Tuesday, June 5, 2018

Dream On ~ Part 16

Cordel scrolled through his numbers and found Arlyn’s. He tapped the number and waited. As the cell started to ring on his end, he also heard music playing from inside Arlyn’s apartment.
He banged on the door again. “I know you’re in there Arlyn. I can hear you’re cell phone!”
Cordel waited sure she would finally answer the door. Her voicemail clicked on and he waited for the beep. “Arlyn, I’m at your front door. I can hear your cell ringing, so I know you’re there. This is unprofessional. I did what you asked.”
He jammed his finger into the “end call” icon wishing he could slam the phone down instead. He banged on the door again. “Arlyn, this is ridiculous, let me in.”
He put his ear to the door and heard nothing. No television, music, or footsteps, not even typing on the computer, the woman was being a ghost. Like most ghosts that Cordel searched for, she was being a pain in his neck and not showing up.
Shoving his phone into his pocket, he stormed down the hallway and through the front door. He looked down the street, thankful his driver had found a parking spot in the shade to sit and wait. He marched to the car and thrust the door open.
“Mr. Foster,” stammered the driver as he pulled his ear bugs out and closed his tablet. “I’m sorry I thought you’d be a while.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Cordel. “I’m not upset with you. I’m quite capable of opening a car door, what I’m not capable of is tolerating bratty women, who insist on one thing and then when you do it, they change their mind. So incredibly childish.”
The driver looked over his shoulder. “Back home then?”
“No,” said Cordel, “go to the publishing house. I need to have a word with them.”
The driver gave Cordel a nod as he set off for their destination. Cordel tried to calm himself during the drive downtown, but the longer the drive took the angrier he became. He could not shake how he had gone out of his way to reschedule his whole day for Arlyn and then she didn’t even bother to open the door.
“We’re here, Mr. Foster,” said the driver. “No parking on the street, text me when you’re finished and I’ll meet you out front.”
Cordel gave the driver a nod before he got out of the car. He tried to calm his walking from a march to a normal pace, but his steps seemed to match his racing heart. He knew Arlyn’s editor Molly, was not to blame for Arlyn’s actions, but she was going to get an earful, none the less.
He stormed inside, took the elevator to the appropriate floor and then marched to the front desk. “Tell Molly O’Hanaghan that I need to see her immediately.”
Cordel didn’t give the receptionist his name. It was apparent by the way her mouth dropped open and she stared at him that she knew very well who he was. Molly was around the corner in an instant after the receptionist had hung up the phone.
“Mr. Foster,” said Molly, a big smile on her face, “this is quite the surprise. Can I get you a coffee, tea, water? I think we might have some soda in the fridge if you prefer.”
Cordel found him anger melting away at Molly’s smile. She was older than he, with a short brown hair and a smile that reminded him of his mother’s. It was a smile that said, she’d help in any way she could and then cook him a chicken pot pie for dinner because he was getting “too skinny.”
“Just a private place to talk,” said Cordel.

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