District - 17: Reunification

Dragon Dance

"I WANT TO SEE McCall!" Ryder demanded. He shot into the reception lobby and was standing over Nanika Riley's black and red desk.

"The High Director's not in the office today," Nanika said. "I'll be dealing with your affairs for the time being."

"I want to see McCall," he repeated.

"Are you deaf?" she said, annoyed. "McCall. Is. Not. Here."

"Bullshit," he snapped. "Where is he?"

She sat back in her seat and smirked. "OK. Two things." She held up a finger, said, "One: You're going to watch your tone when addressing me, Mr. Russo." She held up another finger, said, "Two: If I tell you something you better believe I know what the hell I'm talking about." She leaned forward. "Do I make myself abundantly clear?"

He swallowed and took two steps back. "Yes ma'am, Ms. Riley. I . . . I apologize."

She nodded, satisfied. "Good."

He shook his head, confused and embarrassed. "I have matters to discuss with him, though. Urgent matters."

"Yes, you do," she said, and stood up. "Care to head inside?"

"What?" he said.

Ryder turned on his heel when the large double doors opened and Coach Tennyson emerged. His massive bulk was nearly the size of the doorway. He was dark and imposing in the evening gloom.

Nanika's assistant came out of the small kitchen portal at the same time with a late luncheon trolley. It was her assistant who made it, so the food was reasonable. Ryder smelled a bacon and egg sandwich. Spotted a glass of sparkling water. Crisps and various suace packets. Utensils and napkins. The reception area was practically empty. Nanika had her assistant place the tray on her desk. He divided and cataloged its contents while Ryder stood there, hesitantly. Nanika waved him away and he entered the grand office.

Tennyson padded around to the large desk. McCall's desk. He crunched into the seat. Ryder stood rigidly in front of him. Director Juhee Mandahl sat in one of the two leather wingback seats in front of the desk. She looked pleased at the sight of him. He shivered at her appearance. She looked haunting in the gloom of the office with her lips at a calm angle, not quite smiling but somewhere close. Her eyes were low and her skin was the color of oak. He hesitated then spoke.

"Coach Tennyson, I —" he started.

"Sit down, Russo," Mandahl said.

He glanced at her then at Tennyson. He was tired and stressed. Ryder could see he'd been wracking his head with worry. He felt guilty and bad. Felt for him. He glanced at the sectional sofa then at the seats and sat on the left leather wingback chair. Leaned forward, seated at an angle.

"Colmourn is OK. She's stable." He sighed and glanced at the window. The blinds were drawn, solid slats shut tight with small cracks of light creeping through. He looked massive and frustrated. Ryder swallowed and felt an itch in his throat. Shot a glance over at Mandahl. She was staring directly at him, uninterrupted.

"Baby Russo," Mandahl said. "You'll be OK."

The room grew darker with a deep gloom to it. Mandahl's eyes seemed to melt with the incrementing shadows. Ryder glanced away from her.

When Tennyson looked back around he could see Ryder was still sitting looking contrite.

"Diveroli operated on Jaketta at the Bar. Her carotid artery . . . it was . . ." he groaned and drummed his fingers off the desk.

Director Mandahl spoke up. "She's OK, OK?"

He nodded, finally. "Yes, ma'am" He chewed his nail then bit his knuckle. "I think Jaketta should be removed."