The Consultant (32 page)

During a break in traffic, she ran across the street and went into the lobby of the multi-story office building opposite Comp-Ware. The first floor was home to a law firm, an accounting firm and some sort of direct marketing business. Opposite the elevators were the restrooms, and she hurried into the women’s, going into the first stall and closing the door behind her. Pushing up her skirt and pulling down her underwear, she sat on the toilet, started to pee—  

And the stall door opened.  

Startled, Lupe cried out, hands immediately pushing down her skirt to cover her exposed lap.  

It was the consultant.  

He stood before her, blocking the stall’s exit, belt unbuckled, pants unzipped and open, penis hanging out. His organ was grotesque—red and blotchy, S-shaped and far too large—and he stepped forward, holding it in his hand. She tried to scream, but the second her mouth opened, before a single sound came out, he was shoving it in. His penis was rough and dry, tasting of dirt and rot, its twists and curves contacting odd parts of her mouth as he began to slide it in and out. “Oh yes,” he whispered creepily. “That’s good.”  

She wanted to bite it off but dared not. Accidentally, she scraped him with her teeth, and he slapped the side of her head. Hard. “Do it right,” he ordered harshly.  

Crying, she covered her teeth with her lips and remained unmoving as he continued to push himself slowly in and out.  

“Oh yes,” he repeated. “That’s good.”  

His penis stiffened. She was filled with horror as she realized he was about to climax, and before she could even begin to prepare herself…it happened. Thick sperm, ribbons of it, hit the back of her throat and slid down. She wanted to throw up but was denied the opportunity because he was still ejaculating, holding the back of her head as his freakish erection continued to violate her mouth, his slimy discharge hot and burning, gushing in impossibly copious amounts.  

Finally he pulled out, degradingly wiping the last few drops on her nose and cheeks. He tucked his monstrous penis back between his legs and pulled up his pants to hold it in place.  

She was gasping for air, and he patted the top of her head. “Good meeting,” he said, grinning. “Maybe you’ll be able to keep your job.”  

He started to leave, then returned, poking his head around the corner. “You could stand to lose a few pounds, though. I suggest you come back to the program next week and weigh in.”  

He left again, and, sobbing, Lupe pulled up her panties, turned around and threw up into the toilet. She could still taste him in her mouth, and she continued to vomit until her stomach was empty and the only thing her convulsing stomach could bring up was a thin dribble of mucous and saliva. Flushing, she made her way over to the sink, where she washed her face and rinsed her mouth out with water from the faucet.  

AIDS
, she couldn’t help thinking.
What if he has AIDS
?  

By the time she returned to CompWare and her desk, she was ten minutes late, something Todd—Stool Sample—noted instantly, although, at this point, she didn’t really care. She wanted to tell Craig what had happened, but didn’t know how, knew she should report it to the police, but was afraid to do so. She was filled with an almost constant desire to spit and went through an entire box of Kim Wipes in the next hour and a half, using the oversized tissues to collect, absorb and wipe away the accumulated saliva in her mouth.  

Before the beginning of lunch, she walked into Craig’s office, closing the door behind her to keep Todd and Mrs. Adams from hearing.  

“I’m quitting,” she said.  

At first, Craig thought she was joking. He started to make a bantering reply, but the expression on her face must have convinced him of the seriousness of her intent. “Really?” he said.  

She nodded.  

He was shocked. “So you’re giving your two-week’s notice?”  

“No. No two-week’s notice. This is it. I’m not coming back after lunch.”  

“But you won’t even get your severance!”  

“I don’t care,” she said. “I have to get away from here.”  

He stood immediately, coming around the desk. She thought he was going to try and hug her, and she stepped back involuntarily, not wanting to be touched. Obviously sensing her mood, he backed off, and her eyes filled with tears at the thought that they wouldn’t be working together anymore.  

“Lupe?”  

She couldn’t meet his gaze.  

“What is it? What happened? Whatever it is, I’ll—”  

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said.  

“Is it the consultants? We can wait them out…”  

She shook her head adamantly. “I can’t work here anymore.”  

“Lupe…”  

She burst into tears, and though flinching at the initial contact, she finally let him hug her.  

“You can tell me,” he said. “Whatever happened, whatever it is…”  

She shook her head against his shoulder, and gathering herself together, she sucked in her breath and pulled away. “I can’t.”  

“Just tell me,” he pressed. “Does it have something to do with the consultants?”  

She found herself nodding. “But I’m quitting. I’m not waiting them out. I can’t.”  

“I understand,” he assured her. “But just listen, okay? I have an idea.”  

“What?”  

“They’re going to leave eventually, right? So what I’ll do is talk to Broderick in HR and see if I can get you a leave of absence or something. If that’s not feasible, I just won’t fill your position. I’ll take a temp if they force me, but I’ll keep the position open. Once BFG’s gone, you can apply again, and I’ll make sure you get it.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “You can’t leave me now. We’re supposed to be in this together.”  

Through her tears, she smiled at him, and he smiled back, giving her shoulders a slight squeeze. “All right then.”  

“But not until they’re gone,” she told him. “I can’t…”  

“I know.”  

She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”  

“Go out there, grab your stuff, take what you need. I’ll do what I have to do, and once I figure it out, I’ll give you a call.”  

“What if—”
HE calls
, she was thinking, but couldn’t complete the thought.  

Craig seemed to know what she was trying to say. “I won’t call from here. I’ll call from home. So you can check your caller ID and know it’s me.”  

“Thank you,” she said again.  

“I’ll go out with you. Make sure Stool Sample and Nurse Ratched don’t cause any problems. Then we’ll walk out to your car.”  

There were no problems, and Lupe let him know how grateful she was for all of his help as she got into her Camry.  

“I’ll call,” he promised. His face darkened. “But if it’s from CompWare or a number you don’t recognize…”  

“I won’t answer.”  

He smiled. “Where else can I get this?” He moved his hand back and forth between them, indicating a connection. “That’s why we can’t break up the team.”  

“You’re a good boss, Boss.”  

It wasn’t until she got home that her stomach started feeling weird.  

AIDS
 

No. That wouldn’t show up so quickly. But there were probably a lot of other diseases that might. God knows what that freak could have infected her with. It was time to pull her head out of the sand, face reality, go to the hospital and have herself tested for… everything.  

A cramp hit her hard, causing her to double over and cry out. The pain was intense, as though a knife had been shoved into her abdomen, and Lupe barely made it over to the kitchen sink before she started throwing up.  

She closed her eyes tightly, knowing that if she saw the vomit in the sink, it would make her throw up even more. Just the thought of it caused her to heave again.  

There was something wrong.  

There was
always
something wrong if a person was throwing up, and she knew the reason why this was happening right now, knew what she had swallowed, but that wasn’t all that disturbed her. The
feel
of the vomit was also freaking her out. There seemed to be things moving in her throat and mouth as she puked into the sink, and she opened her eyes to see an assortment of small squirming sluglike creatures amidst the disgorged contents of her stomach. She felt still more of them in her mouth and throat as she spewed again, and began screaming even as she was throwing up. This was what had come from his sperm.  

The stabbing pain in her abdomen intensified, and Lupe involuntarily doubled over, her head hitting the sink’s faucet handle. Blood was suddenly spurting from her forehead, and she backed off, holding a hand to the wound in order to suppress the bleeding, staggering away from those impossible monstrosities in the sink, not caring that she was now spitting up on the front of her blouse and the floor of the kitchen.  

Not all of the creatures, apparently, were sluglike. One with sharp insectile limbs scurried out of her mouth and down her neck. She fell to the floor, weakened legs giving way beneath her, blood flowing down her face as she removed the hand from her forehead to bat away the sperm-spawn scuttling around her neck. Sobbing, her will broken, Lupe slumped on the tile. She was no longer vomiting, but those creatures continued crawling up her throat, gagging her. She flopped about, attempting in vain to suck air into her lungs, using a hand to try and clear her mouth, but her strength was ebbing and she was vomiting again, sickened by the repulsive feel of rubbery slime on her tongue.  

Degraded, humiliated and alone, she died.  

TWENTY EIGHT  

TO: All Employees

RE: Nutrition and Health 

Studies have repeatedly shown that good nutrition is the key to good health. In an effort to promote wellness within the CompWare community and to reduce worktime lost by sick leave, a series of nutritional guidelines have been drawn up by health experts and are being provided to all employees. While adherence to these guidelines is strictly voluntary, personnel who adjust their eating habits to accommodate the suggested recommendations will be given preferential consideration if layoffs become necessary between employees of equivalent position. To make the guidelines easier to access, a downloadable app is available to all CompWare employees that not only lists low-fat, low-carb, low-calorie food suggestions, but enables users to scan the bar codes of prepackaged food items to determine their nutritional content.  

Reading this email constitutes acknowledgement and understanding of the nutrition and health suggestions made herein.  

Thank you.  

Regus Patoff  

Regus Patoff  

BFG Associates  

For Austin Matthews, CompWare CEO  

TWENTY NINE  

Lunch.

They’d picked a place at random, a hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint in a slummy area east of the freeway, a place they’d found after driving up and down various side streets to make sure they weren’t being followed—a ridiculous precaution, perhaps, but it made them both feel better.  

“I spent all damn morning in a meeting,” Phil said on the way. “They called me in early, and I didn’t even get to eat breakfast. I’m starving.”  

It was the only real thing they said to each other until they arrived, since both of them were paranoid about the car being bugged.
This is no way to live
, Craig thought, and he wondered if he was one of the people being targeted for downsizing now, if the consultant was instilling this paranoia within him, hoping it would pressure him into quitting.  

Now he was being paranoid about being paranoid.  

The small restaurant was crowded, so they took turns ordering, one going up to the window while the other guarded the small table they’d commandeered near the door.  

“So what was the meeting about?” Craig asked as they waited.  

“Nothing,” Phil said. “What are they ever about? That asshole just likes to hear himself talk.”  

“So no news?”  

“Not that they’re sharing.”  

“You know,” Craig said, “they didn’t even have our programmers work on that nutrition app. They brought it in themselves. I don’t know if they bought it off some vendor or if they have their own in-house programmers, but no one from CompWare worked on it.”  

“Are you having your guys analyze it, in case…”  

“Yeah,” Craig said tiredly. “For whatever good it’ll do. It’s like
Lord of the Flies
among the programmers now. Everyone’s afraid their jobs are on the line, so they’re throwing each other under the bus so they’ll be the last man standing.”  

His number was called, and he walked up to get his food. On his way back to the table, Phil’s number was called. Craig had just bitten into a tortilla chip when Phil put his tray down on the table and said, “You know who Tom Waits is?”  

“I’ve heard of him.” He tried to cut his friend off. “This isn’t one of your boring music analogies is it?”  

Phil ignored him. “In the 1970s, Tom Waits put out these amazing albums:
The Heart of Saturday Night, Nighthawks at the Diner, Small Change, Foreign Affairs
. Jazzy, kind of beatnik things, totally unique, especially for then. As anti-trendy as you could get. At that time, he gave this interview where he said he’d rather play for a bunch of derelicts at a union hall than a crowd of hip college kids with coke spoons around their necks. Well, in the eighties, he changed his style completely, became a critic’s darling and he’s spent the rest of his career playing to hip, trendy college students.”  

“The point?” Craig prodded.  

“Sometimes things happen. We start out pure and end up becoming exactly what we didn’t want to become.”  

“Do you mean me?” Craig was still confused.