet.
Cherie says, "You don't look old enough to have graduated. Are you going back to Cali?"
Silent Bob starts rapping quietly, "I'm going back to Cali, Cali, Cali. I'm going back to Cali."
Perfectly timed, I answer Cherie. "I don't think so."
Silent Bob gets louder now and I can see the click in Vince's cocky eyes as more of the interns join Silent Bob's rap. "I'm going back to Cali, Cali, Cali…"
Cherie looks around, perturbed. "Shut up people! Wait! Let's talk about her shoes. They're like glass slippers, only with tall heels!" Which doesn't really make any sense because my heels are solid grey. But it doesn't matter now.
"Her bikini, small. Heels, tall. She said she liked the ocean!"
I know this hit song from the '90's via Bea, of course; she'd play "Going Back To Cali" each time I was about to leave to return to Stanford after a visit home. I watch Vince, who's watching Cherie.
"Okay, let's go ahead and recap," he says over the singing interns, smugness dripping off of him. "Her first and last names start with Ell Ell, and her middle name with J. She's not going back to Cali, but… She says. She likes. The ocean." The cadence of his words matches Silent Bob's rap.
It's getting louder by the second. I can see the click in nearly everyone else's eyes as they start in, too. "Going back to Cali, Cali, Cali, going back to Cali."
It's Quag, screaming out, "LL Cool J! LL Cool J!" Then he, too, starts in on LL Cool J's song.
Vince calls out, "Is that what we're going to call this girl? LL Cool J?" No one answers him, because they're all singing the song, but they nod. Cherie's shoulders drop in defeat.
"Okay, okay. Cut it!" Vince says louder, unable to keep the stupid triumphant grin off his stupid conceited face. The sing-along gets quieter, but it doesn't stop entirely. "I believe many of us had a bet with Cherie. Why don't we have the newly named, LL Cool J open the envelope!"
Cherie glares at him, saying "If her spindly, gawky arms have enough strength to open it!"
I gaze at Vince sweetly. Hearing Cherie use his words to Vick about me, he narrows his eyes and I watch that grin start to slide right off his face, the poor dear. I hold the envelope up high to tear it open in full view and pull out the paper inside. I read it first, then turn it to face everyone else.
It's almost as if someone hit the pause button. The interns all stop singing, except for Silent Bob.
Cherie goes to the table where the money is. She swoops it up and hands a chunk to Silent Bob before coming to stand next to me at the front.
She turns to the stunned crowd. "Ha ha, Suckas! It wasn't feminine intuition at all, but observation. I've observed that Silent Bob can quickly pick up patterns no one else seems to. And Bob nearly always listens to old-school rap when he plays his i-Pod, which he does most of the time he's here. Have you boyz noticed that? I don't think so!" she crows over the chorus of sore-loser muttering coming mostly from the sexist twins."I've also observed that our fearless leader is quite attuned to Silent Bob, but he's so used to playing all of us that he might not observe when he himself is getting played. So…save the drama for your mamas! You shouldn't have bet with Vince. You should've thrown down with the grrrlz!"
As I continue to hold up the paper, I see Bo laughing heartily, while gazing at Cherie. I think I'm witnessing the precise moment he falls in love with her. Heck, I'm kind of in love with her, too.
Silent Bob has started on a new LL Cool J song. "Mama said knock you out! I'm gonna knock you out!"
Vince strides forward, grabbing the paper out of my hands, staring at it, as if he can't quite believe what it says. He looks at Cherie with confusion, saying quietly, "But I thought for sure you were going for…"
I give him my sweetest, most simpering look. "Yeah, I guessed what you would think she'd go for."
His eyes dart to mine, still disbelieving. "You were in on this?" He looks aghast as I hold up my hand for Cherie to give me a high five.
She does, then keeps our hands up like the champions we are, strangely illustrating Silent Bob's new rap, also by LL Cool J. "I'm gonna knock you out. Mama said knock you out!"
This might be the exact moment that Vince turns into a pumpkin.
I lean in, saying only loud enough for him to hear, "I think I decided to bet against you right after the moment I realized…" I drop the innocent look to smirk at him, then snatch the paper out of his hands. "I'm nobody's Cinderella."
