Head Over Heels (3 page)

B
y the time Russ made it up the first flight of stairs on the way to his third-floor office he knew he'd made a mistake, but it was too late to turn back. Usually he enjoyed the exercise. Today, he would have given nearly anything for the choice of an elevator—something the older building where his office was located didn't have. Every step up jarred his ribs, but if he took any more painkillers, he wouldn't be able to think straight or drive safely.

He told himself that he had a good reason for what he was doing. The sooner he could clear out his old computer, the sooner he could get a new one and get back to work. Even though it was midafternoon, that still gave him a couple of hours to catch up on what he'd missed with Tyler, his assistant, and then after everyone left, Russ would have the office to himself to work in peace and quiet. Then he didn't have to worry that anyone would watch him suffer while he finished con
structing the database and doing more work on the programming for Byron's interactive Web site, which was his current project.

He doubted he could ever repay his debt to Marielle, but now he had one more thing for which he owed her. First she had been responsible for saving his life, and now she was responsible for his getting a new computer.

Russ didn't like owing debts. He'd had enough of debts. The only debts he wanted to have were his mortgage and his car payments—manageable debts and nothing else.

By the time his hand touched the doorknob to the main office on the third floor, his chest hurt so much he was dizzy. He wanted to walk into the office looking like he was fine and justified in coming back to work, so he leaned against the wall until he could regain his bearings and prepare himself to face his workmates.

When he finally opened the door and entered the main office, everyone stopped their activity and stared at him. He smiled weakly as he walked past Brenda, the receptionist. She stood, and good manners dictated that he stop.

“Russ? What are you doing here? How are you feeling?”

Automatically he raised one hand to touch the bandage covering the bridge of his nose. He wrapped his other arm around his rib cage, just in case the support bandage covering his chest showed through his shirt. “I'm feeling better than I look. Where's Grant?”

“He's in your office,” replied Tyler. “With someone.”

“Good.” Grant was usually very prompt, and today was no exception. Already, Grant had the technician in there to discuss their needs for the new system.

Recovered from the climb and full of ideas, Russ opened the door to his private office and stepped inside.

“Hey, Grant! This is…” His smile faltered. “Marielle? What are you doing here?”

She turned around and smiled so brightly she nearly glowed.

“I was on my way to the youth center, so I thought I'd stop in and have a look at the computers.”

He glanced around the room. “Where's the tech?”

Grant shook his head. “He was busy today. He'll be here tomorrow morning. By the way, what are you doing here? I thought you were taking the week off.”

“There are a few things I need to take care of, and I also thought I'd clear out my old computer. I always keep backups, but there is some other stuff I have to do.”

“You'll be able to clear your data quickly, right?”

“You bet. I like to have everything organized.”

“Then I have an idea. Marielle is so excited—since you're here, I think it would be a nice gesture to give her the first computer to take now. That would be yours.”

“Now?” He'd barely survived the trip up the stairs. He'd fully intended to sit at his desk for the last few hours of the day to work on his current project. If all he had to do was clear everything he'd already backed up the day of the accident, he would only have a few minutes' worth of work.

He'd nearly killed himself to get into the office. He wanted to make being there worth the effort.

Grant studied him. “Did you ask your doctor about the wisdom of coming to work today?”

Russ kept his mouth shut. He knew what his doctor would have said, and Russ thought otherwise.

Marielle checked her watch. “I have to be at the youth center to open up. I'm so sorry. I know it always seems I don't have time to chat, but I must go.”

Grant raised one palm. “Wait. Russ, if you're itching to do something, why don't you go to the youth center with Marielle? I've dug up some old versions of different graphics programs we've bought over the years. I think I'll donate those, too. Can you go through the box, grab what you think would be best, and we'll meet you at the car?”

Grant turned back to Marielle, then stopped and looked back at Russ. “After that, go home and don't come back to the office until next week.”

“Uh, sure… But that will leave you shorthanded. And I haven't seen Jessie, either. Where is she, by the way? I thought she was supposed to be in.” Russ turned to Marielle. “Jessie is a contract employee who was working on a special project with me.”

Grant nodded. “I tried to call, but all I got was her voice mail. It's strange that she didn't come in, but then, I'm not paying her by the hour, so she can work anywhere she wants, just so she meets her deadlines.”

Russ turned back to Grant. “That may be so, but we were at a point where we had to work on this phase together, from here, because you don't have multiple licenses for the programs we need right now.” He turned back to Marielle and pointed to Grant's office. “The
program we need is on the server in Grant's office. We have the computers in the office linked, but we can't access it remotely. The rest of the work has to be done here, and we're on that tight deadline for Byron.”

Grant frowned. “Speaking of our client, he e-mailed me earlier today asking me to put a temporary hold on everything.”

Russ spun toward his boss so fast his ribs ached. “I don't understand. What happened?”

“I don't know. But since the project is set back, this is a really good time for you to take the computer to the youth center before another big project comes up.”

“I guess.” Before he could say any more, a few of the men from the office appeared, and within minutes, all the components of his computer were gone.

He made his selection of program CD-ROMs, and then made his way downstairs. Fortunately the trip down was easier than the trip up, and he soon joined Grant and Marielle on the ground level. When they saw him, the conversation stopped until he was at Grant's side.

“I know you have other things to do,” Grant said, “but I'm not kidding when I say I don't want you to get any ideas about coming back to work too soon. Take tomorrow and sleep in, and if you're feeling restless, you can go straight to the youth center in the afternoon and meet Marielle there to show her how to use the programs. In fact, I want you to take Friday off, too. That way you can have more time to teach her.” He turned to Marielle. “Most of those programs have a help file, so you'll be fine after he walks you through everything.”

“But…” Russ knew what Grant was trying to do. Doing something for a charity was good publicity. Russ would rather have worked on other projects, but hopefully a couple of additional days off wouldn't matter. If this was how Grant wanted him to help, so be it. “Okay,” he sighed. “I can do that.”

“Good. Have fun.”

Russ gritted his teeth.
Fun
wasn't going to happen. Spending time in a charity organization with a bunch of underprivileged teenaged hoodlums was the last thing he wanted to do.

He'd spent all of his growing-up years in that environment. The grueling poverty. The constant struggles. The pressure to look cool while deep inside he felt helpless and desperate to escape. He'd worked long and hard to get out. He'd humbled himself and swallowed his pride and done everything his boss at the time had asked, even though his friends had looked down on him and called him weak and a pushover, and had ridiculed him. At that time all he had was his personal honor, and he believed God was on his side. He put in some very long hours and worked hard and did his best to please his employers—doing all the dirty work no one else would do, and taking his business courses at night school. When it came time to select the one person who could move out of the factory and into a supervisory position, Russ got the job, and the raise that went with it, and later, a good reference for a better job out of that neighborhood. At that point, he finally had a future, even with all his debts. It had taken until he was twenty-five, but he'd moved on and was out of the slums, never to sink to that level again.

Except that Grant had just told him to go back.

Russ could feel the pangs of his ulcer acting up, but he told himself that helping Marielle was a way to earn brownie points toward the promotion he so desperately wanted.

“Okay. I'll do it. Let's go.”

He got into his car and followed Marielle to the back of an old church building in a less-than-upscale area of the city.

As soon as Marielle got out of her car, four teenage boys wearing leather jackets and ripped jeans joined her. She pointed to the computer in the back seat. “Look what we've got!” she said as she unlocked the door.

The boys expressed their pleasure in current jargon that Russ made no attempt to follow, and carried everything into the building.

Russ trailed behind them through a large doorway, down a flight of stairs and into a large well-lit room with a dull tile floor. A few tables lined the far wall, and in each corner was a shelf in need of repair. An old wooden desk, piled with papers and books sat to the side of the door.

Russ turned to Marielle. “Is there always someone here waiting for you?”

She nodded. “I'm usually here a little sooner than this. I time it so I can arrive not long after they get off school. Many of them need a place that's not an empty house. They're all old enough to be left home alone, but that doesn't mean it's best.”

Russ stared at her. At that age, every day he'd gone home to an empty apartment and often he'd ended up
doing things he shouldn't have been doing. He'd almost started on a downward spiral like all his friends, but at the last minute had realized that he had to do something right that second if he wanted to escape the trap and make something out of his life.

By the time he realized what would happen if he didn't get his act together, it had still been too late to do what he really wanted, which was get a scholarship for university. He'd already messed up his grades too much by focusing on his immediate needs: his minimum-wage job and trying to fit in with those he thought were his friends, instead of studying. Also, by then he had a reputation to live up to—or to live down to.

Still, he'd done more than most of his friends. He was the first to have a job and stick with it. He made up his mind to do what it took to pass, and actually graduated from high school, got a student loan and went on to business college.

Marielle smiled at him, breaking him out of his memories.

“Everyone else will be here soon. We'd better get started.”

 

Marielle stood back to watch the flurry. Russ had picked a table in the corner of the room and was setting up the computer. As she'd expected, the boys gathered around him, asking a million questions while the girls stayed with Marielle watching from across the room.

“I'll bet he'll be a real hottie when he gets that thing off his face,” a female voice whispered behind Marielle,
then broke into giggles. “And if he has a bump on his nose from it being broken, that's so sexy.”

Marielle turned around to see Brittany. Today, Brittany was wearing her trendy clothes way too tight, and again in Marielle's opinion, she was wearing too much makeup for a sixteen-year-old girl.

“Forget it, Brittany. I'm not interested.”

Brittany giggled again. “Why not? He's so handsome, and he seems smart, too.”

“Being smart isn't everything,” Marielle replied. And she'd certainly had it with handsome.

She'd seen enough of Russ to know what he was really about, and she knew the type well. She'd seen the same traits in Michael. At first, she'd admired him, and before long, she'd fallen in love. He was dedicated, and seemed to have admirable goals. He had promised to work hard at his career to provide a good future for both of them. He had had big plans and he aimed high. At first she'd helped—even supported him while he worked part time and went to college part time, all in order to achieve those goals that were supposed to benefit them as a couple. She'd almost driven herself to exhaustion to do it, because she loved him.

But still, nothing was good enough. When she said she needed some downtime to see her friends and church family, whom she'd been ignoring for Michael, he told her it wasn't the right time. Even though he worked long hours, Michael wasn't content with what they had, and he always had to work harder to get more. No matter how much money he made, nothing would
satisfy him, he always wanted bigger and better and more expensive. First, he wanted a bigger house and a better new car—for both of them, he claimed. But because they weren't married,
he
was the one living in the house, and
he
was the one driving the expensive new car. Soon he began to forsake everything but activities that could earn him more money to get an even bigger house and an even better car.

And then, three days before what was supposed to be their wedding day, Michael called it off, leaving her to phone everyone and cancel. Within a few hours of announcing this, he ran off with a woman he worked with—a woman who also wanted the biggest and best, and the latest and the greatest out of life, a woman who had the very college education that Marielle had given up to work two jobs so that Michael could go to college instead. Elaine was exactly like Michael, in feminine form.