Do Something

There's history here, but no one knows what really happened except the one person responsible for setting everything up.

The hand-carved wooden door swung open in front of me and the sounds of laughs and drink and silver wear clanging against the standard restaurant ceramic greeted me like hot air. I could feel the change in temperature. The cold sweat on my forehead and temples disappeared the warm restaurant as I wondered through the crowd to the bottom of the stairs. I could hear the voices up those stairs and I knew they'd all expect me to have something to say. I tried to think as I climbed the stairs. One step after another, the words would form in my head so that I'd have anything to say. I'd have to fake my way through the meeting and hope no body noticed.

In the middle of the stairs, Dr. Eide was talking with some other people I barely knew but recognized. She called my name and I stopped to gather my strength and appear normal, calm and as excited as they were that our experiment with traditional business had lasted this long.

“Five long years,” she trumpeted, lifting a glass of red wine into the air as her conversation turned to me. “Everyone, let's hear it for Frank who is saving business, the arts, and the sciences by putting them to good use and giving us all something to do.”

One of Dr. Eide's companions broke in, holding his glass of beer over my head. “By letting us do what we're good at and having the decent sense to get out of the way while we do.”

I froze for a minute as I waited for the right words to come together and pour out my mouth.

Nothing came. All I could do was laugh with embarrassment. I'd never thought of this business as a way to save anything but my paycheck. But if the director of research was having a good time with her colleagues then I wasn't about to stop her. Like she said, I had the sense to get out of the way.

Dr. Eide must have noticed my shallow breathing. I wonder if my brow was still sweaty when she urged her colleagues to go into the meeting and find themselves a place and some place to sit.

“You feeling just a tad nervous,” she asked as I leaned against the stairway railing for a moment of support.

“Is it that obvious?”

She stepped across the landing after her friends had left us to join the rest of the company.

“Take the rest of this,” said Dr. Eide, hold her half a glass of wine out in front of me. My head was on fire and my rubbery legs felt about to collapse as I leaned backwards on the railing and reached out for her glass of wine.

“Listen, Frank,” she began in that tone. She was about to say something she thought was serious and was preparing me to hear it. I gulped her wine trying not to appear like a high school kid with his first drink.

“I feel for you. It must be a hard decision to bring her back into all this.”

When I finished the glass, I swung my head to find a level place to drop it so I could hold myself up on the railing. Dr. Eide pulled the glass from my hand and continued with her counter-intuitive pep-talk.

“I was never involved with her the way you were, but I'm a little nervous having her around.” I lift my chin to focus on her face as she kept on talking. “Just knowing she's back in town is enough to make all of us nervous.”

For a moment I could forget myself and wonder what had happened between them that would make her nervous. But this was work and I'd already broke my own rule of no alcohol in front of anyone from the company.

“What could have possibly happened between you two?” It wasn't a secret. This town is known for relaxed social atmosphere. It's part of what made us all free to thrive in our fields.

Dr. Eide hadn't had a date in years and Wendy was the closest she come in that time to a relationship, even if it only lasted one weekend. The rest of us guessed how it ended. Dr. Eide was either unaware, or too bitter to admit, that she was old enough a role model now. Her days of easy flings with twenty year olds were long gone and she expected to have settled her love life with someone compatible. For one reason or another, Eide hadn't adjusted to the reality of being a 50-year as the copy assistants and the media professionals were still the same age. Wendy loved romance and sex as much as anyone.

I was floating back down to reality and realized Dr. Eide, while trying to be encouraging, she was reminding me of how terrible the situation really was.

Wendy loved the rush of beginning a new life with someone. Wendy loved kissing. And Wendy was better at taking what she wanted from sex as much as I thought I was. She won, and then she was gone.

Dr. Eide stopped my train of thought.

“Don't think of it as a speech,” she said. “Just talk to us as if we're all old friends.”

Her encouragement was routine but I tried not to let her see that. Instead I smiled and thanked her before she left me to join her colleagues for a chance at the catering before they all expected me to begin and leading the meeting.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I tried to force the words, some words, any words to pop into my head. Freeing myself from my death grip on the railing I turned to look out across the restaurant at all the people laughing and drinking down below. I shouldn't be here. I wanted to feel proud that I'd brought those smiles to those faces but I felt nothing. I wished that Dr. Eide hadn't taken her glass with her so I might not feel so crazy bowing my head and speaking to my shoes.

“Don't jump, it's only a meeting.” The publicity writer stood below the stairs as he shouted above the noise. He was expecting a laugh. All I could scape together was the strength for a smile.

“We have no idea how to do what you do,” he said as he wobbled his way up the stairs to lean on my shoulder. “Don't make me go up there and start making things up for them.”

The night's congratulations and condolences had already begun with Dr. Eide. By his insistence on being personal with me, I could finish his thoughts before he began them. Straightening myself to speak directly to his face I told him, “This is going to be harder for you than it is for me.”

Glenn sobered up when I presented a challenge to his professional reputation.

“I heard you had some problems on the horizon.”

Looking back at my shoes I told him.

“She's supposed to be here to night.” Indeed he was a friend to the company a friend, even if he could sometimes be a jackass.

Even if I was killing his buzz he said, “It's a new day. Nobody is the same they were ten years ago. You're a professional. She's now a professional.”

Glenn was speaking to me like this was my only chance at heavyweight gold. After tonight everything would change more than he knew.

“We were all caught off guard,” he said. “The opportunities that are opening up are ours to keep.” Then, dropping his arm with the half full glass of beer in it, showing me that he was serious, Glenn spoke into my ear as if the stairs were crowded.

“We all wanted a piece. None of us was as lucky as you. Give it a few months. We're all here in case you fall on your face. It happens, sometimes. But we won't let it.”

He stepped back letting the drama of his words sink into my head. It was nice to hear those words. That's why he wrote publicity since the days we struggled together to scratch together a payday we could all live on.

“And the very real reality of the wife and kids going back to the Ivory Coast is heavier than anything I could tell you.”

That's why he wrote for us. Even if his personal insight were slight off the mark, Glenn had a knack for understanding and overcoming the problem in front of his nose. I showed him what he expected to see, straightening up and turned to face the stairs leading to to the meeting. Breathing with force, I was forcing the blood an oxygen back into my brain after they'd suck to the pit of my stomach. Glenn slapped the back of my shoulder.

“Don't forget to make it as quick as you are beautiful,” he said, turning in front of me. “I'm gonna make you sing and our experiment shine for the trades tomorrow.”

He smiled crookedly and hanging onto the staircase railing to steady himself, Glenn started up the stairs ahead of me.

My breath caught in my chest as he began introducing me. I heard the other voices hush under his alcohol-loosened voice.

“Everybody, listen up!” began Glenn, his lungs strong enough t be heard by an outfielder. “Thank you all for coming tonight. As if anyone had a choice. I have nothing to say so clever that you haven't heard it every year for the last five years.”

The bright video light was spilling from the balcony, down the stairs, onto the people below. No one noticed. I wondered if anyone would notice if I walked out that door and drove away. Our experiment had already outlasted tradition business models. No one needed me there to make sure the different areas of everyone expertise were well-coordinated with every other area. We had proven our point. How much longer could I repeat everything that tI'd said before? If the pieces of our plan fell together just right, I could slip out that door and no one would have to see me again.

“We've lost the video feed.”

Jaimie bounced down the stairs at me, the technician's tool belt jolted with his steps as he continued down the stairs.

“After Glenn's done, stretch your intro as long as you can until I get it going again.”

“Where are you going? We have to send this out live. We have investors looking at us tonight.”

Jaimie spoke with both hands, acting out his words in case I couldn't hear.

“Gonna get signal switch in my car. Didn't bring it in 'cause didn't think we needed it for this set up. Five minutes.”

I'd forgotten he was even there but his minor emergency yanked me back into the moment. Glenn was still talking as I brushed the collar on my shirt. Instinctively I tightened my necktie. The knot was already as tight as my nerves.

“So, apparently we're not live yet,” Glenn said. I imagined how well his media training was covering Jaimie's absence as I heard the chairs creak. People must have turned to the back of the room and saw the video camera lying on a table.

“So before we show our potential investors who they're throwing their money at, everyone let's welcome the guy who took all of our professions and made them work together...”

Some polite applause began. The tension began to build.

“...the guy who figured out how to get us all paid while he slept on the office couch...”

Others were following the example and polite applause grew louder as more clapping added to the building excitement.

“...the one who had nothing left to loose and flipped the bird to tradition and made this idea work! So far, we've made it this far. As long as the next paycheck clears, I'm willing to leave him alone and let him do his thing.”

Voices hooted and I heard the quiet cheers for this thing we were doing. Glenn could be a lying jackass but he knew how to handle a group of people and unify their excitement into the same idea. The cheering excitement interrupted the weekend diners on the first floor as I stepped up to the top step and into the role I thought everyone expected to see.

I stood in Jaimie's bright lights and tried to spin what everyone already knew.

“We've all worked hard, and not just doing the same ol' thing that was done before.”

I was searching for words that held the excitement Glenn had built. This would be the last chance I had to make these people smile. I wanted to shape my own memory of this moment, and remember that whenever I got another chance to do this.

“We set a new standard for blazing new trails. Farther and deeper than anyone was crazy enough to do it alone.”

I suddenly remembered the glass of fizzy water on the table behind me. As the words choked in my throat, I turned and dramatically lifted the glass above my head for the whole room to see.

“While we pat ourselves on the back tonight, let's not forget that none of us would have made it this far�"alone or together�"without the ones who came before us. I don't know enough about the histories of your areas. You all know who they are. This year is for them.”

As I pulled words from the air, I focused on the back wall and caught Jaimie slip in front of his laptop, plugging in a memory stick. Everyone drank to the toast. I saw the graphic on his monitor change from the group's logo to a live picture of me standing with a glass of fizzy water in my hand. Glenn followed my eyeline as Jaimie shot me a thumbs-up signal.

The money was watching. For another hour Glenn was hoping from one side of the room to the other asking the questions I should have remembered. At the end of the presentation I thanked everyone who was supposed to be watching before Jaimie signaled the ‘cut’ sign.

“Just a minute everyone, there's bit more.”

The drink glasses were empty and patience was running just as thin.

“Now that the hard part is over,” I began, not surprised that the crowd stood to leave. “Everyone knows we have a new addition to our gang. Unfortunately, she didn't make it tonight.”

“Not a great sign for the new advertising director.” I could hear it was Mort shouting everyone's disapproval from the back. As the director of photography for everything the company put out, he put a good light on all of us, in print and in video. Mort was responsible for coordinating with Wendy to ensure that we all spoke with one voice. Wendy wasn't at the meeting to introduce herself. All I could do was shrug and let everyone see that I agreed with Mort. Glenn announced the end of formalities as I stepped into Mort's whispering zone and listened to him.

“She's not right for this kind of company, Frank,” he whispered in my ear. “I know we need someone to cover the bases that the rest of us can't handle. Not on the level you're aiming for, we can't.

He saw that I was frozen as I listened. My mind had already drifted and Mort saw this. He changed his plea.

“Look,” he said. “I've had my fun. I know I'm not a kid anymore, Frank. None of us are, anymore. But I'm not sure you've accepted that.”

I hadn't thought about it before. I thought I had moved on. Was I chasing what I thought was success. A house of my own, where my wife and daughter slept and grew peacefully. A job that I loved, even if it defied explanation. And friends who weren't obsessed with their work, even if they did bust their butts at raising the standards of their professions.

Was Mort being a friend or a colleague concerned about his job? With no secrets among us, everyone knew they had fooled around behind my back.

“When did you have have any fun, Mort?” I showed him a smile as I leaned back against a table, my hands tightly gripping the edge. In case the blood collecting at my feet or the anger boiling in my head was enough to pass out I wanted him to feel relaxed enough to keep talking. He was a competitor in his day and recognized my stance as baiting him to keep coming. Mort paused and chose his next words carefully. He chose to be honest.

“We had a thing,” he said. “Years ago. But you've got Cloée now. And... the girl. And this thing.” He gestured to the room, then turned and nodded to Jaimie and his computer.

“Everything is on a roll. I'd hate to see you throw it away just to have the last word.”

Mort must be 20 years older than Wendy. Almost as old as Edie. Old enough to be her dad. Never discriminating, we fed our work habits by working on anything we could get our hands on. Older than the rest of us, Mort had apparently been busier.

“She's not here now. We'll have to wait and see if anything changes tomorrow.”

Mort assumed I was angry. I had enough reason to be and he'd just given me more. In a pause of our conversation while he grasped with more to say, I walked away from him. Our routine was always to give each other tie to cool off and then we'd talk about it tomorrow.

I was almost at the bottom of the stairs when I hear the familiar thumping of Jaimie's steps cascading down behind me. With the night's planned activities over, I wanted to send him home with a happy thought. He stood on the bottom step, our faces level, and cracked a sideways smile at the side of his mouth. He was amused by some joke I didn't understand.

“You done?” he asked. I wasn't in a mood to be mean. I searched for something to say to show my appreciation of his know-how.

“Let's go.”

He led through the crowd and out the door to the side walk. This was a night when I was happy to be with someone else capable of taking charge. Jaimie held out his hand. We walked around behind the building where we were concealed from the orange and yellow lights of the street lamps and security cautions. Without looking at me Jaimie held out his hand.

“Keys,” he said in a flat voice.

When his demand registered to my foggy brain, I jammed a hand into my pants pocket and pulled out the tangle of metal and plastic that had my car key strung on it. Without slowing his pace Jaimie stepping off the sidewalk, through the knee-high decorative bushes protecting the concrete car-park where I left it. Keeping pace with his, I dropped my key ring into his hand.

“Which one?”

Again with the strange, flat tone I 'd only heard when he was concentrating at front of his computer. I pointed at the dark blue Honda we bought with my wife's inheritance. Jaimie adjusted his direction as a larger imposing figure stepped out of the stairwell.

The figure, as tall and thick as a former athlete, threw a cigarette onto the ground. He walked over it heading to the same car we were approaching. Jaimie turned in his hand the key ring and pushed a button on the remote door lock. The car chirped as the parking lights showed us where I'd left it.

The dark figure from the stairwell was close enough to make out his flat mouth and round eyes. Nothing else about him distinguished his face from any other.

“This is Nicolai. He'll drive.”

Jamie dropped the keys into Nicolai's hand, in one fluid stride.

“You're with me.”

Jaimie and I arrived next to a small red and white car outfitted like a hot-rod racer. The car chirped again as he pushed his own remote security door-lock. As I climbed into the small car, Jaimie already had the engine started. I pulled the door shut next to me and sat with my knees to me chest.

Jaimie paused his car in front of mine. Nicolai flashed the lights and Jaimie pulled away and continued on the street away from the restaurant with Nicolai following behind. On the freeway entrance the car picked up speed and the city lights began to fade behind us. I wanted to cry.

Author's Note

Description and character actions are what I'm practicing. How do any of these people strike you? Story? I it too obscure or too plain?