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Better with Age(continued) "I gave her the job." "Really?" "Yeah, why?" "Harry, she was only in there for two minutes. I thought something
had happened." "Like what?" "I don't know," and she shrugged as if I should get some secret message. "Is Tony still in?" Nancy looked at her watch. "It'll be close. You fry something
in there again?" I shook my head. "You ever get a red screen when you're on the
Internet?" Nancy pulled off her glasses and glared up at me. "I'm not that
kind of woman." I went back into the garage through the door at the back of the office
and strode across the concrete to the small desk where Tony sat, opposite
the hydraulic lifts. He was gone, though I doubted he could've helped
me just then. His desk was covered with papers, his keyboard swamped.
It was almost four, so I left, saying goodnight to Nancy, who nodded,
undoubtedly wishing that she could leave an hour early every day. But
I'm the boss, so I get the privilege. When I got home I went on the computer and repeated my search of Nicole
Sullivan. The photo archive link appeared. I clicked it, and I saw exactly
why company security had blocked it. Cascading before me were multiple
thumbnails of a young Nicole Sullivan, here referenced simply as Nikki,
crouching in every odd position, wearing nothing but a pair of black
elbow-length gloves. A feeling that I hadn't felt for longer than I care to admit curled through my legs and abdomen. I'd just met this girl, albeit an older version, but this girl all the same. And for some reason, that made each picture all the more intimate, as if she were posing just for me, as if she were contorting herself simply for my pleasure. I could hear her repeating my name in that smooth voice of hers:"Harry, Harry." Just as the warmth of this rejuvenation breathed up into my neck and skull the front door of my house opened and Janette, my wife, walked in. I quickly exed out of the web page, but not quickly enough. "What was that?" she asked. She didn't set down the bulging
shopping bags or her purse. "Nothing," I said, not ready to stand and face her just yet. "Harold," she said slowly, "what was that?"
"Work, personnel research," I said. "That's not what it looked like." "I swear." She shook her head. "Dear God, please tell me you're not having
a relapse." "I'm not doing anything," I said, finally able to stand and
face her without fear of embarrassment. I'd had a problem with the Internet
stuff in the past, that's for sure, but it's long gone now. The realization
that I'd seen Nicole's pictures during my first bout with the addiction
hit me then, making her familiarity oh so clear. "I don't want to call the counselor after all these years to tell
him you faltered." "Janette, I didn't falter." "Then why the hell were you looking at those pictures?" "Because," I said. "I just made that girl my new secretary." Janette was about as happy with this news as Jesus was when he found
those guys selling their goods in the temple. She was so mad that she
didn't even yell at me, but instead stomped into our bedroom, shut the
door, and locked me out. I tried to explain through the door, while
standing in the dark hallway, that I hadn't known who Nicole was until
I'd gotten home, that I'd already hired her before I discovered her
past exploits. "Then fire her," she shouted, her voice muffled through the
oak door. "I can't fire her," I shouted back. "She hasn't even
started yet." "I don't care. You're the boss, you can do what you want. You
don't want her there, do you?" I didn't hesitate long enough for her to notice. "Of course not,"
I said, not sure why I had to lie about it. It wasn't as if Nicole was
doing that sort of thing anymore. And even if she was, did that mean
she couldn't be a decent secretary? Why shouldn't I give her a chance? "Then fire her," Janette said. "Tomorrow." "She doesn't start until Monday." "Monday then. Just tell her it was a mistake, that the opening
isn't open anymore."
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