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Dora's Corner Office
by
Karen Sideris
Tension escalated like an avalanche as the
glitter-red bowling ball rolled down the polished lane, each revolution gaining
momentum but slowing to freeze frames in her eyes. The last spare was a matter
of life or doom. Dora's nicotine scarred lungs stopped as the ball approached
the lone pin, causing her to grow lightheaded until the critical moment when the
knock of wood and plastic freed
her breathing. Emancipated, she drenched herself in accomplishment and sauntered
back to the scoring table. She hoisted her Miller Light to the team.
"You scared us there," Ricky said, his forearms flexed beneath the blousy
sleeves of his Ready Work Temporaries bowling shirt.
"Can it," Dora said. She swilled the lukewarm beer reliving the horror of the
missed strike. Concentrate, stay in the moment she told herself, refusing to let
tomorrow's events spoil her game. "I did the right thing," she said, not
realizing she had spoken aloud.
"No kidding. I thought for sure you were going to miss that pin," Ricky said. He
whacked her on the rear.
"Stop it. We don't want anyone to see," Dora said.
He eye-checked the bench. "Nobody's watching. You opening tomorrow?"
"As always." Her irises disappeared into her head.
"Hmm, something to look forward to," he said and walked away. Dora admired the
back of his Levi's. Consorting with the temps was against company policy; a
rule so dumb, it had to be broken. Who did the powers that be at Ready Work
think they were to tell her whether or not she could sleep with Ricky?
She retrieved her overstuffed purse from underneath the plastic seats and exchanged high fives with the team. Turning down their invitation for beers, she left. Her new Silverado pickup started with gusto. When she arrived at the stucco tract home she shared with her husband of ten years, she kicked her shoes onto the mat and crept inside. The last thing Dora wanted to hear was Mike's tired voice saying "How was your evening honey? Did my bowling champion dazzle them again?" Then she'd have to kiss him.
Alcohol destroyed her sleep, but it was planned
interruption. A quick Bloody Mary, four aspirin and a Coke
were the cure-all for her symptoms. After a shower and make-up she stuffed herself into her black jeans by lying
flat on the guestroom bed. Mike snored in a one-two beat
providing background cadence for her preparation. Dora
inspected her front view in the mirror, scrunching her
implant-enlarged breasts into the Wonderbra. The new
lingerie was part of her strategic plan, a specific
purchase for Hubert's arrival. The brassiere peeked out
of her black sweater, sending subtle signals that Hubert,
the new big boss, would receive when he lurked over her
cubicle. The plan had executed to perfection so far,
failure not an option. The quiet alarm clock next to Mike
allowed for one more cigarette before she'd leave and
he'd awaken.
Pangs of guilt riddled her stomach. Or was it hangover? She only got her job because helpful Anita, Mike's coworker, told her husband John about it. When Mike cried about Dora's unemployment, Anita had to be Miss Helper and find Dora a job. Her husband John needed a secretary. Thus John employed Dora at Ready Work Temps. Anita's illness was unfortunate, but things like that happen all the time. You have to roll with it, and they weren't. Anita was in the office just yesterday on the way to chemo. She looked pitiful in the old bandana, voluminous hair lost from lethal injection. But business concerns had to prevail even though John was a good boss. He saw to it that Dora got her overtime and didn't short her pay when she needed dental work. Mike adored Anita and John. God help her if he figured out she was the one who got John fired.
Her marriage to Mike had outlived its utility. By marrying an older man she took a calculated risk, one that backfired on her. Every time his hearing aid clicked or he groaned about his bad back she cursed herself inside. She was not a bore. He was. He holed up in the house, didn't drink, and spent countless hours manning his model train set, just as if he were a boy. Yes, he treated her well. He had thirty years seniority at the tire factory. He trusted her implicitly, never questioning or complaining after Tuesday nights at bowling. The Silverado, crowned with red ribbon, made a perfect neighborhood display when she turned forty-five, but even so, her life was on hold. She yearned for money, power, the end to life as a peon, maybe even some romance.
Mike was a mistake, soon to become a burden. Their rebound wedding provided shelter from the storm she'd survived in her marriage to Sam. Her disastrous first marriage flashed in her mind. Dora glanced in the rear view mirror making sure that her eyes weren't blackened and her lip split. Sam was gone. She softened as she spied on Mike then listened to his snores as they spewed from his open mouth, restoring her resolve. She grabbed her keys from the dresser and left.
August thunder revved in the heart of the dually. Dora cranked the radio and sang along, the "world needing two more rednecks" on that special day. The lyrics became a mantra, an attempt to block marital disappointment from her brain. She pulled next to Ricky's pickup and tapped the gas pedal for show. Hopping out she strutted ahead, fine-tuning her skills of seduction.
She turned the key in the lock, first to arrive. "Looks like it's just the two of us," Dora said to Ricky.
"Good. Where's the boss?" he said. She felt his familiar hand on her butt.
"Anita can't drive herself to the doctor," Dora said. John was too protective. The doctor said Anita would recover just fine, but he still insisted on going along, every test, and all appointments. She questioned his integrity. Shit, the man was playing golf. That woman couldn't be at the doctor that much of the time. Dora's yeoman efforts saved the office from ruin. She sent the sales letters. She answered the phone. The successful year at Ready Work Temps was all because of her efforts and she planned to collect the reward. "Just sit over there until I'm ready for you," Dora said, pointing Ricky to the couch.
"I'll get you ready," he said. Dora smirked, and then licked her lips. Teasing gave her pleasure. She pushed the button to boot her computer, careful not to mar the purple polish on her acrylic nail. The bell rang on the glass door announcing a co-worker's arrival.
"Good morning," Maria said.
"It's about time, I thought you were going to stick me with all the work this morning," Dora said.
"It's six, when I'm supposed to be here. Don't take it for granted that I'll be early every day."
"I take nothing you do for granted." The phone rang, pre-empting their argument. Maria hurried to her office while Dora answered it. Maria was a stupid bitch. She made more money than Dora did. Maria was Hispanic. They got all the breaks.
"Ready Work Temps, Dora speaking." Her telephone voice was gravel-toned, her voice deepened from years of Marlboro Reds. "John, no, of course he's not here. He supposedly had to see a customer, and then he had a meeting with Johnson Machine. No, after that he's taking Anita to the doctor again. I won't see him until after lunch. Yes, I'm just slammed here. Maria was late and it's just the phones and me. Poor Ricky is sitting here waiting too. Look, you tell Hubert that if he doesn't want to rent a car, I can pick him up. I had my truck cleaned up special." Her right hand clicked her mouse and she found the ace of diamonds. Two more cards and she'd have solitaire. She hung up the phone.
"What can I do to help you?" Dora asked Ricky, luring him with her finger.
"I just need my check," he said, strolling toward her cube.
"Are you sure that's all?"
"For now," he said. They giggled and Dora thrust out her bosoms. The bell on the door rang again, announcing the arrival of her day's intended victim. She noticed the slump in John's broad shoulders and the dark caterpillars under his eyes.
"Good Morning John," she said. "Hubert's secretary called, he won't be here until two. You're early."
"Yeah, the service started calling me at four thirty this morning, so I got an early start. I have some things to do before Anita's appointment. Any other calls?"
"No, not yet. Did you have an appointment?"
"Yeah, I went to Sampson Plumbing, and made sure the new guys showed up. I'm going to Johnson Machine after Anita's appointment. Jake and I are having lunch."
"Oh, must be nice," Dora said. John closed the door to his office. "I bet he takes a nap," she said to Ricky. She found Ricky's check in a drawer. "Now, what do I get if I give you this?" She held the check to her chest.
"I'll give it to you later," he said. She put the envelope in his outstretched hand and watched him leave. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafted from the break room. Dora followed it, "World's Best Secretary" mug in hand. Maria stood at the counter, pouring herself a cup.
"Don't drink all of that now. You didn't use the last Sweet-n-Low did you?" Dora said.
"No. There's plenty."
"Good. Are you going back to your desk now? I've been stuck with everything today. John is here you know."
"Yeah, I heard him come in." Maria turned to leave.
"I guess you're going to work for a change since the boss is here," Dora said. Maria continued her escape. Dora chuckled. When she returned to her desk John had emerged from his office.
"I just sold a fifty-man job to Porter's
Ice," he said.
"Cool," Dora said. She minimized her solitaire game before John got any
closer.
"I'm going to go pick up Anita."
"Isn't she coming here?"
"No, she was tired this morning, dizzy too. I didn't want her to drive."
"Oh," Dora said. He was so full of crap. He just wanted a break. There probably wasn't any lunch with Jake from Johnson Machine either. Then she noticed a tremble in John's hand. "Are you OK?" she said.
"Yeah, just tired. Anita has me worried. I think she's sick again."
Dora felt another stomach pang. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said.
"Well, stay positive. We'll find out today." John jangled his keys and left. Dora maximized her solitaire screen. The eight of hearts had to be the next card in the pile. Then a shrill ring disturbed her. Maria could answer at least one call this morning. She let the telephone go. Maria stepped out of her office.
"Is John still here?" she said.
"No, he went to get Anita."
Maria went back in her office. Moments later she came out again.
"I think I've gone and done it," she said.
"Did what?" Dora said.
"I got John in trouble. Hubert called from the airport wanting John and I told him he was getting Anita for her appointment. He went ballistic; I couldn't believe it. He kept carrying on about 'What does he do? We've got a business to run,' and all this other crazy stuff. How was I supposed to know? John never asked me to lie."
"No, Dudley Do-Right wouldn't do that,"
Maria gave Dora a sanctimonious sneer. Dora faced her computer monitor, ignoring her distressed co-worker.
The phone rang again as Dora perused the pizza delivery menu. She answered this time.
"Do you want me to bring you guys lunch from El Toro?" John said.
"That'd be great," she said. "I'll have my beef enchiladas."
"What about Maria?"
"I'll transfer you," she said. She scrunched her eyes closed and then raised them to the ceiling. The big picture was the focus, not Anita's Leukemia, not John buying lunch. He didn't expense it either. She did his reports. It was out of his pocket. Why did he have to be so freaking nice?
John's Suburban pulled to the front door a few minutes after one. He pushed the door open with his foot. His arms were wrapped around a cardboard box, the aroma of Mexican food emanating from within it. Maria offered to get paper plates from the back. It was funny; the only time Maria showed initiative was when food was involved. Dora chortled. She followed John outside to smoke a cigarette.
"So how was the appointment," she said.
"OK. We didn't get answers like we hoped to, but the oncologist was hopeful."
"That's good. Why is Hubert coming, do you know?"
"I'm not sure. When he was here the week before last he said that everything was fine. Maria called me while I was with Jake and said that he'd called. I guess he was angry that I wasn't here. I don't get it. He didn't call my cell. I should have known. He seemed angry when I was gone for Anita's chemo yesterday. I'm not sure why. I put in a nine hour day as it was."
Dora directed her stare to a tree in the median of the street and smoked her cigarette to the filter. She had just finished stomping it out when Hubert pulled up in his rental car. She sucked in her gut and curled her lips upward. "Hey Hubert," she said.
"Hello Dora, you're looking well today," he said to her chest.
"You too, that's a nice shirt."
"Thank you," he said. Hubert straightened his shoulders. The sun bounced off his bald spot and reflected on her sunglasses. He stared at her for a moment and then became serious. "This will be all over before you know it. I got you a raise, nine grand, that was the best I could do. If it works out I'll get you more in ninety days. There's no reason why it won't work, so don't worry. You'll be a terrific manager. You're a natural," he said.
"Thanks," Dora said. Her fingers trembled as she tried to light another cigarette.
"You aren't nervous are you? If you want leave and come back in a couple of hours. It'll all be over and John will be gone."
"I think I'd like that," she said. She stayed outside while he went in, waiting until Hubert was tucked away behind closed doors with John. John was like a lamb waiting to be cut into chops and legs, sausage to be made out of miscellaneous parts. Her enchilada grew cold on her desk. Somehow she just wasn't hungry.
She was collecting her keys from her cubical when John stomped past, saying nothing, briefcase in
tow, exhaling audible fire. The picture on the wall slipped on its hook when the
door slammed. The
Suburban revved louder than ever as it squealed from the lot. It was done. Dora
waited a few
minutes and peeked in the office. Hubert perched, legs dangling, on John's chair
as he rustled
through John's desk drawers. His bald head was dotted with beads of
perspiration, and yes,
Hubert's hands were shaking. "Is this a bad time?" she said.
"No, come on in." Hubert's voice cracked despite his best effort. Dora eyed
her prey
with sport, yet also with repugnance. She was the winner here, this time of nine grand.
"When are you telling the others?" she said.
"In a few minutes. Call the sales staff and have them here by four. Tell Maria that she needs to stick around too."
"Sure boss," Dora said, and pranced from the office.
"Close the door," Hubert said.
Dora knocked on Maria's open door to get her attention. "We have a meeting today at four. Hubert says that you have to stay."
"I'd better call the babysitter," Maria said.
"It's mandatory." Dora smirked.
"Hey, can you give these messages to John on your way to the front?" Maria
said.
"No. He doesn't work here anymore. That's what the meeting is
about."
"What?" Maria's face drained of color and her mouth hung open. Dora thought
her
co-worker might be having an attack.
"Yeah, he just got fired. It's terrible, with Anita so sick and all."
"Oh my God yes. Why? He was such a good boss."
"I don't know. Maybe Hubert will tell us in the meeting. I have to call the sales reps."
Dora returned to her desk. The office door was open, John's chair vacant. She saw Hubert through the front window, pacing the sidewalk and talking on his cell. She decided that it was time for a smoke. She pulled her Marlboro hard pack and hot pink lighter out of her purse then trotted outside to join him. He appeared annoyed at first, so she tugged on her sweater and leaned against the wall, inviting him hither with Chapstick moistened lips. Hubert was sweating again, and jabbering faster into the phone. She watched as he slammed the phone shut and returned it to the black holster on his belt. "I'm glad that's done," he said.
"Me too, but you did the right thing. You had no choice," Dora said.
"I know. We made every possible concession for his wife's illness. And what did he do? Took advantage of us at every turn, that's what he did. Those excuses he rattled off about the market. I told him that we were going to lose money this month. We've not made budget since he got here."
"When did he start?" Dora asked.
"Last year, September 5, 2001 according to his paperwork. When did you
start?"
"December," Dora answered.
"You've been a godsend," Hubert said, his face tilted toward her cleavage.
"I aim to please," Dora said.
She spied Maria through the window, standing hands on hips in the lobby. What in the hell did she
want? Dora sashayed past Hubert to confront her. "What's the matter with
you?"
Dora
said.
Maria trembled. The sitter can't stay and I can't get a hold of Roy. I can't
stay for the meeting."
"Well, you might as well know, I'm going to be the new manager. I'll let you get away
with it this time, but you'd better get yourself a reliable sitter and talk to
that husband of yours."
"What? I won't report to you. You're the secretary. You can't run this
place."
"I've been running it ever since John found out about Anita. If you ever came
out of your
office you'd know that."
"Whatever." Maria marched outside. Dora heard her rapid-fire banter through
the closed
door and laughed at Maria's flailing arms. She had no dignity, that woman.
The meeting was over by 4:15. The sales reps filed out of the building one by
one, looking as if
they'd lost their family pets. Dora marvelled at the way that the reps confronted
Hubert, but
cheered at how he smacked them back to size. The surge of power excited her,
making him almost
seem sexy, despite his paunch and baldness. She approached him as he locked his
briefcase.
"I'll lock up. How about I pack up some of John's personal things and then I
meet you
back at the hotel for a drink. I've got bowling tonight, so I'm not going home
right away."
"Bowling, hmm. I haven't done that for awhile."
"You could come with me. Have a few drinks, relax. We could go out afterwards."
"I suppose we could. I'm in room 413. Call me if I'm not in the bar."
"It's a date," Dora said, smacking her lips and daring him with her eyes. She locked the door behind him and then went into John's office. It'd be hers as soon as Hubert left. She opened the drawers and thumbed through the files. Last years reports filled a folder marked "2001 P&L." Dora opened the folder and glanced at the bottom line of last year's numbers, all red in brackets until November and December when money had been made. She gasped. John had turned things around for Ready Work. Hubert had just started, he must not have known. Maybe John wasn't such a bum after all. Her stomach clenched, but then she caught herself and it didn't matter. Business was as business does and she deserved nine grand. Besides, she had a date.
She glanced down at her aligned feet, and then winked at Hubert before making her final approach, glitter-red ball poised to roll. As it thundered down the lane she prayed for her spare. While Dora held her follow through stance, the ball thumped into the gutter, the isolated pin standing upright, as if it were giving her the finger.
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