note he glanced down at the new watch on his wrist. It felt like he needed to confirm the exact time this was all happening to him even though he had no idea what was happening to him.
His sassy work colleague Lena Schabort walked by. Seeing the key on the desk, she stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Driving a Porsche these days, Tony?” The mocking derisive tone of her smoky voice said if you are driving a Porsche these days, then alligators can whistle Beethoven.
Like most men in the office, Tony had lusted after Lena ever since she came to work there, but knew he stood little chance. She was the kind of woman who only dated men who actually owned a Porsche (or two) and had their shoes custom made in London. He most certainly did not. Lena was so bold and sure of herself that now she leaned over to his desk and without asking permission, read the handwritten note that had come with the key. A thin fog of doubt moved in over her eyes and she frowned. Had the world as she perceived it suddenly and rudely shifted a bit to the left? She stared coldly at Areal as if he had been deceiving her all along. Then she marched over to a large picture window that looked out on the company parking lot. It took maybe ten seconds for her to scan the lot and locate the car. “ Come here, ” she commanded. Her back was turned but plainly she meant Tony.
Right then a strange thing happened: he didn’t move. He didn’t do what she ordered which ten minutes ago would have been unthinkable. Ten minutes ago he would have gotten Lena Schabort fried clams from Florida if she’d asked. But now he didn’t move. Even more interesting is he didn’t need to move because he knew—he knew he knew he knew—that the car was there . Down in the parking lot waiting for him, zero mileage, was a brand new gunmetal gray Porsche Cayman with coral red leather interior registered in his name—the car of his dreams. He knew.
“Tony? Is that your car down there?” She was pointing out the window.
“Yes.” He still didn’t move.
“When did you get it?”
He gave his best Robert DeNiro one shoulder, Good Fellas no-big-deal shrug. “Ah, recently.”
Lena turned from the window and looked at him a long time without saying anything. A beautiful new Porsche. Tony Areal. What else didn’t she know about this man?
Frank Rothner from billing came down the corridor and sidled over to Lena. He was so predictable—the whole office knew he used any excuse to get close to her. “What’s up?”
“Did you know that Tony drives a Porsche?”
Rothner grinned like a lottery winner. He’d recently spent a fortune getting his teeth straightened and whitened, so he smiled whenever he could. Plus he thought Lena was joking and wanted her to know that no one in the world appreciated her sense of humor more than him. He looked at Tony dismissively, as if he were the butt of a joke. When he spoke his voice wore ten pounds of sarcasm, “ Really, a Porsche? What model, pal?”
Tony stood up from his chair. He looked at the floor and smiled to himself a happy moment, putting off the gratifying coup de grace he knew was imminent. Vengeance really is a dish best tasted cold. He took out the certificate of ownership and walked over to Rothner with it in hand. “A Cayman GTS, Pal . Three hundred and forty horsepower with every option you can imagine and a custom red leather interior .” Handing Frank the certificate, Tony stood with one hand in his pocket while the other man scanned it.
Doubt and then…waiiiit for it…yup—a delicious little frisson of outrage showed on Rothner’s face as the fact of what Tony had said sank in. Blinking too much, he did not do a good job of hiding that rage when returning the paper.
“That’s pretty, uh…” Stumped, Frank looked at Lena as if she knew what word he should say now. “That’s awesome, man. I had no idea.” Frank always made fun of Tony. How many times had he said different variations of sentences
His sassy work colleague Lena Schabort walked by. Seeing the key on the desk, she stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Driving a Porsche these days, Tony?” The mocking derisive tone of her smoky voice said if you are driving a Porsche these days, then alligators can whistle Beethoven.
Like most men in the office, Tony had lusted after Lena ever since she came to work there, but knew he stood little chance. She was the kind of woman who only dated men who actually owned a Porsche (or two) and had their shoes custom made in London. He most certainly did not. Lena was so bold and sure of herself that now she leaned over to his desk and without asking permission, read the handwritten note that had come with the key. A thin fog of doubt moved in over her eyes and she frowned. Had the world as she perceived it suddenly and rudely shifted a bit to the left? She stared coldly at Areal as if he had been deceiving her all along. Then she marched over to a large picture window that looked out on the company parking lot. It took maybe ten seconds for her to scan the lot and locate the car. “ Come here, ” she commanded. Her back was turned but plainly she meant Tony.
Right then a strange thing happened: he didn’t move. He didn’t do what she ordered which ten minutes ago would have been unthinkable. Ten minutes ago he would have gotten Lena Schabort fried clams from Florida if she’d asked. But now he didn’t move. Even more interesting is he didn’t need to move because he knew—he knew he knew he knew—that the car was there . Down in the parking lot waiting for him, zero mileage, was a brand new gunmetal gray Porsche Cayman with coral red leather interior registered in his name—the car of his dreams. He knew.
“Tony? Is that your car down there?” She was pointing out the window.
“Yes.” He still didn’t move.
“When did you get it?”
He gave his best Robert DeNiro one shoulder, Good Fellas no-big-deal shrug. “Ah, recently.”
Lena turned from the window and looked at him a long time without saying anything. A beautiful new Porsche. Tony Areal. What else didn’t she know about this man?
Frank Rothner from billing came down the corridor and sidled over to Lena. He was so predictable—the whole office knew he used any excuse to get close to her. “What’s up?”
“Did you know that Tony drives a Porsche?”
Rothner grinned like a lottery winner. He’d recently spent a fortune getting his teeth straightened and whitened, so he smiled whenever he could. Plus he thought Lena was joking and wanted her to know that no one in the world appreciated her sense of humor more than him. He looked at Tony dismissively, as if he were the butt of a joke. When he spoke his voice wore ten pounds of sarcasm, “ Really, a Porsche? What model, pal?”
Tony stood up from his chair. He looked at the floor and smiled to himself a happy moment, putting off the gratifying coup de grace he knew was imminent. Vengeance really is a dish best tasted cold. He took out the certificate of ownership and walked over to Rothner with it in hand. “A Cayman GTS, Pal . Three hundred and forty horsepower with every option you can imagine and a custom red leather interior .” Handing Frank the certificate, Tony stood with one hand in his pocket while the other man scanned it.
Doubt and then…waiiiit for it…yup—a delicious little frisson of outrage showed on Rothner’s face as the fact of what Tony had said sank in. Blinking too much, he did not do a good job of hiding that rage when returning the paper.
“That’s pretty, uh…” Stumped, Frank looked at Lena as if she knew what word he should say now. “That’s awesome, man. I had no idea.” Frank always made fun of Tony. How many times had he said different variations of sentences
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