Julian

I. January, Ch. 3

     Calvin adjusted his shoulders, taking a moment to absorb the gravity of Marlo's situation. He was determined to follow through on his new mission.

     He didn't want to, but Calvin had to inform Roger of their new assignment.

     Roger was mingling with the other teachers, making theatrical gestures with his hands as he spoke.

     Calvin stood next to his friend, hoping he would notice him first so he wouldn't interrupt his conversation.

     After what felt like hours, Roger acknowledged Calvin's presence. "Cal, you remember Carla, don't you?"

     He shook her hand. "Of course. It's good to see you again."

     "Welcome back to the rat race. Roger tells me you two just came back from Los Angeles."

     "It was a short sabbatical. We gave the City of Angels another shot, but it just chewed us up and spit us out."

     She laughed. "Aren't you glad to be back home?"

     Calvin's smile didn't reach his eyes. Los Angeles was home, but he didn't have the heart to correct her. "We are. Thank you."

     He looked over Carla's shoulder and noticed Marlo, who was giving him a friendly, but stern look.

     Carla picked up on it and turned. "Don't worry about the boss. He's all talk."

     Calvin fought the urge to stand up for him. Low profile. That's your new mission.

     Once Carla excused herself, Calvin turned his attention to Roger. "We need to talk."

     "After lunch. I'm hungry."

     Calvin's temper pulsed. "It'll still be there. Come on."

     "No, it won't. They're snatching up all the tiramisu."

     Calvin took a deep breath, trying to get his frustration under control. He placed his hands on his hips and looked down, searching for the best words to express his urgency. He lifted his head, but Roger was no longer in front of him.

     He sighed in resignation, and made himself the last person in the buffet line.

     Like Roger, Calvin preferred sweets over meals. Dessert for lunch it is.

     The tiramisu was served in clear plastic cups on a metal tray, making its space smell of cafe au lait.

     Calvin's eyes discovered real coffee at the end of the line. He hated coffee, but anything that made him appear more mature helped. He grabbed a cup of tiramisu and stabbed the top of it with a plastic spoon, leaving it there like a sword in a stone.

     Then, the sound of melodious humming pierced through the white-noise chatter around him.

     He looked over his shoulder.

     It was the woman who spoke up at the meeting. She was humming to herself as she reached for a spoon.

     His eyes looked away once they located the culprit, but then looked back in a double-take worthy of a Mel Brooks comedy.

     This woman had defined cheekbones and serious, almost villainous, light blue eyes. Her gaze was unapproachable, and yet very alluring. It was the gaze used by government officials to extract confessions.

     How did he not notice her before?

     Her large, cat eyes looked up at him.

     Calvin became a statue.

     Her shoulders lifted and dropped in an apologetic shrug. "I can't get that tune out of my head."

     He looked into her eyes, as he always did with his elders.

     The moment their pupils met, he felt his clothes burn off. The tiramisu became heavy in his grip.

     Calvin knew it wasn't a normal reaction to eye contact, but he dismissed it as a sign that he was following Marlo's orders so well, that even a second of drawing attention to himself brought him fear. He gave a polite smirk and turned back towards the line.

     It had advanced enough for Calvin to head straight for the coffee.

     He picked up the near-empty coffee pot. If there wasn't enough coffee for him, he'd put the tiramisu back.

     He grabbed a Styrofoam cup from the stack next to the coffee machine and filled his cup halfway. Filling it entirely would mean Jacqueline Kennedy behind him wouldn't get any.

     He placed the coffee pot back on its terminal, then searched the room for Roger.

     There was no sign of him.

     "Hey, no cutting."

     Calvin turned.

     Roger was in front of him, helping himself to the last of the java. "It's just coffee, Vivi. The last thing you need is something to make you age quicker."

     His words pierced Calvin's ears like the sound of shattered glass. He turned to the woman, and caught a spark of insecurity flash across her face.

     Calvin studied her, unable to see what Roger did. There was no way this woman was a day over thirty-five.

     She pulled her powerful gaze from Roger and gave it to Calvin.

     He froze again, but this time he felt the straps of a cape around his neck. He looked at her empty cup, then his. In a rare moment of rock star prowess, he took his cup of steaming coffee and placed it inside of her empty one, making it fit snug inside. "Ignore him," he told her. "He's blind."

     Roger was going to get it. Calvin gave him the most intimidating glare he could make.

     Roger twisted his lip, unimpressed. "Oh, you don't even drink coffee."

     He looked at her, pointing a bony finger at Calvin. "He still drinks Tang," he stage whispered.

     The woman sucked in her lips to fight a laugh. All insecurities were gone.

     Calvin heart skipped a beat at her childish gesture. Then, he realized he was the butt of the joke. He glared at Roger. "Come with me. Now."

     Roger rolled his eyes and followed him.

     Once they were far from the others, Calvin became an ogre. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

     He sipped the coffee. "Take it easy. Vivi and I are friends."

     A bolt of jealousy struck Calvin's emotions. It was quick, barely detectable. He looked at her from across the room.

     She wore a long-sleeve silk blouse, pencil skirt, and pearl studs, with black hair down to her shoulder blades. Her petite, retired-ballerina figure informed onlookers that she didn't have kids.

     From afar, Calvin could have sworn she was his age. She made others around her look like extras. "You know her?"

     "From Andrade," said Roger. "And we were chatting just fine before your shining armor glared our vision."

     Calvin's eyes demanded another look. "Vivian, huh?"

     "It's Genevieve. Vivi for short."

     Genevieve. "What does she teach?"

     "Do I look like her biographer? Go ask her."

     Talk to her? He didn't have the guts.

     "Cal, be honest with me."

     Calvin suspected Roger would ask him about his interest in Genevieve. He was prepared to give him a lecture on basic manners. "What?"

     Roger looked down at Calvin's hand. "Are you going to eat that?"

     Calvin looked down. Among the damsel-rescuing, he forgot to put the tiramisu back.