A Legal Requirement by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Paul Merchant was a trainee accountant working for La Belle Dame. He was also a bit of a handful, quite literally. He stood about five feet five inches and weighed no more than nine stone, a hundred and twenty six pounds, dripping wet. He was twenty two but looked fifteen on a good day, on a bad one he looked even younger. His squeaky voice and lack of facial hair didn’t help his efforts to look older and more authoritative, so he developed an attitude.

Unfortunately, his attitude didn’t win him many friends and only the fact that he was good at his job kept him his job. La Belle Dame was a chain of dress shops, which sold mid range clothes, they aimed at the more sophisticated market of late teens early twenties clientele than people like New Look, who aim at the lower end of the market. LBDs clothes were good, well made and very fashionable. They ran shorter lines in their marketing and were usually quickly sold out.

The owner was a wealthy thirty something called Karen King, and she included a range of clothes within her shops aimed at the better off business woman, so suits, blouses and some dresses were included in this range, which were labelled as Queen partly as a play on her surname but also because she ruled her empire like a mediaeval monarch. She didn’t brook argument at any price, although she would listen to alternative views, they just had to be couched in careful language.

Most of her surviving staff at head office knew how to handle her, they learned by watching those who didn’t become statistics on the unemployment register. Paul of course didn’t work at head office, so all of this was merely folklore to him, possibly even urban myths. However, his boss Maisie Fremantle, knew very well–she was one of the survivors–that HQ was a dangerous place.

Paul caused Maisie all sorts of problems: he was rarely on time; took longer than the allotted thirty minutes for lunch; kept his desk like a compost heap; argued with everyone and had a nice range in put downs–which everyone had suffered. If he hadn’t been a whizz with spreadsheet software, she’d have sent him and his attitude packing.

Today, he was standing before her once again. He’d insulted one of his colleagues, a youngster, another trainee accountant called, Katie Price–no not that one–this one was small breasted and had a few functioning brain cells. She’d tried to use one of Paul’s amended programs and had messed it all up. He had to spend two hours sorting it, when he discovered the fault–a glitch in his programming. He of course immediately remedied it and suggested the fault was Katie’s, calling her ‘a brainless ninny who should be having babies and leaving things she didn’t understand to men, like him.’

This went down like a lead balloon. Paul was the only man working in the office and one of only ten in the whole company, eight of whom drove vans. The other man, was a director and the husband of Mrs King, and he was more interested in his own concerns–the weapons industry, where he was a multimillionaire entrepreneur.

Maisie looked at Paul. His long thick hair–always like a disgruntled mop; his jacket and trousers–hadn’t seen an iron since they were bought; and his shirt and tie–were the yellow spots part of the pattern or the remains of his breakfast egg?

Dishevelled wasn’t quite adequate to describe Paul’s appearance and she stared at him for a moment before saying anything.

“Paul, Katie has gone home very upset by your remarks.”

“So, she shouldn’t be such an airhead.”

“I don’t think someone who has a first in accountancy and who is getting through her exams in her articles faster than you, is an airhead, do you?”

This was one of Paul’s weaknesses. He was good on computers poor on the legal aspects of accountancy and the tax elements. In fact he’d only scraped by with a 2.2 in his degree and that was at a second attempt.

“She’s rubbish at spreadsheets,” he retorted.

“She claimed there was a problem with the program.”

“Well, you try it, I did and I can’t find any problem. In fact I’ve just spent two hours trying to destabilise it and I can’t. The program is good, like me.”

Arrogance wasn’t something Maisie liked, especially as she had had the program seize-up on her too. Paul needed taking down a peg and she wished she had a means of doing it. She was sure if he left his attitude behind, he’d be a nice kid, but as he didn’t she’d have to act.

“Paul, regardless of the merits of the program or lack of them, you can’t go round insulting your colleagues like this, and as this isn’t the first time, I’m issuing you a verbal warning.”

“What? Just because she’s on a period, I get my arse kicked–that’s bloody wonderful isn’t it. I thought this company had an equal opportunities policy. Some equal opportunity this is.”

Maisie’s blood boiled. “How dare you! Whether or not Katie was on her period or not is none of your business, and we take our equal opportunities very seriously.”

“Yeah, when?”

“The fact that you have a job here is one of them, mister. Mrs King would prefer an all female workforce because they tend to be more productive than arrogant little boys who spend all their time projecting their masculine inadequacies on their colleagues.”

“Huh?” her tirade caught him off guard.

“Look here, mister, if men had periods they’d be off one week in four–women get on with things.”

“With due respect, Mrs Fremantle, but women were designed to have babies and stay at home while men go out and do things.”

“Like farming, I suppose.”

“Yeah like farming,” he agreed.

“In the third world, women produce most of the food while men sit about on their hairy arses planning their next bloody war.”

“Yeah, but real productivity needs men, we invented the technology to produce surpluses, just like we do the technology to run things now. Let’s face it men are better at it than women–women do babies and keep home, that’s what they were designed for.”

“Men and women weren’t designed for anything, mister, we evolved to complement each other. Men were given muscles and women, brains. Quite how you missed out on both is a bit of a quandary.” Maisie had overstepped the mark, she’d made a personal remark, but then he was as good as telling her she should be chained to the sink while giving birth.

He’d heard the remark about his lack of musculature. It wasn’t his fault, but exercise wasn’t his thing, computer gaming was and you don’t get big biceps from operating a keypad. Besides, when he’d tried to be more butch, at uni, all he got was stronger and thinner. He was wiry and his metabolism just burned up calories, rarely laying down any fat for the future–somewhat like his bank account, which was equally lean.

Maisie had sent her sexist trouble-maker back to his desk because she felt she was in danger of physically attacking him. She was still seething when she was invited to dinner by her boss, who she knew socially as well.

Later that evening while Paul was playing computer games as the White Wizard, Maisie was dining with Karen King at her penthouse flat along with half a dozen other mangers and heads of department. When dinner was over, Karen asked Maisie to stay behind, Maisie felt her tummy flip.

“What happened to the central reporting, this morning. Katie was sending me the financial updates and it went down?”

“I’m not entirely sure, Karen, I think it was a software bug. I got Paul to sort it out but it took him a couple of hours.”

“Didn’t he write the program or modify it?”

“Yes. He’s pretty clever on computers.”

“But not so with his articles.”

“No, Katie has the edge over him there.”

“What happened to her, you had to send me the completed report, I thought we’d agreed that was her responsibility?”

“Yes it is, but she was taken ill and I sent her home.”

“I see, what’s wrong this time?”

“It’s her endometriosis again, poor kid, she does suffer with it rather badly.”

“I’d heard one of her colleagues contributed to her discomfort.”

Maisie blushed, Karen had ears everywhere. “That’s been dealt with.”

“The same individual who sorted or possibly caused our shutdown this morning?”
Maisie blushed again, Karen was well informed. “Yes.”

“Did you sack him?”

“No, because he’s actually good at what he does.”

“How is it we have one man in an office and he creates ructions?”

“It happens with women too, Karen, as you well know.” Maisie referred to an episode in the firm’s history when a shop manager, called Absinthe Cartier had caused Karen loads of trouble and who Maisie, then just Karen’s accountant had discovered some irregularities in the accounts for that shop. They’d been cleverly disguised but Maisie had found them and had been a close friend of Karen’s ever since.

“My sources suggest he thinks women are inferior to his masculine genius?”

“He’s got a bit to learn about himself and others, which I suspect is an over compensation for his diminutive size.”

“We talking stature or willie size?”

“Stature I think, I have no idea what he has in his underpants, nor do I wish to–can’t think of many women who would.”

“He needs to be separated from his ego a little?” smirked Karen.

“Something like that.”

“Remember this,” Karen handed Maisie a sheaf of papers.

“The equal opportunities policy–I ought to, I spent enough evenings helping your lawyer friend write it.”

“And this one?” Karen handed another file to Maisie.

“Conditions of service, I have a copy in the drawer of my desk. Why are you showing me these?”

“Because part of the contract enables me to introduce some changes without any consultation.”

“Like what?”

“Shall we say that we recently introduced uniforms in the shops and the girls liked it.”

“What’s that got to do with me other than arranging for the tax spent to be claimed back?”

“I’m thinking of doing it in the offices.”

“Oh?” Maisie nearly gasped. “Does that mean I have to wear the same as everyone else?”

“No, senior managers will have a different range to pick from, but the others will be offered a jacket, two skirts and three blouses and two pairs of shoes which will compliment them. They’ll have to buy their own tights and undies of course.”

“You’re going to stop them wearing trousers?”

“Yes.”

“I can see two of mine won’t be happy with that idea.”

“And who are those?” Karen asked smiling.

“Lizzie Perkins and dear Paul. Lizzie has legs like tree trunks and always wears trousers, and Paul of course is a member of the master sex and will scream blue murder about equal opportunities. He’ll claim it’s sexist.”

“He signed on the dotted line, which says he agrees to abide by any policy we have about corporate image.”

Maisie smirked when she thought of Paul wearing a skirt and heels–maybe he’d be less aggressive decked out like that, maybe they’d get sued, he’d almost certainly go to a tribunal claiming unfair something or other.

“Corporate image–what d’you mean exactly?”

“My office workers would be expected to wear the uniform provided while working and maintain a smart appearance commensurate with the image we are trying to project, this will include an opportunity for use of a company designated hair salon cum beauty parlour. I will be setting down standards for the use of makeup–I’ll expect my office staff to use lipstick and so on.”

“Some of them don’t wear much makeup at all, Karen, and I don’t just mean Paul.”

“But I suspect you like the idea of cutting him down to size, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to end up in court because of it.”

“Okay, the clothes are coming from my Queen range, so they’re good stuff...”

“Indeed.”

“If Paul doesn’t want to join in, we could arrange a transfer–can he drive a truck?”

“I don’t think he can drive anything bigger than a computer–he comes by bus.”

“According to our legal team, I can enforce this. I could arrange for him to have trousers but they’d be from the same line as the skirts. I suppose that would deal with your other girl, Lizzie?”

“Oh she’d happily wear one of your trouser suits, and she’d love hair appointments and facials.”

“This is the range they’ll be wearing.” Karen showed Maisie the catalogue.

“Fuscia pink? A bit girly, isn’t it?”

“The pattern is fuscias on a black background, I’ve had it designed specifically for the office girls. My lot are quite happy with it, they get a pink a white and a black blouse, with two pairs of black courts to go with it.”

“So this was coming anyway?”

“Oh yes, Paul Merchant is simply a coincidence, and he’s got it coming. If he doesn’t want to wear the fuscia, he can transfer to one of the shops–it’s daisies there, and a dress; or if he can drive a truck, I’ll happily move him to transport where he can wear the pink and black driver’s uniform.”

“That isn’t a dress too, is it?” gasped Maisie.

“Eh, don’t be silly, it’s industrial wear shirt, trousers and coat in black with our logo in pink, and a pink stripe down the arm and leg. They get a chance to get their hair cut too.”

“Oh, so when is all this coming on-line?”

“In two weeks, I want everyone’s measurements in by the end of the week and our suppliers have agreed to have them for us two weeks from then.”

The next day, everyone happily filled in the form for sizing of uniforms. There were questions about designs and so on, but Maisie was told to say she didn’t know. Paul was quite happy, he needed new threads and if someone else paid for it, so much the better–new shoes too–better still. The staff measured each other, and Paul’s thirty four inch chest and twenty six inch waist was noted as well as his size five shoes and his inside leg length.

He wondered if the stuff would be grey and plain like Marks & Spencer’s clothing, or a bit more with it, flared trousers and broad lapels. He went home the Friday before the new uniforms were due on Monday wondering whether he ought to take in a couple of ties to match them–he was sure he had one which didn’t have soup or gravy on, and he’d wear a white shirt–well it was white before he washed it with his jeans. He had a surprise coming.

That morning the air was buzzing in the office as Paul walked in fifteen minutes later than everyone else. “Watch out, the afternoon shift is here,” quipped Katie as he came in, eating a sticky bun he’d bought on his walk from the bus stop.

She looked at him, he was pathologically untidy. His clothing didn’t so much look like a cat had dragged him through a hedge, but that a pair of them had played tennis with him through the hedge for at least a couple of sets. She even thought he had some twigs or leaves still stuck in his hair.

“The master sex is ready to start work, I take it?” Katie asked him directly.

“I am,” he retorted, he was going to ask how she was but that would be a sign of weakness, and besides he liked the banter with her, unaware how hurtful he was at times.

“I’ve sorted that program you messed up yesterday, it runs fine now.”

“I messed up? Look here you arrogant little toe-rag, it was your program that was at fault not me.”

Before he could reply, Maisie walked in and called, “Okay, ladies,” she did it because she knew it annoyed Paul, “the uniforms have arrived.” Maisie opened the door and one of the drivers appeared with a sack trolley laden with boxes. After three trips the piles of boxes nearly blocked the doorway.

“I hope they’re better than the driver’s ones,” said Paul, commenting on the pink stripes and logos on the uniform of the deliveryman.

“I’m sure you’d look delicious in pink, little Paulie,” said Lizzie who towered over her diminutive colleague.

Each worker collected a box from Maisie, signing a sheet which said they had received their uniform and would wear it in line with company policy. Paul wasn’t last but next to it, Lizzie was last. Maisie had asked everyone to wait before opening the boxes.

“As far as I know, these uniforms have been made to the specs you gave two weeks ago. They are good quality and we expect you to start wearing them from today, though obviously not everyone can fit in the loo at the same time. If you’d like to open your boxes...”

Paul used his door key to slice through the tape on the top of his box, when he opened the flaps, he gasped. Shining through the clear plastic was the fuchsia and black patterned clothing. “There must be some mistake,” he said loudly.

“Does it have your name on the box?” called back Maisie.

He checked again, “Yes, but I can’t wear this?”

“That’s the office uniform, unless you wish to argue the toss with Mrs King?”

“But I’m a bloke–this will make me look like a fairy.”

Katie laughed out loud, “Is there something you’re not telling us, Paulie or is it Pauline?”

Paul pulled out the bags and saw there were six articles of the fuchsia and black, plus a pink, white and black shirt like thing. Underneath were two shoe boxes and when he opened those and saw the two and half inch heeled black court shoes he felt really angry. “Someone is taking the piss,” he said loudly.

“That’s the uniform short-arse, at least with the heels you’ll be nearly as tall as a smurf.” Katie enjoyed his embarrassment.

“Oh good there’s trousers,” said Lizzie and took her things off to try them on in the loo.

“Can’t wait to see you in the skirt, Pauline, have you got some black tights,” Katie chided him.

“Get stuffed,” said Paul almost in tears.

“Go on show us yer legs,” called another girl, “you ogle ours often enough.”

“I’ve got some spare tights that’ll fit you,” called another. Then several of the girls looked at each other and a pack instinct took over. Seizing the tights one of them advanced on Paul, another stood behind him preventing his escape.

Ten minutes later, he’d been stripped to his underpants, fortunately clean on that day, the tights had been pulled up his kicking legs, followed by one of the tight skirts and shoes were shoved on his feet. At this point they let him stand up and handed him a pink blouse.

He was so close to tears of rage he nearly threw it back at them, then realising his semi-nakedness, snatched it and put it on, the buttons on the wrong side slowing him down a little. The jacket was almost pulled on him by two other girls, so he took it and donned it himself.

Someone took a video on their phone of him pulling on the blouse and jacket, so it looked like he’d done it himself and willingly.

“Satisfied?” he said angrily as he stood wearing the full skirt uniform.

“Oh yes,” said a new voice, “I like that, Paul, I want to see you in it every day.” Mrs King had called by to see what the office workers thought.

He tried to protest but she ignored him and went into Maisie’s office sniggering. When Paul looked round for his own clothing, it was gone. His keys and wallet were on his desk but his jacket and pants were gone, so were his shoes and socks.

That was it, he went ballistic, swearing and ranting at everyone. Mrs King emerged from the office, “What is going on?” she shouted and Paul went quiet for a moment. Then he started his incoherent rant again.

“I think you’d better go home, Pauline, and I hope you feel better tomorrow.” Everyone else laughed and Paul flung himself at her, only to be grabbed by Lizzie and pulled back. He slumped on the floor and began sobbing.

“Can somebody take her home,” said Mrs King, going back into the office.

Karen King sat in her office, long after the rest of her staff had left for the day. Her joy over the incident she’d orchestrated that morning had faded under the pressure of keeping her empire running smoothly, and she barely spared a thought to what had become of the crying man after she had ordered one of the other women in the office to take him home.

They’d done what they set out to do. They’d broken him. What happened next wasn’t her problem.

‘As if that scrawny little excuse for a man could ever be a problem for me,’ she thought, a savage smile playing across her lips. She pushed herself away from the desk and reached for the ceiling, trying to stretch the knots out of her back.

Then she saw the small figure in the doorway, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans with a bundle under its arm. She thought it was one of the office girls coming in to work late, until she realized it was him.

Her smile stretched to a grin

“Well, hello, Pauline,” she said sweetly. “What brings you here?”

The man cocked his head and looked at her. He looked ... odd. Unnaturally still.

“This morning,” he replied, his voice strong but oddly emotionless.

“What about it?”

“That’s what brings me here.”

Another silence.

“Have you come to complain?” Her eyebrows rose. “Because you’ll get no sympathy here, sweety.”

“I expected none.” He shrugged. “I deserve none. No, actually, I came to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what? Humiliating you?”

He shook his head. “No. For the clarity you and the other women gave me. I’ve never seen the world and my place in it so clearly, in my entire life.” He took a breath, and let it out slowly. “It’s very liberating, knowing who you are and who you aren’t. And who you’ll never be.”

“What do you mean?” The conversation rapidly began to slip sideways, beyond her control. She hated when that happened.

“You ripped my mask off. Didn’t you know?” His eyes stared straight into hers, and she found herself shivering at the emptiness she saw there. “You and everyone in that office tore my mask off, pushed me in front of a mirror, and showed me who I was, and who I wasn’t.”

“What the hell are you taking about?”

Paul looked at her, not unkindly, and sighed.

“I am a small man,” he said, as if he were asking a stranger in a diner to pass the salt. “Always have been. Looking at me, there isn’t much to see. Soft little voice ... a pretty boy even. Not what I ever wanted to be, not even close. I almost look like a girl, but I’m not, and I never wanted to be one. Not that it mattered.”

“I grew up the butt of endless jokes about my size, my looks, my strength or lack of it. No friends, because no one would have me. l spent my years being beaten up by everyone ... classmates, my brothers and sisters, my father at home.” Again, his tone didn’t change. As if he was talking about someone else. “Everyone got to take their shot. The only things I was good at were numbers and computers. So I hid in my room, playing games online and wishing things could be different. I kept thinking that maybe, once I was out of high school, I could make a life that would be better than the one I had.”

“Eventually, I graduated, got out in the world, and discovered it wasn’t any different than before. I was still small, but now there were more people to point it out to me and rub it in my face — or worse, ignore me for being ... insignificant. After a few tries at asking women out and being laughed at, I just stopped. Why try again? It wasn’t going to change.”

“Then, as a fluke, I got the job with your company. Surrounded by women, dwarfed by many of them. I could see myself becoming a joke here, too. I certainly wasn’t going to find a friend. Past experience had taught me that friends were something other people got without even trying.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what I could do. Then one day, I realized that the one thing I could change was my attitude. If I couldn’t BE bigger, maybe I could ACT like I was. Maybe if I acted important, smarter, sharper ... like my opinions mattered more ... maybe I could get people to see me as I wanted to be seen. As something more than a punchline. After all, what did I have to lose? So I did.”

“At first, there was a feeling of confidence attached to it. I heard the laughter but ignored it, because for the first time in my life, I didn’t care what they thought. The confidence was ... addictive. I couldn’t ignore the laughter forever, so I made myself believe it was jealousy, because after all, I was so damned good at everything, wasn’t I?”

A small edge crept into his voice, his eyes still locked on hers. “The problem with believing your own lies is that eventually, you stop seeing the truth. I created the mask I wore as a sword, so I could fight my way towards something that looked like respect. It became a shield that I hid behind, because a small part of me inside knew the truth of my sorry-ass existence and didn’t want to face it. And the confidence turned cruel, and became arrogance. I went on the attack.”

“I began to bully and belittle others, because I knew ... I knew inside that they’d do it to me if I didn’t do it first. And part of me loved putting down the women I worked with, because I knew inside they’d never see me as anything but something to laugh at anyway. The idea that any of them would ever like ... or even love me? Now there was something to laugh at.”

“Then came this morning. You set me up with the new dress code and your free uniforms, then you gave everyone in the office the ammunition they needed to take me down. When I saw that the uniforms were skirts and blouses ... when they saw my reaction ...”

Paul stopped, and then laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound that felt more like the cry of a wounded animal than any laugh she’d ever heard.

“They held me down, stripped me, and dressed me up. I couldn’t fight them all. Hell, I couldn’t even fight one of them. After all, I wasn’t ever really big and strong, was it? Any strength I had — all I had to hold onto — was wrapped in that awful mask, full of ego and arrogance and stupidity. But you took that poor crutch away, didn’t you? Between the clothing, the attack, the humiliation, and your dismissal of my pain as I cried like a baby on the floor, you ripped off the mask and they tore it into a million pieces.”

“And in the end, all that was left sitting on the floor when the mask was gone was the thin, small, practice target I had always been. Actually, I was worse than I had been before, because now, instead of laughter or scorn or indifference, there was only hatred. And that was what I deserved, after all, wasn’t it? After what I’d done? For the crime of pretending to be more than I was?”

His voice was still almost a monotone, but he was still as stone, and she couldn’t look away. A thin spark of the agony he must have felt flickered briefly in his eyes, but it died as she watched. He stepped forward and put the bundle on her desk.

“There’s the uniform they dressed me in. The one I wore home. I have no use for it now. Sorry about the dirty footprint on the bottom of the skirt — that’s when the woman who dragged me home kicked me out of her car in front of my apartment before she drove off. I crawled up the stairs and stood in front of my apartment house door, and got a good look at my reflection in the front window. I saw ... myself.”

“So as I said, you ripped off my mask, pushed me in front of a mirror, and showed me who I was, and who I wasn’t. And who I can never be.”

She shook her head, still confused. He sighed again.

“I can’t go back to that office. They all hate me, and they’re not wrong. I was an asshole, and now I’m nothing at all again. Less than nothing. And I hate them, because they have jobs, and lives, and families, and friends, and people who care about them. And I’ll never have any of that. So I’m done.”

She licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry. “You could apologize.”

He tilted his head and considered it, then nodded. “I could. Then what? They aren’t about to forgive me. I know hate when I see it. And even if they do, what do I have to look forward to? Years stretching ahead of me, all alone and in pain, tormented by all the real people? That’s the clarity you gave me this morning, by the way. I know now that I can’t be anything but what I am — the human joke. It’s not going to change.”

“You could — ”

“Could what?” His eyes narrowed. “I have no options, really. What was that old saying, biology is destiny? The one the mask trotted out the other day. It fits me like a glove.”

“Once I got out of that uniform, I looked you up on the Internet. Spent the day reading about you, before I trashed my computer and left it on the sidewalk along with everything else I owned. You’ve always been beautiful, confident, in control. You rule your empire like a queen, and people respect you. So you have absolutely NO idea what I’m going through or what I feel like. And you never will.”

“Like I said, I’m done. I know you’d rather have a woman in my spot, so hire one and everyone will be very happy. You could even save some money and hire someone who’ll fit the uniform. On the other hand, you could just burn the ones you made for me in effigy, so everyone can get the rest of that hate out and get back to their lives. Think of it as a team building exercise.” He shrugged. “Whatever you choose, I came to thank you for forcing me to see the truth. It’s always best to know where you stand ... and now I know.”

The man turned and started for the door. When he reached it, she cleared her throat, and he froze, his back to her.

“Where will you go?”

“Somewhere ... not here. A place where I can be ignored, one last time.”

“What ... what will you do?”

He looked over his shoulder, and for the first time since his arrival, he smiled.

“You don’t really care, do you? After all, I'm just a man, and a poor one at that. As far as you’re concerned, I‘m nothing but a bad joke. And everybody knows that the best thing about a bad joke ... is how easily it’s forgotten.”

The door closed quietly behind him.

Paul stood outside the corporate headquarters of La Belle Dame and shivered, just a little. It was colder than he thought it would be, and part of him wondered if it had been a mistake to throw away his heavier coat with the rest of his stuff. It could have kept him warm until he found the place he needed to end things, and if that end involved jumping in the water, the sodden fabric would have dragged him down like a sea anchor. Something to think about. Should he go back?

He considered it carefully, and decided against it. After all, he was smart enough to choose a place to jump from that would be high enough to kill him instantly when he hit the water. The coat might have weighed his body down enough to keep it from being discovered for a while, but in the end, that wasn’t really an issue for him, was it? After all, once he was dead, his body was someone else’s problem.

After due deliberation, Paul decided to let himself off the hook on the question of the coat. He took a deep breath and smiled, thinking that he could afford to be magnanimous, considering how little time he had left.

He was still cold, though. He frowned. There always had to be a downside.

“Paul?”

He recognized the voice.

“With all due respect, Mrs. King,” he said, without turning around, “you really know how to kill a good exit line. I was rather proud of that one, you know. I sort of half-hoped that, once I was gone, you’d pass it around to the other women in the office so they could all have a laugh.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, in a soft voice that held little of the commanding tone he’d only heard her use before. “But you asked me if I cared, and didn’t wait for an answer.”

“Now I’m the one who’s sorry.” He smiled, even though she couldn’t see. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just thought the answer was obvious, given what you did to me this morning — and how you planned to extend it into the foreseeable future with the new uniforms.”

“The answer is yes, I do care.” Paul turned around, surprised. Karen stood there, arms wrapped around her middle to ward off the night chill. She had left her suit jacket behind to catch up with him.

“I didn’t care this morning, because all I saw was the mask.” She looked into his eyes. “All anyone ever saw was the mask, Paul, and who would ever care about him?”

“A fair point. Even I didn’t like him, in the end. I only held onto to the mask so tight because I had nothing left to hold on to.” Paul raised his voice, just a little. “But no one ever questioned the mask, either, did they? You just thought I was nothing but the mask, because that’s what you expect from men, isn’t it?”

“Not all men, but some,” she admitted. “Maybe even most. But I am married, Paul. I know there are good men out there.”

“What a shame I’ll never be one of them.” He grinned, but it never reached his eyes.

“Why can’t you?”

“Because the outside is all anyone ever sees,” he replied. “Before I came to work for you, I never met anyone who saw me as anything but a nobody, weak and powerless. When I came to La Belle Dame, I had already decided to wear the mask, and everyone saw me as pompous and cruel. I’ve learned from experience —and from your brilliant demonstration this morning — that what I was under the mask was the truth. I really am nothing. The funny thing is, nothing turns out to be way better than the how the mask made me look.”

“So what you told Maisie about men and women ...?”

His eyes got wide, and he laughed.

“Look at me! Do I really look like someone who ‘goes out and gets things done?’ And look at you, with your own company and your millions. People fear and respect you. Me? I’m a joke, remember? After this morning I may look stupid, but I’m not. I went with that argument because I had nothing left to fall back on.”

He turned away and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I resented Katie because she is a better accountant than I am. It was my mistake in the spreadsheet program that caused it to crash. She had nothing to do with it. I tried to blame it on her because she’s good, and people like her. I wasn’t, and they don’t.” His voice softened, and he sighed. “Since I won’t be around to do it myself, please tell her I’m sorry for everything I ever said or did to upset her. Hell, tell ‘em all. It won’t change how they feel, but I’ll feel better if they know I understand what I did was wrong.”

“Why not tell them yourself?”

“Because if I do things right for once in my life, I’ll be dead before morning,” he replied. “And even if I knew all their numbers, I don’t think they’d appreciate me calling them all in the middle of the night to apologize. Especially me.”

“Apologies are always welcome, if you mean them.”

“No, they hate me. That much was obvious from this morning’s little adventure.”

Karen tossed her head, and her eyes flashed. “Oh come on, Paul. They don’t hate you. Hate takes energy. Hate takes effort. They don’t like you much, and you know why. But if you gave them the chance to see you and not that god-awful asshole you’ve been, maybe ...”

“What? Maybe what?” He turned back to face her, angry. “Maybe they’d just ignore me instead of hate me?”

“Maybe ... maybe they’d actually see you.” Karen caught his eyes and smiled. “You know, you’re really not this nobody you keep claiming to be. You’re smart, and you’ve got some real fire in you, even without the mask to hide behind.”

“If that’s true, why has everyone I’ve ever known put me down?”

She gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe a long time ago, you made the mistake of believing someone you thought you could trust. They told you that you were nothing, and once you believed it, everyone else you met believed it too.”

Paul stopped to think about that for a second. Could that be why? If you spend your whole time cringing, like a dog waiting to be kicked, eventually some jerk is going to kick you.

“I don’t know ...” The words came out slowly.

“Look, why don’t you hold off on ... your plans for the evening? Just for a while?” Karen’s voice was smooth. She knew how to sell something when she had to, and she wanted him to buy into the idea that it was worth something to stay alive.

“Why should I? I haven’t got a job, and my apartment doesn’t even have a bed in it anymore.”

“You still have a job.”

He shook his head firmly. “Not with that uniform requirement in place. I know the only reason it’s there is to hurt me, and I won’t play.

Karen hesitated only an instant. “Then it’s gone.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. It’s my company, after all.” She smiled. “Wearing the uniform will be encouraged, but not mandatory for office staff. And maybe we can amend the policy to come up with something for you to wear that would complement the rest of the office. A black suit maybe, with a white shirt and fuscia tie and handkerchief?”

“I can’t possibly afford ...”

“Everyone else gets their uniforms for free. You should, too. Something off the rack for now, but we’ll visit my husband’s tailor tomorrow afternoon. After you’ve apologized to everyone, of course. You truly have been a jerk in every sense of the word.” Her eyes narrowed. “Of course, you’re going to have to do better in the personal grooming department from now on as well. I won’t have you wandering into one of my offices looking like you just rolled out of bed anymore, understand?”

Paul felt his world turning over, and he had nothing to grab onto. Everything was suddenly happening way too fast. “Yes, of course, but ...”

She stepped forward and placed a finger on his chest.

“And no more being late every morning, or treating people like dirt. The mask is gone for good. Let’s see what we can do with the Paul it left behind.”

“But ... I’m not worth the effort. I’m nothing!”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I can’t do!” She almost growled at him, and he took a small step backward. “Even if that's true, I built this company up from nothing, I can do the same for you.” Then she grinned. “Besides, I think you’re much more than you think you are. I’m going to make you see that, because I always accomplish what I set out to do.”

Karen looked him over, made a decision, and stepped back. “How tall are you?”

“Five foot, five inches,” he stammered, confused. “Why?”

“Because my husband is a multimillionaire, a businessman, and an entrepreneur in his own right,” she replied, “He is loved, respected, and feared all over the world. And he’s one inch shorter than you are. Up until thirty seconds ago, he had two things you didn’t. Now, he only has one, and I’m going to make damned sure you catch up.”

“What’s the one thing he has that I’m missing?”

“Self-confidence. He believes in himself, and now it’s your turn. I’m going to make you believe in you, or die trying. Now come back inside before we both freeze out here. You’re staying at our place tonight, until we get you set up again.”

She turned, and Paul fell in beside her, still feeling like he’d been caught in the undertow and dragged out to sea. He reached out and touched her arm. She stopped and turned, a half frown on her face.

“Why are you doing this?” He spoke softly, as if he was afraid of the answer.

“Because this morning I set out to kick a pit bull down a peg and wound up almost killing a puppy.” Karen let her expression soften. “I made a mistake, too, just like you did when you put on that mask. I’m not a heartless bitch, Paul. As you said before, I rule here. This is my kingdom. That means I have an obligation to my subjects ... noblesse oblige, if you will. And you’re one of them.”

He gave her a sideways look.

“What’s the one thing we both share, me and your husband?” He asked tentatively. “The thing I didn’t have until a few minutes ago.”

“Me, Paul.” She grinned a wide grin, and he felt a touch of hope, just a little. “Now you both have me — and God help you if you let me down.”

He found himself smiling back, and ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

They walked back into the building, together.

The next morning, everyone in the office was talking about what had happened yesterday, and wondering what was going to happen next.

“You should have seen him,” Jocelyn crowed, a huge smile on her face, “Cringing and whimpering, curled up in the passenger seat trying to hide himself. When we got to his apartment building, he didn’t want to get out of the car. I had to kick him out with my foot. Then I pulled away from the curb and left him there, on the sidewalk on his hands and knees, still wearing the uniform. It was priceless.”

“Looks like Paula finally got what she deserved,” Lizzie said, satisfaction oozing from every pore. “And after how she reacted when I held her back from attacking the boss, I don’t think we’re going to see that smug little twit show his face around here anymore.”

Katie looked from one woman to the next, seeing nothing but the image of Paul, alone in a room full of enemies. Did he really deserve what they had done?

“Mister Macho Man.” Maisie’s voice was full of scorn. “Not so arrogant anymore, I bet. Did you see him on the floor, crying like a baby? He was sobbing like a little girl.”

“That’s a good question.” Mrs. King spoke from the doorway, her voice cold. Every woman in the room turned. As Karen walked into the room, they had the sense of a barely controlled anger, but none of them had the slightest idea what she was angry at. Almost as one, they realized that somehow, they had wandered into a minefield, or worse, the minefield had come to them. When it came to dealing with the absolute ruler of La Belle Dame, not knowing what she was angry about was a recipe for dismissal ... or worse.

After a silence, the one woman who could be called her friend spoke.

“What is, Karen?” Maisie said softly.

“Whether you saw him on the floor, crying like a baby,” she replied, the edge in her voice obvious. “Whether you noticed him there, sobbing like a little girl. That question.”

“Of course we did.” Lizzie spoke, still unsure of what was going on. “Hell, ma’am, we’re the ones that put him there.”

“Yes, we did. We all did.” Karen walked to the front of the office and turned around to face them all. “We banded together as one, all of us, to humiliate a man because he was an arrogant son of a bitch, and none of us liked him at all. You attacked him, stripped him, and dressed him in women’s clothing. Then I came out and, with nothing but a few well-chosen words, made sure he knew how powerless and friendless he was here.”

“So hooray for us. We showed Paul how weak he really was, took away every scrap of dignity and self-respect he had, and reduced him to a crying mass on the floor. Why? Because we didn’t like him.”

She stopped for a moment, looked down and shook her head.

“What if the same thing happened to you?” Karen raised her head and looked at each woman in turn, her gaze sweeping the room slowly. “What if you worked for a company that changed the uniform code for women so you would have to dress each day like a prostitute? And what if you found yourself in a room full of men, and they held you down, stripped you, and dressed you like a whore ... just because they didn’t like you? And what if the head of the company came out, complimented you on your new uniform, and dismissed your pain as unimportant — like you’re just another bitch out walking the street.”

Nobody answered her, because there was no answer. Karen looked at Maisie.

“If Paul had been the arrogant son of a bitch we all thought he was, he would have gone to an attorney and sued us all.” Her voice rose and shook, and the anger started to pour out with every word. “He would have risen up, sure of his own rightness in all things, and taken us all to court. And contract or no contract, he would have won. Because if a jury ever saw what we did ... in fifteen minutes of inexcusable cruelty, we made that man the poster child for sexual harassment, and he could have ripped this company apart and walked away wealthy.”

Karen took a deep breath, pulling the anger back, just a little.

“Instead, he came to see me last night. He didn’t come to tell me he was going to sue. He didn’t come to yell at me for targeting him, for humiliating him, for reducing him to tears. No, he came ... to thank me. He wanted to thank all of us for showing him how truly worthless he was ... on his way to commit suicide.”

“He brought back the uniform, with the footprint on the skirt bottom from when you kicked him out of the car in front of his building. He had trashed his computer and thrown away everything he owned, because he wasn’t going to need any of it anymore. He just stopped by on his way to kill himself — and we drove him to it!”

“Do you know why he had been such a bastard to everyone? He had been told his entire life that he was worthless ... a nothing. He had been beaten, belittled, and abused by everyone he had ever known, and when he started working here, he was sure it was going to happen again. So he tried to pump himself up, make himself feel important by acting as if he was important. He put on a mask and hoped it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“It did, but not the way he had hoped. He became rude and nasty, arrogant and dismissive. Paul saw it happened, but as much as he wanted to stop himself, he couldn’t. Because if he took off the mask, the only thing waiting for him underneath was the certainty that he was ... nothing at all.”

“But we didn’t know. We didn’t ask. We didn’t see. Because we didn’t look. And really, ladies, we didn’t want to, did we? Because we didn’t see a person. We saw a target. We saw a self-important little man, and we hate self-important little men, so we didn’t see the damaged child inside. We just beat up on the symbol and ignored the pain, and in the end, there wasn’t an arrogant little prick in a skirt and blouse, raging at the humiliation he’d been given. There was just a hopeless little boy, realizing just how useless and worthless he truly was.”

The anger roared out again, and they all felt it stab them in the heart with each word she spoke.

“We almost KILLED a man last night, because we didn’t stop and look at what we’d done! We didn’t see him as he truly was ... because we didn’t want to look. We just wanted to hurt.”

“So I ask you all again, did you see him on the floor, crying like a baby? Did you notice him there, sobbing like a little girl? Because I didn’t, really ... until he thanked me last night for making him feel so worthless that death was the best of all his possible futures.”

The room was dead quiet, as each woman thought about what Karen had said, and what they had done. Finally, Maisie spoke.

“What happened? Is he ... is he okay?”

“No, he is not okay,” Karen replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “But he’s not dead, and that’s something. I only managed to talk him out of finding a quiet place to kill himself by promising to help him see he’s more than he thinks he is. He’s coming back this morning, and he’s going to apologize for all the things he’s ever said and done to hurt anyone here. Honestly, I don’t think it’s necessary — not after what we did to him. But I’m the one who made him promise to, because I think he needs to apologize, to put all of it behind him. And because we almost killed the man, we’re going to apologize, too.”

“What? Apologize to that little prick?” Jocelyn’s eyes flashed. “Sorry, ma’am, but you can’t make me tell that bastard I’m --.”

Karen looked over and didn’t hestitate.

“Fine. You’re fired. Pick up your check from accounting and get the hell off of my premises.”

“WHAT?”

“If you don’t have enough compassion in you to realize that what we did to him yesterday was wrong, after everything I've just told you, I don’t want you working for me. Ever.” Her lip curled in a semi-snarl. “I only hire humans, you see. And you’re obviously not qualified for the position. Now get out.”

Jocelyn stared at her ex-employer for a second, then snagged her purse and her coat before marching out of the office.

“Does anyone else have a problem?” Almost as one, the rest of the women shook their heads, and Karen smiled. The tension left her, and the anger as well. None of them were truly bad, and she knew where their hearts would take them eventually. At that moment, Team Paul was born.

‘This could work,’ she thought, then shook her head slight. ‘No, it will work, or damn it, I’ll know why.’

“Thank you, everyone,” she said softly, “You make me proud of you all.”

She took a deep breath. “As you all know, the name of this company is French but I first saw it in the title of a poem by Keats, entitled La Belle Dame sans Merci. Translated, it means ‘The Beautiful Lady Without Pity.’” Karen looked at her staff, and smiled. “I think we’ll just stick with Le Belle Dame from now on, don’t you?”

Maisie smiled back and nodded, and the other women did as well.

She called her car, and told the driver to pull up and drop the young man at the front door. Then she turned back to the staff.

“All right, then,” Karen said. “Let’s see if we can show Paul that he’s more than he thinks he is — and show him that we’re capable of more than we showed him yesterday.”

He entered slowly, in his new black suit, crisp white shirt, and fuchsia tie. His hair had been cut and styled, and he was clean-shaven, but for all of that, he somehow managed to look older instead of younger. He was nervous, and it showed, and he stood by the doorway, not knowing how to begin. The women looked back at him, and as he opened his mouth to speak, a dozen voices joined his in a welcome chorus ... Karen’s included.

“I’m sorry.”

 
After the apologies and an hour of explanations, followed by even more apologies from all concerned, the office slowly became an place of business once again, although one with a much less adversarial atmosphere than in recent weeks.

In the minds of every woman there, Paul had moved from villain to victim, and a rush of maternal feelings toward him washed away any last bits of resentment anyone might have had over how badly he had treated them all. As for Paul, his only thought was to try and make up for all the pain he had caused. As a result, he was polite and deferential to everyone in the office, almost timid in his responses to even the simplest of questions. Having anyone treat him as a real human being instead of a joke was so new, he almost didn’t know how to react.

Karen King retreated with Maisie to the younger woman’s office, where she lowered herself onto Maisie’s sofa with a sigh.

“God, what a mess,” she said. “I can’t believe we almost killed a man.”

The office manager shook her head and settled down on the sofa next to her boss.

“I know. It was like something out of Lord of the Flies,” she agreed. “I’m still a little surprised at Jocelyn, though. I never imagined she had so little compassion in her. Even after she knew what that boy had been through all his life, she still hated him so much ...”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I say,” Karen declared, grimacing. “We’re going to need to watch out for her, you know. She may decide not to let it go. And now she hates me as much as she did Paul. If she tries something ... well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Are you sorry you acted so quickly?”

“No!” Karen looked at her friend. “I don’t much care about making more enemies. I’ve too many to count as it is, what does one more matter? I guess I’m just worried about Paul. Right now, the last thing he needs is Jocelyn working to make his life miserable. It’s the last thing we need, too, if we’re going to get his life back on track.”

“What are we going to do now?”

Karen laughed.

“Now is the easy part,” she said. “You go back to managing your office, and I head back to my office to try and get some work done today. I have some calls out to a few people to help get Paul resettled in his old apartment, but since he threw out everything, that’s going to take a few days. And I need to call Frank about Paul staying with us. I’d hate for him to come back from Geneva this afternoon and find a strange man in our home.”

“I can imagine that might be a bit awkward.”

“A bit.” Karen smiled. “No, the real challenge comes when the simple things are past.”

She rose to her feet, and Maisie followed suit. “How do we show Paul he’s more than he thinks he is? How do we get him to believe in himself? It might just be a matter of us treating him as a human being, and showing him we care for him as a person. If only it were that easy. Still, none of us is an expert in this. Hell, girl, there may not be an expert in this.”

The CEO gave Maisie a small hug and started for the door. Then she stopped and turned.

“For now, set up regular cross-training sessions for Katie and Paul,” she said with a smile. “Have them teach each other the things the other one knows ... about accounting and spreadsheets, at least. If they both manage to learn something more about each other, that’s bound to be a plus, don’t you think?”

She opened the door and stepped through. “Call you later, M.”

“Later,” Maisie replied to her employer’s vanishing back.

‘Just like Karen,’ she thought with a smile. ‘Take charge all the way, even in unfamiliar territory. She may think she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but whatever she decides to do, she’ll do it with all her heart.’

It was awkward at first, for both of them. Paul went first, doing his best to show Katie how he build his cascading spreadsheets, formula upon formula, based on the math he knew so well. Although Katie felt out of her depth at first, she soon began to see how Paul managed to turn accounting rules into a web of equations that led to hours saved making tedious calculations.

Unfortunately, when it came to the legal aspects of accountancy and the tax elements involved, Paul struggled to work his way through even the simplest of rules. When Katie could see his frustration rising, she rose from her chair. Paul looked up at her, confused.

‘Is she going to give up on me?’ he wondered, and part of him nodded. ‘I knew this was too good to last.’

“Come on, Paul,” she said with a smile, reaching out a hand. “Let’s get a cup of coffee. We need to figure this out.”

Paul looked at her hand for a moment, then reached up and took it. He stood, and they walked to the small kitchen together. They each took a turn at the coffeepot and fixings, then sat down across from each other at the lunch table.

“There’s something about these rules that bothers you,” Katie began, cradling her cup with her fingertips. “It’s almost like you’ve got a mental block or something.”

“Maybe everyone was right,” he said, a touch of bitterness in his tone. “Maybe I’m just stupid.”

Katie wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No way. How could you put together those spreadsheets like that if you’re stupid?”

“I don’t know.” Paul smiled, just a little. “Maybe I’m like those people who now a lot about just one thing and nothing about everything else. What’re they called ... savants?”

She smiled back. “I think the word is ... Trekkies?”

There was a short, uncomfortable silence.

“I don’t know, Katie.” He took a sip of coffee and sighed. “I try to read one of those rules and it comes out all tangled and confused in my head. No wonder I can’t remember them.”

“That’s just ‘cause they’re written by lawyers,” she replied. “If they wrote those rules in plain English, they wouldn’t get paid by everyone and his mother to tell you what they really mean when you need to get things done, right?”

“You understand ‘em, though.”

Katie grinned. “That’s ‘cause I can read Lawyer-ese. It’s a gift.”

“Well, maybe we can find a bookstore and pick up a phrasebook I could use.” Paul gave her a small smile in return, summoning enough courage to try and make a joke. “That way, the next time I’m in Lawyer-ania, I can ask for the loo and make it sound like I’m requesting a writ of habeas corpus or something.”

Katie laughed, and Paul blushed, just a little. He couldn’t believe it worked. Then the woman across from him tilted her head slightly, and her eyes glazed over just a little.

“You know, maybe we’re doing this all wrong,” she said slowly. “Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to teach you the rules at all. Maybe what I should be doing is teaching you how to read Lawyer-ese.”

“Maybe.” Paul gave it some thought as well. “The other problem is, the stuff I have managed to learn doesn’t make sense to me. It’s all disconnected.”

“That’s because you haven’t learned enough to see the pattern.” Katie stood up, excited. “It’s like a crossword, yeah? Or a jigsaw puzzle. Once you see enough of the picture, you can figure out where the other pieces fit. You just haven’t seen enough of the pattern behind the rules to fit it together because you can’t read Lawyer-ese.”

“It sounds like it could work.” Paul looked up at her, and she could see the doubt in his eyes.
“But I could be just as stupid as people said I am. Maybe you’re just wasting your time.”

“Stop!” Katie reached out and put her finger on the tip of his nose. “I’m people, too so you can listen to me, right? So listen. Those spreadsheets you put together, they’re brilliant. And all about logical connections. So if you can do that, you can make the same connections with other things, too.” She leaned forward. “Like accounting rules.”

She reached down and took his hand. “Come on, Paul. It’s time for language lessons.”

Katie walked out of the kitchen, holding her coffee and pulling Paul after her. The young man had no choice to follow, wondering what he had gotten himself into — and why her hand felt so good in his.

Karen was so intent on her computer screen that she failed to notice his arrival, until she felt his lips on her neck and his hands gently rest on her shoulders.

“You work too hard, Mrs. King,” he whispered, and she smiled.

“So do you, Mr. King.” She spun her chair around in time to catch his lips with hers, and the two took a moment or two to get reacquainted. Eventually, Karen rose and they both walked over to the leather sofa together, her husband’s arm around her waist. “I got your message when the plane landed. Apparently we have a house guest for a few days.”

“We do.” They settled in together on the sofa, and Karen let herself relax completely. As strong as she was, she always hated it when Frank was away. “I was a bad girl, husband. I did something cruel ... and I didn’t think about the man I did it to, or what the consequences might be. I ... hurt him so badly, I almost made him kill himself.”

The tears started coming, and she began to shake. “He ... he thanked me for showing him how worthless he was.”

Frank gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her hair.

“Take your time, love,” he said softly. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

And she did.

“So he’s become your latest project?”

Frank had walked over to the small bar in the corner and mixed them both drinks. She nodded a thank-you as he handed her a glass.

“From one king to another,” Karen replied, after taking a sip, “how could I possibly do what I did to him and not do everything in my power to fix it? Noblesse oblige, Your Majesty.”

“No, my Queen.” The man sat back down on the sofa beside her and looked into her eyes. “This is more than that. I know you. I know why what almost happened to Paul was important enough to make you cry.”

She didn’t turn away, but her eyes were wet again. Frank reached out and touched her chin. “I remember when La Belle Dame took off, and you became a success. You promised yourself that you would never use your position to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt. We talk about noblesse oblige as if it’s a joke, but we both know that we have a responsibility to be careful with the power we have over the lives of others. You abused it yesterday morning.”

“When you decided to target Paul the way you did, you forgot your promise to yourself and became what you’ve always hated — a bully. You deliberately used your power and position to hurt another person, and worse yet, you did it without thinking of the consequences. You took Paul at face value and, as a result, you almost killed him. And you did it casually, without paying attention to who you were targeting and what he really was. You just saw him as the kind of man you hate, and when you made that kind of mistake ... it made you less than who you are. Made you see yourself as someone you never wanted to be. Of course you want to fix it.”

“Oh, don’t sugar coat it, husband,” Karen said, trying for a light tone and failing miserably. “Tell me what you really think.”

“Always, my wife.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “No lies between us, not ever. The truth is, you hate to be reminded that you’re less than perfect, and now you’re going to do everything you can think of bring Paul back from the edge ... and restore your faith in yourself. If you fix Paul, you get to fix yourself as well.”

Frank sat back on the sofa, stretched out his legs and took a sip of his drink. “So, now that we know where we stand, it’s time to make everything better. Any thoughts about how you plan to make him believe in himself?”

Mrs. King smiled, just a little. “I was sort of hoping you’d be able to help,” she said.

Her husband smiled.

“I have a few ideas,” he replied.

“You always do.” Karen smiled. “That’s part of why I love you.”

“Only part?” Frank raised an eyebrow. “Thank God for that. For a moment there, I thought you only wanted me for my mind.”

“Perish the thought,” she whispered, and leaned over to give him a kiss.

The afternoon flew by, and Katie’s lessons in Lawyer-ese started helping Paul figure out the logic behind accountancy rules (what there was of it, anyway). They took a section that Paul had been having trouble with, and Katie translated it line by line. By the end of the day, he had begun to do some translation for himself, and Katie felt a warm glow of satisfaction as she watched him puzzle out a particularly difficult section of the rules on his own.

“If only we would have talked sooner,” she said, smiling, “I’m sure you could have done much better on your exams.”

“Exams are just tests, anyway,” Paul replied, returning her smile shyly. “It would have been nice to do better, but at least now I have a chance to do the job the way it should be done. It’s just ... the more I think about it, I wonder if this is what I really want to do.”

“Excuse me for interrupting.” Both Paul and Katie turned towards the new voice, and Katie popped out of her chair. Paul rose slowly a few seconds after, unsure why he should stand but feeling that he must. The man in the doorway smiled.

“Hello, Katie,” he said. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Hello, Mr. King. Welcome back!”

“Thank you.” Frank took a step into the room. “You must be Paul. Frank King.”

He held out his hand, and Paul reached out and took it, trying his best to give a firm handshake.

“Paul Merchant. Umm ... pleased to meet you, sir.”

“I understand you’ll be staying with us for a few days.” Frank let go, and Paul took a step back.

“Just until my apartment is ... well, sorted,” the younger man replied, not sure what to say ... or do with his hands, for that matter.

“Hard to lose everything,” Frank said sympathetically. “Been there a few times myself, never pleasant. But Karen will have everything taken care of straightaway. She’s good at that.”

“So I’ve seen.” Paul managed a small smile.

“Speaking of which, I’ve gotten my marching orders from Her Majesty.” Frank looked at Paul’s suit with a critical eye. “That’s quite nice for off-the-rack, but I’ve been told to take you to my tailor soonest and get you some proper suits. When those are ready, we’ll go back and have the off-the-rack ones altered for a better fit. So, sorry Katie, I’m afraid I have to steal this young gentleman from you for the remainder of the day.”

“It’s okay, Mr. King. We’ll pick up tomorrow, right, Paul?” Katie smiled.

“I’d like that,” Paul replied, and was a little surprised to find out that he was looking forward to studying more. “See you tomorrow, then.”

After the visit to the tailor for several suits, shirts, and ties, Frank and Paul hit a few other stores for other clothing essentials to tide him over for a bit. Then, to Paul’s surprise, Frank took him into a pub not far from the center of the city.

They sat at a booth by the front windows, and Paul looked out at the people on the sidewalk and felt strangely detached. The glass was slightly tinted, and even though he was close enough to touch the pedestrians, it seemed like he was invisible to them. That was just fine, as far as he was concerned. He’d been invisible most of his life, when he hadn’t been being ridiculed or harassed or humiliated

When the waiter came by, Frank ordered a Scotch on the rocks. Having never been out drinking with anyone before, Paul had no idea what to order, so he chose the same. When the drinks came, Frank raised his to Paul, and Paul solemnly did the same. Both drank in silence, then put their glasses down.

“Bad choice, suicide,” Frank said softly. “Don’t you think?”

“Depends on your other options,” Paul replied.

“True, as far as it goes.” The older man nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, killing yourself takes any other options you might have off the table. Takes you out of the game, too, of course. But I imagine once you’re dead, you lose interest in keeping score.”

“I always thought I’d be happy just to get the chance to play.” The accountant took a small sip of his Scotch, still not sure if he liked it. “Then I got out there and found out the truth.”

“Truth?”

“That playing never gets fun if the deck is always stacked against you, and the house always wins.”

Frank thought about it for a while, turning his glass slowly on the table.

“You read a lot of science fiction, Paul?” The other man nodded, and a timid smile crossed his lips. “I do, too. Or at least I did. Read any Robert Heinlein? Time Enough for Love?”

Paul nodded. “Lazarus Long. Larger than life and twice as tough.”

“Oh, yes.” Frank grinned. “The Admiral’s idea of the perfect human. Ornery, gruff, old-fashioned, and insanely competent. But also the most confident character I’ve ever come across. He’s why I’m here, today, actually.”

“Lazarus Long? How?”

The older man pushed his glass around the table and watched the liquor moving back and forth. “When I was younger, I always felt out of place. Other people always got the after-school jobs, or the pretty girls, or pretty much anything they wanted. I always seemed to come in second, or third. Or not at all.”

“Because … you were short.”

“That’s what I thought, at first. And part of me was willing to believe it. So it kept on like this for a while, and I began to feel like I’d never amount to anything.”

Frank raised his glass, took another sip, and looked at Paul. “Then I read that book, and one of the things Lazarus said struck a chord. Changed my life.”

After a few seconds, Paul had to ask.

“What did he say?”

“Certainly the game is rigged. Don’t let that stop you. If you don’t bet, you can’t win.”

The younger man grinned, and shook his head. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Oh, believe me, it wasn’t. Agreeing with the quote was the easy part. It was the follow-through that was tough. I had to stop letting my past failures get in the way of what I wanted in the present, and the future, and that’s never easy.”

He shook his head. “You know, every time I hear someone tell somebody else to just ‘get back on the horse,’ I have to wonder if they’ve ever fallen off, and if they did, if they remember how much work it took for them to put a foot back in that stirrup and swing up onto that saddle again.”

“Because betting when I ‘knew’ the game was rigged was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It took weeks of not listening to that voice inside of me, and they were some of the worst weeks of my life. Then I got a win. Just one, an after-school job. But the one win made it a little easier for me to tell that voice to go to Hell, every time it tried to pull me down. Then I got another win, and another, and another. And finally, the voice just stopped. I couldn't hear it anymore.”

“So here I am, today, richer than I ever thought I’d be, with a wife who loves me and a life I love. All because some fictional character told me to bet, even if I was sure I didn’t have a chance. And because every time I lost, I’d learned enough to double-down and bet again.”

He finished his drink and put the glass down. “Time for us to get home. Karen’s probably waiting for us all to go to dinner.”

Paul gave him a doubting look. “I understand what you’re saying, and I get it. But your whole life changing, because of a story?”

Frank shrugged. “There’s a lot of wisdom in stories, Paul. Look at Aesop, or the Brothers Grimm. Or Shakespeare, I suppose. But there’s wisdom to be had in the real world, too. I think Mother Teresa said something that even Lazarus Long would agree with.”

He stood up, and Paul followed suit.

“Why? What did she say?”

“God doesn't require us to succeed. He only requires that you try.”

Two weeks later, Paul was back in his old apartment. His clothes, furniture, TV, computer, and everything else he had thrown away had been replaced by the unseen hand of Karen King. His understanding of accountancy had grown by leaps and bounds as Katie had taught him how to understand the rules, instead of him having to learn them by rote without knowing what they meant.

He and Katie had also worked to expand his original program so it could handle additional accounting issues. Mrs. King was even talking about figuring out a way to turn it into a product that could be sold commercially. She said if she could, the profits would go to Paul and Katie. Katie initially refused her share, saying that she didn’t really deserve it. However, Paul made it clear that he couldn’t have gone further than the original program without her contribution. As far as he was concerned, the split would be straight down the middle … if Mrs. King managed to sell it, that is.

Although knowing her the way he did now, Paul was pretty sure Mrs. King could do anything she put her mind to.

Everyone at the company had been so nice to him, it was hard for him to believe how close he came to ending it all a few weeks ago. There were always smiles and “good mornings” when he arrived at the office each day, and even friendly lunches with some of the women. More than a few after work drinks with Frank, too. It felt weird actually having a friend, since Paul never had one before. It was so new, he wasn’t quite sure how to behave. Frank was surprisingly patient, as if he knew this was something outside of Paul’s experience and was giving him as much time as he needed to get used to the idea.

Best of all, he was about to do something he never ever thought he’d have the chance to do in all the years that came before.

He was going on a date.

Paul had pulled together enough courage to ask Katie out to dinner, and to his surprise, she said yes.

They were going to meet at a bar near work and walk together to a restaurant. He didn’t have a lot of clothes to choose from, so he opted for one of the off-the-rack black suits with a light blue shirt, and some casual black shoes instead of the shiny dress shoes he wore to work. He did everything he could think of to make himself ready … fresh haircut, close shave. Still, he wasn’t satisfied. But it was almost time to meet her, and it’s not like she didn’t know who he was, really. So he took one last look in the mirror, sighed, and headed out.

It was just turning dark outside by the time he walked into the bar. Paul scanned the crowd, looking for Katie, and found her. Unfortunately, she was at the bar, looking decidedly uncomfortable. The reason was a walking ego in a cheap suit, looming over her, talking loud, touching her arm, and not listening to a word when she told him she wasn’t interested.

Katie saw him at the door, and caught his eye. She shook her head slightly, and Paul realized she was trying to protect him. She was warning him off.

She was worried … about him.

It stunned him for a second. She was in trouble, and she was worried about him. He had never had anyone put him first before, not ever. He felt strangely calm, and happy, and warm all over. She cared about him. Katie actually cared.

It was only fair that he let her know he cared about her, too. He remembered what Frank had said a few weeks back, about the game being rigged … and about what it took to win. He smiled at her, and shook his head in return. No running from trouble, not this time. Not anymore.

This time, maybe for the first time, he was going to place a bet.

Frank King finished pouring a second glass of champagne for Karen as the two of them sat in the back of their limousine. A few moments before, they had watched Paul enter the bar.

“You knew about the date,” Karen asked. Frank nodded. “And you sent that large, scary man into the bar?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you find him?”

“Casting agent in L.A. I flew him in on the corporate jet. I wanted someone who could be physically imposing, overbearing, and threatening, but still be able to back down convincingly if Paul chose to take a stand. Auditioned him myself. Very credible.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass. “And Katie knows nothing?”

Frank shook his head. “Not a thing.”

Karen looked at him for a while. “Why did you put this all together, exactly?”

“You know why.” Frank gestured towards the bar. “For that.”

Paul and Katie walked out together, arm in arm. Paul looked like he felt a foot taller, and Katie smiled at him like he was everything she had ever wanted in a five-foot, five-inch tall package.

“Everyone needs a defining moment in their lives, my Queen. I just wanted Paul to get his sooner rather than later.”

“Why?”

Frank’s eyes never left the couple as they walked off down the street. “Because Heinlein was right, all those years ago. The game really is rigged. As supportive as we both were, he could have spent years being kicked around by the world. We can’t possibly protect him from everything until his moment comes. So I stacked the deck in his favor, and gave him the chance to gamble on himself now, so he could get past his past and get on with living.”

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?”

He smiled.

“Hurting him … hurt you,” he said. “Making him better will help you feel better. And as we both know, I am all about making you feel … better.”

Karen smiled, put down her glass, and kissed him gently for a long time. Then she snuggled into him and sighed.

“You are a manipulative bastard, husband.”

“Yes, I am, darling,” he replied with a smile, holding her close. “But I’m your manipulative bastard, and you know I only use my powers for good. That’s part of why you love me.”

“Only part of why, Frank. Only part.” She started unbuttoning his shirt.

“In the car, woman? You’re incorrigible.”

She finished unbuttoning the shirt and started pulling it out of his pants, while her mouth found his. He reached out and rapped on the glass between the driver and passengers.

“For God’s sake, take us home, Phillip. Right now, before she gets my trousers off.”

“Very good, sir.”

She laughed and rested her head on his chest, as the car pulled out into the night.