The mild weather and forgiving temperatures only augmented Phoebe's good mood. It was strange for it to be lasting even until the next morning. Normally, it didn't take long before it would get ruined by something or someone. So she was beginning to get suspicious and on edge. It was just a matter of time before a 'cataclysmic' event would appear out of nowhere to take that lingering happiness away.
Part of her wondered if the previous day had somehow affected Walter in a similar way, at least minimally. If he too, had woken up in the early morning with way more ease than usual, even without black coffee, and stared back at an untroubled, distinctly jovial face in the mirror. Or if, to him, it had been nothing more than a fastidious, painful experience, and a waste of time. He probably felt like a babysitter-but one that, instead of earning a little money for his services, actually lost thousands.
The guilt and shame for being the cause of that would not disappear just because Walter assured her there was no reason to feel that way. He was not in her position-he'd never been in that position in his life. Walter could not understand her or relate to her, which was why she doubted he would be able to put himself in her shoes in certain situations.
When Phoebe noticed that she was the object of stares from an early hour at school and no one was stepping forward to give her an explanation, it definitely looked like it was the end of the road for the leftover joy of the day before.
"What the hell is wrong with everyone?" It was a rhetorical question for Jenny, who'd arrived at the same time as Phoebe.
She threw dirty looks at whoever laid their eyes upon her in the same manner. Was she suddenly a circus freak? Had she mismatched her shoes? Forgotten to straighten her hair for the first time?
Sylvia, Ben, and Trevor found Jen and Phoebe amidst the busy corridor, and approached the two girls while they mumbled and hushed amongst themselves.
"Is it true?" Sylvia asked immediately after reaching Phoebe with her mouth open in awe.
"Is what true?" Phoebe asked, glad that she was going to get answers at last, but scared for that same reason.
Sylvia seemed to think that Phoebe would know what she was referring to, and was stunned that she was going to have to be the one to open Pandora's box for her.
"You know... That you have a 'sugar daddy'."
"I have a what?!" Phoebe shouted. The stares returned quickly.
"It's that person you talked over the phone with the other day, right?" Sylvia asked, needlessly making the situation more colorful and detailed.
"What person?" Jen questioned, feeling out of the loop.
Phoebe shook her head, not up to delve into and feed the gossip, only wishing to get to the bottom of it.
"Who's saying this stuff?"
Trevor looked from side to side apprehensively before giving Phoebe an answer. "Everybody!"
Oh, well, that narrows it down.
It was time to head to class, so the search for any more information would have to wait. Mr. Mavros began to take attendance, but all sense of concentration was lost for Phoebe right from the beginning, even for confirming her presence. The only nuance her brain could really pick up on was the ticking of the clock on the wall hanging next to the flag.
"Tyler Acosta?"
Ty, who was distracted playing with Jenny's braids, only answered when the girl knocked his arm away with her elbow.
"In da house," he said, snapping his attention away from her and in the teacher's direction but still appearing distracted.
"Jacob Bennett?"
Jake was much more concise. "Yo."
"Phoebe Bradley?" There was no answer. Her sight was lost ahead. "Phoebe?" He repeated, getting closer to her desk.
"Forgive her, Mr. Mavros," Jen intervened. "She's totally buggin'."
Whispers could be heard at several times throughout the day. They could've been about anything-there was always something going on-but it made Phoebe's ears ring. Her paranoia was not entirely unfounded, though.
After many fruitless tickings of the clock, the bell rang to indicate lunch break, so Jen and her were dead set on finally tackling the issue. However, Phoebe was scarcely allowed out of the classroom before being called to the principal's office.
Jen looked at a loss, wondering what Phoebe could have done that would merit a visit to the principal, and if it was good or bad.
"What's going on?" She asked with precaution.
"I have no idea," Phoebe told her wearily before leaving for the office.
When Phoebe walked in, Principal Cosgrove gestured with her hand to the chair across her desk.
"What's this about?" Phoebe questioned, not relaxed enough to take a seat.
"Miss Bradley, we have received some... concerning information." The cat-eye glasses slipped far down the bridge of her pointy nose when she looked over them, leaving the woman's droopy eyes appear way smaller without the magnifying effect of the lenses.
"Get on with it."
The principal's disapproval of Phoebe's verbal manner was obvious in her serious expression, but it was disregarded, as it was not the main topic or problem.
"It seems you share a relationship with a gentleman who is several years older than you. What do you have to say about this?"
Phoebe forgot to breathe for a second. If it had even reached the principal, it was no coincidence.
It was no doubt another product of Kaylee's connivances. At that point, there was simply no second-guessing anymore.
Phoebe told herself to remain calm. As much as humanly possible.
"I don't see how my life outside this place is any of your business."
"Normally it wouldn't be. But in a case like this, I'm afraid we must intervene and stress how inappropriate it is."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm literally an adult now." Her argument fell short, if only because she had been an adult for a mere day. "And that man is just someone from work. Whatever else anyone may have told you is total bullshit."
She was careful to measure her words, not spilling any information that would be incriminating. Something really difficult for her, as she usually became overwhelmed when backed against the wall to the point that anything could come out of her mouth.
Principal Cosgrove crossed her arms over her chest, feeling impatience start to brew. "Language, Miss Bradley."
The woman wasn't the only one feeling impatient.
"I'm not gonna stand here and listen to this."
Phoebe spun in the opposite direction, heading out the door again.
"I have to insist that while you are a student in this school you cannot see him," Principal Cosgrove said loudly.
Phoebe glanced backward only to direct one of her intense, furious stares at the woman.
"Try and stop me."
"If you do not, I'll see myself in the position of having to inform your mother."
Not knowing how to counter that, Phoebe stormed out with one last grunt of despair.
She knew very well what her next stop was going to be.
"You fucking bitch!" She shouted as soon as Kaylee was in sight in the yard. "What's your problem, huh? Are you really so bored that my life has to become some sort of pastime for you?!"
Kaylee pretended to be unfazed by the sudden rumpus, but Phoebe could tell she'd been caught off guard.
"Why don't you chill a little? People will start thinking that you're not only a prostitute, but a loony as well."
"I don't give a damn what any of these people think!" Phoebe scoffed after glancing at the irrelevant premises. "You've messed with something you shouldn't have."
"Oh, you mean your little 'deal' with that blond guy from the restaurant." That wasn't exactly what Phoebe was talking about. However, though she knew they were nothing more than assumptions on Kaylee's part, it irked her that those assumptions weren't far off. "Yeah, Chloe saw you getting into his car. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."
Apparently, Kaylee didn't think depriving Phoebe of her job was enough, she had to go out of her way to make sure she didn't receive any kind of help.
"I'm gonna-"
"You're gonna what? Hit me? Go ahead, dig your grave." The smugness on her face, the way her lip curled up... It definitely made Kaylee dangerously 'punchable'.
Phoebe gathered all her anger and threw it alongside the spit she directed at Kaylee's feet.
"Why are you so gross?!" Phoebe heard Kaylee say when she had already began to walk away.
It wasn't easy retreating with all those spectators watching her, probably trying to work out in their minds who they would rather stand by in the whole ordeal. Phoebe not only felt aggrieved, but so, so mortified. Not that she would let it show.
The thought of having to live with the scrutiny of others from then on, thinking that she had a 'sugar daddy' was excruciating. Because she did in fact have one, although that wouldn't be the first term she would choose to define Walter. But she could not really deny that part. However, insinuating that she was in any way 'returning the favor' was crossing the line.
With shaky hands for what was left of school, Phoebe thanked God that Mr. Cauldwell hadn't shown up for class that day, which allowed her to leave early. That was about as much as she could be thankful for. She didn't wait nor stayed back to say goodbye to her friends. She was like a horse with blinkers over her eyes. Only one clear path ahead of her, leading to the Trade Center.
Everyone in New York was always fast, but that afternoon no one was quicker than Phoebe as she crossed streets and passed block after block until reaching the Plaza. In her determination, she had not expected to run into Walter while he was on his way inside the tower. Phoebe ran up to him before she could lose him.
"Mr. Cooperman!"
"Phoebe?" Walter turned around so abruptly that it almost looked like he'd already began to turn long before hearing her voice. He observed how flushed her face was and how heavily she was breathing. Something was up. "Why are you in such a rush?"
"Everyone-" Phoebe tried to catch her breath. "Everyone's saying that I'm selling myself." She then lowered her voice. "That I have a 'sugar daddy'."
She was so upset as she told him this. It wasn't just her shortness of breath that was making it hard to talk. Those words held strong connotations-directed at her, nonetheless. Walter saw her pitiful shame while pronouncing them as clearly as day.
He moved her aside, keeping a distance between themselves and the tower as to not block the entryway.
"Everyone?" At first, he had no idea who she could be referring to as 'everyone', but it was enough to make him on edge. Walter swore he could feel his palms start to sweat, even though he was still outside in the cold. But he was much better trained on keeping his emotions hidden from view than the young girl, which he erroneously deemed more useful than it actually was.
"At school. Guess who's behind it." Phoebe's restless fiddling while telling him this didn't help in alleviating his fretful emotion or keeping it in check.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably and twirled his hand around as he tried to remember the name.
"That... Kaylee." He guessed right, of course, and Phoebe nodded. The sweating sensation was replaced by a much more fitting shiver. Walter's hand ran coarsely along his jawline as he scratched it. "This is a problem. Do they know who I am?"
"Kaylee does. And her friends. But I don't think anyone else knows. Definitely not by name," she told him with barely any pauses between phrases.
Despite the last thing being a positive aspect, it wasn't enough to make his worry go away.
Walter pinched the bridge of his unique-almost Grecian-like-nose.
"It wouldn't take them long to get my name if they wanted to. It's a risk."
He was sure that if word was going around the school that some very distinctively blond, rich-looking, older man was hanging around one of the students without being related in any way, the teachers would know soon if they didn't already know. It could get ugly for him if they got involved.
"What are you saying?" With that question her voice sounded like it was breaking, fearing the answer to come.
And the feared answer arrived, but caught her off guard anyway, hitting her like a rainfall of bricks.
"Maybe it's best we don't see each other. At least not until you graduate." Walter was speaking calmly, with no idea that his words were causing the girl to start losing her grip, even though they were perfectly reasonable. But they were a repetition of Principal Cosgrove's, making Phoebe feel like they'd rehearsed them together in a ploy against her. "You'll still get your money, just not directly through me. Gina could handle it."
"No... No!" Phoebe's tone shocked Walter. It had been a while since he'd gotten that standoffish treatment from her, and he hadn't expected it to return out of the blue like that. "I don't care about that! You said I could-You said we'd find a way!" She exclaimed, barely maintaining her cool enough to speak clearly.
The instinctive reaction for her in those moments was to reach out and tug the material on her own jacket, pulling it down on it, stretching it out. A seemingly odd habit she'd picked up many years ago, and the same one that distracted Gina not so long ago.
"I'm sorry, Phoebe. But this is a hairy situation for me." He didn't understand why she was getting worked up about it and overreacting. He never would've thought that Phoebe would care much for the change of plans, after all, it was a bit of an atypical idea to begin with. "I can't do it."
Phoebe's eyes began to sting bitterly at the regret over her poor sense of judgment. She should've never told him anything. If she'd only kept the information about the rumors to herself, he would have never been in that difficult position. What they'd both agreed on in the park the previous day could have been honored.
Now it was all ruined again.
The blinding anxiety consumed Phoebe easier that time than usual. She could barely hold back, despite knowing deep down that Walter was not at fault. While Kaylee was largely to blame, it was her choices that led her to where she was.
"He was right!" Phoebe yelled, lashing out and launching into a fit that Walter should have probably seen coming. The signs were there, but again, he was no expert in 'teens' and their reactions. Passersby snapped their heads in their direction. "All you ever do is lie. You're all liars!"
"Phoebe," he said coolly, placing his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to subdue her.
"Get your hands off me, kike!" She tried to shake him off, but he held on.
Walter took no offense at her words, because he knew she didn't mean any of it. From what he observed, it was as though, when overwhelmed, Phoebe entered a state of hysteria, in which her mind broke down in chaos and could not control the threshold between it and what came out of her mouth.
He might not have been an expert, but he could recognize a panic attack-in all its different forms and manifestations. He was no stranger to them.
He looked at the people startled by the scene as if to say 'everything's under control, folks'.
"Phoebe, calm down. Just calm down, please." Walter's grip on her remained, and he used it to pull her against himself. It wouldn't have been his first choice, but he couldn't think of anything else. His arms hesitatingly wrapped around Phoebe's tense body, taking a gamble by doing so. Hoping it was all that she needed to return to normal, and also hoping that it would work on her.
She ceased fighting and squirming almost immediately. It didn't take long for the girl to seek support, holding on tightly to a crease on the back of his coat.
A shrieking gasp gave way to an unburdening sob. Walter let her have as much time to vent as she needed, but eventually, despite the knot in her throat, Phoebe managed to apologize to him, considering it essential to do it as soon as possible.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she desperately said, wishing there were other ways to say it so it would give her a proper atonement-she kept saying sorry to him but continued to wrong him and she feared it was losing its validity. "I didn't mean it."
"I know. It's okay." The straightforward, consoling words rolled of his tongue with ease, as if he wasn't using them on the same girl who had just called him a slur.
He rested his hand on the nape of her neck, gently patting through the thick hair, trying not to convey with it his tense awkwardness.
"None of it is okay."
"It will be." Walter stayed silent for a moment, pondering. "You don't have to tell me anything yet. But if you need someone else to talk to, just let me know and I'll make an appointment for you. No one has to know."
Phoebe wriggled herself out of his arms, the embarrassment of her meltdown suddenly getting to her by the unexpected shock at his suggestion that she see a therapist.
She aggressively tried to wipe away the tears sticking to her cheeks with her gloved hand, circumventing Walter's suggestion-anything but facing the music.
"I just have to ask; why is my company suddenly so important to you? Why get into such a state about this if you normally have to try so hard to even tolerate being around me?" He asked.
As she glanced downward, Phoebe came to accept that there was no way out.
"I can't be alone, ok? I hate it."
This came as a surprising revelation. He had a notion of Phoebe being fiercely independent for her young age, and to find that it was just another one of her masks, made Walter aware of just how deeply her issues seemed to run.
"Aren't you alone most of the time?"
"Exactly. And it kills me. You know what it's like to have to hold back tears the entire time? The world is so big, and from my eyes it just seems so much bigger and scarier."
It was strange, but Phoebe wasn't feeling any shame while admitting to one of her biggest fears and vulnerabilities. Was Walter perhaps not as different from her as she thought? It could be why it was so easy to be this open and honest with him all of a sudden.
"I may not be someone who goes through that, but I can understand what you mean." So maybe they didn't share the exact same problem, but if he was able to understand, there was likely something else that made him go through a similar feeling of hopelessness. "And let me tell you, I'll be there for you. You don't have to worry."
This empathy was the confirmation of her suspicions. And it arose many doubts that made her question whether the manner in which she had been treating Walter had ever triggered that unfortunate feeling for him.
"Why are you so nice to me, Mr. Cooperman?"
"Why wouldn't I be nice to you?"
His answer/question only served to elevate Walter's character way beyond than where it originally stood in her book. At the same time, she was sure her character had reached an all-time-low in Walter's book.
"Because I treat you like shit? Because I'm a brat? I don't know, I could list a few reasons."
"I believe that's simply your defense mechanism against what you've just confessed to me," he said, still making Phoebe wonder why he wasn't mad and kept making excuses for her and her behavior. "In reality, you're a good, hard-working kid, Phoebe. You're just scared to admit it because you think it will make you look weak."
"I suppose you're right."
She shrugged before delving into silence. It was beginning to feel like Phoebe had been intrusively disrupting enough, and she just wanted to leave him alone and get going. She scratched the side of her head as she took a few steps away.
"Where are you going?"
She stopped. "I've got a friend in the South Tower. I'd hate to ask her, but maybe she'll let me stay with her during my supposed work-hours."
"That won't cut it. If, as you say, your uncle were to pick you up, he wouldn't go looking for you in the South Tower. If you were in my office, you'd be able to put on a foolproof front."
Not getting his point, she exhaled a loud breath and threw her arms in the air desperately.
"Great, so I'm toast."
"Phoebe, I'm telling you I'm back on board." Walter chuckled. Before she could ask him the question he knew was coming his way, he spoke. "I promise."
She momentarily got hopeful, but remembered it just wasn't fair to him.
"No, I'll feel awful if you get into trouble because of me."
Walter walked closer to her. "I said we'll work it out and we will."
"Thank you." Her eyebrows rested apologetically upon her eyes. Walter knew another piece of her conscience was being thoughtfully mended. "Oh... and I promise never to talk down on you like that again."
"I appreciate it." He nodded gratefully. "Now let's get inside. I think we've put on a show for long enough."
Phoebe hid her face behind her hands, dreading to find any stares from shocked onlookers. Fortunately, both of them were soon going up the elevator as if nothing had happened. Walter walked up to Gina once inside Cantor Fitzgerald while Phoebe stayed hidden behind the tall man.
"Good afternoon, Gina."
"Uh, Walter. You have a kid stuck to your back." The woman pointed her head in Phoebe's direction.
Walter turned just to gently push Phoebe forward in front of him.
"You know Phoebe."
Phoebe awkwardly waved her hand, wishing she could see inside the woman's mind in that moment. Gina returned the greeting, squinting her eyes at the two of them.
"And I get the feeling I'm going to know her more."
"You always know what's what." He shrugged, looking unsurprised. "She has complete access to my office, alright? If anyone asks, come up with something. You're good at that."
"Yes, Cap'n." Gina saluted. "Walter," Gina called the man to keep him back for a moment while Phoebe, unaware, continued down the way to his office. "What the hell happened to the poor thing?" She whispered. No detail could get past Gina, so no matter how hard Phoebe had tried to pass by inadvertently, it wouldn't make a difference.
His only reply was a sad, compassionate face. When he caught up to Phoebe, he made her halt before they got to his office so she would take a small detour.
"There's a restroom over there if you want to freshen up."
Phoebe nodded before heading inside, where she didn't waste a second turning the tap on to splash her salty face. Rubbing the dried up tears made her cheeks sore and even redder. But it felt good.
She leaned on the sink, taking a closer look at her bloodshot eyes. She couldn't tell whether the impression she was giving off was less of a crybaby, and more of a stoner then. A mess either way, that was for sure.
The noise of someone opening the restroom door completely interrupted her self-loathing thoughts and made her back away from the mirror to see who it was.
Gina walked in, and by the look of it, not to use the restroom at all. The woman was on a clear route toward Phoebe. Not in a menacing way, all the contrary. In fact, Phoebe would have almost thought she was about to be on the receiving end of another hug. She grimaced and took a step back again by reflex. One hug was enough for the day.
"I'm not here to wipe your tears, don't worry. I can already see you've taken care of that yourself."
Not a softie, huh?
Phoebe liked Gina.
"Nothing new," the girl responded with a gloomy chuckle afterward.
Gina came to a stop at a comfortable distance. The numerous bracelets around her wrist made a rattle as she placed one of her hands atop the triple sink counter.
"Listen," she said in a way that let Phoebe know she was going to be inquisitive. Her jaw moved up and down as she chewed on gum before she spoke again. "I'm Gina, and that usually means that people expect me to know everything. It's usually true. But in this case, I can't say I know for sure what's going on."
Since Phoebe had decided that she liked Gina, and Walter definitely trusted her, she saw no issue on letting her into the loop. It would probably even be beneficial, if anything.
"What do you want to know?"
"How did you two meet? What's going on between you?" She paused briefly. "You know, he looked so disappointed that day when he saw that you'd returned the package. That's what really sparked my curiosity."
Phoebe understood just how odd the situation must have looked from the outside. Anyone seeing her appear out of nowhere into Walter's life would be at a loss.
"We met upstairs, at the restaurant. It was my first day. He didn't exactly make it easy on me, so I didn't either." Gina made an understanding nod. "As to what's going on, it's nothing weird, I swear. He's just... helping me out."
Gina furrowed her eyebrows tightly.
"He's helping you out? Walter Cooperman is helping someone out?"
"Yes. Why is that so shocking?"
"Walter isn't a bad person, but he's not-he's not the easiest person to deal with either. I mean, it didn't surprise me one bit when you said he didn't make it easy on you. He's particular. And a workaholic." She looked away, trying to work it all out in her mind. "It's like I suddenly don't know who he is after all these years."
It seemed to be a good piece of info on him. Maybe useful too.
"I think it's the other way round in this instance. Mr. Cooperman has been nothing but nice and patient with me. I'm the one who's not making it easy on him now."
Gina's hand went from the counter to her hip.
"This has never-and I say never-happened before. Who are you and what have you done with him?" Gina joked.
"You care about him," Phoebe observed after a short while.
"I do, but not that way. And I'd never admit it to his face, no one ever would. He needs someone who would." Phoebe was getting the feeling she was missing something. Some piece of information omitted before. "All I'm saying is, I think you're gonna be taking care of each other."
Gina headed for the door again after abruptly ending the conversation there.
"One more thing, Red." She stopped at the doorway. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
Gina merely stuck her thumb up, leaving the restroom without another word.
The peculiar exchange with Gina had made Phoebe feel a lot better, even making her practically forget she'd been crying at all. She left the restroom to make her way to Walter's office at last.
It appeared as though he'd been doing nothing but wait for her in the meantime, because she found him staring straight at the door when she showed up.
"You were in there for a while, are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine now."
"Take a seat." Phoebe did so, sitting askew to make herself comfortable. "So, what have we settled on?" Her eyebrow went up. "Your 'allowance'. Do you have a definite number?"
"Ah. Only what I made at the restaurant. Not a penny more."
She ripped a piece of a sticky note from his manically organized desk, wrote the number down, plus what she made on tips on average, sliding the note for him to see.
"You can do better than this now."
"And do what with it? Make my family suspicious?"
Walter decided not to push and let it go. He took a quick glance at the calendar on his desk.
"So, today's the fourteenth. How would it work out for you to receive it that day monthly?"
"I'm in no position to be picky," Phoebe said stretching back to rest her feet on top of the desk. "so yeah, it works out fine."
Walter pushed her feet off the desk, wiping his hand over where the shoes had been. Phoebe stared back at him with a mix of resentment and startle.
He continued to speak, unfazed. "Where are you thinking of going this fall; NYU, Columbia...?"
"I wouldn't get into Columbia but I might have a shot at NYU."
"Just let me know when you apply and get an answer." Walter looked at the golden watch under his sleeve. "I better start getting some work done. You have some homework to do, I guess?" Phoebe nodded her answer as she picked her bag from the floor. "Oh, by the way. I get a lot of walk-in clients, so you may have to stretch your legs and go chat with Gina from time to time. But I'll try to take most of their meetings in a conference room."
"Oh, yeah I get it. You can tell me when I'm in the way, I don't mind."
He smiled, satisfied with her understanding, then started to get his files in order. That was her cue to begin working too, but not before exhaling a sigh of accumulated fear and tension that was now dissipating and burying itself deep, deep down.
It didn't take long for Phoebe to finish her homework, it wasn't much to begin with. Her fingers tapped against her knee as she thought of something else to do. She looked up, finding the serene image of Walter's studious face, head tilted slightly downward in a way that wouldn't make his neck hurt later. Fountain pen held motionless in his left hand.
It was such a still scene, so seemingly frozen in time, that it almost could've been a painting. Therefore, Phoebe decided to turn it into one of her sketches. While she got the sketching pad out from her bag, she hoped he would not move one inch. Taking precaution as to not alert him of her intentions, not knowing yet if he was the kind of person to dislike being the subject of a drawing, she quietly went through the pages until finding a blank one.
Phoebe leaned back, picking her legs up on the chair to rest the pad against her thighs discreetly so he'd have no chance to take a peep. The brittle tip of the 5B pencil splintered upon contact with the coarse surface of the paper, but made swift lines and curves nonetheless. Phoebe only had to look up a couple of times more to capture, his semblance-it had become embedded into her mind with ease and needed no reference to bring it into a simple yet full-of-life sketch in a matter of minutes.
As she added one of the finishing touches on the face, a slight movement from him scared her enough to bring the drawing to a rushed end and she packed the sketchbook back into the bag.
Once again her sight was at a loss, searching for entertainment. When it landed on his briefcase, Phoebe strangely found in it something to focus on.
"World. Trade. Center," she said under the her breath.
"Huh?" He asked distractedly.
Phoebe picked the briefcase up, running her finger along the plaque as she read the initials to him again.
"Oh," Walter took a pause to chuckle before speaking. "It doesn't stand for World Trade Center. Those are my initials."
"Walter T. Cooperman," she said with a pensive tone. "Theodore? Tyrone? Torbert? Tiberius?"
"Tiberius like Captain Kirk?" Walter asked with amusement. Phoebe nodded with effusive expectation. "Unfortunately, I never passed the Kobayashi Maru nor was named Tiberius-it's Terrence."
She made a face.
"Out of all the T's, why Terrence?"
He looked away. "My father; Terrence Hezekiah Cooperman."
"Hezekiah. Wow."
"Yes... My family is pretty old-fashioned." Walter leaned forward. "Now that we're on the subject, don't you think I should know your full name too?"
She pressed her lips together, she wasn't a big fan of her full name.
"Phoebe Carla Bradley. But I'm thinking of changing my last name to my mother's maiden name."
Walter was fully attentive. "Which is?"
"Torregrossa."
"Ah, there's the Italian in you," he said with a sense of fulfilled curiosity. "Huh, it's interesting..."
"What is?"
"Don't you know what it means?"
She tiled her head. "No. You speak Italian?"
"Un po'. I have a great number of Italian clients. Sits well with them that I can throw in the occasional phrase."
What else can this man do? He probably even speaks Cantonese. Or Klingon.
"It means 'big tower'," he continued. "A little ironic wouldn't you say?"
"Because...?" She looked around as he gestured to the environment surrounding them. "Oh, I get it." Phoebe laughed uncomfortably, a little embarrassed that she hadn't caught the irony sooner. "So, can I call you Terry?"
"You can, but I'd be forced to call you Carly."
"As if! Sounds too close to Kaylee. Forget it, I'll stick with Mr. Cooperman."
There was a silence.
"Or you can switch to Walter."
After the little show she put on earlier she didn't expect he would be letting her stay with him, much less give her permission to be on first name basis.
She still wasn't sure if he was being serious.
"I can?"
"Well, I'll take anything but 'kike' again, to be honest," Walter responded teasingly, gaining a red-cheeked face from Phoebe.
He called it a day when darkness began to stretch upon the sky. It was a strange thing to be packing up her stuff and leaving alongside him, like they were coworkers or something of the sort. Reality couldn't be farther apart, and yet, beyond the strangeness, there was a sense of normalcy. It felt natural, as if it had been something they'd been doing for a long time already. It might have not been the case then, but it didn't seem like a far-off prospect.
And as Phoebe exited the tower with him, she couldn't help but look forward to the next day, and the next, and the one after that.
Hung up on her thoughts of , Phoebe almost didn't spot Elena at the far end of the tower, looking like she was waiting for something. Phoebe approached her.
"You're a little late," the woman told her, hands at each side of her waist.
Phoebe's palm went up to her forehead, feeling bad for having left Elena waiting without even letting her know she no longer needed to do so.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot you were giving me a ride home today."
"Found yourself a substitute, have you?" Elena stared at Walter from head to toe and pretended to be offended.
"It's not that... I was fired from Windows on the World, Elena."
"When?!"
"A couple of days ago, give or take." Phoebe would have told Elena earlier, but at that moment she realized that there were still only two contacts on her phone, and neither of them were Elena. Only Walter and Sylvia had a place in the list for the moment.
"I'll be damned. Why would they do such a thing?" Elena's eyes darted upward for a second showing a hint of suspicion when they returned to Phoebe, and for a split second, to Walter. "Why were you up the tower just now, though?"
"It's kind of a long story. I can tell you over the phone, if you'd like," Phoebe said as she looked at Walter for some sort of approval. His head moved, if only a little, leading Phoebe to take it as a yes, so she got her cellphone out and handed it over to Elena.
"For sure." Elena typed in her number before giving the phone back to her. "So, you're, um, heading home now?"
"I can take her, it's no hassle," Walter spoke up.
Elena looked defensively at him all of a sudden, as if she'd been provoked. "I can, too. I was going to, anyways."
Phoebe, realizing she hadn't introduced them to each other, stepped in before it could turn into an argument over who would be taking her home.
She made an awkward chuckle. "Oh, erm... I forgot; Walter, this Elena Abbott. She works at Morgan Stanley."
"You must be her friend from the south tower."
"And you... I have no idea who you must be."
"Walter Cooperman." He gave his hand out for Elena. "Cantor Fitzgerald."
There was something oddly comforting about having adults as friends. It was reassuring to know she would never be entangled in the same kind of Kaylee-like drama with them. Or that was what she thought.
"Well, Walter Cooperman of Cantor Fitzgerald, you can scram. I'm Phoebe's chauffeur," Elena told him sassily.
"Just give me two more minutes, there's something I want to tell him," Phoebe pleaded Elena.
Elena agreed to wait a while longer, tapping her foot against the ground as she observed Phoebe talk to Walter a few feet away from her.
"I do tolerate you. I do," Phoebe told him, referencing what he'd said some hours ago. "No matter what I might have said in the past-you are not the problem." The way she admitted her wrongdoings reinforced Walter's feeling that his decision to not give up on her, to put up with any prejudice she might throw at him, was the right one. Not the easiest or most time-saving decision, but definitely the right one. "I guess I'm apologizing again."
"Enough of that, Phoebe."
She put her hand up.
"No, please. Never stop me from apologizing. It's the least I can do to feel like a decent person for once." Walter thought he was in a parallel universe, speaking to another Phoebe. "Good evening, Walter." The girl began to return to Elena.
"Wait, before you go." She turned and muttered a 'hm?'. "You know how you said that having a job made you feel worthwhile and not having it made you feel like you were taking advantage of me? I don't want you to feel that way."
"So?" She asked, sensing he was plotting something.
"How would it feel to work for me?"
She blinked twice.
"Wait, are you for real?" Her? Working for Walter? How? She did have to admit that it was worth considering it. "Would that even begin to pay for college?"
"Forget all that about paying back, all right?" Walter tiredly insisted. "You would earn more with me than any other secretary in the city, and it'll be all for you to keep."
Phoebe took a few seconds to deliberate. It was yet another proposition by him that wasn't easy for Phoebe to assimilate. There were so many things to take into account. It would mean working an office job, for starters. Something she swore she would never touch with a ten foot pole.
She struggled and fought against all her instincts, eventually accepting, but not without putting up a 'fight'. Phoebe couldn't just say yes, fearing it would be like giving up easily.
"Assistant," she said, making it a condition to be called assistant instead of secretary.
"Secretary" he countered just to tease her.
"Assistant."
"Fine. Assistant." Walter gave in, stifling a chuckle. "Or even paralegal, if you prefer that. It would just be for a while, until you start college. This way, if anyone ever questions the nature of our relationship again, you'll tell them the truth; that I'm your boss. But you can quit whenever you want to. No pressure."
"Wow... I don't know what to say. You really did come up with a way, huh?"
On one hand, this arrangement was already making it all feel better. On the other, Phoebe's guilt regarding the stark contrast between the way she treated him and the way he treated her, weighed heavier. Every time he made one of those gestures, it added up to the baggage on her shoulders. She would soon be walking hunched over-unless she promised herself to change.
They shook hands, making it more than just a verbal contract.
"Thanks, Mr-Walter." Phoebe forced a sincere, but half-hearted smile.
Walter noticed that one of the straps of her backpack was hanging down against her arm. He pulled the strap upward, making sure it was resting comfortably and correctly over her shoulder.
"I'll let you get back to Miss Abbott now."
With one last grateful glance, Phoebe ran back to her patient friend and they both began to walk away. Elena wrapped an arm around Phoebe's shoulder, looked behind them for a second and then pulled the girl close to mutter a gossipy remark about Walter with a risqué tone.
"Schmancy."