by ROCFanKat

Disclaimers: See Chapter 1.

•••

As soon as Cassie left, I got busy rescheduling the day. Except for the Tom's Country Catering thing--lunch for the team, as a partial tradeout for our services--nothing couldn't wait. But I still wanted to see the team privately; we had some work to do before Jenner saw the first cut of the PSA on Friday.

A few minutes after I sent the group voice mail moving up the meeting, Kurt sauntered into my office, looking very pleased with himself. "It's not time yet," I informed him. "Come back when Mickey's little hand is on the 3."

He just smiled and made himself at home in a guest chair.

"Kurt, I've got enough alligators in the swamp this morning. What do you want?"

"Nothing special. I know something, but if you're not interested, well..." Knowing that it would tick me off, he tilted the chair back and put his feet up on the edge of the desk. "What do you think of Vanessa, boss? Pretty hot stuff, wouldn't you say?"

"I wouldn't. Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Only if you want to know what I know about her."

"If this is about sex..."

"Of course it's about sex. Want to know?"

Sometimes I hated being human. Did other species gossip? Poodles, maybe--I wouldn't put anything past a poodle--or possibly chickens. My Grandmother Whitaker had always sworn that chickens were the stupidest creatures on earth, next to my cousin Eddie. Last I'd heard, Eddie was driving a truck for some chicken operation down South, which had a certain poetry to it, as we'd all agreed last Christmas. He was on his fourth wife now, which we'd also agreed was a touch excessive, if not...

Dammit. I hated being a hypocrite, too. "All right, Kurt. Twenty-five words or less, and then get out of here."

"I can tell you in 10. She just made a pass at Connie the Barbarian."

Well, that was news. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't like it. "You've been working on this PSA, son. You're probably starting to see things. It happens. The whole time I worked on Rumours..." Just in time, I bit the words off. "It's an occupational hazard. Besides, you're wrong. She's sleeping with Jenner."

"No law against a girl batting for both teams. Look at you and Cassie. Who'd have thought you two could switch-hit? Well, her, anyway."

"You leave Cassie out of this." Hating myself, I fought and lost a short battle not to ask the next question. "What did you see?"

"They were in the hall down by Jack's office. The babe was getting some mail off the mail cart, and she blew the dyke a kiss."

"That's not exactly a pass."

"Then the dyke gave her a big wet one, right on the lips."

Abruptly, I set my coffee mug down with both hands. "That's enough. Go away. Go do some work, for a change. Don't come back until..."

"She didn't look like she minded much. Kind of too bad, you know, boss? I just lost $50 to Walt."

"For what?"

"We thought Vanessa was after you."

I gave him a very severe look. "Out."

"So it is kind of too bad. We had another $100 on how many pieces she'd be in when Cassie found out. I was down for 'microscopic.'"

"Now."

"There's still one thing we can't figure out, though. What do you suppose Cassie sees in you? Can't be your looks. Nothing personal, boss, but..."

"It's my charm," I growled. "Now get out."

He laughed and took his time getting back on his feet. "Always a pleasure. Auf Wiedersehen, Dev. Don't let the Barbarians bite."

I watched him leave, to make sure he was gone; then I watched the closed door for a while, to make sure he didn't come back. Vanessa and the Barbarian? If I were still in junior high, I would have said Ick. But maybe there was nothing wrong with saying it now; the ick factor was awfully high.

Someone tapped on the door again. Not Kurt's knock--he went for that macho jamb-rattling thing--and not anyone else's I recognized. "Who is it?"

The door opened, and I leaped like a guilty lizard. The Barbarian didn't appear to notice, though. "Morning, Kerry. Got some FedEx for you."

I mumbled something and tried to look busy while she tossed the envelope into my inbox. When she didn't go away right away, I looked up--a mistake, because she was standing close enough now for me to see the lipstick smears. Only Vanessa wore lipstick that red, which meant that Kurt had told the truth.

Ick.

The Barbarian just grinned and reached into a back pocket for a bandanna. "Oops. Guess I forgot to clean up after. You wanna borrow this?"

"Why?" I asked, wincing as she spat into the bandanna.

"Oh, no reason. No reason." She spat again and started scrubbing her face. "Sure you don't wanna borrow it?"

"I'm sure." Damn Cassie anyway. I was going to buy her a dozen tubes of the smudge-free stuff right after work.

The Barbarian stuffed the bandanna back into her pocket and winked. Then she ambled out, whistling "I Enjoy Being a Girl."

I waited till my blood pressure dropped a few points and then dug some Kleenex out of a desk drawer. The Barbarian was on my list now, too.

•••

The smell of cooking started around 11 and grew stronger the closer it got to noon. By the time I got to the conference-room wing, a couple dozen people were loitering outside room A, looking hungry.

"One side," I said, pushing one of the smaller account execs out of the way.

"What's going on in there, Dev?" someone asked. "I thought there was a meeting."

"There is. Don't make me late."

"But it smells like food. Is somebody grilling something in there?"

"The client."

"You're grilling the client?"

I didn't have time for this. "We had no choice. He was a problem. We think he'll be fine with a little mango chutney on the side, though. Now move. I'm late for lunch."

Sometimes my reputation was a good thing. No one was sure whether to believe me, but no one wanted to take any chances. In a matter of seconds, the hall was as empty as a pyramid. Rather satisfied with the result, I pushed open the conference-room door.

At first, my brain simply refused to process the scene. There really was grilling going on in there. The client had a portable rotisserie set up at one end of the conference table, with a suckling pig turning on a spit over open flame--good for at least one violation of city ordinances and probably a huge rent increase if the building owner ever found out. My colleagues were all pressed against the walls, as far from the flames as possible.

Warily, I opened the closet door to see whether the fire extinguisher was still inside. It was. So was Jenner. He had a white-knuckle grip on the extinguisher and refused to let go.

"You won't be any safer in there, sir," I told him.

"I can't be aware of this, Derry. Not officially. Harper said so. Close the door. Call me when lunch is ready."

He was the boss. Shrugging, I shut the door. "Jack?"

"Kerry?"

"Do I want to know why the smoke alarms aren't going off?"

"No."

All right, then. If there was nothing I could do, there was nothing I could do. Cassie, no fool, was over by the window; I decided to join her. "Afternoon, Cass. Nice day. How have you been? Family OK?"

She pulled me closer, but only to jab an elbow in my ribs.

"What was that for?"

"You know exactly what that's for. We're roasting Babe on a spit in a conference room, and you're just standing there letting it happen."

"It's a little late to stop it. The pig's almost done."

"You could make them stop if you wanted to."

Kurt and Chip were listening intently; I shot them a look that made them step back. Then I pulled Cassie a little closer to the window. "Sweetheart, they're all crazy. If there were flamingoes in here, they'd all be playing croquet."

"This isn't Wonderland."

True, but irrelevant. "It doesn't matter. When in Rome, Cass. You know that."

"I know that. I don't have to like it."

"But you like commissions," I said encouragingly. "You like roasted pigs, too."

She debated whether to prolong the sulk, and finally decided against it. "That had better not be poi in that dish. I hate poi."

"That's the spirit. Hungry now?"

"Starved."

Checking first to make sure the coast was clear, I gave her a discreet little kiss on the top of her head. "It'll work out, Cass. Trust me. By the time I'm done with them, they'll only wish they were on that spit."

She gave me an indiscreet little hug and held on. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"Devvy?"

"Hmmm?"

"This doesn't let you off the hook for Thanksgiving."

As gently as possible, I wrenched the woman off. We would do this later. Right now, we were going to have pig with the Romans.

•••

By the time we finished lunch--and Jenner, Jack, and the client stepped out to smoke cigars--the pig was only a memory and a pile of bones, one of which Kurt was still sucking. "Marrow," he explained when I told him to stop it.

Vanessa, who'd only picked at a tiny portion of salad all through lunch, looked interested for the first time all day. The next thing I knew, she was sucking on a bone too, in a very different way...and so was Troy. It was truly revolting, like show-and-tell by sex offenders.

Then something struck me. Heather had her camcorder with her; she'd gotten so far into the spirit of the thing that she'd been taking it everywhere. So I got up and tapped her on the shoulder. "Borrow your camera?"

Busy keeping Troy and Vanessa under minute surveillance, she handed it over without even looking up. To get a better angle, I walked around the table--which meant passing Cassie, who grabbed the tail of my jacket.

"Make sure you get Vanessa's bad side," she whispered.

Pretending not to have heard that, I turned on the camera and started shooting, knowing it would only make things worse. Kurt did everything but jam a bone up his nose to get extra lens time. Likewise, Troy and Vanessa vamped up their act even more when the red light went on. Without comment, I kept filming.

"They're being disgusting," Heather spat. "Why are you putting this on tape?"

"Christmas-party reel," I lied.

"I don't trust you, Dev."

A very smart girl. I just kept the camera rolling.

•••

That night, Cassie and I had Greek pizza and a few shots of ouzo while we ran rough cuts of the PSA. I didn't like ouzo, but she'd put the bottle in the freezer overnight, and the cold seemed to have killed some of the taste. By the second shot, it didn't really matter.

"Either I'm looped," she said, "or I've seen this one before."

"You have. You made me rewind it four times."

"Did I?" She looked only vaguely surprised. "Well, you know how I love your work, pookie."

"Don't call me 'pookie.' And it isn't my work. Not yet. What do you think so far?"

"I think it's missing something. I don't know what, exactly."

"Try this," I said, reaching over for my attaché and pulling out the tape I'd shot that afternoon.

She grumbled about having to get off the couch, but she got to the VCR and back without damage. Then she octopused herself around me, "to be friendly," she explained.

"That's one word for it."

"Just run the tape. After that, you can call my mother, and then I'll give you that little treat I promised."

Hmmm. She'd had more ouzo than I had; maybe one more shot would make her forget the part about her mother. The trick was to make it a small shot, so she wouldn't forget the part about the treat, too. While I calculated the half-life of ouzo, I started the tape with one hand.

At first, nothing seemed unusual. Yes, Kurt had tried to put that bone up his nose, but content aside, the tape looked fine. Troy and Vanessa's little display had come out nicely too.

"That's so disturbing," Cassie said. "Play it again."

I ran the tape back, this time in slow motion. "See this part? I might zoom in during editing, to..."

"Stop it," she said abruptly, sitting up straight.

"No. This is the whole point. I want..."

"The tape, I mean. Stop it."

"Something wrong?"

"I don't know. Let me have the remote a second."

Shrugging, I stopped the tape and handed her the remote. She rewound a short way and then punched a button.

"There. See that?"

"Vanessa and Troy. So?"

"Look at her eyes, Devvy."

I squinted a bit, the better to see. "Red-eye. I must've pointed the light wrong. Well, no problem--I'll take it out in editing."

"It's not red-eye. Look at Troy. He's in the same frame."

"Then it must've been some weird angle on her. What's the difference? I'm going to run this tape through so many computer programs that its own mother won't know it. It'll just take a second to get rid of..."

"It's not red-eye. Go look."

I didn't see any point, but was all for keeping her happy, so I went over to the TV and bent down close to the screen.

Then I saw. "Damn. Damn. Damn."

"I wonder whether we can get a group discount on exorcists," Cassie said.

•••

(c) 1999, ROCFanKat

Continued - Part 16