Everything Is Real (Just Delayed) - Third Strike

Don Seligman squinted at the screen, and wished he hadn't left his glasses in the micro-kitchen.  So far, the only upside had been the slightly blurred face of Marcus scowling as he tore Pete a new one for not using the latest iteration of Kediko Linux.
     "Is that animation in-house?" he asked.  Jeanie shrugged.
     "He's had a year.  Fuck knows what black arts he's subsumed."
     Pete smiled.
     "Subsumed.  That's a beautiful word, Jeanie."
     "For a less-than-beautiful person," added the Boy Wonder Harrison, who was still smarting from the highly personal onslaught Marcus had launched on him earlier.  He'd expected the worst, being the newest recruit, but hadn't expected quite such elevated vitriol from a man he'd previously held in pretty high regard.  "Put it this way, he's not using anything by Adobe, and hasn't used anyone who would.  This is..." He struggled for a synonym.
     "Case structure imperative," said Pete, aligning his Picard bobblehead with his Borg Queen.  "It's not flawless, and he's nicked at least two aligned templates to set it up, but it's platform-neutral in any environment."  He breathed out, and tapped his Iron Man bobblehead.  "It's...horribly perfect.  Probably look great on your 'phone."
     Don grunted and glanced through the window at T, who appeared to be deeply into a 'phone call.
     "This is what happens when we don't pay attention," he sighed.  Jeanie frowned.
     "That's a little unfair, Don.  We've been in virtual stasis for months.  The only new contracts we've signed have come via T.  Shaky's hardly the word."
     Pete nodded, following Don's sight-line to where T was hanging-up and leaning back in his chair.
     "Do you think he knows what's going on yet?"
     Jeanie noticed where they were all now staring and joined in, giving T a friendly wave.
     "Does he look like he's hitting the wires with his CV?  Marcus made one pit stop before coming in here.  If T knows anything, he'll tell us."


To be continued...

Everything Is Real (Just Delayed) - Second Slice

"How bad was it?"  Naoimi still sounded wasted.  I glanced out through the window at Jeanie, the Boy Wonder Harrison, and Don Seligman all huddled around Pete's workstation.  Marcus had said his various pieces, at various volumes, and left about twenty minutes ago.  Whatever he'd brought in on that USB thumb drive was now occupying all their attention on the screen.  Pete especially looked nervous, and was obsessively re-positioning his bobblehead collection on his desk.
     "Pretty much what you'd expect," I told her.  Down the 'phone line, I could hear her breathing, and another sound - something almost mechanical.  "Are you...juicing?"  She laughed.
     "Why don't you come round and find out?"
     "Tempting.  But I can't.  I think your boyfriend wants to buy me dinner."
     "Oh, crap."  The mechanical sound stopped suddenly.  "That's not his style.  He doesn't do extra-curricular.  Ever.  What the Hell is going on?"
     "I'm not sure.  If we're lucky, he's just been seconded by the Scientologists, and I'll escape with a leaflet and some biofeedback readings."
     "Your definition of luck needs some work..."
     "He came prepared today.  I haven't seen it yet, but he dumped a load of stuff on the team and they're going over it now."
     Naoimi sighed.
     "It'll be Dubai.  T, you've got to keep them together.  Marcus has his schemes, and his strategies, but you really need to keep a lid on all this.  Don't let him fuck them over."  Not so wasted now, apparently.  I was riding a very fine line here, and I knew it.  So much for keeping things simple.
     "I hear you, Madam Chairman."  I winced as I said it.  Referencing one of Marcus' tax dodges probably wasn't politic right now.  The mechanical sound resumed.
     "When's your dinner date?"
     At least she didn't sound pissed off.
     "Seven-thirty.  D'Ara's.  I had to Google it.  Somehow I think Marcus has found the only restaurant in London where I'll be expected to help design my own dinner."
     "It's neat.  And so not him.  Go and talk to your team.  Be the Superglue they need."
     Smart.  Resilient.  Tactical.  Not for the first time, I wondered if I'd always slightly loved her.
     "I'll call you," I said.  Her laugh was gentle, not mocking.
     "Of course you will.  Two tips.  Prunes and paprika.  Can't go wrong with those."
     "Thanks."
     She'd already hung up.


To be continued...

Everything Is Real (Just Delayed)

No one has had to deal with Marcus for over a year.  On balance, that's a good thing.  His self-imposed exile meant that, for most of us, real work got done, and everyone started to relax.  Jeanie stopped topping-up her orange juice with vodka, and the Boy Wonder Harrison (don't ask) actually started turning up to meetings with some half-decent ideas drafted on his iPad.  Of course, it was never going to last and, on the morning he returned, I was in the curious position of knowing about it in advance.  I didn't have the heart to break a confidence, though.  At least, not until I'd had the chance to discuss it with him directly.
     "You don't seem surprised to see me, T."  Narrowed eyes, elbow planted against the door frame.
     "Your girlfriend came to see me," I said.  He glanced down at his feet, smiling.
     "Yeah, well, she always did have a bit of a thing for you.  Come on, we both know it."
     Trying to engage confession mode wasn't going to work.  He wasn't there.  Didn't have a clue how scary it had been.
     "I'm not going to give you relationship advice, Marcus, but you're as far off the mark as it's possible to be."
     "You know we haven't spoken since April, right?"
     "She mentioned that.  Something about Dubai?"
     "Oh, yeah.  So, you came in for a classic Naoimi shitstorm of emo crud and recriminations?"
     "Not exactly.  I don't think she's in the business of painting you in villainous hues."
     Marcus laughed.
     "There.  Right there.  That's the T she'd turn to.  What did you do with her?"
     "Last night?  I put her in a taxi and sent her home."
     It was true.  After a fashion.  He didn't need to know that it was effectively our second date, or that she'd augmented the entire charade with enough Class A drugs to fell a DJ convention.
     "The thing about you, T, is that you're big on narrative.  You like to know the plot, and the subtext, and why the hero has to fall."
     I shook my head.
     "No.  Too much of a Stranglers fan to let that pass."
     He immediately looked confused.  Was I playing an unfair advantage?  Did it even matter now?
     "Listen, I'm back pro tem.  That's it.  Whatever the fuck is going on with you and Naoimi - and I accept that it may be nothing - we need to be able to work together for the next four days.  Are you up for it?"
     "I am.  I always have been, Marcus."
     He nodded.
     "Good.  Then let me go and fuck with a few muppet heads, then I'll meet you for dinner at D'Ara's at seven thirty.  Got a few things to float your way.  I promise you won't be disappointed."


To be continued...