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“This is my Attorney, Mr. Meyerwitz, safely joining us via the web. I have here Jude Coleman of Wisconsin,” Harlan announced like a gameshow host.
“I am in the process of filing an order of protection on Ms Stadler’s behalf,” Barry said, boldly from the slim black plastic and glass. “Don’t make that become necessary.”
“You look me in the eyes, Harlem Dawes,” Jude demanded.
“Oh, just Harlem,” he chuckled, “Harlem’s good. Familiar. Friendly.”
“Tell me you didn’t tamper with her girlhood. Look me in the eyes like a man.”
“On my honor as a gentleman, I promise I have only the best of intentions toward Ms. Stadler,” Harlan warbled humorously while realizing he actually felt that, exactly.
“I also want to assure you that your friend will be appropriately compensated for her work here. The account brought in 700K. I’m going to see that Victoria gets a significant sum. I can make that work, right Barry?”
“I’ll address that later. Let me ask some questions. How long have you known Victoria Stadler?’ Meyerwitz asked Jude.
“My whole entire life,” Jude exaggerated.
“And what may I ask is your relationship to her?” the lawyer continued.
“We were to be engaged, before she broke things off with me.”
“Nice. Good for you,” Meyerwitz said, “How much do you know about what Ms Stadler did at Nextthng.Net?
“I know she did that iGo thing. Everybody knows it,” he growled at the small image of a lawyer.
“Did Victoria Stadler put you up to this and promise you money?”
“What the fuck is wrong it you!?” He grabbed the tablet and flung it against the wall, as the security men grabbed him, smashed his face on the table and tried cuffing his hands behind his back.
Harlan approached the struggling young man.
“That last question really threw me too, Buddy. This is not the best time to get involved with the justice system in our country. I’d straighten up if I were you,” Harlan advised then walked out.
Back in his office, Harlan was speaking with Barry Meyerwitz, the screen of his tablet cracked and flickering.
“I’m not trying to run your life, Harlan. You’ve been in quarantine. Locked up. Take some time, is all I’m saying. We don’t want any press, right? Lay low. You’ve been tested. Go visit your mother. Do something. Buy a car. See if it blows over by the weekend at least,” the lawyer advised.
Seeing Jude on the ground crying out to her for help was difficult. The stresses and horror of the pandemic seemed to have worn civility away from so many. She wondered what she would say to Jude’s parents, or her own for that matter. It seemed that all of a sudden no part of her previous life seemed viable at all.
Tory truly worried about Jude, for his own sake and Harlan to consider. She didn’t want to scandalize him or Nextthing.Net. She didn’t want media coverage that could possibly cast aspersion on the Design Contest she’d won or the work she just did for iGo.
How unraveled Jude had become did make her wonder if he was right. Harlan was no virgin. She imagined a squadron of women at an airport waiting, their emotional baggage all having a bit of Harlan tucked in a dark corner.
What if it was just one of those things that happened in confinement, never to be repeated or spoken of in the real world, she’d mused grimly.
Earlier in the evening, she tried Harlan’s phone but got no answer. She had called Ms. Kaminski and asked where Harlan was. There was a brief pause before she said, “He went to buy a car…for his mother.”
The Nextthing.Net offices and the Design Studio we’re partially staffed. The cliques and klatches made the environment seem suddenly alien and somehow colder despite the number of people around.
The check that Ms. Kaminski dropped off that represented her compensation from her work for iGo was tremendous. At twenty-two, she had enough money to go anywhere and start any kind of life she wanted. Adolescent dreams of settling down with Jude seemed almost ridiculous when faced with the funds and possibility.
Gazing dreamily at the bright Mondrian prints in her little room, she smiled then teared up a moment later. Maybe it was time to go home, she thought. Even if she didn’t go back with Jude, perhaps Jude would leave the city and his issues with Harlan alone.
She started to pack her things. It didn’t take long. In jeans and a sweater she rolled her small carry on bag down the hall to Mahira’s door and knocked. Mahira was not in her room. Around dinner time, she could be in the cafeteria. Not interested in seeing any other people, she pulled her luggage to the elevator instead and put on her mask.
Inside the elevator, she was about to press the lobby, but waved a red card Harlan had given her over the sensor and was carried up to his lounge. The sunset streaming in made it seem lonely and wasted when she was there alone in the modern minimal space.
