A/N Thank you again for the warm response this is getting. I'm having fun writing this.
When I return to my room I go through my email to find a copy of my resume. This phone is awesome. It's up to date, so all I need to do is figure out how to word the email to the Headmaster at Peterson Academy. "Dear Sir, The unfortunate circumstances surrounding the recent vacancy you seem to have for a math teacher proved a great laugh at dinner last night. Please consider me," probably wasn't going to fly. I took so long deliberating that once I'd finished it was time to head to Amelia's. I'd decided to go with standard and formal in the end, rather than anything more affectedly delicate. Sometimes blindness is the greatest courtesy. I simply stated that I was recently returned to the area and hoped to be considered for any position in their math faculty. I'm sure he'd had more than enough reminders this week about the immediate vacancy itself, let alone any allusions to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding it.
Amelia's apartment was too far to walk, so Marcia from the desk called up a car for me. It ended up being one of the hotel's town cars rather than a taxi. I wanted to balk but instead I decided to just go with it. I could give Miss Manners a run for her money today, I was sure. I had hoped to have a few minutes alone with Amelia before the others arrived, but there was no such luck. The three of them were waiting out on the street for me and once I'd thanked my driver and joined them it was a solid three minutes of hugs and shrieking. I know that some people make fun of women who do this, but I don't feel like there's a single thing wrong with being thrilled to see your friends again and showing it. Besides, I'm a hugger by nature.
I wasn't as close to Tara and Arlene as I was to Amelia, not by a mile. They were good girls though. Amelia had elected today of all days to start being discrete, and had not mentioned to the other two why I was back now, after having only moved a month ago. I guess she didn't have much to tell them. I held up my hands when they asked and suggested we head to lunch.
"It's a bit of a story, girls, we might as well be sitting down," I told them all.
Amelia led the way, this was her neighbourhood after all, and she picked a little café. Even though it was nice out, we sat inside for a bit more privacy. I gave the three the entire ugly tale, from arriving home Monday night to arriving in New Orleans, except I left out Eric entirely. Instead, I just told them I was staying at the hotel for a week taking some time to think and to act in favour of my next step. Amelia, who'd not only caught my 'we' yesterday, but who had wheedled information out of me enough times in the past to know exactly when I was withholding, said nothing. She gave me a steady look once I'd finished in acknowledgement of the fact that she knew there was more to the story. The other two took no notice of it. Since I'd finished talking, they were finally free to erupt in paroxysms of sympathy, and they did so.
Bill was soundly abused for the next hour. Generally, I don't agree with this sort of thing. No, not for the sake of the lying, mistreating, rat bastard, whoever he happens to be at the time, but rather for the sake of the friendship. One of the worst things that happened to me in High School, or at least the biggest drama, involved a friend that broke up with her boyfriend. I'd joined her in a show of solidarity and insulted him as best as I could give, bringing up all his many slights against her and how much better she was without him. I comforted her when she grew weak and pined after him, and I helped her avoid him when he finally realized he was sorry. Then two weeks later they got back together, and she hated my guts for all the crap I'd put down about the love of her life. I lost a best friend overnight. She literally never spoke to me again. They got married last spring and she's now expecting. They live down the road from Jason. So I'd had my lesson the hard way about boyfriend bashing, but since I was sure as sunshine I wasn't ever letting Bill Compton back into my bed, I let them go right on.
I didn't really feel the need to participate, so instead I just nodded and laughed when appropriate. I thanked them genuinely every time they paid me compliments intended to bolster my spirits. They concluded that Bill had never wanted to commit to me, and that he was clearly brain damaged for that since I was a catch on every level. Furthermore, coaxing me to move to Seattle with him in the first place was unconscionable. He should be smote down from on High for that one. I was guilty only of trying to support my man in his work, which was commendable. He had not only the wrong priorities, but the emotional capacity of a dishrag. Lorena was a filthy whore who deserved herpes, full stop. Once we got to that point, the conversation finally shifted and the commiseration receded.
Arlene turned to me, all concern, "Is it okay if I share happy news?"
I gave her a big smile. "Yes, please."
She opened her purse and coyly slid a picture onto the table, face down. When she flipped it over with a huge smile it proved to be a still from her sonogram. Hugs and squealing broke out all around again. Arlene is sweet with a big heart, but her trouble is that she always gives it away too quickly. She was on marriage number two. Her parents had made her get the first one annulled when she eloped right after graduation. I didn't know her husband too well, but I got the sense that in the fullness of time, the likelihood that we'd be sitting here comforting Arlene some day, instead of me, was high. A baby was something else entirely, and the fact that she was about to have someone that truly deserved the unconditional love she could give made me a little misty. She was going to be a wonderful mom.
"Arlene, that's the best news I could have gotten today!" I exclaimed, peering at the grainy photograph.
"I don't know what I'm going to call him," she fretted, "Nothing seems perfect yet."
"Do you already have a book of baby names?" Tara asks.
"No, I should, I've just been making a list every time I hear one that I like. We only found out a couple of weeks ago," Arlene beams.
We agreed to head over to a bookstore and see what we could find in the way of baby books for Arlene, and I was eager to pick up one of Jade's suggestions to try. Leaving the café, Tara pulled me back, letting the other two walk a bit ahead.
"Listen, I didn't want to say anything in front of everyone, but just so you know, they'll get theirs. Bad things come to bad people," she says to me, speaking quietly. I pull back a moment to study her face as she's sounding incredibly serious at the moment.
"Tara?" I'm asking what she meant by that.
"I couldn't say anything before, because you were with Bill, and Bill's with Area Five, but just so you know, six months from now both the horse's ass and that ugly cow will be out of a job."
I lift my eyebrows. "Tara, what are you trying to say?"
"Sookie, the entire focus of my job for the last three months has been to aggressively lobby their shareholders to sell. My boss has been meeting with members of their board to try to pull them to accept our tender for weeks. Arkansas is taking over Area Five one way or another, and there are no plans to keep their staff when we already have eleven hundred of our own." She said it with satisfaction and assurance. Well, why wouldn't she?
I gaped. I have no idea what she thought I was thinking, but I would bet a billion dollars she was wrong. She squeezed my shoulders to her in a half hug.
"So don't worry about them. Like I said, they'll get theirs. Karma's a bitch." She started to walk and I let her guide me.
Jesus. H. Christ.
At least now I realized why Arkansas Confederate had sounded so familiar to me when I'd heard it. Tara had started in their finance department right after we'd graduated. For the first time ever, I found myself wishing I had paid attention more to this kind of thing. I was honest to goodness flabbergasted. My first thought was that I was glad I hadn't told them I was staying with Eric. My next thought was if I should tell Eric. Would that be like insider trading if I told him? Or corporate espionage? Or I don't know, what do white collars go to jail for? I was kind of freaking out. Tara must have taken my silence for relief or gratitude or something, because she was being pretty cheerful as she caught us up to Ames and Arlene. My face had to be wan.
"All right Sookie?" Arlene asked with concern once we'd reached them.
"Hmm?" I'd heard my name. I scramble for a moment to reframe her comment. "Oh I'm... you know, just glum, I guess. It comes and goes. But let's... be happy now. Baby books," I tried to finish stronger but I don't think I succeeded there. I did succeed in getting concerned looks from all three of them, so I guess the ploy had some effect. It wasn't evident what I was upset about, just that I was upset.
Did I need to talk to a lawyer about this? I mean, Tara could probably lose her job maybe, if I told and they acted in a certain way. Eric and Pam could lose their jobs maybe, if I didn't tell. Tara would hate me. Maybe I should have told them all about Eric, then Tara would never have told me. If she never told me, I couldn't try to stop it. Did I want to stop it? But she did tell me! I was a lynchpin that could or could not topple corporate infrastructures! Like Caesar at the Arena! Jesus H. Christ!
My rational brain finally got a hold on the bedlam careening around the rest of my conscious mind. Step 1: Buy baby books, and a couple of novels. Step 2: Go back to Amelia's house. Step 3: Fully disclose the Eric situation. Step 4: ... Well, step four was at least two hours away, I didn't have to get that far right now. I pulled myself together as we arrived at the store and led the charge toward the section of baby-related literature.
I switched off, and let myself enjoy the company of my friends. We picked a few traditional choices for Arlene, the old favourites, really. And then we found a pregnancy journal, and some other health books, and a book for her husband that was packaged like a survival guide. It was a bit funny. When we got to the baby name books, we were engrossed for a good twenty minutes, as each of us read for ourselves, and then tried to top each other with the worst and most absurd samplings. Tara won. She showed us the name in the book, with her fingers concealing the explanation and etymology section of the entry. La-a.
"Laaaaah," giggled Arlene, making it a sheep noise.
"No, you're saying it wrong," said Tara.
"Lah-ah?" I guessed.
Tara laughed and shook her head. "Ready?" she asked, pausing for effect. "Ladasha," she deadpanned.
We all grimaced at that. The other names we'd come up with had been weird sounding, but that one took the cake. We ended up settling on the largest naming book, reasoning that as it was physically the biggest, it must contain the most names. I mean really, how else are you going to choose? They all say the same thing. We split up for a little while and browsed for ourselves. I found one of the books I was looking for and then grabbed a romance anyway, for good measure. I was tempted to look for a book about business ethics, but I figured that would be way obvious right in front of Tara. I wandered up to Amelia and gave her a pinch since she hadn't looked up from the book she was reading.
"We need to excuse ourselves soon," I said to her.
"Why, what did Tara say to you?" She's very perceptive. I paled again.
"I'll tell you because if I don't talk about it I'm going to scream, but I have other things to tell you first."
"About Bill, or Tara?" she asks.
"Everything. It might all be the same thing now. I don't know. We just need to get to step two, okay, I can't think of anything else right now," I babble.
"Step two?"
"Yes," I confirm, knowing she doesn't know what step two is.
"Alright, let's see how they're doing," she agrees. Best friends take your crazy with the rest of you.
"Thanks," I whisper. She grins at me.
We found Tara and Arlene at the magazine rack browsing through some of the new mom and pregnancy magazines. They added a few to the basket that Amelia was carrying that contained the rest of the baby things.
"Girls, I think Sookie needs to get home. I don't want to rush you or anything, but do you know how long you'll be?" Amelia asks Tara and Arlene. They each offered me a concerned little frown before agreeing that we could wrap it up. Tara, Amelia, and I split the cost of Arlene's books and then paid for all our own. This trip was being expensive. I reminded myself I was having a free hotel stay on this vacation, and convinced myself I had bigger things to worry about. Because that was a huge help. My mind reeled again for a moment before I cracked down. Focus.
Walking back to Amelia's apartment, Arlene and Tara began asking me if I was staying in town. In all the Bill bashing we had not really gotten to discussing my future plans, which kind of sucked, because I would have liked their opinions on my Bon Temps versus New Orleans dilemma. I told them without getting into it too much that I was still weighing that exact decision, and was taking the rest of the week to deliberate.
"We're just glad to have you back from the arctic north," grinned Tara. "Anywhere in Louisiana is better than Washington." Arlene nodded her agreement and I hugged both girls as we parted and promised to see each other soon.
Once we were back in Amelia's apartment, I noticed a new painting in her living room and walked over to look at it while she went to the kitchen. I could hear her grinding beans for coffee and felt grateful. When she rejoined me I started to ask who the artist was, but she interrupted me.
"Sookie cut the crap," she said. "How bad?"
"Really bad Amelia. Like, go get the notebook bad," I said forlornly. "The notebook" was an actual marble notebook that we used to document serious problems and the decisions we had to make about them. The last entry had been hers on whether or not to buy the new property. Before that, it was whether or not I should move to Seattle. It was something we'd been doing for a while, ever since boyfriend problems back at school. As we'd grown up a bit more, we'd used it less, and the dilemmas tended to be a lot weightier. It had started as simple pro/con lists, but over time we'd developed more of a system, and they now the entries read a bit like lab reports. Some people do therapy, we do this. The notebook was sacred.
Since it was my problem, she'd be taking notes. We'd been a little silly one night and declared that the problem-haver was not an objective recorder of the empirical evidence. I think maybe it had been an excuse she made up for why I was writing down her problems, but then I held her to it the next time it was my turn, and it became part of the system. She settled down next to a lamp with the notebook propped up expectantly. I didn't have to start by swearing her to absolute secrecy. That had been the second rule we made about using the notebook. Actually I think it was written on the inside cover of the first ever one we'd had. There'd been a few over the years.
"Okay, how do you want it?" I began.
"Headline first," she said. I grinned in spite of myself as I thought of Lafayette. She'd picked that up from him.
I took a deep breath trying to figure out how to word the short, short version. "Bill's jerky boss is no longer a jerk. I'm staying at the same hotel as him and Pam, by his invitation. He's in town to negotiate business with Tara's company, and she accidentally gave me a tip off about something really, really major regarding that business."
"Wow," she said. Yup, this was a doozy. "Okay, start with how he's not a jerk."
"Right, first of all, it's Eric Northman. I didn't know it when you called, but he's the grandson of Sten Northman. How do you know him?"
"Uh, only by name. Dad knows him. He also owns a lot of real estate and a bunch of hotels all over."
"I figured it was something like that. Anyway," I proceed to tell her about the meeting in the first class lounge, the hug on the flight, his temper tantrum, driving from Dallas, his convincing me to stay first the night, then the week with them, the dinner and ice cream thing non-date, and the dinner and movie through breakfast this morning. She is still scribbling furiously.
"Underline the dinner with his work people because that will be relevant to the Tara part," I mumbled, and see her nod.
"So, you like Bill's boss now," she concluded.
"I guess."
"You guess," she repeated sarcastically.
I gave an exasperated sigh. "He's gorgeous and sweet as a peach whenever he's not being a grouchy ogre, which only tends to be when he's sleep deprived or under-caffeinated. He's smart and thoughtful and he's looking out for me. Of course I freaking like him Amelia," I pause to roll my eyes at her. "But I just broke up with Bill three days ago and I didn't even properly break up, I just walked out on him, so that's not really the relevant bit. For the purpose of this dilemma, he is my friend."
"Fine. I'm making a note for later about that though."
"Fine," I say. We're not being rude to each other here, we're being honest. It's her job to ask me tough questions. I don't resent her for it at all.
"Okay, further to the Eric thing, because it's relevant to the Tara part. He is really proud of his job and the fact that he's risen really high in Area Five, or I guess any company, without drawing on his name, or his family connections. He's got a whole big thing about it."
"Male pride?" she asks. It's a common variable we've dealt with in the past.
"No, regular human pride, I think. He's earned his place, it means a lot to him."
"Alright, what's the Tara thing?" Amelia asks. I tell her exactly what Tara said to me including the bit about there possibly being hundreds and hundreds of people's jobs at stake, not just including, but especially, Tara's, Eric's, and Pam's.
"Holy shit, Sookie," she says when I finish. Her eyes are wide.
"I know," I say. "Maybe you shouldn't even write it down," I add hastily. "It could be used as evidence."
She snorted. "First rule of the notebook." She began scribbling. Yes, it was a little corny, but the first rule of the notebook was that you don't talk about the notebook. Nobody knew we kept it or used it to solve our problems. We'd shared the problem solving method with a few people over the years, but the existence of the tangible notebook was our secret.
"Do you think it's illegal?" I asked.
"I think Tara is probably the culpable one here, honestly, and I'm not sure if it's criminal or not. Crimes have to have intent right? Her only intent was to comfort a friend. Maybe civil? She probably violated some kind of contract telling company information."
"But you're not sure," I pressed.
"You didn't do anything to gain this information, and even if you choose to share it, it is not like it will do any harm to Arkansas, it would only protect Area Five from harm."
"But if it blocks the merger or the takeover, they could say that is harm. They could sue me in civil court and take Gran's house."
"Hun, you're a really small fish, I don't think Gran's house is going to console them if they lose out on a multi-million dollar acquisition, even if they were somehow able to connect it to you, which, how could they possibly."
"Well I know Peter Threadgill and his son, and their VP of finance, at least I've met them. They know exactly who I am, and that I'm connected to Eric somehow." She gives me a confused look until I clarified, "That's who we had the work dinner with. Jade, the VP, is the one who recommended I pick up that book. She's...oh my god, that's... She'll be Tara's Boss!" I just realized that just now.
Amelia let out a low whistle. "Alright, but you don't know that for sure. Ultimately, it's true, but you don't necessarily know that Jade is the one she meant when she referred to her boss specifically. She probably has one or two other superiors before Jade herself."
"Do you think I should get a lawyer?" I ask plaintively.
"I don't know."
"Do you think I should tell Eric?"
"Yes." She said it firmly and absolutely.
I gave her a long stare before asking, "Based on what?"
"If you don't tell him, and Arkansas is successful a lot of people will lose their jobs, including two people you care about. Tara told you that flat out. If you do tell, nothing happens. Morally, telling him is the right thing to do. Honestly what the hell was she thinking assuming you'd be pleased about that outcome? You've never been vindictive, least of all at the expense of others."
"But what if Area Five flips it around on them?"
"That would have nothing to do with you."
"True, and they're not planning on firing people, they made space to accommodate more employees here. I didn't know it at the time, but that's the whole reason Bill was shifted to Seattle in the first place."
"Right, so there you go. Effectively, telling Eric has no moral downside."
"Alright, I'll tell him then."
"I don't think you should tell him the source."
"No, I don't want Tara to get in any trouble over this."
"And she definitely would, if her bosses found out she'd leaked."
"Right."
"Okay, so, are you moving to Bon Temps, or are you staying here?"
"I think I'm going to do what Bill and I were doing before, only just me. Keep the Bon Temps house like a country house, but get an apartment here. The cost of keeping it is really small. I never really liked the idea of renting it anyway."
"Okay, so you need a job and an apartment. And a car," she said.
"Right." I agreed. "I think," I started, and then paused again, to make sure the thought was fully formed. "I think I'm going to go back to Bon Temps after the weekend, and have all my stuff shipped there. And then, I can do my job search while I'm home. Oh, I have to show you my new phone later. It's awesome and it has the internet on it."
"Congratulations, welcome to 2008," she says dryly. Amelia's always been an early adopter of technology. "You can stay here, if you want to stay close," she offered.
"I may take you up on that at some point, especially if I have to be up and down here for interviews, but I need to go back north for now anyway to deal with my belongings, and I'd really like to try to spend some time with Jason."
I pause and take a long, deep breath. Amelia is still scribbling away in the notebook. I wandered out into her kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee and put the kettle on so she could have a cup of tea. I stood there leaned against the counter and felt a bit better. It would be a relief to just tell Eric. He would have a lot to deal with, but I was pretty sure that he would rather have to deal with it than face the consequences of not having had the chance to. Once I heard the kettle start to go, I pulled it off the burner and called out to Amelia asking what kind of tea she wanted. Thankfully, it was only ginger peach she was requesting. She had a lot of Asian ones that would have made guess work for me, since they were all written in Japanese, or Chinese maybe. Actually, there were probably some of each in here. I shook my head and closed her fragrant tea cabinet.
Carrying her cup and mine back out I finally sat down beside her. I went down a little hard, as I was feeling drained.
"Eric said he'd suspected Bill and Lorena for a long time," I said, without turning to look at her. "I think maybe the whole time."
"Aww, Sook," she said, and leaned over to drop her head on my shoulder while she curled an arm around me.
"I keep having these moments where I wonder what I ever saw in him to begin with, but I know it just wasn't like that. I thought I loved him, but maybe I never did?"
"You did," she said. "When you two first got together, I'd never seen you so happy."
"He was so vibrant and so excited about his company, passionate, even. And then he sold it, and I think it must have been that, that started to change him."
"Money's ugly," she shrugged.
"Not always. You're not. Eric's not."
"I'm about to sound like a total snob right now, ready?" I nodded my chin into her arm, still wrapped across my shoulders. "Bill's a parvenu. A nouveau riche."
I interrupt her, "But he's cultured, and he's always been well mannered, genteel."
"Right, I'm not saying he belongs on MTV Cribs, but," she's choosing her words carefully, and I can't tell if it's because she's straining to be polite, or if he's just that hard to pin down. "He sold the company, and it made him rich. I mean, he was well off before, but now, he could conceivably never work again a day in his life, and live very comfortably, yes?"
I nod again. I'd seen the check.
"So he sold the company," she continues, "And he thinks that should put him in the caliber of the people who bought the company, but it just doesn't. I think it's that feeling of inadequacy that fucked him all up."
I sigh with a little grin as she says the last bit. Nudging her away, I lean up to take a sip of my coffee.
"I don't think we would have lasted for so much longer anyway," I say. "I think maybe...I think maybe I went to Washington to show I loved him as much as I thought I should and not...because I actually loved him that much."
"That might be true," she says.
"Does that make me a gold digger?" I ask. I'm being serious.
"What?" she laughs at me.
"Because I stayed with him even though I was falling out of love, and he has money."
"Sookie, you are not a gold digger."
"But I was living in his condo."
"For a grand total of thirty-three days, after almost two years of splitting the rent on your apartment here, at your insistence, when you were teaching twelve year olds at a parish school and he had ten million dollars in the bank and a job in his own right. And you helped pay for the move itself. And you've paid for all the work on Gran's, and the tax. You buy your own things. Your long-term boyfriend bought a home for the two of you to share together, that he could amply afford. Nothing in this scenario makes you a low down opportunist."
I sigh.
"Sookie, just no. Okay?"
"Eric is having his company pay the hotel that his family owns for my stay in a luxury suite with spa treatments."
"Did you ask him to?"
"No."
"Did you have sex with him, or hint that you would have sex with him before he issued the invitation?"
"No! Well, I don't know. I'm probably guilty of a little flirting, but he has always started it."
"Sookie, gold diggers don't lure men to their beds for a g-rated night of hand holding in exchange for a pot of coffee and some pancakes. At worst, you're guilty of sort-of-dating him."
"I couldn't date Eric Northman."
"Why?"
I didn't really have an answer. I started rubbing my eyes. I was feeling exhausted and it was only a bit after five.
"I'm sleepy," I said.
"Drink your coffee, Stackhouse," she said. She had picked up the notebook again while I sipped.
"I'm writing up Eric himself as a separate report from the Tara thing, but I'm not going to do the decision because you haven't made it, and won't, until there is more evidence, okay?"
I nod my assent. "That's fair. I don't know if it'll be resolved even. He's in Seattle now with everyone else."
"I'll add that," she says, still writing. "I think you should ask Eric about the legal stuff. I think he'd know better than us if you need to be concerned for yourself."
"That's a good idea. The only thing I'm still concerned about is if I would be liable for passing it on to him in the first place. Maybe I could ask a hypothetical first, and see if he thinks I should tell him at all?"
"I think you should really try to tell him, but if you feel like you have to clear it first, or if he tells you that you should get speak to legal counsel first after you pose your hypothetical, then do that."
"Amelia, you are so awesome," I say, meaning it. "I was freaking out so badly."
"I could tell. I think we would have needed the notebook anyway, either for Eric or where to move, though that seems to have sorted itself out. I'm actually kind of repelled by Tara at the moment."
"Yeah, I think part of my shock when she said it was that she'd even think that I'd be happy to hear that."
"I figure it must just be the atmosphere of that world," Amelia nods. "Cold, cutthroat. All of this stuff about ignoring human beings for a bottom line. You don't like to think about it, but when you see it up close, it all seems true."
"Mister Barker got fired this week," I tell her.
"Who is Mister Barker?"
"A frequenter of prostitutes, apparently. He was a math teacher at Peterson."
"I don't remember the name." She was an alumna. "Young guy?"
"Not sure. I sent them my resume."
"Good. You'd like it there, most kids are really eager to be there."
"Part of me feels like I should try to get back into the parish system, only because they need good teachers more."
"Every one needs good teachers, though." True.
"Well, I'll cross that bridge when I've got options to spare, I guess."
"This is done," she says, holding up the notebook to me. I read through the report and sign below her name, and initial the Eric page, as it is incomplete. "Do you want to take it?"
"Better keep it here until I'm settled, I think. I don't really want to take it to a hotel." Even though I've told her that, I don't give back the notebook. Instead, I'm flipping back to the entry about Seattle and rereading it. She glances over to see what I'm looking at.
"Sook, don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Second guess. You thought... I thought... that was his big commitment gesture. I was thinking of it as I would a ring."
"Thank God it wasn't," I say, feeling mortified, because she was right, that's exactly how I'd thought of it too. "I don't think we did a good enough job in the objectivity on this one. I think in hindsight that we made the call based on hope and expectations, rather than facts. We need to be more careful with that."
I realized as I was doing it that I'd fallen into our safety net. The notebook's great utility was that it allowed us to distance ourselves from the problems, even while acknowledging that they were still ours. It happens to be a lot easier to admit the truth through a surrogate. So we drew the wrong conclusion, because we let our personal feelings interfere with the interpretation of the evidence. It sounded a bit better than that I'd let hope blind me to the facts of the situation.
"I think we were both too emotionally invested," agreed Amelia. "I really wanted you to be happy, Sook."
"I will be," I smiled faintly. "Just not with Bill." I closed the book and put it in her lap. "I think I am going to go back and catch a nap. This has been an emotionally draining day."
"Yeah. Can you believe Arlene though? I don't think her marriage is going to last, but she's going to be one hell of a mother."
I laughed lightly as she said it. "I thought exactly the same."
I ordered a cab and as it drove me back to the hotel I found myself testing my mood in the same way you test a wound for tenderness, gingerly. I was a bit sad, but more for myself than because of Bill. I deemed it an improvement. It had been pretty helpful to realize that I'd fallen out of love with him at some point before all this. I didn't think any better of him for the betrayal, but it hurt a little bit less knowing that. I felt light and heavy all at once when I got back to the room and crawled up on top of the bed. I dozed for while in the darkness until my phone rang.
"Mmm?" I answered drowsily.
"Sookie," said Bill.
"Bill?" I asked, pinching reflexively at my arm and glaring over to the clock. It was after eight. That seemed about right. I was probably not dreaming. "How did you get this number?" I asked, wide awake now.
"I ran into your friend Rebecca up here, and told her I'd accidentally deleted your new number from my phone. She gave me yours from the message you sent her. She's not aware that anything is amiss between us."
"Bill, I distinctly remember asking you not to call me."
"That's not going to prove an effective means of resolving our problem."
"Which problem is that, Bill?"
"The matter of my infidelity. There will be no further indiscretions on my part. This was a one-time incident."
"I don't believe you."
"I give you my word. I have no other way of proving something did not occur."
"Your word is worth shit, Bill. You know it, and I know it."
"I can see you're still being irrational."
"Bill I'm hanging up the phone now. Do not call me again. Ever." I disconnected the call. I balled up my fists and slammed them into the mattress beside me several times. I could feel my face flushed with anger, but after a few minutes of sitting there steaming mad I realized that I hadn't cried, and that in itself made me start to calm down and feel a bit better. I stared down at my phone again and saw I'd missed calls from both Eric and Pam while I'd been napping. I dialled Pam.
"This is Pam," she answered.
"Hi Pam, it's Sookie."
"Oh, hello Sookie. Where are you?"
"In my room. I got back a bit ago and fell asleep. Are you guys still at work?"
"I'm upstairs. You can call him if you're looking for him."
"Nah, that's okay. Mind if I come up for a minute? I promised you a chat this morning."
"Alright then." She hung up on me. It must be in the air tonight.
I gave my hair a brush and changed my shirt for one that wasn't wrinkled. I grabbed her shoes and went out to the elevator and up to her room. She seemed to take a long time coming to the door when I knocked. She was annoyed with me. I held up her shoes as a peace offering when she opened the door. She took them and stepped back to let me inside. She deposited them in her closet and returned to me in the foyer.
"Pam, what you saw this morning," I began.
"Sookie, it's not my business. If I made it a point to keep track of every woman Eric has slept with, I wouldn't have time to get anything else done." Ouch.
I closed my eyes briefly. "Well, thank you for that," I said. "Bitchy as you were trying to be, you hit the nail on the head. We slept Pam, that's all. He came down with a Kill Bill DVD and we both fell asleep on the couch before it finished."
"I fail to see why I'm supposed to care what you and Eric did or didn't do."
"You clearly do care Pam, or you wouldn't be acting so nasty with me right now, or this morning, or with Eric all day, I'm willin' ta bet." She didn't deny any part of that.
When she didn't say anything else, I had to press her. "Maybe you want to take a stab at explaining what your problem is."
Her silence continued until I threw up my hands and reached for the door, huffing out, "Fine."
Then, "Wait," she said. And I turned back to her with an expectant look.
"We are friends. Both you and Eric, and Eric and I."
I give her a nod to confirm and then let her continue.
"Eric is my concern. It is my job, and I like my job. I like him. He has wanted you. He has made it clear in the past, but you were unavailable to him. You like him too. As we are friends, I am concerned for you as well. This is the worst possible time for either of you to strike up anything. He needs to be focused on the merger, and you need to focus on unfucking your life in the absence of that tiny cocked little mouth breather you clung to for ages."
I had to give her a little grin on that one.
"Even without the extraneous circumstances, you are ultimately incompatible. Should you try and fail, which seems likely, I will be left in the middle, putting a serious strain on either my work relationship, or one of the few female friendships I've been able to maintain. I tell you now, I will choose him."
I hold up a hand to halt her. "Let me stop you there, Pam. You had it in one. I do like him, but it's not the right time," I say.
"But it hasn't stopped him," she begins again.
"He's being my friend right now Pam, and I'm letting him be my friend. Maybe a flirty, snugly friend, but that is all. If you're going to be pissed off at me for that, I can't stop you, but I sure wish you wouldn't be. I'm not a dummy. I've got no plans to run myself out of one mess and right into another. I wish you thought better of me than to assume that I would."
She has nothing to say to that.
"I'm going to go then. I'll see you later, when you're done playing Bitch Barbie."
With that, I leave. Hopefully that will have worked. I stretch out my arms and roll my neck while I'm waiting for the elevator. My hands are shaking a little bit with adrenaline leftover from my confrontation. I am not really made for those kind of speeches, but I'm not really sure what other approach I could have taken. I'm still feeling jittery when I get back to my room, both from Bill and from Pam. I change into my new workout clothes and put my hair up and head down to the gym, and of course, that's where I find Eric.
He's using the free weights and as incredibly tempting as it is to just stand there and watch him indefinitely, I find my voice quickly and call out hello and he catches my eye in the mirror before turning around. "Do you mind company?" I ask. "I've got energy to burn."
He shakes his head and turns back around. Okay, he is being weird again. "I talked to Pam," I tell him. "She's going to stop being a bitch now, I think."
"Good," he grunts through one of his reps.
I stretch and climb on to the elliptical machine again, program it, and go. He leaves after a while calling goodbye to me. I've got to talk to him about Tara, but this probably wasn't the venue for that anyway. I wonder if I should do it with Pam there? Maybe not. I'll leave it up to his discretion to tell her or not tell her. I'm just going to be the messenger in this. He will act as he feels appropriate with the information. I stay on for a second twenty-minute round after my first. I'm drenched again, and I wander around the room while I cool off and work the motion of the ellipses out of my stride. Feeling puckish, I lean over and kick myself up into a handstand and walk three paces forward before toppling over and decide to just lay there for a minute, all akimbo. I have had a messed up day in a whole week of messed up days. This calls for a shower.
I went upstairs and had a nice long one, and it was blissful. I felt snug as a bug in a rug after I got out and wrapped a robe around myself. I started to tend to my hair when there was a knock on the door. It proved to be Pam. She seemed to missing a bit of her usual swagger when I answered.
"Hey Pam."
"Hey," she said.
"Want to come in?" I asked, after a moment.
"No, I think I'm going to make an early night of it. I've brought you this," she says, pushing a small pastry box at me. "I didn't know if you'd eaten, but it's dessert."
I hadn't eaten, and once she'd said it, I realized that one of the many feelings still rattling around beneath the calm veneer my shower had plastered across me was indeed hunger.
"Thanks Pam," I said, taking it from her.
"Tiramisu," she offered. "It's to die for."
I gave her a smile and I think I surprised her with a one armed hug. After a moment she returned it tentatively. She smoothed her hands across her shirt to brush away any wrinkles I'd left once we broke apart.
'If you're up in the morning, you should meet us for breakfast. We'll be wrapped up all day again."
"Alright, give me a call," I say. "If I'm up I'll join, otherwise, leave me to dreamland and I'll see you tomorrow night."
"Alright then. Goodnight Sookie."
"Goodnight Pam," I return. She walks away and I close the door. I took my parcel back to the couch and fought with the bakery string until I managed to open it. The tiramisu was delicious. As apologies go, this one had been pretty good.
It was a bit after ten when I finally had my hair dry and I was torn between curling up in bed and going to face the music with Eric about the Tara thing. I decided to go ahead, reasoning that I'd sleep better with less weighing on me. I pulled on just jeans and a t-shirt, and went up in just my stockinged feet. He was in his track pants and another tee when he opened the door to let me in. I saw a similar bakery box on the table by the door.
"Didn't care for your peace offering?" I asked, giving it a nudge so he knew what I meant.
"She was out of line. She can stew for the night."
"Your loss. It was excellent," I reply. I take a deep breath to steel myself before beginning, "Eric, I need to talk to you about something important."
I turn back toward him and realize that he's right beside me and a moment later there was one hand on my shoulder and another at my jaw, his thumb nudging up at my chin, and he was kissing me. I let my eyes fall closed and returned it, my own hands coming to his chest as I leaned in to him. When his lips parted mine I didn't hesitate and my heart raced as our tongues danced and his arm fell around my back to pull me closer. It was everything a kiss should be and when I pulled away with gasp I felt my face was hot and he looked haunted.
"Eric," I breathed, stepping away. He followed my movement and I had to firm my hands against him, pushing him back as I retreated. "Eric," I repeated more firmly, maybe straining. "Not. Now. I need to talk to you and it's important."
I have no idea where my resolve was coming from, because actually, I wanted nothing more than to be kissing him again. He was really, really good at it.
"It's about your work," I finally offered when the haze wasn't clearing from his eyes. That seemed to do the trick. He took a step back and shook his head, flexing his hands into fists and releasing them as he steadied himself.
"Alright?" he prompted me.
"Okay," I paused, and started up pacing away from him. "Okay, first. Hypothetically, if I happened across information pertaining to Arkansas' plans in the merger, is that something that I can legally tell you about?"
"What?" That drew any lingering trace of lust right out of him. His whole posture changed as he straightened up, now giving me the full attention of a totally different part of his mind.
"Today I learned in passing something that seems very vital and very secret. I am pretty sure that the source of the information is technically in violation of non-disclosure. I want to tell you, but I need to know if I could get in trouble. I don't know about ethical violations and things, I... can you tell if I should get a lawyer? Am I being specific enough?" I'd started out calm, but I'm half into panic mode again.
"Sookie, what's going on?"
I'm completely flustered at this point, so I give up all hope of advice about the lawyer and just start telling him that they're buying up company shares and leaning on the Area Five board members. He's giving me a look that grows more and more incredulous as I continue.
"Sookie, who told you this?"
"I'm not telling you that."
"I don't think I can act unless I validate the claim."
"Eric, I can't. Someone of my acquaintance works in their financial department. I'd totally forgotten about it, I swear to you. When they heard I'd split from Bill, they told me. It was meant to be a comfort, as in, he'd get his comeuppance once Arkansas takes over. I was told it was underway for months, but this person never said anything about their work before because I was attached to Bill and Bill is Area Five."
"Sookie, a name."
"No."
"Do you know who the boss is that's been meeting with our board members? Is it Jade?"
I shook my head. I honestly didn't know, and I told him so. He gave me a mean look before grabbing up his phone from his dining room work station.
"Pam, I need you in here," he practically barked and tossed the phone down again. He turned back to me. "Is there anything else?"
I shook my head. "No...Eric? Was I right to tell you?" I'm feeling incredibly uncertain right now, and don't make much effort to hide it behind any display of confidence. I can see his wheels turning and he is now pacing as well, clenching and unclenching his fists again, but he stops when I speak up.
"Yes," he answers. "Yes, thank you." He crosses to me and gives me shoulders a brief squeeze and he's simultaneously guiding me toward the door. It's probably designed to be a comforting gesture but it actually feels quite cold and impersonal. He holds open the door and I see Pam pacing towards us down the hall.
"Sookie, I'm going to have to say good night," he says, releasing me. He's already focused on Pam, so I step away and head towards the elevator, dismissed. She shoots me a curious look as we pass and I give a slight jerk of my head back toward Eric, hopefully communicating that he'd fill her in. The elevator is still on the floor from when I rode up. I hear Eric's door close abruptly as I step inside. I go back downstairs and sort my day's laundry out and curl up in my comfy bed with the book that Jade recommended. I fell asleep a couple hours later wondering if it would be awkward if I wrote her back to tell her how much I'd enjoyed the start.