The Festival

"Good morning, Mr. Griffin," I said as pleasantly as I could. He smiled. I blushed. It was the same smile he wore when his head lifted from between my thighs Sunday afternoon.

"Good morning, Ms. Paddington," he said nicely. His smile disappeared as he entered his office. Everyone was staring. I dropped my eyes and pretended to work. I couldn't believe he did that. He had no right being pleasant. That damn smile making my Monday last longer. My email dinged.

Best weekend of my life.

Love T

Bastard.

Me too.

Love V

He'd pay for his kindness. I didn't know how, but I would come up with something. Blindfold and tickling, or some other form of grueling torture. I looked up from my desk. There were still eyes on me, with many a gaped mouth. Oh, he'll pay alright.

Around ten my phone rang. I was surprised to hear Mrs. Pritchard on the other end. I was more surprised that Griffin hadn't told me to reschedule. I may have sexed the grumpiness out of him. A shocking thought.

"Mrs. Pritchard, are you canceling on me?" I asked with humor in my voice.

"No," Mrs. Pritchard answered abruptly, "is Timothy available?" I have never heard anyone but Mr. Corcoran call him Timothy. It sounded so odd.

"I'm sorry," I replied, "he's in meetings the rest of the morning." For once, I wasn't lying to her.

"Dear, we have problem," Mrs. Pritchard continued, "I received a packet in the mail. It has pictures of you on some float." My heart thickened. I didn't want Mrs. Pritchard to think less of me. "The caption says 'your investments at work.' Your name and position are listed."

'Oh, God," I cried into the phone. Doug was intent on ruining me. "I am so sorry, Mrs. Pritchard." My eyes, along with my future faded to a blur. Her account was huge - it would ruin Timothy. "It had nothing to do with Mr. Griffin," I begged, "he didn't know anything about it. I'll resign so you can stay with him."

"Poppycock," Mrs. Pritchard blurted out, "you're not resigning and I am certainly not leaving Timothy for a few topless photos. Very striking by the way, I had you plumper in my head for some reason." I have a fat voice. "The problem is, I suspect I'm not the only one who has received this." I closed my eyes. Visions of angry clients calling, the whole office knowing. Why didn't I listen to Sandra that night?

"I'll...I'll have to resign," I stuttered. I wondered if it would hurt my relationship with Timothy. It shouldn't, but the fear of it strengthened.

"Stop that!" Mrs. Pritchard demanded, "tell me what happened. All of it." I did. I told her everything about Key West and the asshole Doug. I left out the part of sleeping with my boss. She asked questions and I filled in parts. I could swear she was taking notes.

"And that's all of it?" Mrs. Pritchard asked.

"Yes," I said, somewhat relieved to have been able to explain it to her.

"How was your weekend?"

"Wonderful," I answered, "up until your phone call."

"Did you tell him?" Mrs. Pritchard asked slyly. I could hear her waiting anxiously. Of all the things to worry about and she choose my love life.

"He told me first," I answered, "then I told him."

"Well I'll be damned," Mrs. Pritchard said, completely out of character. I was silent, trying to figure out what that meant. She just switched the topic back. "Tell Timothy to call me as soon as he's free. And Victoria?"

"Yes."

"I am going to take care of this. If Edward demands your resignation, tell him to call me." Mrs. Pritchard sounded quite sure of herself. I was not.

"I don't think it's a good idea", I said, "you shouldn't get involved in my problems." Mrs. Pritchard laughed. Very disconcerting. Maybe she was senile and I never knew it.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away. Head up, girl!" Mrs. Pritchard said, followed by a disconnect. The woman sounded like she had more strength than I had given her credit for. I wasn't sure what to make of it. At least she had given me warning.

I went to lunch with Susan. Griffin hadn't returned from his meeting, so I assumed it was lunch in for the partners as usual. I left an email, letting him know I needed to talk with him as soon as possible.

"What's wrong? You're a million miles away," Susan asked.

"I'm in trouble," I responded, twirling my spoon in the potato soup I didn't really want, "Some embarrassing pictures have been sent to our clients." There was no point in keeping it secret, she would find out soon enough. I preferred to have someone to talk about it with.

"Of you?" Susan asked, her sandwich laid untouched as well.

"My trip to Key West," I nodded, "I kind of got crazy. Body paint and topless on a parade float." My hand circled my breasts as I spoke, like she really needed to know what topless meant.

"Shit," Susan commiserated, "who sent them?"

"Some guy who thought I owed him," I sighed, "I guess he's pissed I didn't sleep with him."

"What an asshole," Susan continued her support. I was glad I had at least moral support.

"Yeah," I went on, "if you find yourself in Key West, steer clear of Doug Fuller."

"Oh God!" Susan said, covering her mouth with her hand. Her face went white as a sheet. Her hand was shaking. I let go of my spoon and grabbed her arm.

"What's wrong?"

"I did this," Susan's eyes were tearing as she spoke. "No wonder he cut me off."

"Did what?"

"My Internet guy," Susan replied. I nodded. "His name was Doug Fuller." Her tears were flowing now. Her words were coming out all crunchy and broken.

"The asshole Doug?" I added.

"I'm sorry," Susan said. "He told me he sold yachts. He wanted a mailing list of rich people." She dropped her head into her hands. "I fucked you over trying to get a guy." Things snapped into place. Her tears were real remorse. I had no recourse here.

"Shh," I said, as I moved around the table and hugged her. "You didn't know. The guy is scum and screwed us both."

"Now we'll both be fired," Susan cried.

"No," I added strength to my words, "we'll tell no one about it. I'm screwed either way."

"I so sorry," Susan repeated.

"It's my own fault," I said, since it was. "I got on the float. I was all cocky and let the thrill get the better of me. If not you, he would have just found another way." Somehow I felt better. Susan's misery made mine easier to bear. Misery does love company.

We finished what we could eat. Susan said she was sorry a dozen more times. I assured her I didn't hate her, which she seemed to find impossible. My dislike of Doug increased by many levels. The weasel didn't care who he hurt. His stalker mentality was disturbing.

It took me twenty minutes to talk Griffin out of flying back down to Florida. He was beyond angry. I had to close the door and kiss him sane. I was sure he would be on trial for murder if he found his way down to Key West. He didn't seem surprised when I told him Mrs. Pritchard wanted him to call. I didn't delve into it, happy that I had calmed him down. No other clients had called, so maybe Mrs. Pritchard was the only one who had received the pictures.

Tuesday slaughtered the hope that other clients hadn't received the pictures. Obviously, Doug was a skilled mass mailer. Corcoran went into Griffin's office at ten and again at three. The door was closed, but syllables escaped. Loud ones. Corcoran wouldn't meet my apologetic eyes, so I had no idea how things were going. Griffin kept telling me it was going to be alright. I didn't really believe him. Half the office was giving me strange looks. The word was obviously out. I felt my future sliding away.

Wednesday I was called into the office with Corcoran and Griffin. The door closed like a coffin lid. I felt weak and a little nauseous.

"I need your resignation," Corcoran told me. He didn't even explain why. I guess his frequent discussions with Griffin made it moot. I was about to respond.

"You're not going to get it," Griffin jumped in. He stepped forward like he could physically shield me from the demand.

"It's her call, Timothy," Corcoran insisted. "I'm screwed here either way." He looked at me like I was the plague. I was the topless painted plague.

"She goes, I go with her," Griffin said, pounding his hand on his desk.

"The math doesn't support the threat anymore, Timothy," Corcoran spat back. He looked at me, "Resign or I'll fire you. I can't withstand the loss of clients." I stared at him. It had gotten bad. Real bad. My mind was lost in the pain of it all. I stalled.

"Mrs. Pritchard said you should call her before you fire me," I said, finding it sounded silly and desperate as it left my lips.

"What the hell does your mother have to do with this?" Corcoran asked Griffin. All the blood left my face. Griffin rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. My arms found my hips as I glared at the man who was keeping secrets from me. We were both staring at Griffin with angry eyes. Griffin ignored Corcoran.

"I was going to tell you," Griffin appealed to me. "It wasn't my idea. It was hers." It was easy to hold the frown. My anger was setting in deep. "She thought I needed help. It's hard to say no to her." He threw his hands in the air as I visibly ignored his excuses, "She's my mother." I moved toward him. All those conversations with his mother and she had always known who I was talking about. She tried to push me into his arms.

"When were you going to tell me?" I demanded. "When we were walking down the aisle?" My anger faded when Griffin's smile formed.

"You would say yes?" Griffin asked. He ignored my anger. The trust I felt he had trampled on was shoved aside. My God, he wanted to marry me. Corcoran was looking rapidly between the two of us, half understanding what was going on.

"That depends on who asked," I replied, my employment problems sliding away.

"I would cherish you," Timothy continued. He moved closer, looking unsure of my state. "From now until forever."

"Are there any rules you two won't break?" Corcoran growled. He had connected the dots.

"No!" we answered in unison. Rules didn't apply to us. It brought a smile to my face. I could deal with a pushy mother-in-law. Timothy and I were in sync. Nothing was worth tossing that away.

"I would say yes," I answered Timothy's previous question. I moved closer, my hand finding his. I struggled not to jump into his arms with Corcoran standing there. Timothy's eyes filled with me. He was mine. God help me, I was his. Corcoran actually smiled.

"End of the week," Corcoran said, "I can stall until then." He was shaking his head in disbelief as he exited the office. When the door closed, I attacked Timothy. He counterattacked. I broke off and locked the door. Might as well break all the rules.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday, Corcoran caught me alone. I followed him to a conference room and we sat across from each other. He seemed anxious. Probably worried Griffin would show up, and screw up what he wanted to say.

"I don't have any good choices here," Corcoran began, "I've got clients thinking there should be an investigation. I spent half my morning explaining that we didn't endorse or fund your...parade. The whole incident makes us look frivolous. People don't trust frivolous brokerage firms."

"I'm sorry," I said poorly. I couldn't take it back so I had to live with it. I knew what was coming and I also knew I would concede. There were no good options, only less bad ones.

"If I have to fire you tomorrow, I'll lose Timothy," Corcoran continued ,"then everyone suffers. The firm is going to suffer as it is. To lose Timothy, the storm becomes a hurricane." I nodded looking down at the table. I was the only one who could end this without damaging everything.

"I'll resign," I conceded. My eyes swelled up. It hurt badly. I even knew it was coming. "And I'll talk with Timothy." He would stay for me. If you pull the emotion out of it, it was the only option.

"I am truly sorry," Corcoran said. He eyes told me he meant it.

"I'll give you my letter tomorrow, after I talk with him," I added.

"If it's any consolation," Corcoran said, patting the back of my hand, "I have the IT department looking into how our client list got out. When I find out who did it, I'll prosecute." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Susan in prison would make an awful situation worse. Doug would fully win.

"Please stop looking," I asked. My watery eyes met his. He had a confused expression on his face.

"You know who did this?" Corcoran asked.

"It was unintentional," I pleaded, "just one favor, please. Stop looking." Corcoran looked at me with a deep concern. I think he saw himself as a father and I, the daughter who just admitted she was pregnant. He stood.

"One favor," Corcoran said, nodding his head, "you tell whoever screwed you over, that they owe you big. If it happens again, I'll ruin them." His voice was firm. He exited the room without looking back. He didn't like the idea of a traitor in his company. I dropped my head to the conference table. I won a small battle, but lost the war. I didn't relish my coming talk with Timothy. He would be adamant that we leave together and punish EL Corcoran. I would have to be firm, for real.

I didn't sleep a second that night. I wrote and rewrote my resignation. The first was a two-page dissertation on how I felt about the whole situation. Totally inappropriate. The second was filled with anger. It found the delete key as well. After five tries, I settled on a single sentence with the effective date and my claim I was resigning. No reason and no emotion. I signed it and spent the rest of the night lying in bed. I didn't want to fight with Timothy the next day. It would be a small fight, one that I would eventually win. I just didn't want it to damage us. I had lost so much, I certainly didn't want to lose the grand prize. He was the only thing that made this suffering bearable. The only one who could make the memory dim and replace it with good ones.

I was an hour late to work. On purpose. I almost didn't go in at all. I had to walk past everyone like I was heading to the gallows. It wasn't a pleasant thought. It took me awhile to get my emotions in check. I wouldn't suit to do it with tears. I gathered my strength, my one sentence resignation and entered EL Corcoran. I tried not to meet any eyes. I wanted in and out without becoming an emotional mess. Strength, forged with a little anger at my situation, carried me past the secretarial pool.

I saw smiles at the edges of my vision. They all knew now and thought it funny. I raised my head higher, the topless snob. I snaked through the desks quickly, heading to my undesired talk with Griffin. Everyone was smiling at me. I must be the butt of the company joke. It would only be for a short time. A short talk, drop off the letter and leave to never return. I could do that and still hold on to my pride.

There was an older woman sitting on the end of my desk as I approached. Her back was starch straight, her graying hair still, as if molded in place. She looked somewhat strange, yet powerful. Pants instead of the expected dress, end of the desk instead of a chair. Our eyes met and she stood with a smile. I have seen the masculine version of that smile. Mrs. Pritchard.

I approached slowly, Mrs. Pritchard wasn't in my morning calculations. Her eyes were so alive as I neared, both hands held out, wanting to join with mine. "Victoria," she said my name with a warming happiness. "I have so wanted to meet you." Great, she could watch me resign.

"Mrs. Pritchard..." I said.

"Catherine, please," she corrected. Her hand found my empty one and drew me close. I stood like a statue as she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. There was nothing old about her movements.

"This is not really a good day," I finished, trying to put off the inevitable discussion between the two of us.

"Nonsense," Catherine smiled, "this is a wonderful day." I took a deep breath, and decided to ignore her optimism. I had to get this over with.

"Where is Timothy?" I asked, seeing his office empty. This was going to take longer than I thought. I needed this to end quickly.

"Talking with Edward," Catherine answered, "probably trying to figure out which office will be yours." Her smile grew as she waved off my question, "I'm more interested in you and my son." She pulled me gracefully toward Timothy's office. I stopped in my tracks.

"I have to resign right now," I told Catherine, "we can talk later. I need to speak with Timothy first."

"Oh, I don't think Edward is going to accept your resignation," Catherine responded, "you haven't seen this morning's Journal." I shook my head, staring at her with wonder. She was either insane or I picked the wrong day to be late. Her smile leaned toward the insane side. She took pity on me, "I told you I would take care of it."

"What...I'm confused," I admitted. Catherine reached behind me, lifting this morning's Journal and turned to the Special Interest section. A picture of five women, chests painted like mine, beautiful eyes that I suspected matched their own. Next to them was a smiling Carlos.

My Eyes are Down Here

In a humorous protest on the objectification of women, renowned body artist Carlos Hernandez, transferred the eyes of his models to their chests. One of his models, the Oscar-winning actress Beth Hawkins, stated "It's about time men talked to my eyes." The protest was the brainchild of Victoria Paddington, an account executive for EL Corcoran Brokerage. Ms. Paddington boldly made her statement during the Fantasy Fest Parade in October. Mr. Hernandez stated that it was some of his finest work. He is scheduled to continue the...

The article continued with endorsements from prominent women. A list of places where Carlos was traveling to. Promises of a continued movement. I was now longer standing alone on the float.

"You did this?" I asked, "for me."

"Oh no, Dear," Catherine smiled, "I did this for me. The mere possibility of grandchildren will make me move mountains."

"I'm not an account executive," I said, looking back at the article.

"My fault," Catherine continued humorously, "I got your title mixed up. I'll let Edward fix it."

"This changes things?"

"My Dear, this changes everything," Catherine said. I followed her into Timothy's office. The whole thing had stunned me. I moved like a zombie, walking and rereading the article. "Beth Hawkins can say picking your nose is hip. The next day, all the money in the world would have their fingers in their noses. It's all how you spin it."

"Why?"

"He loves you, Dear," Catherine sat down, indicating a seat for me. "You love him. You're stuck with me now. I'm not much for sitting around when there is a war on." I sat down, wondering where all this was going. I wasn't used to this type of help.

"I don't know what to say," I said, looking up at her happy eyes. She was extremely pleased with herself. I was pleased with her. "Thank you."

"Well, you're welcome," Catherine said honestly. "So tell me, how did you get crabby pants to be pleasant?" I laughed. Only his mother could call Griffin that.

"I'm not sure," I replied, "I was almost fired for this a month ago." I held up the paper. "Timothy told Mr. Corcoran that If I go, he goes." I laughed again at the memory. "I had just finished telling him off and he went to bat for me."

"That's because you scared the hell of him," Catherine explained. "He was smitten about a month after you started working for him." She shook her head slowly, "He always overthinks things. For some reason, my boy needs a road map for everything." We shared a smile. "I'm sorry we played that scheduling game with you, but I feared he would screw it up. I was trying to be your sounding board."

"He talked about me?" I said. I liked the idea. I had had a secret admirer.