Unnatural Acts

43

Stone woke from a deep sleep with somebody shaking him. “What?” he said.

Marla laughed. “You were having a nightmare,” she said, “and talking in your sleep.”

“I remember,” Stone said. “I dreamed you were a Republican.”

She laughed. “I am a Republican,” she said. “Didn’t you know?”

“Apparently not, I let you in the house.”

“I take it you’re a Democrat?”

“I’m a Yellow Dog Democrat.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s a Democrat who would vote for a Yellow Dog before he would vote for a Republican.”

She laughed again. “Well, I’m not that dyed-in-the-wool a Republican. I just grew up in a Republican family.”

“You poor girl.” He rolled over and pulled her to him. “I think we have to begin your reeducation now.”

She kissed him. “You mean we’re going to have Democrat sex?”

“Democrat- ic sex,” Stone said. “Don’t insult it by mispronouncing the name. That’s the first step in your reeducation.”

“What’s the second step?”

He kissed her. “That’s step two.”

“I can’t wait for step three.”

He gently pinched a nipple.

“I think you’ve just found the start button,” she said. “Can we skip to the final step?”

He rolled on top of her.

Half an hour later, they lay, panting and sweating, holding hands. “Does that complete my reeducation?” she asked.

“That’s only the first lesson,” Stone said. “We have a lot to work through yet.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll see, lesson by lesson.”

“I guess it’s good that I seem to have relocated to your house. It saves all those trips through the garden and in the back door.”

“It is good, isn’t it? Even difficult situations can have their bright side.” He rolled over and kissed her. “Where’s that start button again?”

Herbie was at his desk by seven on Monday morning, and Cookie came into his office, leading another young woman, taller than she and dark-haired.

“Herb, this is RoseAnn Faber,” Cookie said. “She’s going to be working with us.”

“Wow, that was fast,” Herbie said, standing up and shaking her hand.

“It all happened Friday afternoon,” Cookie said.

“Are you glad to be out of Accounting, RoseAnn?” Herbie asked.

“You bet your ass… Excuse me, yes, I’m very glad to be out of Accounting.” The accent had a tinge of Brooklyn.

“And we’re glad to have you,” Herbie said. “I’ve been working Cookie too hard.”

“So she tells me,” RoseAnn said.

“ RoseAnn! ” Cookie said, blushing. “I haven’t been complaining, Herb. I love my job.”

“I know you do, Cookie, because I know how well you do it. RoseAnn, I hope you learn to love your job as well as Cookie does hers.”

Cookie looked at her watch. “Your appointment is probably here now,” she said. “I’ll go see if he’s in reception.”

Both women left, and Cookie came back a couple of minutes later, leading Dink Brennan, who was dressed in a suit.

Herbie shook his hand and sat him down. “I had a call from the director at the farm,” he said.

Dink sat down and accepted coffee from Cookie. “Yes, well, I felt the farm had done all it could for me. You see, I was never an addict, and almost everybody at the farm was. I felt out of place.”

“Have you spoken to your father?”

“We met last week, and I think we both went a long way toward patching things up.”

“I’ve gotten to know him pretty well,” Herbie said. “He deserves better from you than what you were giving him.”

“I can’t deny that,” Dink said. “I’m going to do better by him.”

“Why are you here, Dink?”

“Several reasons. First, I want to apologize to you for being such a handful.”

“Apology accepted. Don’t do it again.”

“Secondly, I’m sufficiently impressed with you that I’m thinking of applying to law school.”

Herbie shrugged. “There are worse ways to make a living, but, as with most careers, it’s only really good when you love doing it. A year in law school to find out if you could love it might be a good idea. Where are you thinking of?”

“Yale. I’ve always liked it there.”

“What are your grades like?”

“Surprisingly good, considering. I have a three-point-eight average, and I might be able to improve on that in my final year. I want to graduate before going on to law school.”

“Let me know if you need any advice.”

“That brings me to my other reason for being here,” Dink said. “I’d like you to represent me as my attorney.”

“You’re a college junior-why do you need an attorney?”

“Because I’ve just come into my inheritance from my mother, which is considerable.”

“How considerable?”

“Thanks to my dad’s brilliant investing over the years, my trust grew from around six million to just under twenty million,” Dink said.

“Is your dad going to continue to invest for you?”

“I’d be crazy not to let him. He’s the best there is. But I think I’m going to want to invest in other things, too.”

“What sort of things?”

“Small businesses that can grow.”

“I have another client-one your father sent me-who is that kind of entrepreneur,” Herbie said. “I’ll introduce you, if you like. You might learn a lot from him.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Dink said. He gave Herbie a card. “This is my address, until I go back to Yale in the autumn.”

Herbie looked at the card. “Nice address.”

“It’s one of two apartments Dad’s firm uses to house out-of-town investors.”

“What are you going to do with your money besides invest it?” Herbie asked.

“I haven’t decided.”

“I once came into a lot of money all at once,” Herbie said, “and I blew a third of it in a year. It’ll take me five or six years to earn that back.”

Dink shrugged. “I’ve already got a nice car. I may have some clothes made, and I’m thinking of buying an apartment in the city.”

“That could be a good investment, Dink. Prices are lower than they were before the recession.” Herbie took a card from a drawer and handed it to him. “This is a good agent, if you’re looking to buy on the East Side or downtown. Those are her specialties.”

“Downtown interests me,” Dink said. “I’ll give her a call.”

“All right, Dink, I’ll be your attorney. Just remember, you can fire me at any time, and I reserve the same right.”

Dink stood up to go. “I hope it won’t come to that on either side,” he said. He shook hands and left.

Cookie came into the office. “So that’s Dink Brennan? He looks awfully normal.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he? Let’s see how that goes. Oh, he’s our new client, so you can open a file for him.” He handed her the card. “Here’s his address, until he goes back to Yale in the fall.”

Cookie started back to her desk.

“Oh, and, Cookie?”

She turned. “Yes?”

“Don’t let RoseAnn talk to clients until she learns to watch her language.”

“Gotcha.”