Chapter 3

"Randy, your 4:30, Karen Sugarman, is here," said the voice on the intercom.

I pressed the button on mine.

"Thanks, Bev. Please show her in."

I got up and walked toward the door. Beverly appeared, flanked by Karen. I extended my hand.

"Hi, Karen, nice to see you again."

She shook it and replied, "Nice to see you, too, Randy."

"Bev, please don't buzz in unless it's urgent."

"Sure, boss." Karen didn't see the leer Bev gave me before she closed the door.

She took a seat on the other side of my desk and started right in.

"As I said, I don't have anything like that prepared. The basic information is out there, but I don't think anyone has put it all together into a course. I have developed courses before, and my experience, and the generally accepted reality is that it takes around eight hours to prepare an hour of instruction."

"I fully expected that. I've done some courses myself. I'm prepared to pay for all that time but, if I do, I'll expect to own the copyright."

"Wow." Karen chuckled. "You said it would be strictly business and you weren't kidding. Any give there?"

"It's the typical work-for-hire-scenario. We pay a contractor for all the time required to produce a copyrightable work and we own the copyright."

"I know. I just thought you might cut some slack to a prospective girlfriend."

"Insufficient inducement. This has to be businesslike."

"What about some arrangement on future use of the materials? I might be able to give this course for other organizations. It would be nice not to have to create one from scratch."

"I can live with that. I wouldn't want you doing it for my competitors, but for government or in some other kind of group that would be okay."

"That's funny." She didn't laugh, but she had a big grin.

"What?"

"When it's a position you don't expect to move from, it's 'we.' When it's a position on which you have some flexibility, it's 'I.'"

"That is funny. I never noticed. I guess I will notice in the future."

We proceeded to discuss what would be included in the course about reading people in interrogation and taking statements or whatever the hell we were going to call it.

Beverly rang me at around five.

"I'm going to be heading out if you don't need me for anything, Randy."

Always the flirt, she put special emphasis on anything,.

"That's fine."

She waited briefly for a response that didn't come. "Would you like me to come in for my hug," she paused dramatically, "or should I take a rain check?"

"Uh, yes, that would be the better approach. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Was she being flirty?" asked Karen. I nodded. Karen added, "She has the hots for you, you know."

"No. We just kid around here a lot and we're all very friendly."

"That may be, but she still has the hots for you. Do you play in the office pool?"

"No, never. Am I sending the wrong signals?"

"I have no idea. I just needed to know for my end of the non-business business we have."

We talked about how long the course would be and, although I didn't want to make an open-ended commitment, we agreed that it would be as long as it needed to be.

I asked her to explain that amazing magic she had performed at our first dinner and she tried to give me an outline, but it mostly amounted to explaining what she would explain later.

I ordered in Chinese food. It wasn't that there was any problem being seen in a restaurant, but it was quiet in the office and there was no concern in talking about any topic.

We finished talking about the course and Karen moved on to some personal questions.

"I've done some research on you, but I figure you can save me time. You didn't stay with the FBI very long. What happened for you to cut it so short?"

She shoveled some fried rice into her mouth with the chopsticks.

"Well, a couple things. For one, my wife didn't think I would make enough working for the government, so she constantly encouraged me to leave and do something else. But, I guess it was really my last assignment that gave me the push.

"I hadn't been all that thrilled with the bureaucratic orientation to begin with. Then when I got sick from that assignment, the red tape they threw up to keep me from returning to work and to keep me from staying out of work, coupled with the paperwork about what happened and who should take the blame, well, it was just enough already."

"What happened with the assignment?"

"I can't talk about it."

"How long were you sick?"

"Many months."

"With what?"

"Radiation poisoning."

"That's nasty."

"Considering I survived, I'm fine with it, though it had some effects on my life."

"Gee, that's really informative," Karen said. I shrugged. "When did you meet your wife?"

"College. We got married when we graduated. I was approaching twenty, she was twenty-two. In hindsight, we were too young. Or maybe just too stupid. I spent three years in law school while I worked nearly full time."

"I didn't think you could finish in three years at night."

"Day. I cut a lot."

"They must have loved that."

"I didn't take out an ad in the paper. Anyway, we agreed to have kids. The first arrived shortly after I left the FBI, though we had been trying for a couple years, Harry. Two years later Nancy. Justin joined us four years after that.

"I told the FBI I was leaving because of the accident, so I didn't make any enemies, and they've pointed business my way. It helped me get started.

"I've been doing this for over nine years and we're doing okay. I did it again, didn't I, attributing the doing well to 'we' and the working to 'I?'"

"I suppose it's only fair that I give you my story," Karen said.

"We do security and private investigation. I know your story."

"Not too much, I hope."

"I don't know for sure, but I'd bet your password for anything you keep secure at home or work is either Sherri or Cuddles."

"Damn."

"It was just a guess. If we had needed it, we would have visited you unobtrusively."

"You mean burglarized?"

"That word carries such an unsavory connotation."

"Great, now I don't know if I can trust you not to snoop."

"I wouldn't abuse it. You can trust me completely. I wouldn't lie to you."

She laughed. "I suspect you already have," she said.

"You didn't let me finish. Unless it was really important." I smiled.

Karen laughed again. "There's never going to be a dull moment, is there?"

"Possibly not, but it should be fun. Speaking of which, what would you like to do when we finish up?"

"I want to go dancing again."

"Fortune cookie?"

She cracked it, put one piece in her mouth and threw the rest into the bag.

"It says, 'You may have a future with a man who can dance.'"

"Does it really say that?"

"Would I lie?" Her tone was ironic, yet flirtatious.

I smiled.

"Everyone lies."

So we talked about people lying, and about her, as we danced.

Dancing is a good way to get to know someone.

When you're getting to know each other, there are dinners across a table that physically separates you about three feet.

When you walk together afterward, unless you're arm in arm, the gap is reduced by half a foot.

When you talk at a party you may close the gap to two feet. Any less and the intimacy can be uncomfortable for people who have not known each other a long time.

But when you dance a slow dance, even if you've only just met, the distance is nine to twelve inches. You can feel the other person's breath on your skin, the warmth of it.

A few more dances, friendly conversation and you may wind up cheek to cheek, chest to chest as your muscles relax into what is perilously close to an embrace. And there is no social taboo. You're not rushing things; you're "just" dancing.

The proximity, the intimacy, encourages your conversation to follow suit. It quickly moves you well beyond, "The fish was very fresh." I've been told that women are especially susceptible to this effect - by the women I've danced with.

You tell her she has a lovely scent. She's a good dancer. She is so responsive. And it's true, despite the fact that you both suspect you're not just discussing dancing.

For Karen and me, that would come later. Despite the fact I wasn't offering a storybook relationship, I didn't just want to find someone who would be satisfied with that situation; I wanted someone I desperately wanted to spend my time with. Is that asking too much?