Upon A Pale Horse

FIFTEEN Doors

“Well, good morning,” Monica said, leaning on one elbow as Jeffrey’s eyelids fluttered open. Bright sunlight streamed through the gauze curtains, and the glare caused him to wince, his visual reflex a nanosecond ahead of the pounding headache that assaulted him like a jilted bride.

“Good morning,” he croaked back, his voice betraying him, and he struggled to sit up, the metallic film in his mouth ample evidence of the prior night’s excesses. “What time is it?” he asked, glancing around for his watch.

“Ten-fifteen,” she replied, reaching to the bedside table next to her and then handing him his Tag Heuer. “Why, you got a hot date with someone else?”

He jolted and hit his head against the headboard, and the pain from his hangover instantly doubled. “Shit. No, but I have a plane to catch. I’ve got to be at Dulles by noon — probably earlier, to get through security.” He groaned as vindictive devils banged on an evil timpani inside his skull. “I have to take a shower and check out. Damn it.”

“Love ’em and leave ’em, huh?” Monica teased, sliding up against him, and in spite of his misery he found his body responding. “I thought you were in a hurry,” she whispered as her hand enfolded him, stroking softly.

“Priorities,” he said as he turned to her.

Half an hour later he kissed her a final time and then moved to the bathroom, keenly aware that he was running unpardonably late. Monica joined him in the oversized marble stall, the warm water rinsing away the worst of the alcohol residue, and Jeffrey realized that his day was going to get much worse — he was still slightly buzzed.

God. How much had he drunk, anyway? He couldn’t remember, losing track of his silent count somewhere around the middle of his time at club number two, as Monica lathered her mane next to him. Even as he berated himself for his recklessness, he marveled at her body, a thing of beauty covered in soap suds.

No time for shaving, he hurriedly pulled on a light sweater and jeans and threw his clothes into his bag as Monica dressed, her wet hair gleaming in the sunlight. He was torn, and if he’d had a choice, would have stayed the rest of the day and caught a red-eye that night. But with a private jet waiting on the runway, he didn’t have that latitude. Unfortunately.

Monica inspected herself in the mirror and then pirouetted to face him. She stood on her bare tiptoes to kiss him. “You’re coming back, right?” she asked when they disengaged.

“If I hadn’t been planning to before, now you couldn’t keep me away. Screw the Bay Area. I’m all about D.C.” Jeffrey attempted to throw a gang sign, but realized halfway through that he didn’t actually know any. The resultant effort looked more like he was suffering a seizure than representing his homies. Monica giggled, a lilting sound that made his heart skip. He couldn’t believe how fresh she looked, like she’d slept for twelve solid hours and sipped mineral water all night.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved a business card, then moved to the table and scribbled her home number on the back with the hotel pen.

“In case you get lonely when you return. You know, if you need someone to show you around, maybe take you sightseeing,” she said as she slipped it into his hand. He hesitated, and then scooped up his jacket and put it on, felt for one of his cards, and gave it to her. “My cell’s on that. I won’t have a home phone for more than a few more days, so it’s a moot point.” He paused, searching for the right words. “Monica, this has been… it’s been incredible. Never in my—”

“Shhh.” She held her finger to his lips and kissed him again. “Me too. Just call me, that’s all I ask. Now, do you want a ride? Or do you have someone picking you up?”

He studied her. “I was going to take a taxi…”

“Not while you’re in my town, you aren’t. Come on. Let’s get moving. I can break some land speed records and get you to the airport on time if we’re lucky.”

Monica wasn’t exaggerating, and when she rolled to a stop at the private charter building her dashboard clock read eleven fifty-four. Jeffrey burned another three minutes kissing her, and then reluctantly swung the door open and stepped out as she popped the tiny trunk so he could retrieve his bag. He hugged her close and gave her a final kiss, and then nodded and walked briskly toward the airport, hoping he could get to the plane on time.

He needn’t have been concerned — the pilots didn’t seem to notice that he was late, and Jennifer was all smiles as he climbed shakily up the stairs to the plane, apparently not registering that it was all he could do to keep from vomiting.

This time, when she offered him a beverage before they took off, he opted for a Finlandia and soda, and noted with approval that she had a very heavy pour. Once the drink had hit his system he felt a little better, and at cruising altitude, after a feeble explanation that it had been a rough night, the second and third almost had him feeling human.

Roger was true to his word, and when Jeffrey got home and powered on his computer there was a large attachment in his private mail inbox with the formal terms of the offer. $200,000 annual salary, a bonus, $25,000 for relocation costs, a company car, and up to two weeks of hotel while he was looking for a place. Jeffrey read through the fine print and there was nothing unexpected or onerous, but he wanted to talk to his current employer before signing it and returning it the next day. With luck he would be headed east sooner rather than later; and now with Monica, he actually had something promising in his personal life to look forward to in addition to the job.

He ordered a pizza and scarfed down most of it before going to bed early, the three hours of sleep on the plane inadequate to relieve the worst of the pain he’d brought on himself. As he drifted off to sleep, a smile played over his face, visions of Monica filling his imagination as the soporific embrace of slumber welcomed him.

The next day, he requested a meeting first thing in the morning with the managing partners, and tendered his resignation, effective immediately. Collier Phillip, his boss, recoiled like Jeffrey had set a live snake on his desk when he placed the single page document on his blotter.

“Jeffrey. I thought you were happy here. Tell me what’s gone wrong and I’ll try to make it right.”

“It’s not you, or the firm. I was made an offer I literally couldn’t refuse.”

“Well, tell us what the offer was, and perhaps there’s some elasticity in your arrangement here.”

Jeffrey did, and Phillip’s eyes narrowed, first with a flitting look of disbelief and then the guile that Jeffrey was accustomed to.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. That’s why I took it.”

“Well, I’ll talk to the other partners, but that’s completely out of the realm that an attorney with your limited experience could command.”

“Apparently not everywhere.”

Phillip grunted noncommittally. “We’ll need at least a month’s notice so that you can close up your files and we can find a replacement.”

“I was hoping for more like a week.”

“Out of the question.”

The rest of the meeting didn’t go well, as Phillip became increasingly adversarial. The final piece of information he wanted to know was the name of the firm that had made Jeffrey the offer. His poker face didn’t slip when Jeffrey told him, but he thought Phillip’s complexion flushed a few shades.

The timing issue was still a big one, so Jeffrey did as Roger had suggested and contacted him, explaining the resistance he’d encountered.

“Huh. That’s not unexpected, I suppose.”

“Can you help? You said that you knew some of the senior partners.”

“Let me make a few calls. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be back to you shortly.”

Jeffrey was checking over a contract with Phillip barged into his office, a look of fury on his face.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but that was the most underhanded tactic I’ve ever seen,” he seethed.

“What are you talking about?”

Phillip made a visible effort to rein in his anger, and when he spoke again, it was with glacial calm. “You know damned well. You’ve got your one week. But the partners would like you to be available to consult on any open issues.”

“Not a problem. I trust you won’t have a problem if I bill at my new rate.”

Phillip turned on his heel and stalked out. Jeffrey smiled to himself at the pompous tyrant’s frustration at not being able to ride roughshod over him. The truth was that Jeffrey barely knew the man, who outside his sudden display of concern that morning treated all the associates like indentured servants chartered with doing his laundry. He had a reputation for being high-handed and arrogant, and Jeffrey had been the recipient of it more than once. Turnabout was strangely satisfying, even though Jeffrey had larger fish to fry.

His cell phone rang, and Roger’s voice boomed over the line. “I took care of it.”

“What did you say?”

“I merely explained how beneficial it would be to do the right thing. You’d be surprised how reasonable people can be if you just take the time to speak to them with love.”

“I’ll have the agreement back to you in an hour. That was the only sticking point.”

“Perfect. Congratulations. Let me know when you’re going to be in town, and I’ll arrange for a hotel. It won’t be the Four Seasons, but I trust it will be to your liking.”

“Will do. I’ll contact you a few days before I leave. Probably Sunday — I’ll need to arrange for a moving and cleaning crew.”

“You know my number. Send me an email when you want to travel, and I’ll book a ticket for you. It isn’t going to be on your own jet, but hopefully you can slum it some.”

“I’ll be in touch shortly.”

He printed out the offer and signed it, initialing each page, then scanned it and emailed it back to Roger, sighing as he pressed the send button. The rest of the day flew by as he hunkered down and worked his way through the ever-present pile of agreements he needed to proof — complex licensing agreements and opinions on IRS code pertaining to their usefulness as tax avoidance vehicles. It seemed like he was just getting started when his two subordinates said goodnight at his door. He hadn’t told them he was leaving, and figured he would wait until mid-week to break the news so as to avoid any ill will that might be generated by what might be construed as jumping ship.

Jeffrey had put off any serious consideration about tackling Keith’s estate until he got to Washington. Being on the ground there would make things far easier, from securing a death certificate to dealing with a real estate agent. He’d considered keeping Keith’s condo, but felt conflicted. It seemed most reasonable to get there and then decide — in another couple of weeks he might feel differently, but for right now all he could remember was the sense of Keith’s ghost watching him as he’d cleaned out the refrigerator, and he wasn’t anxious for a repeat performance any time soon. The idea of living there, sleeping in Keith’s bed and using his space, seemed morbid to him and just, well, wrong. He knew it was silly, but still, he couldn’t shake it.

Once home, he thought about Monica, and impulsively dialed her number on his cell, almost hanging up with the first ring. She answered ten seconds later, and after an initial bit of awkwardness, they talked for an hour, the emotions he’d been grappling with clearly mutual.

He told her that he would be flying there on Sunday, and she sounded delighted. He could practically see her smile and flashing dark eyes as she laughed easily with him, and she insisted on picking him up at the airport no matter when his flight arrived.

As he prepared for bed, he caught himself grinning more than once, and realized that he was looking forward to seeing Monica again more than any other aspect of his move east — more than the money, the career boost, the thought of a new city and a new beginning. Whatever they had experienced in their short time together had been exceptional, and he couldn’t wait to be with her again in less than a week.

Jeffrey, old boy, he thought, you’re already falling, and you don’t really know anything about her.

Which was true, but even with the realization, the reality of his emotional response didn’t change, and he thanked Providence again that his career and romantic life had taken such an abrupt and fortuitous turn. He just wished that his brother had lived to see it. Having someone to share your triumphs with made all the difference, and now he was alone in the world.

Except for Monica.

A door closed, another opened.

For now, that was the best he could do.