Holy Water (44 page)

“
Perhaps with time—
”
Henry begins, but the prince raises his good arm and shakes his head four times.

“
There is no time. Circumstances have eliminated the courtesy of time. I must act swiftly and without remorse or I
’
ll lose everything.
”

Henry puts his head down and sips his
smoothie
. He doesn
’
t know what to say.

“
Why? This is all that I can think of. Why is this not happening?
”

“
Maybe,
”
Henry offers,
“
the country is like your wounded
pec
. Maybe the muscles developed so rapidly, so spectacularly, Your Highness, that the ligaments that hold the greater structure together haven
’
t had a chance to catch up.
”

~ * ~

I Say Tomato

Henry contends that they are tomatoes, but Shug calls them something else, these soft red objects splattering against the windows of the SUV as they creep out of the palace drive. Several hundred red-clad protesters are chanting at the gates, thrusting red-painted signs into the air, throwing tomato-like objects, without a soldier in sight.

“
This is a new development.
”

Shug lowers his head to see better through an
unsplattered
portion of the windshield bottom.
“
I
’
ve never seen them allowed so close to the palace. For some reason the military has chosen to look the other way.
”

When a group of five protesters surges up to the vehicle and begins pounding on the doors and windows, Shug holds up some kind of pass, written in red. One of them recognizes it and shouts something to the others, and one by one they back off enough to let the SUV crawl on.

“
How far would they have gone if you hadn
’
t gotten them to back off?
”

“
Hard to tell. A week ago I might have had an idea. But now it
’
s impossible to know who is going to do what.
”

The scene outside reminds Henry of a story that Victor Chan once revealed to him on the way home from a neighborhood men
’
s night gathering. Chan
’
s wife had become so nervous about the world beyond her kitchen window that she had taken to clutching her cell phone in both hands during
her daily two-mile walks along
the community bike path,
“
repeatedly dialing nine-one, nine-one, waiting, almost hoping, to dial that final one, which would either signal that tragedy had befallen her or alert the people who would finally take her away.
”
In the end, Henry recalls, as a stone clacks against the tailgate, Cindy Chan didn
’
t dial the final 1 of the 911 call that would take her away. Victor did.

Galado, Henry thinks, is waiting to dial the final 1.

“
I saw the king today.
”

Shug raises his eyebrows, skeptical. Five minutes later, away from the crowds, back on the road to USAVille, he asks,
“
When you saw him, was he alive?
”

Henry scratches his chin.
“
That
’
s a good question.
”

~ * ~

Home-Cooked

Maya sits at his kitchen table. Two places are set, but she sits at a third chair, tapping something out on her laptop and drinking a glass of
ara
.
A butter lamp burns beside the open bottle, and on the gas stove a hidden meal simmers in a covered pan.

She gets up when he reaches the table and hands him a glass of wine. She is wearing a black cocktail dress and no shoes.

“
What
’
s this?
”

“
This,
”
she says, raising her glass in a toast,
“
is the prelude to what will surely be a disaster.
”

He clinks his glass against hers.
“
To disaster.
”
He drinks and smiles. He doesn
’
t care. He cares more than ever. He sets the glass down, opens his laptop, and accesses his music library. The Shuffle gods serve up
“
I Will Survive,
”
by Cake. He considers pointing this out, perhaps as an answer to her disaster comment, but decides against it. Nothing good ever comes from pointing out anything. Especially to the woman you think you love.

When they sit down, he tells her about his day and she tells him about hers. Looking at them, one would think they were an average couple in an average home, discussing quotidian, average matters. But the things they are discussing are far from average: angry monks and fading kings, droughts and coups, corporate dirt and Shangri-La.

By both accounts, it was a good day. Henry seems to have secured the scatological support of the prince. Phone service at the
call center is up and running. And other than a brief politically incorrect slip when Mahesh lip-synched and crotch-grabbed his way through Madonna
’
s
“
Like a Virgin,
”
Maya says that he was a real asset, making significant progress training the customer service staff. Finally Maya says,
“
Meredith just called about an hour ago from New York to give us a heads-up.
”

“
Us?
”

“
Yes. Us. Giffler heard that the marketing people at Happy Mountain Springs already took a look at your proposal and think the LifeStraw program is a potentially awesome idea.
”

“
It
’
s already awesome. The potentially part is their deal.
”

“
They think it
’
s very
syn
. . .
”

“
Synergistic.
”
Henry puts down his wineglass. The thought occurs to him:
“
How did they find out about this so soon? I only sent you and Meredith the deck this morning.
”

Maya smiles.
“
Meredith and I had a nice talk after you left for the palace. Turns out we both had some minor suggestions to improve on your inspired piece. We spent the morning collaborating and tweaking the document online. In real time. She heard they were getting together today and we made the executive decision to release it without your final approval.
”

Henry sighs. Nods. Why not?

“
She
’
s quite a smart woman, you know.
”

“
I know.
”

“
And she thinks the world of you.
”

He nods.
“
We
’
ve known each other a long time. What does she think they
’
ll want to do?
”

Maya gets up and walks to the stove. She lowers the flame and responds as she spoons food onto their plates.
“
Well, she says they
’
re going to want to be assured that we could pull the straw distribution program together in time for Pat and Audrey
’
s visit. If so, they think it would make for some brilliant and much-needed PR. If not, according to Giffler, according to Meredith, they
’
ll scrap it in a Happy Mountain heartbeat.
”

He smiles when she puts his plate in front of him.
“
Meat loaf?
”

“
Yes. And gravy. And mashed potatoes. Mashed taro, actually. But potatoes are hard to come by out here.
”

He breaks off a piece and takes a bite of the meat loaf.
“
Delicious. Where
’
d you learn to cook meat loaf?
”

“
Hah!
”
Maya laughs as she takes her seat.
“
I can
’
t cook Galadonian food, let alone meat loaf. Mahesh made it for you. I asked him for an American recipe.
”

While they eat they talk about work, but what they are really discussing is possibility. The possibility of something good actually coming out of a corporate enterprise. Out of a tedious, thankless back-office job. Of something good happening because of them and between them.

The work talk, they both come to realize, is nothing less than a prelude to foreplay, which is nothing more than a prelude to disaster.

~ * ~

He cleans the table while she drinks wine and watches.
“
Women
’
s Prison
”
by Loretta Lynn plays on the laptop. Headlights strobe through the kitchen window. Madison Ellison, back from a hard day
’
s work of resuscitating a monarch, pulls into her driveway.

Wiping his hands on a dish towel, Henry tells Maya that he is going to go upstairs to shower,
“
to wash off the royal
ick
.
”

His eyes are closed and his head is tilted back under the steaming water when she joins him. He
’
d thought she might and hoped she would, and when he feels her fingers gliding up his arm, he tells her as much.

“
With me being your boss and all,
”
he says,
“
you realize that this constitutes a major breach of corporate policy.
”

She moves up against him from behind and presses her cheek between his shoulder blades.

“
I mean, I could lose everything. No, wait, I already
have
lost everything.
”
He turns and looks at her. She
’
s laughing. He
’
s shaking. Fear and exhilaration. It
’
s been a long time.

“
You have to promise to keep making me laugh,
”
she says, taking his face in her hands.
“
Because I can
’
t go through with what we
’
re about to get into without laughing.
”

“
This won
’
t be a problem.
”
He places his hands on her waist and waits a beat.
“
You
’
re talking to a guy who faked his orgasms the only two times he had sex in the last four months.
”

~ * ~

Bedfellows

Maya sleeps upstairs while Henry sits at the kitchen table, exchanging predawn messages with Meredith, Giffler, and Madden.

According to them, via others, it
’
s a go. Shockingly, he thinks. But then again, nothing in the corporate world should shock anyone anymore. Whatever you think will happen won
’
t, and whatever you think doesn
’
t have a chance will sneak up and kick you in the ass. And depending on anything from a man in a suit, he learned a long time ago, is a cruel mistake.

According to his in-box, Marketing and Sustainability have allocated him a combined initial budget of $25,000 to procure and distribute the LifeStraw to a sample group of Galado
’
s parched and needy. A big enough sum to make a short-term statement, he notes, but small enough to allow them to cut and run if things change.