Zenith Rising (7 page)

Spencer watched her talking. She was looking
up, then looking down at her files before she finally wrote on a
tablet. She was discussing something and moved with fluid, graceful
lines. She smiled often and used her hands, elaborating on any
point she had to make with her changeable facial expressions. She
was engaging, warm, charismatic, and intelligent; and that was just
how she said hello to people. He regretted taking the job
sometimes. He thought, only very briefly that night at the
hospital, about asking Erica Heathersby out on a date. He wanted to
do it more than just about anything, but he also knew there was no
possible way someone like him could possibly date someone like
her.

But when she offered him a job, he
immediately thought it must mean she felt sorry for him. Probably
saw him as a dried-up musician, or a stupid kid without even a pot
to piss in, reduced to waiting tables and delivering packages.

Finally, the woman in Erica’s office stood up
and shook Erica’s hand, while nodding and smiling in
excitement.

Erica walked the woman to her office doorway
before saying a final goodbye and swinging her gaze to Spencer. She
smiled graciously. Was Erica always so proper? Warm? Inviting?

“Spencer, come in.”

He stood up and followed her into her office,
stopping before her desk. He adopted the stance of an employee
waiting for the boss’s talk and she sat down at her desk.

“Is there a problem?”

“No. No. Nothing like that. You’ve done a
great job, so far. Our warehouse here is a disaster; it’s been on
my list to tackle for a long while. I was hoping you could manage
it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. Great. He
got to clean out her warehouse. “Sure. You’re the boss.”

Her eyebrows furrowed with displeasure. His
tone was sarcastic, and much less than gracious than hers.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

He sighed and shook his head, sticking his
hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No, Doc, I don’t have any
problem with that. Whatever you need, that’s what you pay me
for.”

She bit her lip and adjusted her glass
frames. “Do I pay you enough?”

“Why? Are you offering more?”

“I just—yes, maybe I am. Would that lessen
the sarcasm in your voice at my being your boss?”

“There’s no sarcasm. There’s no problem.
Really. I can start on that warehouse now. Just show me what and
where.”

“Thank you,” she said, getting up as her suit
slid into place, and the silk lining rustled. Spencer nearly
groaned at how sexy it sounded, and how pretty and proper her
pantsuit looked on her. There was no physical reason why it should
turn him on. But all
the thank yous and please Spencers
were
starting to drive him crazy. He could think of a lot better ways,
although perhaps, nastier, that he wished she were thanking him for
and asking him to please do.

Adding warehouse mover, cleaner, and
organizer, to his resume, he nearly sighed at the lame title, not
to mention the added grunt work. When the raise appeared on his
check, he felt rather chagrinned, and even embarrassed for showing
Erica his resentment at simply being her employee. His damn
attraction to her was what really had him so annoyed, not she, and
certainly not her generous salary after giving him a decent job.
So, she gave him a raise, and happily, his new duties included
seeing Erica each evening. He had to report to her every day before
he left and tell her what he’d done that day, and how it was going.
It rarely took more than five minutes. She listened, nodded, said,
“Thank you, Spencer,” and returned to her desk. To work. The woman
never seemed to stop working.

They were strictly professional, and totally
detached, as uninterested in each other as two people could be.
Except, Spencer was anything, but that. He still pretended not to
notice her, or react when her voice seemed to stimulate his body
like a shock of electricity. He pretended he didn’t give a damn
what she thought of him.

Just like he never cared what anyone thought
of him. Except for Erica Heathersby, that is.

****

A week later, Spencer tapped lightly on
Erica’s partially opened door. The rest of the office building
appeared empty. Erica was at her desk, and looked up at his knock.
Only then, did Spencer realize she wasn’t alone. A man was in the
room, getting a cup of coffee from her coffee bar. He turned at
hearing Spencer’s entrance. He was six-foot or taller, blond, and
forty-ish. He wore a power suit. Client or date? He certainly
looked like Erica’s type. The man glanced at Spencer, taking in his
torn-at-the-knees jeans, t-shirt, and work boots, and quickly
dismissed him, while nearly sniffing with disdain as he turned
away.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with
someone. I just wanted to tell you I got those new file cabinets in
and everything transferred. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving? Now? I thought you promised
to transfer last year’s files too? Shouldn’t you get that done
first? Since Tamira’s desk is empty, now would be the best
time.”

Spencer turned back to Erica and raised an
eyebrow. Her tone was unfamiliar and rude, nearly voicing a demand.
It was something she never sounded like before. What files at
Tamira’s desk? He knew nothing about them, and she never mentioned
them, let alone, suddenly confer a 911 urgency to them.

“You want last year’s files put in the
warehouse? Now?”

“Yes. Didn’t I just say that? Right now.”

“O-kay, Doc,” Spencer replied, drawing out
his syllables. “I’ll do that.” He stared at her for moment since
her voice was so strange and he sensed something was off. Her
expression appeared strained, and she didn’t once smile. Erica
always smiled at everyone. Even him. What was going on? When was
Erica ever so rude? Or so demanding? When did Erica ever insist
that something be done right then and there?

Spencer glanced at the man in her office,
perceiving something wasn’t right. What was it? And, if she didn’t
want the man there, why didn’t she tell him to leave?

Spencer went over to the bookkeeper’s desk
and looked at the massive files stacked behind it on the wall. From
Tamira’s desk, he could easily see through Erica’s door, the open
door she regularly shut when talking to patients. Spencer got some
boxes from downstairs, and started yanking all the January dates
and putting them inside. His noisy pulling and dropping of files
clearly revealed his annoyance. What the hell was going on? A half
hour later, he finished the files and the man was still there.
Spencer knew something was awry. Erica kept glancing his way. Was
she checking to make sure he was working? Or just that he was still
there?

Finally, the man emerged from Erica’s office.
She followed. He stopped and clasped her hand while half embracing
her. She tolerated it, but her back was stiff, and her posture
rigid. Spencer stood by Tamira’s desk, waiting.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear from you,
Erica.”

“Yes. I’ll get back to you.”

“Maybe next time, we’ll meet outside the
office, where we can put things on a more personal level.”

“Well, I’m pretty busy, I’ll have my
secretary schedule you an appointment.”

The man took her hand and kissed it, then
turned and left. Erica watched him leave before her rigid posture
sagged. She let out a deep breath and glanced at Spencer. “I’m
sorry for that.”

“For what? What was that? Your suddenly
needing Tamira’s files moved?”

“I don’t know what it was. Just a feeling. A
weird… I can’t explain kind of feeling.”

“Of what?”

“Of the creeps.”

“What? Of the suit? Who is he?”

“He’s a preacher, who has a very large
congregation and church down the street from here.
Nondenominational, with lots of political clout.”

“What’s he need an Ob-Gyn for?”

“He doesn’t. He wanted to tell me
something.”

“What was it? What could a preacher have to
say that would freak you out like this?”

She hesitated. Her tongue darted out and she
licked her lips. Was she nervous? Of what? Telling him something?
“To discuss the rights and wrongs of life.”

He frowned. “I’m not following.”

“Of abortion, Spencer. The rights and wrongs
of abortion.”

Spencer paused and straightened his back.
“You perform abortions?”

Erica turned, absently straightening papers
on Tamira’s desk. “I do whatever is in the best interest of my
patients. I do what they ask of me; although not necessarily what I
always want to do.”

Spencer let out a breath. “Never thought
about it. Or what it entails. What you have to face.”

“I face a lot of things. Some hard. Some
exhilarating. Sprinkled with lots of boring, routine exams in
between. What puzzles me is how that guy knew anything about me or
what I do.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No. Nothing like that. He was, in fact,
quite nice. He seemed like he wanted to debate the issue, and make
sure I knew certain Biblical quotes and references. But nothing I’d
classify as threatening.”

“Except you seemed afraid of him.”

She shrugged. “I shouldn’t be. He didn’t do
anything. Or say anything either. It was more the subtle undertones
that brought out the goose bumps on my skin. I have no real
explanation. But thank you for staying. Obviously, I insist that
you add the time on your timecard, and I apologize for being such
an alarmist.”

“No. I am happy to do you a favor. And I’d
rather you were an alarmist, than naive.”

“Thanks for saying that. I feel slightly less
stupid for getting so uptight.”

Spencer leaned back onto the edge of the
bookkeeper’s desk, folding his arms over his chest. He found it
interesting that Erica suspected the suit, whom Spencer assumed was
her date, very off-putting, since he, formerly as Spike, so
terrified Erica. Did he suddenly become someone she trusted?

“I take it then, that I don’t scare you
anymore?”

“You?” She glanced up with a surprised
frown.

“Yeah, me. As Spike, and now Spencer.”

“Oh. Well, as Spike you were rather
startling. No, downright shocking! Especially the first time I met
you. I had no warning or expectations. But you never were
intimidating, or off-putting towards me, personally. Even as Spike,
I didn’t fear for my physical safety.”

“Now, I just make you nervous.”

“No. Why? Why would you say that?”

His gaze narrowed onto her lush lips and
mouth. “You bite your lip every time you give me something to do.
It’s almost like you’re afraid I’ll say no. You’re always
back-tracking, and very politely trying to figure out how to act
like my boss. I figured it had something to do with you not being
very comfortable around me.”

“Well, it’s a little awkward. I don’t like
ordering anyone around.”

He covered his snicker with a cough.
“Bullshit! I’ve heard you with the rest of your staff. You have no
trouble with any of them. You have no trouble ever doing what’s
necessary, do you, Doc?”

“No. I guess I don’t.”

“Except with me?”

“I don’t know why. Maybe because I knew you
personally, or because you’re about the only man in my employ. I
don’t know exactly.”

“You don’t know me personally.”

“Okay, then maybe because, I know you
differently and outside of here.”

She looked all around her office, anywhere,
except at him. Spencer pushed off the desk, and stood up to his
full height before her. “Let me know if that guy bothers you again.
Just in case.”

“I’m being paranoid. He only wants to save my
soul.”

“Just let me know, Doc.”

Spencer walked to the door and stopped when
he heard her move. Her damn pants were rustling again. Why could he
do nothing but picture the soft material clinging between her legs?
She never gave off vibes like that, but that’s exactly what he
envisioned.

“Spencer?”

He looked at her. “Yeah?”

“Does it change your opinion of me? Or my
practice? Or just being here?”

Spencer shifted around fully. He was
surprised by the hesitant, nearly frightened look in her eyes. She
was again biting her lip. What was she so nervous about? His
opinion? Why the hell would she care what her lowly handyman
thought of the practice she so successfully ran? But she seemed to
care what his answer was. What
he
thought of what
she
did. The surprise in him was palpable, and he believed she really
did care, if the rigidity of her shoulders and her tight-lipped
mouth were any indication.

“What? That you give abortions? No, Doc. I
don’t see you doing anything outside of the utmost ethical and
morally right path.”

“Thank you for saying that. Many don’t
agree.”

“Not an easy decision as a doctor, is
it?”

“No. That’s what everyone misses.”

“Just make sure you’re more careful with
those who do have a problem.”

****

Erica entered Nick and Joelle’s penthouse
without knocking. She was there often, especially lately. She loved
to hold Jody and let Joelle rest. She was also secretly keeping an
eye on Joelle for any signs of problems. There was a time when
Joelle was depressed and Erica intended to do her damnedest to see
that she didn’t suffer through it again.

“Hey there, Mama,” Erica greeted Joelle. She
immediately grabbed the swaddled, sleeping newborn. “Look at you
today. How’s my little angel?”

Joelle sat down and tucked her legs under
her. “How come you didn’t tell me Spencer works for you?

Erica glanced up. Why didn’t she? Why didn’t
she tell Joelle about the night at Spencer and Rob’s house either?
Or about meeting the rest of the former band? Was she afraid of
bringing up bad memories of her friend’s former life? Or was it
more? Something strange about Spencer urged her to keep her mouth
shut. Perhaps, it was because she wasn’t so sure she could easily
gossip about Spencer, not as she knew him now.