“Don’t worry, I’ll do that and in a few minutes I’ll also be giving her my best.”
“Oh, uh, just one more thing, Pey-”
“I got to go, man. Next week, okay?” Peyton said as he closed the door.
Gordon stood frozen for a moment, feeling red-faced, his hands shaking. “Stupid idiot,” he whispered to himself. “Why’d you have to bring up that restaurant now? Stupid!”
Even though there were no neighbors around, Gordon couldn’t help feeling self-conscious, as if people were watching him and seeing how much of a fool he had made of himself. With a sick grin stuck on his face, he lumbered back to his car. Once inside, he smacked himself on the side of his head with an open palm.
“Stupid!” he swore to himself. “Well, that’s it. I’m not going home now!”
It was only three in the afternoon. Too early for dinner, but he could drive to Lowell and pick up some takeout Cambodian that he could eat later. For him Lowell was an oasis, one of the few places nearby where he could get good ethnic food. When high tech was booming, most of the companies settled within a rural area about thirty miles northwest of Boston. Not a bad area if you were into horseback riding, or maybe raising a family, but it sucked as far as eating out went. Lowell, though, was only a twenty-minute ride.
Traffic was light, and Gordon got to Lowell in less than fifteen minutes. He decided to bypass his usual Cambodian restaurant. The last few times they had skimped on the portions, and besides, he didn’t like the vibes he was picking up there. Instead he pulled up to a newer restaurant that he had noticed a few months back.
A young Asian girl sat bored behind the cash register. As Gordon approached, she glanced up and gave him a slight smile.
“Very hot weather we’ve been having,” Gordon said.
“Yes it is,” she said softly. “Very hot, muggy.”
“No air conditioning in here?” Gordon asked.
“No, not now. Later we’ll turn it on.”
“I guess it’s too early for dinner and too late for lunch. Normally I get takeout at a Cambodian restaurant a few blocks from here, but I noticed that you had opened last time I drove by.”
“Thank you. I am sure you will like our food.”
“I certainly hope so. What do you recommend?”
“Everything is good here. The shrimp is very good.”
Gordon looked at the menu. “I notice your shrimp dishes are your most expensive,” he said.
“They’re very good,” she said, her slight smile weakening.
“Well, in that case, why don’t I order this shrimp dish, the one with peanuts and spicy lemon grass sauce.”
“I will have the kitchen rush your order,” she said. “No more than five minutes.”
Gordon watched as she walked towards the kitchen. The girl was tiny, slender, with long black hair reaching almost all the way down her back. The tight green skirt she wore outlined her hips and legs. He felt a drying in his mouth as he watched her walk away. When she came back, she smiled politely at him before turning to the magazine in front of her.
“Are you Cambodian?” Gordon asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, it’s not so obvious. You could be Vietnamese. I do know Vietnamese who work in Cambodian restaurants.”
“I am Cambodian.”
“What happened in Cambodia under Pol Pot was simply awful,” Gordon said. “People wearing eyeglasses shot for being intellectuals. Can you imagine that?”
“I only know what I have read. That was well before my time.”
“I’m sorry, of course. I have to say your English is very good. How long have you been in this country?”
“I was born here.”
“Really? I wasn’t trying to imply anything. Only that your English is really quite good. Much better than what I hear at other Cambodian restaurants that I go to.”
“I guess I should thank you.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Gordon said. She looked a bit flustered as she turned towards him, her smile now completely gone.
Gordon put his hands on his hips and stuck his chin out as he posed for her. “How old would you guess I am?” he asked.
“I – I don’t know. I will be right back.”
She turned and hurried away. Gordon dropped his pose. He felt like getting the hell out of there, but he had already ordered his food. A couple of minutes later a Cambodian man wearing a suit came out of the kitchen. He headed straight towards Gordon. When he got to him, he handed Gordon a takeout bag.
“Food today is free,” he said. “I am the owner. Please do not come back here.”
“Why not?”
“You were making the girl working here very uncomfortable.”
“How was I doing that?” Gordon asked. “Jeez, all I was trying to do was be friendly.”
“That is not what she said.”
“What did she say? That I was hitting on her? Come on, I was only trying to make conversation while waiting for my food.”
“Please leave here.”
“Because I asked her to guess my age? Jeez almighty. I only asked her that because I wanted to know if she thought I could pass for under fifty.”
“Your age? I will guess your age. You are dirty old man. That is my guess for your age. Now please do not come back here.”
Gordon stared into the other man’s eyes. He resisted his initial impulse to punch the man in the face. Instead, he dropped the bag, stepped on it, then turned and left the restaurant.
3
Carol Wilson felt like crying. The firm’s senior law partner, Tom Harrold, had scheduled a meeting with the paralegal group for three thirty, and she couldn’t stop worrying that she was going to lose her job. The lawyers weren’t that friendly to begin with, and the last week they had been more brusque than usual. One of them, Bob Thorton, couldn’t even look her in the eye when he gave her her last assignment. And then there was Charlie Bishop. He did all the computer work for the law firm, and the last few days he had been giving Carol and the rest of the paralegals an almost apologetic smile.
She picked up one of the liability cases that she needed to read, but she couldn’t concentrate on it and after a while the words just started blurring together. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Nancy Goldberg standing next to her.
“We’ve got that meeting in a few minutes,” Nancy said. “Let’s go get some coffee.”
“I don’t think that would look good. Why don’t we wait until three-thirty and get some on the way?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“Why don’t we get some coffee?”
Carol felt light-headed as she stood up. She had to lean against her chair for a moment before she trusted herself to move. At forty-four, she was still very attractive. Slender and petite, with shoulder-length blond hair, and girl-next-door type features. The stress of the last year, though, had started showing around her eyes and mouth, making her look somewhat worn out. When Dan lost his job a year and a half ago, she had started looking for work. Before having kids she had been a paralegal for seven years. Finding a job was harder for her than she’d expected, with firms clearly wanting younger paralegals, and it took her five months to find this position. Nancy, while only twenty-six, was a five-year veteran, having worked at the law firm since college.
The light-headedness passed. She caught up with Nancy, and the two of them walked silently to the break room. Nancy poured two cups of coffee and handed one of them to Carol.
“What did you hear?” Carol asked.
Nancy took a sip of her coffee. The muscles along her jaw hardened as she faced her co-worker. “That they’ve added a bunch of new email accounts,” she said. “Charlie Bishop told me an hour ago.”
“What do you think that means?”
“It’s not good.”
“Oh, God.” Carol had to sit down. “I can’t lose this job now.”
“Maybe I’m wrong. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll find another one if you need to. Me, I’ve decided to join the bastards and go to law school.”
“Why would adding new email accounts mean they’re going to get rid of us?”