“4?”
By Michelle K.
Copyright © 2011 by Michelle K.
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Cover art by
Appleuzr and Joleene Naylor
Cover layout by Joleene Naylor
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From
The imaginative shores of the Crimson Tide
Table of Contents
Chapter
1
Chapter
2
Chapter
3
Chapter
4
Chapter
5
Chapter
6
Chapter
7
Chapter
8
Chapter
9
Chapter
10
Chapter
11
Chapter
12
Chapter
13
Chapter
14
Chapter15
Chapter16
A crystal goblet shattered underneath Martin Rothschild's heel as he stood underneath the chupah on a sandy New Brunswick beach where tide worn boulders created the backsplash for a perfect wedding on the shore. Iliana Travinsky, Martin’s new bride, gleamed at her lover, as she should, cherishing the long awaited moment to begin her new life.
At the edge of the St. Lawrence near Bonsecours Market in Montreal, a westerly breeze blew Avery Kahn's hair as she sat quietly at a sidewalk cafe’. Small waves spattered the dock along the dark waters and the air smelled faintly of fish. A unicyclist sped by and children applauded as a mime teased the afternoon crowds as Avery watched the show. Unsure of the source of her sorrow, the river drew her eyes to the old run down bridge tying Montreal nearer the States thinking one day the rusty connector will fall. A young waiter inquired, “Another Madame?”
“Excuse me? No, no thank you,” Avery placed ten dollars on the table and she rose gracefully to walk along the busy boardwalk on such a peaceful Sunday afternoon in the Old City. She noticed a man with his daughter on his shoulders as they watched the acrobats, and, suddenly, a memory of Martin and Rachel flashed in front of her eyes. Quite ironic Avery thought, as her mind pictured Martin and Iliana under the chupah.
The wedding was a grand affair which had been in the planning for years. The entire family was invited, except Rachel. It was callous, but on the other hand, what else was there to expect. Martin’s entire family knew about the relationship years before this ‘marriage’ culminated. Martin told Rachel, their twelve year old daughter, she wouldn’t have a good time and that he would have her over to the new house after he and Iliana returned from the Mediterranean. Tents, flautists and feasts marked the occasion. Big band music entertained the dancers near the shore. Martin’s fantasy had finally come to fruition. Avery thought she truly ought to be happy, but instead betrayal incinerated her chest.
Life for Avery had followed the expected patterns; but, in the realm of normalcy either by twist of fate or a glitch in the randomization of ions after the Big Bang, her life had never truly met the mark of tradition. It had never been an “average norm.” Circumstances, right or wrong or just sometimes downright insignificant sent her many times on the road to find true meaning. But, this was one of those moments where Avery Kahn found herself standing in the middle of a cold vast desert looking at the night skies seeking the constellation that belonged to her.
Their beginning was ordinary. Avery grew up in a small town on the Mainline to Philadelphia. She met Martin when he was 23 and she was 18. He wanted to be a Computer Analyst and Avery wanted to be a Social Worker. Avery and her friend had lunch frequently where Martin worked. One day he as was hurriedly carrying a water tray, he tripped and spilled cold water all over Avery’s shirt. Martin was so nervous and apologetic and felt so badly he followed her all the way home. They saw each other again in school and started dating later. Eventually, they married and moved to Montreal to live near his very large extended Orthodox Jewish family. Martin’s family was from a remote village in Romania not far from the Yugoslavian border. However, they preferred to think of themselves as displaced Russians. Avery’s family evolved over the years and she never really understood except that her life had been one long, perpetual identity crisis. Her parents started out as not-quite-hippie liberals from the 1960’s. Avery’s father was a Polish man, who was told he was Italian but wasn’t really, and decided to be agnostic, sort of, who later found out he was really Jewish from his father whose mother was French- Catholic, and whose father was a Polish Jew all of whom converted to Protestantism at some unknown point in time. Avery’s mother, on the other hand, was a French-Irish-displaced-Pole-practicing-Protestant who read the Return of the God’s in the 1970’s and later decided to switch to the Evangelicals. And, of course, historically they were all displaced Russians. Avery chose a simpler route.
As confusing as it was, Avery’s family grew to love Martin. So Avery’s converting to Judaism was quite easy having had a great grandfather who, as she was told, endeared his Polish heritage. So, Avery and Martin lived in the East Side of Montreal in the warmth of the “ghetto” where she had been quite content exploring this new life. Her life’s road changed, however, when Martin’s cousin, Rafael, opened a pizza eatery in the Italian quarter which eventually lead to a large conglomerate of business interests. With all the demands, Avery and Martin, probably for the better, drifted apart. The fact that her faith became a point of contention in the divorce was very painful and, quite frankly hypocritical, since Iliana was only from Leningrad. But such is life. Avery had a job she liked as Title Analyst and she loved her curious, old-world life in Montreal.
The majestic Notre Dame dominated the skyline and Avery decided to walk there rather than take the Metro home. As she neared what felt like Vatican Square, she experienced an epiphany “I walked under the chupah. How did I do something so stupid? I didn’t mean to. It was totally an accident.” After all those years, her face reddened still. “Was that it? Benny said this might happen. I guess he was right.” Dazed and searching for a sense of reason, she remembered the surprise and scorn on people’s faces when she did it and Avraham pulling her quickly to the side telling her that meant she wanted the groom. “What?” She shook her head, “Stop it!” Avery accidentally bumped into a man passing by “Pardon.” She quickly said. But beautiful carriages drawn by fairy-tale-like horses parked at the corner whisked that all away “Why am I thinking about this?!"
Avery approached the guide dressed in an old black suit and top hat and asked how much. “Ten dollars." After which she passed the ten and the tall man assisted her into the carriage. The horse's hooves clapped slowly along cobblestone streets and the man droned through tales of sea captains and lively tavern stories along the banks of the St. Lawrence. Her thoughts were worn-out, however, having heard them all before. She pictured Rachel in the comfort of her grandmother's house.
“A penny for your thoughts, Madame." The driver said.
"I'm sorry what?"
"Are you enjoying the tour, you seem quite bored."
"Oh, no, I'm just...I was thinking of something else."
"Ah. A nice lady like you shouldn't be so sad on a beautiful day such as this."
Avery apologized and said she was only thinking of her daughter. Truly, the scent of roses rushed across her face causing her to remember the day fifteen years ago when Martin cut a violet tinged rose from Victoria Garden. He held her hands to his chest..."we just need to spend more time together.” she remembered Martin saying. Then she remembered, “Emails. How did he know about those emails? They were just … entertainment? And websites?” She remembered her lawyer, Etan’ Birnbaum telling her about websites of which she knew nothing. And then, she thought about Ian and the last time she saw him at work.
An astute middle aged man, Ian Ramsey, a work friend who had worked at Land Title for many years in information systems, was wearing a well cut London Fog overcoat, stood at her desk and called her name.
"Hi, Ian." Avery answered sounding exhausted at the end of the week as she stacked the last papers on her desk. Ian glanced at her computer screen. However, his gaze was prolonged towards her and Avery wondered if she had left the computer unsecured. "I'm sorry." Ian said.
"About what? Did you delete me again?" Avery replied playfully.
"No. I mean I don't know what to say." Ian continued staring at Avery's chest and she looked down to make sure her shirt had not come unbuttoned.
"Oh, you mean Martin? Don't be." She said.
"Don't be what?" Ian watched her every move and reaction to his words making her feel slightly nervous.
"Sorry. I don't know what to say either. It seems everyone knows about it."
"New York. That was just bizarre."
"You know about New York?" Avery's heart sank.
"No. I mean. I only heard around the office here." An uncomfortable moment passed and Avery knew the only person to whom she had confided was her friend Janine. Ian then became animated. He walked over to Avery’s computer, began to shuffle around with the mouse, then, bent over and stared directly into the computer screen.
"Ian. It's not on." Avery approached his side. "Ian? Shall I turn it on?" She pushed the button.
"No. Avery. I was just checking the connections. Have you noticed anything different lately?"
"Not really. I already sent you an email about those little blue squiggles."
"Little blue squiggles?" Ian leaned on the screen and nearly toppled it to the floor, catching it in midair.
"Yes. Tons of little blue squiggles and hour glasses. I'm assuming windows is updating, right?"
"Oh. Yeah. Updates." His laugh was a nervous one and he looked at Avery and, then, at her chest. "Well. Soon we're going to publish our new Information Security policy. Just a tip. Don't open any non-company emails."
"I don't anyway. That's not a new policy."
"Yeah. We're publishing it again. Watch…" He paused, “Do you have a favorite restaurant?”
“What do you mean?”
“Matt,” he stopped, “I mean meat. Do you like meat?”
“What, Ian?” Ian began acting very strangely and backed up against the wall with his shoulders flat scooting to the corner. An air of paranoia surrounded them as he looked down the hall.
“Ian are you okay? You’re looking like a recluse hugging the wall.”
“Do you know charades?” Ian unusually asked.
“What are you getting at Ian?”
“I’m leaving soon. Did you hear?”
“No actually, Ian. Really? I didn’t hear that. When did you decide that?”
“I’m moving to Toronto. I’m going to have my own consulting business. I’ll be in Toronto.”
“That is a surprise, Ian. I hear it’s a really nice city. When do you leave? Make sure you say goodbye.” Ian seemed as if he wanted to say more but chose to say good night.
"See you Monday Ian." Avery gathered her things. "I'm sorry...for what?" Avery's attention returned to her guide, "You see my husband is getting married today. Oh no, I mean of course now my ex-husband."
"I see. I'm sorry Madame," the carriage rocked "Just another hole in the street."
"I'm sorry?" Avery asked.
"No disrespect Madame, I'm just quoting my Da. You see life is an endless walk. Some streets are straight, some are crooked, some go through slums and some roads pass by castles of Kings. We walk hard in the journeys uphill and sometimes we get stuck in potholes, like we almost did now, but we just find our way out and keep on walkin'...you see?"
Avery’s smile punched through the dark cloud surrounding her, "I see. I guess you're right." The carriage approached the corner. She thanked her driver and decided to catch the metro to the Underground not far from her home where she spent the rest of the afternoon aimlessly window shopping. Business noticeably flat, a few shoppers wandered in and out of the vegetable market as a few naive lovers caressed in dark corners. Another train whisked by causing a whirlwind around her. The divorce had been difficult and Avery decided it time to go home which she did and quickly ascended the stairs up to her apartment. As usual, she turned on her favorite pop music on Utopia.com and surfed through her numerous emails which she had mysteriously received for months and stumbled upon just another oddity as she defined them. She read it, not recalling any subscription requests, and set it aside.
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That night an eerie fog returned from the North diffusing the street lights below. Her soft voice spoke loudly to an empty wall, "I had this fantasy, Martin. You see I thought...well...I thought you'd leave a message. You might have changed your mind and come home or maybe you would have had dinner ready tonight. You've always been such an idiot about these kind of things...Shouldn't you call about Rachel, Martin?" But there were no calls. Not even one. No roses. Even Mrs. Kaminski from downstairs did not knock on the door. No friends. Not one phone rang to ask about this painful night. "Do you like New Brunswick, Martin? Who straightened your tie? I hope you hired a good caterer. I bet you forgot your sweater." Then, the insanity was finally over and Avery snuggled warmly in her easy chair until morning knocked on the pane glass.
A new day dawned. Monday throttled in with its usual fury. Avery dressed for work and rushed out the door with ten minutes to spare to stop by Kahane's Deli for her regularly scheduled double espresso. Contemplating her arrival at 8:50 on the dot, Mr. Kahane saw Avery crossing the street shook his head, grinning to himself and began preparing her double espresso with cream, no sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon on the top. "Ah, good morning, my dear."
"Good morning, Mr. Kahane. You know I'm in a hurry..."
"Of course."
Avery handed him the $2.50. His prices were still reasonable.
"Okay. Okay. Geez, I've got to go."
"Are you really okay, my dear? Where's Rachel?" Mr. Kahane politely asked.
She headed for the door, "Oh, she's with my mother. I'll be okay Mr. Kahane, thank you for asking. Tomorrow!" Avery blew him a kiss and scooted out the door. “Tout’ aleur!”
Avery rushed into her office at 9:07. As soon as she settled in her desk and booted her desktop, Mr. Berkowitz buzzed. "You're late, Ms. Rothschild."
"I'm sorry Mr. Berkowitz, but my clock said 9:07 and according to Union contract...." Avery's voice bravely quivered.
"I don't care about Union contracts, Ms. Rothschild! We have work to do. Can you come in please?"
She pulled up a red leather chair in front of Mr. Berkowitz' desk prepared with her note pad and pen. "You know, Ms. Rothschild you're not quite as focused as you used to be; in fact, a little ...erratic."
"What do you mean, sir?" dropping her pen to the floor.
"You've been drinking a lot of coffee and staring at your computer."
Wondering how Mr. Berkowitz might know that, Avery bent over to pick up her pen and hit her head on his desk causing his pencil holder to spill out everywhere. "Staring?? Oh, I'm sorry sir. I've been dropping things a lot lately,"
“I know.” He answered quickly as he straightened the scattered papers on his desk and turned around his nameplate.
Avery tried to pick up the mess, wondering how to bring up such an odd subject, "You know, sir, I've been getting strange emails here and at work. I get a lot of email...actually, and everyone drinks coffee, and I have to look at my computer screen to do my job, Mr. Berkowitz. It can be a bit mesmerizing at times, I suppose…"
"You missed email regarding Transworld, Avery." Mr. Berkowitz' face was absent of emotion.
"Transworld? Oh, no sir, I got it and responded. I did the analysis. I sent the information...I have the file in my sent mail." Avery answered back.
"Their home office apparently never got it and Jason Gerard lost the account. Now, Ms. Rothschild, your position is important and critical." Avery wanted Mr. Berkowitz to know she had always taken her job quite seriously at Land Title and remained appreciative of the opportunities she had received there. Mr. Berkowitz was the head administrator having been with Land Title for many, many years. And he, generally, had a modern outlook on his management style, moderate not liberal. He always listened which he demonstrated in this conversation. However, this time his voice remained quite monotone. Mr. Berkowitz checked his calendar as he listened to Avery’s explanation.
"I understand. I want you to know, Mr. Berkowitz, I sent the information. I really respect Jason’s position, truly. I don't know what happened. I'm really sorry. I've had this horrible experience. My husband just got married again. I know my thoughts have been wandering." Avery apologized.
"No explanation necessary, Avery. Mrs. Nichols explained your circumstances. And I want you to know that we do understand. Life situations can sometimes be overwhelming; however, you have to understand it's not necessarily what did happen; it is what should have happened. I only hope that you learn from it.”
“I sent the email Mr. Berkowitz. I don’t know what happens in Information Systems after that, sir.” Avery politely replied.
But Mr. Berkowitz insisted, “What could you have done differently? I expect you here on time. Let's not dwell; let's just move forward." Mr. Berkowitz arranged the papers neatly on his desk, opened his drawer placing his pens inside and turned again to check his computer.
"Thank you Mr. Berkowitz. It will never happen again." As Avery returned to her desk, the glares of her coworkers singed her skin especially Natalya and Genevieve. Natalya sneered, “Someone has certainly been speaking French!” Avery ignored what seemed to her irrational remarks and she sat in her cubicle. She opened her emails slowly, one by one, her thoughts retracing what could possibly have happened to Jason’s email? Her attention focused to the screen:
Subject: ILHQUP2A
TO: NEW YORK TIMES
Re: Beck's Cantado
FROM: Willie Dastroya
"Psychopathic Anarchist Hangs Broad from her Toenails in Time Square!!!"
"What?" She thought to herself as she clicked to open the email, "Geez. Who writes this stuff? Is this a joke? Either news travels fast or Mr. Berkowitz talks too loud. Or maybe I'm just losing it. It’s like a summary." Avery continued through her task manager requesting new title reviews. She opened one request after another. "Here's another for Edmonton. Crystal Lake Resort." The phone rang.
"You want to go on break?" It was an all too familiar voice on the other end. Janine Lapidus had been Avery's confidante at Land Title for at least ten years. Few had been with the company longer; she knew everyone and made her rounds regularly at bubblers.
"Maybe, I'm drowning. Every time I work on a new package another request comes in." Avery sighed, "I've gotten ten requests in the past couple of days for the same place in Edmonton. Crystal Lake."
"Yes, it's that new resort. I heard Freedman is a big stockholder."
"Really? Can he do that? Isn't it unethical?" Avery questioned. Eric Freedman was Chief Officer of Investment at Land Title and well-known among the elite circles in Montreal.
"Sh!! Not so loud. I do not know. Meet me downstairs." Janine hung up the phone and Avery finished up the last bit of an open request.
The sun shone brightly outside and a hint of fall teased the breeze. The streets below were noisy with the horns of taxis and bustling crowds audible from the balcony cafe'. Avery saw Janine in the corner and joined her under the umbrella.
"How are you feeling, honey?" Janine inquired.
"What do you mean?" Avery pushed around her salad with the fork.
Janine gave a sympathetic smile at Avery's denial, "Uhm...you mean the wedding, or all of it?" Avery snipped.
"The wedding was in all the newspapers. Didn't you read? It was a 'Grand scene...They have a house in Tremblant." Janine reported.
"Tremblant? Already? Really? I don't believe it...Martin would have told me...It's too early." Avery felt her face flush as she peered over the skyline not believing the extent of this dishonesty.
“She’s rich, my love. Why would Martin tell you?" Janine answered quickly but immediately realized she should not have brought it up.
"He always tells me everything one way or another. Did the paper also announce she is “Really from Leningrad?" Avery paused determined to hold back tears, "I hope he'll be happy. I had a nice day at Bonsecours actually."
"Bonsecours? You stayed here? Why didn't you go to New York or somewhere else?"
"Why should I? Rachel is visiting my mom."
Janine decided to change the subject, "Nice looking salad. What is it?"
"Chickpeas, cheese, oil and vinegar." Avery pushed the peas around on the plate.
"Don't think about too many things all at once Avery. You will meet a man." Janine offered her hand.
"For crying out loud, Janine. You sound like a fortune teller. Do you want to read my palm? I don't want to meet anyone right now. I just had the worst experience of my life. Why would I want to meet anyone right now?" A man walked by on the other side of the balcony. For some reason, he caught her attention and her eyes followed him all the way to the table at the other side.
Janine laughed, "See you do want to meet someone!"
"No, I don't I'm just looking. Eat your lunch - you waste too much time analyzing people - mainly me." Two men followed behind. One was Eric Freedman, the CEO. Tall and stately, he was always in conversation. A moderately tall man with dark, curly hair wearing a noticeably well cut dark suit, who had a very handsome profile, in fact, trotted quickly behind Mr. Freedman very skillfully carrying a bowl of soup to the table. An odd sense of familiarity engrossed Avery as she watched him nearly sprint across the rooftop patio. Instantaneously, she accidentally bit her lip and a chickpea got caught in the back of her throat. She pointed to the three gentlemen across the way and anxiously beat her chest as she began coughing uncontrollably.
"What? I know he's cute Avery but...Oh my god! Someone call this is an emergency! She's choking." Janine screamed out and everyone on the balcony turned in their direction.
Avery stood up, continuing to hit her chest repeatedly and trying to tell Janine, "No! No! I'm alright really..." but she kept coughing, twirled around in embarrassment. Two of the three gentlemen ran over to the table to assist. Janine held her breath in desperation, "Oh please someone help her."
She held her hand up to Janine. "No I need water…water....just water....” her voice by now was squeaking. Janine became even more anxious.
The two men ran over to their table and the dark haired guy got behind Avery, grabbed her around the waist and started pulling his fist rhythmically into her abdomen. "You're not pregnant are you lady?" He was desperately trying to help her but Avery lost control and wriggled out of his arms, her dress almost up to her chin and the man's tie flying in the air. For a minute he looked as if he were riding a bucking horse and Janine questioned if he was really trying to do the Heimlich.
Avery flung around in the other direction, their two eyes met nose to nose, and much to her surprise "Sy." she managed to utter a word…"Sy Capelli."
Sy abruptly ceased his lifesaving efforts seemingly stunned, "What did you do...eat a pepper Avery?"
"No. No. Sy? Oh...” Avery pulled down the dress that was riding up her hips and straightened her hair. "Sy, how are you?" She offered her hand, and Sy was simply dumbfounded not knowing what to say and offered a clean handkerchief. "Actually, I was eating chickpeas and I saw you walk across the patio. I can't believe it. Wow. Sy...Sy Capelli. What brings you here?"
"I work here." He said.
"You didn't tell me? You didn’t call? I thought everyone knew I am in Montreal." Avery seemed surprised.
Sy pulled out another handkerchief from his jacket, wiped his forehead and tucked his shirt back in his pants, "Well, Avery, I actually,” he paused to think, “Knew you were here. I saw you...I mean I actually wanted to say hello; But, you know, I've been so busy. New job, sort of. Actually, I've been here a while now. I live on the West Side."
"Oh, no, Sy. No need for an explanation. I'm just shocked, why on earth would I ever expect....Wow, this is really such a coincidence." By that time a crowd gathered. Janine inched closer to Avery. "She'll be okay now, Mr. Capelli... What a small world indeed. You two know each other?" Avery recomposed herself and reassured everyone she was unharmed.
"Actually, we do. We go way back." Sy pulled the chair over so Avery could sit.
"Yes. We knew each other back home in Philly. Amazing." Avery cleared her throat one more time and took a sip of water. Jason Gerard, Mr. Freedman and Mr. Berkowitz walked over. Mr. Freedman recognized them from last year’s office party. Avery held out her hand, "Avery Kahn. Very nice to see you. Sorry, about all the excitement. Spicy salad, I suppose." Jason offered his hand back and smiled, but before he could say anything else, Mr. Berkowitz asked, "Are you okay, Ms. Rothschild."
Avery, embarrassed by the disclosure, quickly added, "Rothschild is…was my married name. Now I'm back to being just me....Avery Kahn...with a K. Not a C." Sy shook his head and acknowledged. "Are you sure you’re okay Avery?"
"Oh, yes, Sy. You know I'm so glad to see you. Actually pretty amazed. We'll have to talk sometimes. Go enjoy the rest of your lunch. I'll be just fine."
Mr. Berkowitz, Sy and Jason returned to their lunch as well as everyone else. Mr. Berkowitz joined Mr. Freedman under their umbrella and briefly discussed the commotion. Mr. Berkowitz explained who the two ladies were and Mr. Freedman patted Sy on the back, "Good job my man. You were quick to respond."
"Yes. That is worth remembering.” Sy was a little shaken from the rush of adrenaline, "Exciting." The men laughed and returned their conversation to the recent developments in the stock market.
Janine and Avery sat down to finish lunch also. "I can't believe that just happened." Avery said, “I’m mortified.”
"You're under too much stress," Janine comforted, "Just calm down."
"No. I mean...of all people Sy Capelli. We went to school together. I can't believe he's here in Montreal... That is just...odd. .... and I just made a fool of myself in front of Jason Gerard." Avery turned her back to the crowd, leaned back in her chair and faced up to the last of the autumn sun, "Geez."
"He's working on the top floor." Janine interjected.
"Who, Sy?"
"Him too, I mean Jason. They say he's from Toronto and...”
"I know…I work with him sometimes, remember? I met him already. Last year at the Holiday Party…and his wife by the way…I don't care Janine. It’s purely platonic."
"I have my sources." Janine’s voice hummed.
"Sources? About what? Does work have to feel like the Gestapo? Okay, he's cute. Sometimes we IM. So what? Everybody thinks so…and I doubt I'm his type and especially now as I was just about to expectorate hummus."
"He's married."
"See, I already told you that and, therefore, I’m not his type." Avery concluded.
"Marriage is only paper baby. Look at those biceps."
"You are just beside yourself. Janine! I'm not that type. Didn’t you say you were seeing an analyst? I have to go. Mr. Berkowitz is watching everything I do lately, I don't know why. I have tons of emails."
"See you later, Avery. Remember what I said." Janine arose from her seat.
"Janine you're a nut. Paper is money and that is what I need. And paper is what I have to sort through downstairs. You know today I did twenty searches. Twelve of the properties belonged to Iliana Travinsky and some guy named Enrique Martinez. I think that is strange." Avery became more serious, gathered her plate and napkins. Janine became unusually quiet and sneaked a view of Mr. Freedman and Mr. Berkowitz at their table. Avery noticed and wondered what might make Janine change so abruptly.
"Are you okay Janine?" Avery asked.
"You found Enrique Martinez?" Janine’s face blanched.
"Yes. What?" Avery queried.
"Nothing. Nothing. Hey. Did I tell you, you're looking wonderful, Avery? What are you doing?"
"Riding my bike and Reiki….ooh!!” Avery felt her cell phone buzz in her pocket unexpectedly. She lifted up the receiver to find a text message, “9999!!!!” “What?” and she flipped it back down.
"What? You're into that?" Janine appeared surprised and the two continued to chat as they returned to their work.
"What? Oh, yeah, Reiki… It’s really… It's really cool." Avery placed her phone back in her pocket. Janine stared at Avery in a way she did not understand, but she dismissed it.
As they left the balcony and headed toward the elevator, Janine changed the subject. "What about Rachel? How's she?"
That afternoon Sy attended a three hour deliberation in the Board room alongside his legal colleague Randall Sergio Guggenheim. After the meeting, Sy asked Randall to his office. In a flash he pulled out his cell phone, checked his pages and placed his mobile headset to accompany him on his long journey back to the office.
Randall thought Sy looked like a Martian as they toured the halls of Land Title. "You are fully automated, how quaint. Did the firm pay for that?"
Sy perused through his messages, "I bought the peripherals. Saves time."
As the Armani-clad pair sped past the Process Department Sy reciprocated sequential "Good- afternoon- Mr.- Capellis'" through the maze of cubicles. The stairs lead to the 11th floor where the break room echoed, “Good day, Mr. Capelli."
"What the f-ck? You spike pucks every department, eh?"
"Goalie. Check this." Sy clicked his cell as they scuttled past Unit 5 to pick up the receivables. Click. Click. Click.
"What are you doing? You are taking pictures? They pose?" Randall was engrossed as the trek ended in Sy's office, "You are what they call a chick magnet. What are you going to do with all those snapshots may I ask?" Randall took a seat in front of Sy's desk and Sy took his place in front of his computer. He connected his cell and hit the download icon as he relaxed back in his chair focusing on the screen. Momentarily, the monitor lit brightly 'G's Steakhouse.' Randall looked at the site confused but confident nonetheless there would be a plausible explanation, "It's an ad for a steakhouse? Is it new?"
Sy gave Randall the mouse, "Here. Check out the menu. Choose anything you want. Anything...go ahead, “Sy encouraged, "Wait a second, password..." He entered the password for his friend.
"You have to have a password." Randall highlighted the Filet Mignon wondering what's the deal. "What is this a coupon site?..." instantaneously the screen popped up with a delectable, medium rare..."What the??? That's Benita Jimenez standing over the water fountain....vey! The view!" Sy encouraged his comrade to continue through each and every dish presentation examining every tantalizing well focused frame.
"You're a freak!" He finally chose the T-bone "That's that secretary on 9th. Everyone says she's f-in...Never mind..." Randall stopped, "Where'd you get all this?" Sy insisted, "Look at the Deal of the Day." Randall hesitantly clicked on the 'Deal of the Day' Menu and profiles of the "20 Most Wanted" at Land Title appeared with real live footage.
“Mother F! High five!!" Randall reached near delirium, lost control and smacked Sy's hand in midair, Then, he pulled his chair back around to the front of Sy's desk and folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, now. What's the real deal? The system’s proprietary. Is this how you spend your amusement or are you really a pervert? What's your point?"
"Geez. Not at all," Sy responded, "I’m disturbed you would insinuate…They just happen to be in the way of ...security scans…coincidentally pretty. I'm just taking notes. See?" Sy proudly continued through the demonstration of his new application, TQM. Remote video monitoring and a blog assisted Sy in Total Quality Management - an innovative new security system in development.
"Of course," Experience taught Randall to be very skeptical of his friend's true purpose, "Notes, on a blog? Your restaurant looks more like an ad for a lingerie department, Monsieur, incognito. Here at work? You're spying. Right?Is this insider trading or a Ponzi scheme...be honest. You're not stealing information or anything...I'm not involved. Never saw it."
Sy laughed out loud, "Relax. Slow down. Seriously, this is just a collaborative interdepartmental project, if you will, of a high tech management system. Everybody's doing it. And in the meantime, I'm just doing my job. QI."
"Everybody? And I am at this time being apprised of this project...why Sy?'
"Here. Click on the 'Stuffed Flounder'" Sy handed Randall the mouse again and turned the screen in view. Randall read the description, "It's crab stuffed flounder braised with oregano lemon sauce."
"Fresh oregano. Just look."
Randall clicked the mouse, "It's that girl on 5th floor...what's her name?" he snapped his finger.
Sy quickly added, "Kahn. Avery Kahn. Not Rothschild."
"Eh? And? Not bad. She is rather cute. Point?" As Randall calmly placed the mouse back his attention focused on the red light reflecting off Sy's highly polished cherry desk.
"Wait. You didn't check out the nutritional panel." Sy gave him back the mouse.
Randall reviewed the nutrition information, "Alright, this can't be real. You're going to get arrested, where is that... Is this a ...this is a photo blog....where is she? Underground...the Mall....at ..her car...oh my god...What are you doing? You're going to get fired or worse...Don't even think about it man...."
"I just need you to watch her," Sy concisely concluded, "This is Risk. You’re a handsome guy. Not too many ties. Inconspicuous. And I do Risk Management."
"Again, Sy, risk? What's your point?"
Sy explained his slightly uncanny dilemma resulting from an unlikely intermixing of perfect strangers at an innocent New Year's Eve gala which resulted in an unfortunate security violation at Land Title traced all the way to the lower East Side - Little Moscow, in fact. All the Execs at Land Title and their affiliates were now ... at risk...and the proposed resolution was a conciliatory catering contract and exclusive rights to a tract at Crystal Lake. Mr. Freedman's staff had assisted an ambitious catering assistant to work as Administrative Assistant at the Executive level. Perfect ingredients for a perfect mediating concoction. "I discovered she’s working on Crystal Lake."
“Who? Avery Kahn? Okay. Let me understand the facts.”
“I’ll explain. Her name is Avery. She lived down the street and we went to the same elementary school. Actually, knew her all the way through high school. I don't know what was wrong with me. Back then, I played with this kid, Michael Brown, we'd always sit behind her on the bus pull her hair, pop her bra when we got older. You know stupid sh-t like that when you're a kid."
"I remember. They were just there.... I mean girls. And?"
"Yeah. They were just there. There was just something about her that got on my nerves. First grade, Ms. Blanton said sit straight. She sat straight, hands folded. She always had her books stacked in order. She kept her own grade book. Third grade, she was the best speller in the class. She won every damned spelling bee. It didn't matter how much I studied, she'd always win and on some stupid word like tomato. She had some strange intimidation technique that screwed with my brain.”
“What was that?”
“Maybe she liked me. I don't know. It just kind of gave me a pit in my stomach. Here I was standing up in front of the whole class, Ms. Strahm calls the word, 'tomato'. I thought about it, began spelling t - o - m -a - t - o. All my buddies were in back of the class getting excited and cheering me on. We had this guys against girls competition going on. You know back in those days Gloria Steinem was on everybody's mind and women's lib. I'm Italian. Women don't fight for their rights. So, just on an impulse I added an "e". T-o-m-a-t-o-e. "Wrong! Sy you can sit down now." Mrs. Strahm called, "Avery it is your turn now. If you can spell tomato you win." Avery steps up to the podium, "t-o-m-a-t-o. Tomato." She spelled it like a curt little tart. I remember I was infuriated. I called out. "Hey wait a minute. You gave her the same word. I already spelled it!!" All my buddies in the back of the class started yelling, "yeah man!"
Mrs. Strahm says, "Lower your voice and sit down, Sy Capelli!" "I just added an e!" I screamed out. “ She fuckin’ stinks! I only added an ’e’!!!” I don't know why I did that. The “F” word, ended me up in the office."
Randall had a hard time controlling his amusement and Sy continued, "Then fifth grade, the women's lib movement got hotter. I suppose you guys had that up here too. I remember writing a speech about tradition. Avery wrote a speech about women having the right to do anything men do. Our teacher, Mr. Kornell said we should have a debate. It ended with a kick ball game. I challenged her to a kick ball game. I knew we'd win - just to prove women have their place. We were all stronger. It was a sure thing. So here we are out in the field all the guys against the girls. The bases were loaded. I liked this girl, Elizabeth. I let her get to third. She was so pretty. She had long, straight black hair and the most beautiful brown eyes. When I looked at her, she reminded me of a cup of hot chocolate on a cold Saturday morning. I thought about marrying her, even in the fifth grade, but my mother wanted me to marry Marie. I can't believe she already had my wife picked out for me; but that's beside the point. . .I remember I was just in love and there was no way I'd throw the ball to get her out. So the bases were loaded, the guys were ahead. Avery comes up to home plate. I knew she couldn't kick that hard; so I threw the ball with just enough force to stop at home plate. And I couldn't keep my eyes off Elizabeth. I knew Jeff, my buddy, would catch the ball and get her out on first. So, Avery takes a fast run, kicks the ball and it hit me right smack in the gut. I fell down on the ground, couldn't get my breath. Elizabeth ran home; all the girls made it home as a matter of fact. The girls scored big and won. The recess bell rang. I couldn't believe. Here I was out on the mound, laying on the ground, humiliated. The girls screamed and cheered on home plate, including Elizabeth. Oh, man...such a loss. Avery ran over to help me up. She was the only one. All my buddies out on the field were stomping, throwing down their jackets, not believing the girls won. All I could think about, I shouldn't have been staring at Elizabeth. I could have caught the ball and she would have been an out. We could have won the game! I have a weakness. I admit it. It's taken me years to accept it, but I admit it."
The saga propelled in reverse thrust back to middle school “You will understand my point. I played soccer. I was actually pretty good. And I loved cheerleaders. I don't know what she was doing then, but I think it was Science. No. Wait a minute she wrote a play and directed it. I was actually in it. I can't believe I was in it and she was the director. Then high school...we sort of reconnected, we had some mutual friends. We used to sneak out and drive to Bethany Beach on the weekends. Then, one summer I remember a group of us went to the beach. Some girls out in the water started screaming like they were drowning or something. The lifeguards and I ran out to save them. This one girl I grabbed jumped up in my arms and started kissing my neck...it was all just crap! A giant wave appeared out of nowhere and nearly took me under as I was trying to hold onto this chick. I nearly drowned. And Avery was the one who tried to save me. Right before graduation a bunch of my buddies and myself decided to raid the girls locker room at the gym. We stole their panties. We were all about to get expelled, but Avery covered for me. She told the principal I was with her in Science class. Once I remember walking downtown, I saw her in Sam's Hoagie shop at night with this kid Aaron Smee. Smee?! What a name. Go figure. It was after ten and she wasn't supposed to be out after 9. So, I don't know what possessed me, I ran up to her house and rang the doorbell and ran away. She got in trouble with her parents. She was grounded for a month. I never understood why I did that. But, I did. Then, after high school we lost touch. She went her way. I went to Temple. You know where that is? Philadelphia. Then, I decided to go to Law School. I never thought about her again unless I went home. Who ever would have thought that here is where I'd run into Avery Kahn." Sy checked his screen.
“Okay, man. Great story…So let’s get to the point. All these contributing editors are our Execs and beyond. Ms. Kahn's husband??? Let me guess. Her husband has a catering firm which did what? And the yet unnamed somewhere in Little Moscow funneled exclusive information...let’s see.. To her ex-husband. Just a wild guess . Nearly five. I think it’s time to go home." Randall checked his watch.
"The guys were just having fun...it's just an unplanned conflict of interest kind of thing...and."
"And what.?" Randall twisted in his chair.
"She’s an INFP. It’s in our best interest. Mr. Freedman contributed some nutritional value to the flounder entree and didn't realize the addition of borscht might not be the best accompaniment.. You know what I mean?"
“INFP? As in Meyers-Briggs. Your point?”
“Introspective, narcissistic, freaking, princess. Easily handled.”
“What are you talking about? And you’re and ENTJ. Seems as if you have one thing in common, narcissism more specifically.”
“I’ve got it under control.”
"Of course." Randall thought, and answered flatly, "No. You need me to watch her so she doesn't discover the catering deal. Isn‘t that correct?"
"Or Crystal Lake. You understand. Jason Gerard added the Crème' de la Crème as the perfect ending to the Flounder delicacy and then created his own recipe, his masterpiece if you will, for Chili caliente’ laced Cacao.' That prick in Toronto is telling her everything.”
“Who?”
“Ramsey. We caught him in IT. And you know this is conveyed under the strictest confidence." Sy clicked on a few more links and showed Randall his collection of emails.
"You’re hooked into her personal internet account? This is just brazen! ...How did you find all this information, Sy. How did you do this? Don’t you have contracts to view and budgets to run? "
"Connections,' Sy paused, "....Pol, actually," he quieted abruptly., “ We have some of the best IT guys in the City.”
"What…Pol..?."
"Yes. I mean.. I ...we learned she's a Pole...I thought she was Italian...and quite frankly, I'm still not convinced...Slavs? Keep her happy...I think that's the best strategy....Berkowitz said under other circumstances she'd be fired. Eh? I know her. Personally, it just adds more uncertainty."
"Right." Sy forwarded all the information to Randall's house and assured he'd have nothing but double bladed innocuous adventure.
In the evening after work, Avery drove to the airport to pick up Rachel. The lunchtime emergency replayed over and over in her mind as she relived the chickpea fiasco in front of Jason and Mr. Freedman. “I hope I didn’t have tomatoes in my teeth or anything…geez, my hair.” She remembered her dress and was glad she was at least wearing her French cut bikinis ”Oh, I’m going to die…Shut up!” Avery screamed in her head, “and of all the people in the world…Sy Capelli!” Rachel was glad to be back home and they made their way through the airport in record time. At home, Avery helped Rachel get settled back in her room, tucked her in for a good night and retired to her own room to settle from a very unusual day.
Music was an antipsychotic for Avery’s harried life. Tonight especially she needed Utopia.com. It was Canada’s most hip music network and $14.95 was hardly extravagant considering the exhilaration she felt as she danced like a dervish spinning herself in a trance transporting to just about anywhere she chose. Oftentimes she either whirred around Montreal or right off to Paris, London or Tuscany. Other times she just bent to the beat like a contortionist entrapped in her twisted life. Whatever the case, music helped her escape the mundane: bills, Rachel’s tuition. All she could think about was how Martin left her here to do it all alone. Avery caught up on the news and checked her emails. Click: “What’s this?”
TO: Akahn@earthlink.com
FROM: Ricardo Martinez
Subject: Open for your hard drive
IND2F7BNAV Adobe Updater
Avery opened the email and read an ad for software? “I thought Adobe was exclusive. They’re selling code, a program? What is this? How strange. I haven’t changed my email. I know I didn’t. Is nothing sacred? Infomercials everywhere you go.” She spent the rest of the night surfing to find Enrique Martinez. She spent several nights, in fact, with every search engine possible even paying fees to find him, to no avail. And, as weeks passed, she continued receiving the strangest emails with words and phrases that caught her attention.
Offer Retail Price: $649.95, OUR: $39.95. Your choise? unique
Saturday, December 9, 2006 10:20 AM
From: "Quentin Rosario" <dfsgeag@pspc.com>
To: Akahn@earthlink.com
In dreams, I am part of the hotel. Which also suggested that, politically speaking, the final plans had been a fait accompli probably from the very beginning, Within half an hour, they had seen all he wanted to see.
He needed to get as deep into them as he could before someone realized they might be on the losing end He twisted the Escalon to full sedation and pressed it to her arm He strolled arrogantly out into the kneehigh grass, crossbow over his shoulder, whistling tunelessly through his teeth That was the general drift of conversation each time I saw Gotanda There was first of all the binomial theorem, a phrase which had always puzzled me; I put it under the magnifying glass and studied it from X to Z, There was Logos, which somehow I had always identified with breath; I found that on the contrary it was a sort of obsessional stasis, a machine which went on grinding corn long after the granaries had been filled and the Jews driven out of Egypt "Oh no," he cried over and over again, amid the There were six skeletons in all I can't believe it "In your people's eyes I'm a weakling because I cone from off-world Delacroix looked, saw it, took it, and went back to Mr "Now have Husky there run me a line with ship's power and I'll get this stuff set up Of course he was So I spend my time trying to stay tuned in Jason pushed down with his right hand, pivoting the quarterstaff with his left so that the end whipped up It was an ugly, heavy weapon with a pitted front orifice that showed plenty of use «I'm waiting for an important business call in the dungeon of hell!
“Jason…in the Dungeon of hell? Jews? What is this? ” And she opened another:
A monitor picked up a reading of carbon monoxide and a directive was issued for the crew to get out.
Monday, January 2, 2006 1:43 AM
From:
"Holden Sylvester" <asy@threekingsevents.com>
Add sender to Contacts
To: A.Kahn@yahoo.com
Solidarity
Up to four colors of impint can be done on a link. The right picture is the Multipurpose Storage Bin Voive Recorder that also has a twenty second multi-message recorder. It seems to me that cowrancher is moving forward rather well under the wiseadministration of the responsible power. Of the forty subjects in the first experiment, twenty-five obeyed the orders of the experimenter to the end, punishing the victim until they reached the most potent shock available on the. It has a stainless steel waist clip that holds the Pedometer tight to the person wearing it. Seek Dungeons and beasts! In the Eastern blockade ….
Get a realistic statue of me and place it where it can easily be seen fromoutside!
Low discount rates signify paying more and making more effort now, for the benefit of less pollution in the future.
Each day now, the sun gets more powerfulas it starts its return from the long journey south of the mediterranean. The Giant Mug is a great award item, trade show attraction and conversation piece. Madsam worked at every point to stop that process. Baskerville …one hour martini zing.
“Dungeons? This dungeon? Administration and imprints…and ends in a dry cleaner process? This is hokey. Baskerville? As in the hounds of Baskerville? These are clues. ” Avery had received these types of emails for months even when she got the ad for The Port in New York where she found Martin. She knew this was not just coincidental. She thought about who knew about dungeons and dark places and knew then this must be from Ian. “Charades.” And, she opened yet another and enjoyed the thought but it was like a riddle and it did not seem legitimate like all the rest. The origination numbers did not match in the headers and the tone was definitely different.
Thinking is not knowing as looking is not seeing.
Friday, April 8, 2005 1:06 AM
From: "NebulaNavigators" <readings@NebulaNavigators.com>
To: A.Kahn@earthlink.com
Thinking is not knowing as looking is not seeing.
Anonymous
Dear A,
Here is your outlook for Friday Apr 8, 2005.
Personal prediction
Trust your senses. Look. Listen. Feel. Time is of the essence. Messages are often unclear and require your undivided attention. Try not to spend too much energy, however, as wisdom is often gained when least expected. Patience is the key.
For your Love and/or Career forecast, click here
Suspicion was the moon that lit her nights wondering where or who these messages were from as she became Agatha Christie analyzing the data for clues. She checked the headers to see if they were legitimate which, of course, to any reasonable person they were not. They never matched. There was no consistency. But who are the Nebula Navigators and why would they be sending them and why? She never subscribed.
Subject: The best theories are poetic creations.
Sunday, February 20, 2005 10:14 PM
From: "NebulaNavigators" <readings@NebulaNavigators.com>
Add sender to Contacts
To: A.Kahn@earthlink.com
The best theories are poetic creations.
Stephen Hawking
Dear A,
Here is your outlook for Monday Feb 21, 2005.
Personal prediction
Intuition heightens your senses but you have the ability to stay calm. Truth is readily available for those who choose to recognize it. Limitless connections are for your taking. Enjoyment is for your gain. Tranquility is the carpet of your universe.
For your Love and/or Career forecast, click here
Unto your future,
NebulaNavigators
As she read them over and over, the suggestions lead to one place. Her brain clicked: Martin and his business and all his cousins suddenly driving Porches and Audis. Dungeons.
Time passed. Winter moved in quickly and Montreal mimicked Siberia. Avery’s small flat, however, was alive and warm. Martin called frequently to check on Rachel and made promises to bring her to Tremblant. Avery focused on work in the day and getting Rachel to art class. Evenings were spent surfing and seeking truth on the internet which seemed like an oxymoron in itself. Between the poetic creations and Avery also finding Oracle.com which provided all the answers to life’s trying questions, she pondered serious issues like who you should meet, where you should go from here. Type in a birth date and all life’s answers miraculously spun forth on the crystal ball known as the internet. As Avery spent weeks regrouping and finding her center, life moved on in her grounded world also. Her aura emanated warmth and Avery began to glow.
Mornings were very predictable with Avery stopping at Kahane’s Deli. Even Mr. Kahane noticed, “"You're looking very lovely lately, Ms. Kahn. You don't mind me calling you Ms. Kahn now. It's a little new for me."
"Thank you Mr. Kahane. Of course not, you can even call me Avery, if you'd like." She had an innate uncontrollable giggle when nervous, “Thanks. I do feel great. She sported a new leather jacket she found bargain shopping in the fashion district. Avery strolled the blocks, tremendously enjoying the morning rush and the smell of snow in the air.
She arrived to her desk at 8:55 and booted her computer. She received an IM from Jason as soon as she signed on. He said he needed to deliver a package for another project.