“Right again. Twelve years with the company, nine in management.”
“What line?”
He arched an eyebrow.
“I’m good, not psychic.”
Jeff chuckled. “It was a high-end car audio business. We did sales and installation, but unfortunately the giant discount stores have wiped out most of the specialty chains.”
“I noticed a wedding band. Do you have children too?”
Jeff relaxed a bit and decided to enjoy the game. “You tell me.”
She turned back to him, looked deep into his eyes. “No kids.”
“No.” Jesus, he thought, I’m actually swooning. “Not yet anyway. Hopefully at some point soon but right now we’re not in a position to-”
“Your wife works but doesn’t make a whole lot, right? It’s not enough, is it, Jeff? You’re in financial trouble.”
“It’s getting tough, yes.”
“Then tell me, what in the world do you have to lose at this point? There are a very limited number of slots, and I’ll be honest, I only get paid if one of my finds actually gets hired. So if you’re really not interested just tell me now, OK?”
“I thought I already had.”
“OK,” she said, hopping back to her feet, “it was nice to meet you then.”
“Wait,” he said. “How am I supposed to know if I’m interested when I don’t have any particulars? I don’t know what the job is or what your company does.”
“It’s a multifaceted company,” she told him as she sank back down to the bench. “A great many tentacles, if you will, involved in a great many ventures. It’s better to attend the interview and speak with Mr. Hope directly. He can give you the specifics and discuss things with you in detail. If I didn’t think there was a position you’d be qualified for or worth training for, Jeff, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you. Look at me, I was a secretary and was trained to be a recruiter, something I had no experience or even interest in until I was hired and saw the potential not only in the position, but in myself.”
“Is this a company or a cult?”
“Oh, definitely a cult,” she cracked. “But you don’t get your official robe and hood until you eat your first baby under the light of a full moon.”
Jeff couldn’t take his eyes from her. “The interviews are today?”
“Yes, Mr. Hope will only be in Boston a few days. His time is limited.”
“What the hell,” he heard himself say, “I’ve got nothing else to do anyway.”
“Awesome!”
“Where and when?”
She consulted her watch, which from the looks cost slightly more than his car. “The next available slot is around noon, 11:45, to be precise.”
“Good, then I have time to run home, get into a suit and grab a resume.”
“Not necessary. You’re fine. Listen, have you had breakfast?”
“No, actually, I-”
“I’m starving.” Jessica stood up, straightened her skirt and picked up her briefcase. “Want to join me for a bite to eat then we can head over to the interview? I’m staying over at the Plaza. They have a nice restaurant there. I hate eating alone, don’t you?”
Jeff willed himself to remain seated. “I’m flattered, but my wife wouldn’t-”
“It’s OK, really.” She smiled at him the way a child might smile at a puppy. “You love your wife and you don’t fool around. I respect that, says a great deal about your character. But I was talking breakfast, not a weekend in Aruba. I’m thinking coffee, maybe a bagel and some conversation, nothing spectacular or adulterous. Unless,” she said, leaning closer, “sharing a pitcher of orange juice constitutes cheating, in which case we’re into some seriously scandalous shit.”
You ass, he thought. She wasn’t making a pass, she was just being nice. Or could be she’s afraid if she let’s me go now I’ll blow off the interview later.
“Come on, breakfast’s on me.” She offered him her free hand.
“OK?”
Still mesmerized, Jeff placed his hand in hers. “OK.”
3
Afterward, Jeff and Jessica took a cab to a small office building tucked away on an out-of-the-way side street in a drab neighborhood not far from the waterfront. They rode in awkward silence, Jessica fiddling with her cell phone-perhaps texting someone, he didn’t look closely enough to know for sure-and Jeff trying desperately to remain calm and appease the tempest raging in his head. He’d no longer wanted to go to the interview, but had gone along anyway, allowing Jessica to lead him there as she might a pitiful, guilt-ridden dog on a leash. But all he could see, all he could think about, was Eden.
And the very thought of her devastated him.
What have I done? Why did I-what have I done?
The building was old and dreary, just one in a line of several brownstones that had been converted into office space. Most looked unoccupied, and but for one burned-out carcass of an automobile near the end of the block, there were no parked cars or any signs of life whatsoever. Jeff took it all in, his depression and regret growing stronger with each passing second. Just tell her you’ve changed your mind and you’re no longer interested. Tell her you’re going home.
When the cab lurched to a stop Jessica put her phone away and turned to him, making eye contact for the first time since they’d left the hotel. “Ready?”
Looking into her eyes he found it impossible to be angry with her or to feel anything but the primal attraction that had gotten him into this in the first place. He nodded submissively and forced a smile.
Once inside the unmarked building they arrived at a modest reception area, but the desk where a receptionist should’ve been sitting was empty. The office space was clearly a short-term rental, had a transient, unfinished feel and possessed no indicators that identified it as belonging to or being associated with any particular company or cause. Just beyond the reception area a row of plastic chairs sat in a line against the wall along a narrow hallway leading deeper into the building. Jessica told him to have a seat then slipped into the first office, closing the door behind her.
The building was eerily quiet, the usual din of city noises hushed here. Somewhere far off, the sound of a slowly dripping faucet echoed about with maddening repetition, but he couldn’t quite hone in on its point of origin. At the very end of the hallway, in an open doorway which led to another part of the building he couldn’t make out from there, Jeff noticed a man who looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties standing in the shadows. Was he waiting for an interview too, was he an employee, or was this F. Hope? Dressed in an inexpensive black suit, a white shirt and a skinny black tie, the man was unusually tall-probably close to seven feet-and thin to the point of appearing emaciated. He was bald with pointed features, his face long, drawn and skeletal.
Though he was a good thirty feet away, Jeff raised a hand, offered an apathetic wave and mumbled, “How’s it going?”
He watched Jeff with the dark, sunken eyes of a man shackled with profound sorrow. His pale thin lips parted, as if he were about to respond, but then he seemed to think better of it, and with a slight nod of his head, turned and disappeared through the doorway.
What the hell am I doing here? Go-I-I should just go. Now, right now.
Jeff dropped his face into his hands and fought the desire to weep. He’d never felt so alone in his life. After a moment he looked up. There was no one else around, why not just get up and leave?
He was about to do just that when the office door opened and an elderly man poked his head out. “Mr. McGrath?”
“Yes.”
“Please.” The man stepped back and opened wide the door. He was dressed in a cream-colored summer suit, his snow-white hair neatly combed into place, straight back and away from a face with badly aged features. Jeff guessed that in the man’s youth those same features had been chiseled, and he’d probably been quite handsome. “Won’t you come in?”
On shaky legs, Jeff entered the windowless office. Sparsely furnished, with only a meeting table and two plastic chairs, there was a box of donuts, a coffeemaker and a stack of Styrofoam cups at one end, and a clipboard with a standard employment application at the other. On the far wall, another door through which Jessica had apparently gone prior to his arrival stood closed.