Without a Hitch (2 page)

“What do you
mean ‘menu’?”  Stuart started shifting back and forth nervously. 

“Think about it,
Stuart,” Corbin said, ignoring Beckett.  “When you go to a restaurant, they
hand you a big book with a lot of pictures of food in it, right?  This is the
same thing.  This tells aliens, whoever finds the satellite, ‘come to earth. .
. eat human’.”

Stuart snorted. 
“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s an ad,”
Corbin continued.  “It says, we’re on planet number three and we’re tasty.”

“Why would the
government do that?” Stuart asked, sounding somewhat mystified.

“He’s just
kidding, Stuart,” Beckett interjected.

“Am not.  This
is the government advertising their willingness to trade us for some crazy
alien gear.  Seriously Stuart, why else would NASA send drawings of naked
people into space?  Trust me, Uncle Sam would trade you for a fancy new ray gun
in a heartbeat.”

Stuart increased
the pace of his shifting and began rubbing his hands together.

“Fortunately, we
don’t need to worry about that, do we Stuart?” Beckett said trying to calm
Stuart.

“What do you
mean?” Stuart asked.

“You said it
yourself.  NASA never got any of those satellites into orbit.  That means there
are no satellites flying around for aliens to find, right?”  Beckett flashed
Corbin a “shut up now” look.

Corbin ignored
him.  “Of course NASA got those satellites into space.  How else do you think
we got those great close ups of Jupiter, Saturn,” Corbin rolled his head toward
Beckett, “and Uranus.”

“I need to think
about this,” Stuart said.  He began scratching his forehead.  “You might be
right.  I never believe the government.  My mother says I’m crazy, but she’s
the crazy one.  She believes everything the government tells her.  You guys
don’t believe what the government tells you, do you?”

“Not if it comes
from Kak,” Corbin responded sarcastically.

“Stuart, do we
have any mail?” Beckett asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

“You can borrow
my book if you want to?” Stuart said to Beckett.

Beckett shook
his head.  “No thanks Stuart, I have too much to read already.  Do we have any
mail?”

“What about you
Alex, do you want to borrow my book?”

“I would, but I
can’t read.”

Stuart let out a
loud, sharp laugh, which caused him to hiccup.  “‘Can’t read’?  That’s funny! 
How did you get this job if you can’t read?”

“I slept with
someone.”

Stuart laughed
again, and again hiccupped.  “You’re funny.  ‘Can’t read.’  Ha!  ‘Menu’!  I
need to think about that one.”  Stuart reached into his mail cart and pulled
out the letter he came to deliver.  “You got a letter, Evan.  It’s marked
personal, so I didn’t let anyone touch it.”  He handed Beckett the envelope and
waited for him to open it.

Beckett tossed
the envelope onto his inbox to indicate he wouldn’t be opening it anytime soon,
but Stuart didn’t leave.  Getting him to leave an office was often a delicate
matter.  Thus, Beckett folded his newspaper and rose from his chair.  “It’s
been fun, Stuart, but we need to get back to work.”

“Ok, I’ll let
you go,” Stuart responded, as he slowly retreated from the office.  “But think
about my book though.”

“We will.”

With Stuart
whistling his way down the hallway, Beckett entered his password to turn off
the screensaver on his computer.  This would signal Kak that Beckett had
returned to his desk.  Kak maintained a log of how often, and for how long,
each employee’s screensaver ran, which he equated with absence from the office.

“You shouldn’t
have told Stuart that thing about NASA,” Beckett said over his shoulder.

Corbin shrugged
his shoulders.  “It’s harmless.  So he has to run home and dig his bunker a
little deeper, the exercise’ll do him good.”

“Seriously, it’s
not nice to pick on him.  Blessed are those who have regard for the weak, the
Lord delivers them in times of trouble.”

“Don’t get
Biblical on me.  Besides, I’m not picking on him, I’m just goofin’ around with
him.  He knows I’m kidding and he gets a kick out of it.  Go ask him.  I do the
same thing with you all the time, only he’s got a better sense of humor than
you do.  In fact, I think it’s more condescending to treat him like he’s a
child like everyone else does.  He’s actually quite bright, he’s just a little
odd.”

“I don’t agree
with treating him like a child either, but you were playing with him.”

“Guess we’ll
have to agree to disagree, as usual.”

Beckett turned
to face Corbin.  “You know, for a liberal, and all that’s supposed to entail,
you’re surprisingly callous.”

“For a
libertarian, and all that’s supposed to entail, you’re surprisingly
judgmental,” Corbin shot back.  “Must be that whole church thing you’ve got
going.”

“Just because
libertarians don’t like the government dictating behavior doesn’t mean we don’t
recognize right and wrong,” Beckett replied defensively.  “Also, it would do
you well to go to church once in a while; you might find there’s more to life
than you realize.”

“I can’t go to
church, I’d burst into flames the minute I crossed the threshold.  You said
that yourself once.”

Both friends
laughed, erasing any tension between them.

Beckett’s phone
rang.

“Small
conference!” Kak roared into the receiver before hanging up.  This was Kak’s
way of ordering employees to come to his office.  In fact, “small conference”
were the only words Kak ever spoke over the phone to either Beckett or Corbin.

“I’ll be back.”

With Beckett on
his way to Kak’s office, Corbin headed downstairs to the mall beneath their
office building to buy coffee.  He went with Molly.  Molly was the only other attorney
in the office around Corbin’s age.  This drew them together.  She was also one
of the few people in the office Corbin found interesting.  Molly loved
attention, good or bad, and she excelled at getting it.  She also enjoyed pushing
people’s buttons.  She was particularly interested in Corbin because he remained
a riddle to her, a riddle she was determined to solve.  Corbin understood this,
but he got a kick out of watching her work her craft, so he let her try.  He
was regretting his decision today, however.

Molly stared at
the cookie and frowned.  Corbin stood nearby with his back against the counter. 
He watched her push her shoulder-length, golden-brown hair back over her ear
for a third time, exposing multiple silver studs.  She wore a black pinstriped
pantsuit
and a French-blue blouse with the
collar spread over the lapels of her suit.  Corbin wore a similarly colored
shirt, though his suit was dark gray.

“Can we please
leave?” Corbin asked for a second time.  “My coffee’s getting cold.”

“Hold your
horses.  The cookie and I may have business to discuss.”  Molly tapped her
wallet against her open palm.

“You’ve been
staring at it for five minutes now.”

“Technically,
it’s been ten minutes.  I was down here yesterday too.”

“Why don’t you
just buy it?”

“Maybe I’m
trying to talk myself out of buying it?  Did you ever think of that?”

“Can we go now,
please?”

“What?”  Molly
pretended she didn’t hear Corbin.

“Can we please
go?” Corbin repeated.

“Let me get this
straight.  You want me to go with you?”  Molly pointed at herself on the “me”
and at Corbin on the “you.”  She smiled patronizingly.  “How cute, are you
asking me out?  What was your name again?”

Corbin bit his tongue
and tossed his hands in the air, almost knocking the lid off his coffee. 
“That’s it!  I’m done.  I’m going back to the office.  I’ll leave you and your
cookie to whatever sordid business you two have planned.”

“Fine!  We can
go back upstairs,” she groaned as if she’d just made the world’s greatest
concession.  “The cookie’s probably just a tease anyway.”  She returned her
wallet to her purse and they started for the elevator.  Their footsteps echoed
throughout the empty mall.  “So who’s this
chick
I hear you’re dating?” Molly
asked, smirking at the word “chick.”

Gossip was the
office currency, and relationship gossip was most prized.  Relationships or,
more accurately, tragic relationships were also Molly’s favorite topic, both
her own and other people’s.

“Dating?  Why is
everyone saying that?  I’m not dating anyone.  I just went on one date, one
single date.”

“
And
. .
.”  Molly gave the word a dozen syllables.

“And what?”

Molly stopped
mid-stride and waved her manicured finger at Corbin.  “Don’t make me beat it
out of you.  I’ll smack you around right in front of all these people.”  There
was no one else in sight.

Corbin couldn’t
help but smile at the show she was putting on.

“Well?!” she
demanded as they started toward the elevator again.

“It was one date,”
Corbin said with a laugh.  “We went to this sushi restaurant and—”  Corbin
stopped mid-sentence as Molly veered off sharply toward the display window of a
women’s shoe store.  He grimaced and reluctantly followed her.

“Look, shoes!”
she exclaimed.  “A girl can never have too many shoes.”

“I’m sure,”
Corbin said, looking at his watch.

“What do you
think about those?”  Molly pointed at something behind the display window. 
“I’d look great in those.”

“Sure.  Can we
go now,” Corbin replied, without looking to where Molly pointed.

“But I’m
probably too tall to wear them,” Molly continued.

“Sure.  Can we—.
. . wait, what?!”

Molly exhaled melodramatically. 
“Listen, my tall friend.  Lots of guys are intimidated by tall women.  That’s
why I can’t wear heels very often.”

Corbin looked at
Molly’s feet.  Beneath her black suit pants, she was wearing rather high heels,
as she
almost always
did.  “You’re wearing heels today.”

“So?”

“Weren’t you
wearing heels yesterday?”

“Are you keeping
track of my shoes?” Molly said with faked disgust.  “That’s really creepy.”

Corbin ignored
her diversion.  “You know you’re not that tall, right?  I mean, what are you,
like five eight, five nine tops?”

“Your point
being?”

“You’re just not
that tall.”

Molly folded her
arms and tapped her foot.  “Not all men are as tall as you.  It’s just not
something you’re going to understand.  Ask your roomie.  He can explain it to
you; he comes up a bit
short
,” Molly said the word “short” with utter
contempt.  She was largely indifferent to Beckett, but she often tried to get a
rise out of Corbin by insulting his friends.

Corbin rolled
his eyes and shook his head.

“Oh, don’t get
your panties in a bunch.  Are you seriously telling me he’s not short?” Molly
asked.

“If you don’t
like his height, take it up with him.  I’m not the Evan Beckett complaint
department.  Now, can we please go back to the office?”

“Fine,” Molly
said, and without warning, she shot past Corbin before he could even turn
around.  As she walked toward the elevator, she called back to Corbin.  “Stop
shopping for shoes and let’s get back to work!”

Corbin groaned.

Corbin returned
to his desk just as Beckett and Theresa Miller rounded the corner of the dingy
beige hallway leading to Corbin and Beckett’s office.  Theresa pronounced her
name “Tur-rae-sa” and had no tolerance for anyone who mispronounced it or
shortened it.  As always, Theresa was immaculately dressed, though her clothes
were slightly dated.  Today, despite the sleet, she wore a navy-blue suit with
her trademark pencil skirt and heels.  A silver pendant hung around her neck
between the collar of her white blouse.  A matching silver clip held her shoulder-length
black hair out of her face.

Theresa, also an
attorney, was a few years older than Beckett, and it was no secret she was
extremely interested in Corbin.  Corbin never returned the interest, but this
didn’t deter Theresa.  Beckett, on the other hand, rubbed her wrong.  Indeed,
Theresa and Beckett couldn’t start a conversation without turning it into an
argument.  That’s how the present argument started, as a conversation which
began as they waited to see Kak.  The conversation continued after they finished
with Kak, turned into a disagreement as they walked down the hallway, and matured
into an argument as they reached Corbin’s office.

“Oh bull!” 
Theresa’s voice rang out.  She jabbed her finger at Beckett as the two of them
entered the office.

“I can’t believe
you’d say that!” Beckett responded.

“You just don’t
want to admit some people are rotten and need to be locked up.  This is typical
liberal garbage.”

“No, not at
all.  I know lots of people who should be locked up.  I’m saying it’s morally
and philosophically wrong to frame somebody for a crime they didn’t commit, no
matter how rotten they may be.  ‘Guilty until proven innocent,’ ring any
bells?”  Beckett loosened his mauve paisley tie and unbuttoned the collar on
his frayed, off-white Sears dress shirt before taking a seat.  “Also, I’m not a
liberal, I’m libertarian.”

“Same
difference,” Theresa said, waving her hand dismissively.  “If a guy deserves to
be locked up, then what does it matter how he gets there?”

“‘Deserves’?”

“Yes, deserves! 
Killers, violent criminals, repeat offenders, people who like to hurt people.” 
Theresa counted off on her fingers as she delineated her list of evildoers. 
“People like that need to be locked up, and I don’t care how it happens.”

“Who are you to
decide someone deserves to be imprisoned?”

“I’m the public,
that’s who.  I’m the person who has to live with these creatures.  Besides, you
make it sound like I want to start locking up innocent people!  I’m talking
about people everyone knows are guilty.”