#32 – Inside

Peter adjusted his tie self-consciously in the wavy reflection of the stainless steel elevator doors. It didn't look right to him, but he chalked that up to the fact he hadn't worn one in a long time. He gave himself a little mental pep-talk as the numbers on the elevator lit up in sequence. Be honest. Be humble, but assertive. Let Davidson know what you want, but let him know what he's going to get out of it in return.

The number stayed lit at 40, and the doors dinged open. He was immediately assaulted by the racket which could only be fifty keyboards being worked at the same time. He wound down the familiar path between the cubicles toward the boss' office, forcing himself to stay loose and relaxed. Easier said than done – Peter was generally a proud man, even though he hadn't had much to be proud of over the last year or so. He reached the mahogany door at the back of the large, open workspace and knocked three times.

"Come in," the oddly feminine voice called from behind it, and Peter did. He stifled the smile that always threatened to rise on his face when he saw the bear of a man to which the womanly voice belonged. He crossed quickly to the desk to shake Davidson's hand, and took it as a good sign that Davidson both rose out of his chair and smiled as they shook. "Peter, it's good to see you. I'm glad you called to meet with me." He gestured at the chair opposite his, and Peter took it.

"I'm glad you feel that way, sir. I decided it was time to move on, and seeing about getting the best job I ever had back was first on the list."

Davidson's smile grew even wider. "You really came in guns blazing, huh Pete? Flattery, and right off the top. I like it."

Peter smiled back. "I guess you know why I'm here. No need to mince words. I'm really sorry about the way I left, and I want my old job back. If you'd have me, I'll take whatever position you have available and work my way back up."

Davidson waved the comment away. "I'm not going to keep you in suspense. I'd be happy to have you back, Peter. We had a hard time filling your spot to begin with, and the guy doing your old job now isn't anywhere near as good at it as you were." The smile faded and he leaned forward slightly. "We have to get serious about a couple of things, though. I need to know – know – that if I bump that guy back down and give you his spot, you're not going to…relapse. I can't be left stranded again, Peter. Not for the same thing, twice."

Peter struggled to find the right words for a short moment. "I can promise you that it won't happen again. I won't lie and say I'm over it, but I'm over it enough to see what I need to do. Eva's gone, there's nothing I can do about it. But Marco is still here, and he needs a dad with a stable job. If you don't trust that I'm mentally stable again, you can trust that, sir. I'll be reliable for you because I have to be reliable for him."

Davidson's stern expression relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair a little. It gave a protesting squeak at the abuse the huge man was putting on it, and Peter once again tried not to smile. "I believe you," he told Peter frankly. "I'm going to take a gamble and put you back at your old data supervisor position. Don't let me down."

Davidson's declaration sounded official enough to make Peter breathe an internal sigh of relief. "I won't, Mr. Davidson. You have my word."

Davidson nodded and unexpectedly smiled again. "How's Marco doing?"

"He seems to be all right. He's not home much, but a lot of that's probably my fault."

Davidson continued to smile. "You know I liked that kid right from the start. Remember the company picnic two years ago?"

Peter finally allowed himself to grin as he remembered the outing Davidson was talking about. Davidson had gotten drunk within the first hour of the picnic, and everyone had avoided him. Everyone except for Marco. Marco had spent two full hours joking around with Peter's boss, never realizing that the man he was telling crude jokes to was in charge of his dad's financial fate. Davidson had genuinely taken a shine to him, though, and Peter left the picnic with his job more secure than it had ever been. "I remember. Marco's…a handful. And he's got no filter between brain and mouth. Sorry if he bothered you." Peter played his part of the dad not quite sure about his son's antics to a tee, and got the reaction he wanted.

"Nonsense!" Davidson squeaked. "That kid has got the personality. I'll be happy to give him a job in Public Relations when he's old enough – if there's anybody who can soften up those tightwad financialists and investors, its Marco. I really like that kid," he said again. "Anyway, is next Monday too early to start you back, Peter?"

"Not a bit. I'll be here bright and early. Thank you again for the opportunity."

Davidson continued to grin. "And let Marco play hooky and bring him in one day, huh? I wouldn't mind hanging out with him again."

Peter rolled his eyes internally, but said, "I'll do that, sir. Count on it."

Davidson stood again, a clear sign that the meeting was over. He reached out and shook Peter's hand enthusiastically. "Good to have you back, Pete. Welcome back to the inside. See you Monday."

A/N – For everybody reading that's familiar with my stuff, you'll notice I've been a lot better when it comes to complaining about crappy reviewership. Gotta say something now, though…fifty-nine individual, signed-in readers on the last chapter with one person reviewing? Man…that's really low. Help Sweetbriar out, huh? Thanks.