Brinkhurst.com

“Matt, please have a . . .”

I sit down before Jeff can finish his sentence.

“Jeff, my understanding is that you have a need, and I’m the guy to fill it. If you’re looking for a social media expert, I’m the guy. The guy.”

“Well, I want to make sure that we hire the best candidate for the job, someone who fits well into our team, has dedication to the job, and can make clients happy. We pride ourselves on being the leading agency in North America, and we’re a global leader in what we do. The people who work for us aren’t just working 9 to 5; they’re living, breathing, eating, and sleeping the work we do. That is the Quest; that is what this job is really all about,” Jeff says.

“That’s not what I’m all about. I’m a complex human being, and work is not my life. I’m not going to be the guy who pulls all nighters on projects and works the weekends too. I’m good at what I do. If you need to find someone who can be the job rather than do the job, I understand that. What you’ll find is that nobody is better than I am. If being the best matters to your agency, you’ll hire me.”

“I’m not certain that you’ll be the right fit for us. This industry changes so fast, and if you don’t keep up to date, you’re nothing,” Jeff fires back at me.

“I’m more up to date than anyone else. I’m the leader in what I do. If you don’t want me, or you think I won’t be a good fit, that’s fine. Don’t hire me. You can explain to your clients, while trying to justify your rates, why you went down your list and chose the second best guy for the job. I’ll leave here today and drop my resume off with your big three competitors.”

“Matt, good to see you again,” Jeff says with a toothy white smile and smug arrogance.

I feel annoyed and agitated, almost angry. I’m not usually like this, unless I miss a meal.

“Jeff,” I nodded my head without the exchange of an untrue pleasantry.

Why am I feeling that I need to run out of here? What’s causing every last bit of me to screech and scream ‘leave, leave, leave, leave, damn it, leave’? Why is it that only I can hear those words? Why am I not standing on Jeff’s desk with that stupid goose’s neck clutched between my fingers, yelling at the top of my lungs, ‘no. I won’t be a part of this.’?

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kayla says, while walking into Jeff’s office.

Jeff looks at her with an angry grin, as if he can alert Kayla that he wants her out without alarming me.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Jeff says, pretending that he is an actual gentleman.

“Can I get either of you anything?” Kayla inquires.

“Do you have tea?” I ask.

“Yes,” Kayla responds.

“I would just love a cup,” I say.

Jeff lets out a bit of a girlish giggle.

“Mr. Miller, anything for you?” Jessica asks.

“Thank you, no,” Jeff says, in a shoo go away sort of voice.

Kayla leaves without saying another word, and she closes the door so quietly behind her, you would think she is trying not to wake the sleeping baby.

Kayla Martin, Executive Assistant, there she was again. I felt like I was in a bad movie where my day had started over again.

“Hello, you’re here to see Mr. Miller?” Kayla asks.

“Yes, but I’m sure I have some time to wait,” I say, rather annoyed.

Kayla is making herself look busy. I suppose she might feel awkward just sitting there staring at me.

“Do you have a moment to chat?”

“Well, I am kinda busy,” she says.

She smiles with her mouth, but her eyes don’t move. She’s given me the fake smile, which tells me that she’s not at all busy. She doesn’t want to talk to me.

“I’ve noticed that you’re less vanilla than everyone else around here.”

“What do you mean by that?” Kayla asks defensively.

“You just have a style about you. I mean, you still look corporate, but the you behind that pant suit isn’t drowned out.”

Kayla doesn’t blush, not even a little bit, even though I can tell she has taken that as a compliment.

“You don’t think it’s too much, my sense of style?” Kayla asks.

“Oh, no, no, no. You’re very sexy. It must be difficult for you to try to keep that in check from Monday to Friday.”

“Well, it’s much different than where I used to work,” Kayla says.

“Where’s that?”

“Oh, well. I used to . . . um . . . dance,” Kayla says the word ‘dance’ almost so I couldn’t hear.

“I’m not going to judge you for that. As long as you’re happy with what you’re doing and nobody’s getting hurt, I say go for it.”

“I was happy, but Jeff wanted me to come work for him,” Kayla says.

Kayla had a look of concern on her face. She’s worried she told me too much.

“Jeff saw you at the club, dancing, and asked you to come work for him, so are you and Jeff?”

“Together? No. Do you think Jeff likes women?” Kayla asks, quietly.

“I would assume so. He hired you right out of a club.”

“Jeff never tried anything on me, and I haven’t been here that long, but I’ve never seen him with a woman, and then the two of you yesterday,” Kayla says.

“The two of us? Oh, you mean me naked in his office?”

“Kinda,” Kayla says.

“I was naked, but Jeff and I . . .”

I was interrupted by the sound of Kayla’s phone. It made an odd beeping noise, instead of a ring.

“Hello . . . yes sir . . . right away,” Kayla says into the phone.

Kayla stands up, as if to escort me.

“Mr. Miller will see you now,” Kayla says.

“How do you know that the Janitor didn’t kill Jeff’s partner?” I ask Ren.

“It wasn’t him. Jessica misdirected the jury with that information, and she was able to get the video excluded because of a police processing error. Jessica was a great lawyer, but she wasn’t anywhere near that place.” Ren says.

“But how can you be sure the janitor didn’t do it?” I ask.

“Look, the cameras are only in the hallway, so there is no 100% way to say for sure, but Jeff came out into the hallway with a knife around the estimated time of death, and the janitor, was cleaning on a completely different floor. He’s the one who called it in, hours after the estimated time of death,” Ren says.

“Thanks man,” I say, hanging up the phone.

Jessica looks at me; she looks very deeply at me, scared, nervous, ashamed.

“Jess. What happened to the Janitor? Is he in prison?” I ask.

“The janitor, no. The cops knew it wasn’t him. He lost his job though, not long after I left,” Jessica says.

“Where can I find him?” I ask.

“He’s the homeless man,” Jessica says, breaking out in tears.

Jessica’s phone rings, and she tries to compose herself, but really isn’t able to.

“Yes, hello,” she says, almost completely short of breath, gasping and crying.

“I have to go,” I say.

“I’ll tell him,” Jessica says.

“Goodbye Jessica,” I say.

“That was Ren. He said you have to go now, or you’ll be late for your interview,” Jessica says.

I laugh, sort of a half laugh, and I couldn’t quite look in Jessica’s eyes. I know she didn’t kill him, but knowing a lesser evil truth is almost worse than knowing a more evil possibility.

“See ya later,” Natus says.

“Goodbye,” I say.

“That was you Sam? You saved that restaurant from being robbed? That was some night you had. How many more people did you save? I’m going to make it up to you, even if it takes a life time. I’m here for you Sam. Forever,” Natus says.

That’s a disturbing sentiment. I’ve been trying to get rid of this guy ever since the beach, and now he’s in my life forever. I should have put that bloody bullet through his brain when I had the chance. Uh, cops. Nate’s phone rings with a bad to the bone ring tone.

“Yeah? Who? Sam. Yeah, Sam’s here. Wait how did you get the number? What did you call me? You’re lucky you’re one of Sam’s friends, or I would track you down, put you behind bars, and throw away the key.”

Nate hands the phone to me.

“Ren, my man. What’s up?” I ask.

“How did he get my number?” Natus asks Jessica.

“I don’t know, but I’m wondering how he knew we were here,” Jessica replies.

“Jessica is clean. She wasn’t involved in any part of the murder. It’s all on Jeff Miller. I did some more digging, and I was able to get video from the hallway the night of the murder. Aside from the janitor, Jeff was the only one there that night,” Ren says to me.

“Sam, I owe you everything. I owe you my life. There has to be something I can do for you,” Natus demands.

“I’ve always had everything I’ve needed. Always,” I say.

“Never mind need. Tell me what you want. I’ll make sure you get it,” Natus says.

“Remember that liquor store where we bought the wine?” I ask Jessica.

“Yes, on River Rd,” Jessica says.

“There was a guy standing outside the liquor store that night. Can you find out who he was?” I ask Natus.

“You’re going to have to be way more specific than that,” Natus replies.

“He’s at least 3 inches taller than me, white male, well built,” I say.

“That actually makes life a lot easier,” Natus says.

Nate gets on his phone.

“Can you get me an ID on a white male, between 6 foot 5 and 6 foot 7, likely between 220 and 270?” Natus asks.

There is a very short pause.

“Really? Really? Jim Sunderson. Great. I owe you one,” Natus says.

“You found out his name already?” Jessica asks.

“I’m not sure, but the guy you described was in the database. Someone matching the description attempted to rob a restaurant that’s in a nearby neighborhood to that liquor store,” Natus says.

“He was at the liquor store? The guy you punched out at the restaurant was at the liquor store? Was he following us?” Jessica asks me.

“I want to talk to Jim. Nate if you could arrange that, without having to arrest anyone, I would be very grateful,” I say.

The homeless man gets close. I can feel his wretched breath on my neck as he whispers in my ear. Something has startled him, and he runs off like some sort of track and field star.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” Jessica asks.

“Why did he run off like that?”

“He’s always running from someone.” Jessica says.

“Wow, he sure took off fast, must be the uniform,” a voice says from behind me.

Jessica’s face lets me know that she recognizes the man. She has a look of concern on her face but not panic. I feel a hand grab me on my shoulder.

“Hello Nate,” I say, before looking over to see who it is.

“How did you know it was me?” Natus asks.

“Jess told me.”

“This seems like an unlikely coincidence,” Jessica says.

“It’s no coincidence,” Natus admits.

“So, you found us. What’s up?” I ask.

Jessica has a look of confusion on her face. She is trying to figure something out.

“Wait. How did you find us?” Jessica asks.

“You work at the Quest, right? You’re the lawyer for the Quest. I figured I would track you down so that I could track down Sam here,” Natus replies.

“I don’t work at the . . .”

Jessica is in the middle of a sentence, but I interrupt.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but can you please get to the point?” I ask.

We walk, and I can’t help it. I feel that each step is bringing me closer to something, something bad, something weird, something off. Who is Jessica really? I have been hanging out with her, and all I know is that she was somehow involved in a big murder. Now, I’m going to go get a job so that I can help fuel corporate greed, nice. While the masses ignorantly purchase more products, they can keep delivering the money to the rich wealthy elites. Those elites turn around and start the process all over again. That’s where I come in, to help with marketing. This is how I help take from the poor and give to the rich.

“Boy, don’t go in there. They take souls,” a homeless man uttered to me as I walked up to the Quest’s office tower.

“You always run away from me,” Jessica says.

“You! I’ve never seen you before. I recognize every soul, and yours I have not seen before,” the man says.

“My soul is safe sir, but thank you for your concern. I hope you are able to find what you are looking for,” I say.

The man grabs onto my hands with his.

“Am I embarrassing you by holding your hands boy?” he asks.

“Not at all.”

“Why are you so squeamish then?” he asks.

“Your hands are filthy, and you smell like a prostitute who works in a fish market. I have a very strong sense of smell, and I’m worried that I’ll never be able to get your odor off my hands.”

“Ask me any question you like,” he says.

“What does it mean when you see a white goose with a dollar bill tightly fastened around it’s neck?”

The homeless man stared at me as though he knew the answer. Was this a brief moment of lucidity? Does he really know?

“Did you want to take a cab?” Jessica asks.

“I’d rather walk, if you’re still up for it.”

“I’m up for it, but I don’t want you to be late for your interview,” Jessica says.

“Either way, I’m getting the job.”

“But, you don’t even know what time it is,” Jessica says.

“I figure it’s about 8am. If I’m right, that’ll give us almost 2 hours to get there.”

“I don’t know how you’re going to do it. I’m already having trouble thinking straight,” Jessica says.

As we walk, we are both a bit quite. We’re tired from  a night without sleep, and I reflect on the the fact that I’m wearing the exact same outfit as yesterday, which smells like a mixture of the outdoors and sex. My neatly styled hair has seen the abuse of a 24 hour day and a woman who was running her hands through it. Instead of it falling slickly in place, it’s big, fluffy, and out of control. My dress shoes are covered in dirt, and I have a bit of pizza sauce on my pants. The worst part is that after eating 3 meals and doing things with my mouth that made Jessica mess up my hair in the first place, I haven’t yet brushed my teeth. The inside of my mouth smells like a former colleague’s office when she went away for two weeks, locked her door, and left a ham and cheese sandwich in her drawer. I’ll still get the job. They need me, and Jeff is too stupid and self absorbed to really notice what’s going on around him. I grab Jessica’s hand, and I enjoy the silence between us. This moment is wonderful. The two of us can just be together without feeling the need to talk, and we are happy together, with each other.

“I’m paying for breakfast,” Jessica insists.

“All right, but I got the tip.”

Jessica is off at the cash paying for breakfast, and I put $20 down on the table for the tip. I make a point of going over to Jessica’s mom to say goodbye.

“Goodbye Linda. It was nice meeting you.”

“Thanks for coming by. You and Jessica should come by sometime, for dinner. We can talk about your future plans. Jessica’s clock is ticking you know,” Linda says.

Linda is looking at me, as if to judge my next move. She wants to scare me off if I’m not going to be the one to Marry and have children with Jessica.

“I would absolutely love to come by anytime. I’ll leave it up to you and Jess to arrange.”

“And, what about your future plans?” Linda asks.

“I plan on hanging around with Jess as long as she’ll let me. I love her, and she loves me.”

“So, you’re unsure about things?” Linda asks.

“I’m not unsure about anything in my life. Jess is though, probably because I’m younger.”

“I knew it. I could tell by looking at you. How old are you, 29?” Linda asks.

“No.”

“Oh God, 25?” Linda asks.

“No.”

“You’re 21?”

Jessica walked over at that very moment.

“Mom, he’s not 21,” Jessica says.

“Oh God. You’re dating a child?” Linda says.

“Mom, he’s 33.”

“Oh, thank God. Thank you God,” Linda says.

“Time to go?” Jessica asks, in a ‘save me from this horrible nightmare,’ sort of tone.

“Time to go.” I confirm, in a ‘yes, I’m about done with this line of questioning’ voice.