“Let me ask you this, do you know the name William Mason?”
“Oh my gawd, yes! At least the name, it is in every one of the files that Simon estimated, himself.”
Well, this is much bigger than I thought. I wonder why Trey is in the wind? Is he hiding from William, as Chuck surmised or in league with him? I didn’t buy fearing an octogenarian who may be in his dotage. I get being cautious, but the nonsense of noncommunication was making this more complicated than it needed to be.
I smiled and turned toward Bridget. She is remarkably pretty and tonight she’d dressed like she wanted to look both professional and sexy with a little more emphasis on sexy.
“You said you feel trapped, why?”
“I am a single mother. My scum-sucking husband if you will forgive the term…”
“I think I may have been married to his sister.”
“So sorry to hear that. In any event, the bottom feeder ran off with another woman and before our divorce was final, she had caught him cheating. My daughter is now eight, she is one of five children he owes child support for, plus maintenance to his most recent wife. We all have his wages garnished; I average getting about a hundred a month.”
“He sounds like a real peach.”
“He decided welfare was his best option. If he works, he has to distribute all the money, so he lets the government do it. So, I want my daughter to have more opportunities than I had, and I work my butt off.”
“People pay a lot for someone who works hard.”
“But, no degree, and business skills don’t easily translate. Besides, Simon says he will ruin me if I leave.”
“Well, he can’t hurt you with us. You have the job. You will work in the main office, and we will not have contact, normally.” I looked at my watch, still 45 minutes until dinner. I bet I could get them to seat us early, but I liked Bridget.
“Would you like wine or a drink? We have the business behind us, let’s relax.”
She absolutely lit up. “I don’t drink at all anymore. Could I have a glass of champagne?”
I caught the attention of our sour waiter and ordered a split of champagne and Grey Goose on the rocks with a twist. The waiter poured her champagne and I held up my glass, “Congratulations! Welcome to Perfect Projects.”
“Maybe this is too personal, but I haven’t been on a date in, well in, well forever.”
“I find that hard to believe. You are gorgeous.” I took a quick sip of my drink. I hadn’t counted on telling an interviewee anything about her appearance.
“I hated my husband for cheating on me, If I knew what he’d done to me, I would have hated him ten times as much. They take everything from you.”
That hit a real chord with me, “I have thought,” I took another drink, “this is personal, pardon me, but my wife was my friend, my lover, my companion, and I lost all of that.”
We talked. Our conversation got more and more animated. Neither of us had ever shared these thoughts and our thinking was nearly identical. Divorce begins a new life. Most would define it as the end of a marriage, which it is — but that “end” comes and goes; the beginning over again is what you are faced with.
We talked about silly things. She did the dishes; I took out the trash — now we both did both. But we kept teasing each other with what we missed was sex without courting. The more we talked, the closer the conversation got to foreplay. Our drinks disappeared, we went to our table and had a little dinner to go with our wine.
“I told you I don’t drink. Now I have and I know I can’t drive.”
“We could go dance for a while and sober up.”
She got this gleam in her eye. “I can think of better activities to get sober. I’m feeling naughty.”
A gentleman would not take advantage of a young woman, who nervously had too much to drink and suddenly felt amorous. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your view, she was not with a gentleman. We were at my apartment in less time than it took us to get in the car.
Patience was not with us. We were naked, on the couch, and enjoying one another 20 seconds inside my door. The bedroom was another 30 feet away, it would wait for the next round. There was indeed a next round, and the bedroom proved a better locale. We passed out, for a while.
I awoke to sobs and, “You must think I am a total slut.”
“No, I do think I was lucky to be there for your breaking a long drought.”
“I was out of control. What kind of a person goes on a job interview and gets the job — then goes back and fucks a near stranger.”
“Bridget, calm down, ok? Sex is a good thing. You obviously enjoyed it, and it was maybe the best I ever had. It’s a good thing, okay?”
That seemed to calm her. We lay and cuddled. It was nearing 2:00am.
We were both awake, she stirred, “Jim, that was wonderful. I promise I will be less a maniac next time. Oh, I hope there will be a next time.”
“Oh, you can bet on that.” I said, with a big, big smile. “And, if I have my way, you’ll do away with none of your mania. Unless I get too tired.”
She laughed and punched me in the arm. “I promised I would pick up my daughter about 8:00, tomorrow morning. Maybe I should go home.”
I wanted to be gallant but did the math in my head. We’d need to get up around 6:00, so I could get her back to her car, first. It was better to take her back, now.
We drove to get her car in near silence. When I pulled alongside her car, she said, “I’ll do better next time. I am so…”
I interrupted, “We’ll do better next time. Neither of us expected this evening to go as it did. We were spontaneous in ways we aren’t used to, to say the least. How about next Saturday, we head out with the intention of going on a date?”
“Wonderful. I do better when I set out with the end in mind.”
“I promise you I look forward to that, if you can do better, at being a great companion, I will be overwhelmed.”
She beamed, “You’re sweet, thank you.” She kissed me and I went around to open her door, see her safely in her car, and watch her drive away. I headed for a much-needed night’s sleep.
++++++
Monday morning when Chuck arrived, about 6:50am, I was sitting outside his office. “Well, aren’t you the anxious one. You must have learned something. Let’s get coffee going and have a chat.”
I held up my cup, we walked around the corner, got him a cup, went into his office and closed the door.
“I think it is as likely Mason and Trey are in it together, as not.”
“Well, it could be, but if they are – it is not fraud. Maybe they are perving together, and Mason got photos.”
“People can surprise you and be dishonest when you don’t expect them to be.”
“That’s not possible. I expect everybody to be dishonest. Trey is not, trust me.”
I thought about it. I guess he is telling me he is aware of something or someone in Trey’s past, tempting him to be dishonest and Trey would have none of it. Working for Chuck is like being on a game show; he gives clues, and you try to guess the answer. The difference is on the show they tell you if you get it right.
I walked out of his office. My thoughts turned to Bridget. I had not considered her a date. After my divorce, I’d not had dates. I would guess she is ten years younger. But we really clicked. Part of it was getting the dishonest actions of her company off her chest. She gave me her trust.