The Second Omission
The Second Omission
copyright 2010 comidacomida
Paul remained behind the camera, leaving the majority of the direction up to Miranda, who seemed to have a knack for it. It wasn't that he didn't feel that people would pay attention to him or do as he said, rather, he simply felt more at ease letting the fiery-tempered, powerful-voiced, prominent presence that was Miranda handle things; she was made for the position.
The project, as it turned out, was vastly more complicated than it had first appeared. The managing team originally settled on a seemingly simple idea but, the more they explored it, the more in depth it became. It was Paul's decision to do two separate photo shoots and then merge them together into a single advertisement; although he was confident it would turn out well he had begun to regret the extra work. At least he was able to be content that it was the last day of the project for him and most of the studio crew.
"Alright, everyone... get moving! I want these last shots done before lunch!" Miranda, as usual was a force to be reckoned with, moving about the studio like a tornado, disturbing everything she passed. Unlike a tornado, however, she left things much more organized for her being there and Paul had to admit that he had no idea how he'd have survived without her; the thought concerned him.
Under the iron-grip of Miranda, the models were in place and the set was prepared. Lights were turned on and all background personnel were nowhere in Paul's view-finder. "Alright, Dakota... whenever you're ready." Miranda offered. Paul wasn't really sure how it had happened, but what originally started as a pet name from Ray quickly spiraled out of control and it became a nickname of sorts everyone on the Mein Hund project called him. "Whenever you're ready, cutie." Miranda winked. Paul quickly busied himself adjusting the camera, working furiously to distract himself from his blushing face.
As far as his camera was concerned, Paul was taking picture of a family living room complete with picturesque suburban Americana beyond the frilly-trimmed 'window' that was set in the 'wall' behind them. In truth, the backdrop was little more than a drywalled, textured set of boards with a square hole cut into it and doctored up to resemble a window. The view beyond the 'window' was little more than well-placed model houses to trick the eye into a false sense of distance. All in all, as long as Paul looked through the camera, it really was quite convincing.
"Okay, all... pose for the photo." Paul spoke, watching the display as he adjusted the picture size. Originally AHB had balked at the idea of using four models in addition to Casey, but in the end, Eizenzahn's support of him had won out and they gave into his demands. Paul had said he wanted a 'family portrait' feel and the other managers on the project were willing to hear him out. He had Debbie, the talent scout look for a middle-aged man and woman and a young boy and young girl.
Paul had the stately-looking, patronly middle-aged man on the far left of the couch sat comfortably in trousers and a sweater; the model brought a camera-friendly set of black-rimmed glasses himself. The golden-haired, all-American-mom had a ready smile touched up expertly by the marketing team's skilled make-up artists to give her the 1950's sitcom perfection and her ruby-red lips parted to reveal gleaming-white teeth that would have done a toothpaste ad proud. A boy and girl, both with matching sandy-blond hair sat at the foot of the sofa, each dressed in blue jeans and a shirt. The boy had a slight cowlick and the girl had pig tails. Together, they flanked Casey.
Casey reclined back against the couch at the middle of the shot, dad and son on one side, mother and daughter on the other. Both kids had a hand on either of his shoulders and everyone had the largest possible smiles; Casey's tongue was even hanging out one side of his muzzle. "Hold it!" Paul noted, and quickly glanced at the finished picture from the first photo-shoot: the human actors were identical, only instead of Casey, a standard, four-legged dalmatian was in the shot instead, wearing an identical Mein Hund collar.
"A little less tongue, Casey." Paul spoke up, checking again to compare how the photos compared. A few people in the background snickered at the comment, but Paul ignored it. The dalmatian readjusted his panting pose. "Becca... raise your chin a little higher." the little girl did as requested. "Alright everyone... hold it!" Paul took the exposure, "Good! Next position." he directed, and all five models changed position into the next of 12 poses. Paul sighed; they had 10 to go.
Once everyone was into the rhythm of the shoot things progressed much faster. He was pleased to see that the models all had an excellent memory of the positions they had taken previously and only a few minor corrections needed to be made; it was important for the agency to have as many poses to chose from with as accurate as possible positioning for his plan to work. Everyone knew that Paul was taking a gamble with the idea, and nobody realized that better than Paul himself.
"Alright, everyone-- that's a wrap!" Miranda shouted as Paul finally stepped away from the camera. He straightened his back and slowly rotated his neck first one way then the other.
"Need some help with that?" Casey asked, approaching Paul as the rest of the models returned to their wardrobe locations. The dalmatian moved around behind Paul and rested his paws on the photographer's shoulders. Paul quickly slipped out of his grasp.
"Thanks, Casey... I think I'll be fine... just gotta stop hunching over the camera for hours on end." Paul felt himself blushing, but managed to keep an even tone without rushing the words.
"Casey... leave the joint managing director alone and go change." Miranda stated in her tone that accepted no disobedience, "Mr Eizenzahn said that he wanted to see you by 1."
"Good work, Casey." Paul quickly added as the dalmatian padded off, "Good luck with the modeling!" he called after him.
"That's a funny thing to say, Dakota." Miranda spoke up, resting an elbow on Paul's shoulder.
"Why's that? Models can use all the lucky they can get... it's a hard business." Paul countered.
"Well... seeing as his contract with Mein Hund doesn't allow him to accept any projects for the next three years except for the ones through Mein Hund, I doubt luck will have anything to do with it." she answered casually.
"A contract? Three years?... huh?" Paul questioned, using the genuine surprise in his voice as an excuse to turn toward her, escaping her casually placed elbow.
Miranda nodded, "Yea... he's 'the face of Mein Hund', which means they want rights to his image for the next three years."
Paul was amazed at the strange sense of logic; he'd never considered such an idea but, since it was just explained to him, it made so much more sense than he thought it would. He prepared an equally profound and insightful response to the information: "Wow..."
Miranda chuckled, "Yea... you got that right." she straightened her stance and gave him a shove, "You'd better get going too... Eizenzahn said that he wanted at least one of us management types to report front and center too."
"Well... what about you?" Paul offered, more out of habit than real objection. Though under any other circumstance he would have found a lunch meeting with upper management to be beyond stressful, he had learned to not mind meeting with Eizenzahn.
"No can do. I have to crack the whip on Mateo and the others who are setting up the slides and matting for the project... they're just getting started." Miranda answered, walking back down the hall, pulling Paul with her by his tie. As they passed a picture on the wall, Paul could not help but catch a faint reflection in the glass of him being led along by Miranda almost as if he were wearing a--
"Leash." Ben spoke up as the two passed him in the hallway, "You didn't get the leash on the Dog model in the second set of exposures, Dakota."
Miranda let go of Paul's tie and sighed; Paul planted his palm on his forehead, "Damn it."
"Not a problem... we can add it in touch-up." Ben replied, "Just watch the amateur mistakes, kid... you're in the big time now." and the big black man gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. Paul didn't like being called a kid and he didn't like the hearty slap on the shoulder, but he let both go; he screwed up, and Ben was willing to cover for him-- that gave Ben as much leeway as he wanted to take.
"I can't think of anyone I'd want watching my back more than Ben." Miranda spoke up, "You're one lucky son of a bitch, you know that, Dakota?" she leaned toward him, adjusting his tie.
"Sometimes I wonder." Paul countered, his voice cracking part way through the comment.
Miranda just laughed at that and took a step back, giving him a sharp punch in the shoulder, "Okay... enough playing cutesy... go report to Mr Eizenzahn before he thinks the project managers are abandoning our duties. We all have our jobs to do and this one's yours."
"I... uh... yea..." Paul paused, rubbing the back of his head, "But... where am I supposed to meet--" he glanced up toward Miranda... but she was already gone. Paul sighed, trying a faint smile on as he tried to cheer himself up singing in a low voice, "Oh where oh where has my little dog gone..."
"Oh, silly boy..." Paul tensed immediately once he recognized Pascal's voice, "we both know he iz not so little." the poodle tittered. Paul's mood sunk lower in preparation for more embarrassment.
"Oh... hey, Pascal... I'm supposed to go see Mr Eizenzahn." he offered in as impassive, neutral tone as he could.
"But of course, le mignon..." Pascal noted, sliding an arm around one of Paul's, "We are meeting him at ze cafe... Charlie's, ne pas?
"Uh... oh..." Paul paused, "Um... right." He took a deep breath and headed out onto the street, Pascal still hanging on his arm. Paul expected that the lunch hour was going to be a very long one.
* * * * * *
"Thank you for coming." Eizenzahn stood at the head of the table, commanding the attention of the small group of AHB employees along with Eizenzahn, Pascal, and Casey that were in attendance. To Paul's incredible joy it appeared that the Doberman had reserved the whole back room of Charle's Cafe, meaning that any goings on would likely get by unnoticed. Something about having no witnesses to the insanity that was liable to sprout at any moment made him feel a little more at ease. Casey winked at him from across the table. ~Or maybe not.~ Paul sighed mentally.
"These six months have passed very quickly and, I am happy to say, have been very fruitful." the Doberman continued, glancing around the table, "Your hard work and dedication has accomplished the goals of Mein Hund in all the ways your management has guaranteed." his gaze slowed until it came to rest on Paul. The young man could only look back at Eizenzahn, whose brown eyes held his gaze in unwavering steadfast firmness, "I am very pleased with how this has all turned out... and I look forward to our continued relationship." The dobie's eyes finally moved onward, and Paul held a breath he didn't know had caught in his chest.
"As some of you may know, 'Aimes, Howe, and Burke' is currently in negotiations with Mein Hund to produce our next marketing project." Eizenzahn spoke up. From the numerous quiet murmurs around the table it was readily apparent that those present did not know; Paul felt better because he wasn't the only one who was unaware. The Doberman continued, "I expect to return to continue negotiations once I can renew my VISA, and I expect that preparations for our next marketing push will continue with every one here included on the project." A polite round of applause signaled everyone's agreement of the idea.
"I understand that this is everyone's lunch break, so I will keep the speech short." Eizenzahn commented.
"I think you're a little too late there, boss." Ray spoke up flatly. A few chuckles arose from the table.
The Doberman took it well and nodded his head, "Just so. Thank you." he offered a neutral smile to the golden retriever, "In that case... I will let someone else make the toast." and, with that, Eizenzahn took a seat.
No sooner had he done so than Casey got to his feet, "Okay... then I'LL propose the toast." he announced melodramatically. "To spouses, and lovers..." Casey held his glass up. Everyone around the table did likewise. The dalmatian paused, and Paul had just started to sip from his own as Casey continued, "... and to hoping that they never meet." Paul barely managed to avoid spewing his half-sip of wine across the table. A roar of laughter rose up from those present and several others barely maintained their own self-control to avoid a similar mess. Casey's eyes remained on Paul however, and he found himself laughing far less for it.
The lunch went well and, after the initial awkwardness of the speech and toast, Paul found that the hour passed very quickly. It was strange going out to lunch with so many coworkers and having the cafe's back room all to his group. The people surrounding him are those with whom he'd spent the last several months working, and it seemed to develop almost into a family atmosphere. He knew everyone's name and could count off at least five pieces of random trivia he knew about them. They weren't friends, exactly, but they were coworkers. As he considered the five things he knew about Sweet-As-Candy, the beagle who was in charge of set design, his train of thought was broken.
"Paul..." the deep baritone spoke up. Paul slowly raised his eyes to glance across the table at Ray. There was an ache that filled the young man every time he heard the Dog call him by his given name and not the nickname everyone else had come to use. It was irony of a sort that Ray, who had given him the name in the first place, was now the only one who called him by his real one.
"Yea?" he asked, still avoiding meeting the retriever's gaze. The lunch meeting was coming to an end and several people began to leave.
"Mr. Aimes and Mr. Burke set up an appointment at 3:00 for the team leads who'd been working on the Mein Hund project." Ray stated simply in a professional tone, "Mr Aimes asked me to let you know."
"Thank you, Ray." Paul answered, and he heard the Dog stand and follow several others out. The young man remained in his seat, feeling the discomfort from their cold, work-related conversation. There was a strange emptiness caused by the interaction, and Paul did not like it at all; he spent every day for more weeks than he could count on both hands working with the retriever, but it felt like he wasn't there, and Paul missed him.
Letting out a deep breath, Paul stood, thanked Eizenzahn along with everyone else present, and made his way out of the cafe. His lunch break was over, the project was almost over, and Paul hoped that the drama for the day was also over. Unfortunately, it was only just beginning.
* * * * * *
"What the FUCK, Paul?!?" Mateo demanded the moment Paul entered the office.
"I...." Paul froze in his place, unable to figure out how best to respond to the sudden verbal attack.
Mateo grabbed Paul by the shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly as he practically dragged him across the office. "When in the hell were you gonna tell me, Paul? I.... grah!" Mateo let go of Paul's shirt, slamming both fists against the wall. Several sets of eyes looked up from their work and Paul began to feel embarrassment mix with his already established sense of concern.
"Tell you what, Mateo?" Paul asked, taking a step back from his hot-headed coworker.
"Come on, Paul... don't fuck with me like this." Mateo turned to stare at him, taking two steps closer so that he was right in front of him, "Tell it to my face."
"Tell you what, Mateo?" Paul repeated, taking another step back, and finding that he had nowhere else to go; he was up against the wall, "I don't know what you want me to say..."
"Tell me why you fucking did it, Paul... tell me why." Mateo demanded, grabbing the front of Paul's shirt.
A thousand thoughts went through his mind at that moment. Was Mateo playing some kind of unfunny joke? Did Mateo blame him for some imagined wrong? Had Paul slighted or inadvertently offended Mateo? Maybe Mateo wanted to go to lunch with the group? Paul's hundreds of thoughts came crashing down the moment he saw Ray walk into the room and pause. The dog stood, watching the interaction between Mateo and Paul. Had Ray said something? Did Ray tell Mateo about Tanner?
"I..." Paul murmured, glancing away from Mateo.
"Look at me, damn it!" Mateo demanded, pulling Paul away from the wall only to slam him back into it. More eyes were on them. "How in the hell could you do something like this? I thought we were friends!"
"I..." Paul stuttered again, glancing at Ray, who took a step closer, ears up, but did not interfere, "Mateo... WHAT are you talking about?" he pleaded.
Mateo let go of Paul's shirt and grabbed a sheet of paper off of the table beside him, "This!" he spat, waving what appeared to be some kind of memo in the air in front of Paul, "This. How could you do THIS!?!?"
Paul waited until Mateo stopped shaking the paper and managed to catch a glimpse of it, "Name credits for the Mein Hund project." he noted, "I didn't know anyone printed them out yet."
"Well someone DID." Mateo balled up the paper and threw it in Paul's face, "Did me finding out early fuck with your little plan?" he demanded
Paul recoiled, not moving from his place at the wall, "Mateo... what are you talking ab--"
*SPACK!*
Paul saw stars as Mateo's right hook connected with his cheek. He stumbled, but was grabbed by Mateo and hauled back up to his feet.
"Well who else could it have been? Only management has the right to add or cut names, and you have the most to gain!" Mateo demanded, poking Paul in the chest with an outstretched index finger, "If it wasn't you, then WHO?" he poked him again, "WHO?!"
Tears were in Paul's eyes at that point, unable to cope with the verbal onslaught, let alone the physical one, "Mateo... I don't... I really don't know..."
"Stop fucking lying and tell me straight!" Mateo demanded, shoving Paul back up against the wall, shoving his forearm up against Paul's neck, "I want to hear it straight from you!" Mateo struck Paul again with his free arm. "Did you think I'd just sit here and get fucked? Do you think I'm some little corporate flunkie that'll be happy to hang off your every word, Mr Manager?"
Paul squirmed as he gripped Mateo's arm, fighting for air as it choked him. Somewhere in the panic-stricken mesh of thoughts, Paul was relieved to find out that Mateo's problem was work-related, but that hardly made the situation that much better, "Ma... Ma... teo..." he wheezed, "I... I didn't do... anything..."
"Bullshit!" Mateo responded, spitting in his face, "Do you think I'd just sit by and let you switch your name for mine on mapping and layout credit? You don't even know the first fucking thing about spacing an advertisement you fucking SHIT!" and, with that, Mateo flung Paul to the side, sending him up and over the adjacent work table. Paul and the table fell to the ground.
Mateo stocked toward him, "You fucking little backstabbing son of a bitch!"
Paul curled into a ball as one of Mateo's loafers connected with his ribs, "You've been standing on my shoulders all this time, and I actually believed you when you said you were going to give me some fucking credit!" Mateo kicked him again. From his position on the ground, Paul could only cower, awaiting another hit... but it didn't come.
Slowly, Paul raised his head to see Ray standing between Mateo and himself, "Back off, Mateo... work isn't a place for a temper tantrum." the Dog stated.
"Fuck you, Ray..." Mateo cursed, scowling, "you've been Paul's little lap dog ever since he got here... you barely did a fucking thing and YOU got your name on the credits."
"I don't report to you, Mateo, so I don't give a fuck about what you think," Ray responded flatly, "but it's stunts like this that keep you from getting any good reviews."
Seething, Mateo lunged at the golden retriever. Ray stepped to the side and grabbed hold of Mateo's fist. The Dog slid a leg out and pushed it in front of one of Mateo's sending him tumbling into one of the cubicle walls. "I'm gonna..." Mateo picked himself up, "I'm... you... you fucking FERAL!"
If the office was quiet before it would have been mistaken for loud. Every bystander in the building suddenly stepped back in shocked surprise. Paul gazed up at Ray from the ground, watching as the Dog's fur bristled. Every last eye belonging to someone within hearing distance was trained directly on Mateo and Ray, and nobody missed the upper-cut as it caught Mateo under the chin and lifted him off the ground, throwing him back against the cubicle wall, even knocking it over.
Gnashing his teeth, Ray stormed off while everyone else quickly filed out of the room. Paul remained where he was on the ground, but he certainly didn't overlook the fact that a disproportionate large number of people were heading toward the executive offices. Paul quickly decided to likewise make himself scarce.
"Where... where you goin', you little weasel?" Mateo demanded blearily, wobbling as he got to his feet, "We're not done yet."
"You are VERY done, Mr Vargas." Mr Aimes' voice called from the hallway, "My office. Now."
Mateo shot Paul a dirty look, but managed to catch his balance, rubbing his jaw as he walked toward the executive, stalking out of the room. Paul let out a deep breath, slinking into the chair next to him. His face stung, and a powerful ache spread across his nose. A small red splotch on his slacks caused Paul to run a finger beneath his nose, and it came back with blood on it. He sighed again, "perfect..."
The young man made his way to the cafeteria, focused entirely on the napkin dispenser on the counter. He took a seat at the table closest to the door and hunched his shoulders forward, folding the napkin as he positioned it under his nose, then leaned his head back. His eyes teared for a moment but, as they cleared, Ray took a seat on the other side of the table from him.
"Mateo... he called you--" Paul began.
"A 'Feral'... yea." Ray answered.
"That really got a response out of everyone... and especially out of you." Paul noted.
"Well... yea." Ray commented, focusing his attention on a bag of ice resting on his paw, "That's not the kind of thing you say in polite company."
"Oh..." Paul nodded, mostly to himself. He gingerly felt around his nose with the napkin; it still stung, "So... it's like a racial slur or something then?"
"It's not 'like'... it IS a racial slur." Ray answered.
"Ah." Paul responded, fidgeting as an unsettling silence filled the cafeteria.
"You alright, Paul?" the retriever asked, adjusting the bag of ice.
A hundred thoughts passed through Paul's mind. He could have chosen any number of ways to answer the question: politely, dismissively, emotionally, logically... but, in the end, he chose honestly. "No..." he said quietly, "I screwed up... again."
Ray glanced his direction, "How so?"
Paul sighed, rubbing at his nose with the napkins before bundling them up and pressing them in place again, "I'm sorry, Ray..." his eyes started watering again, but it had nothing to do with his bloody nose."
"I'm not really sure now is the right time to--"
"You're right." Paul blurted, lowering the napkins as he looked across the table at the retriever, "The right time was back before it got this bad." he let out a sigh, "I should have told you about Tanner, I know. I guess I just wanted..." he shook his head, "I don't know what I wanted..."
"You wanted someone to trust you without having to trust them back." Ray answered, adjusting the ice pack on his paw.
Paul realized immediately that Ray hit the nail on the head. "Yea..." he relented, "That's what I wanted..." a tear fell down onto his hand, followed by another droplet of blood. The young man was forced to tilt his head back and reposition the napkin, "...and I'm sorry. That isn't something a friend should want."
Ray chuckled softly, emotionless, and dry, "Yea..." the dog let out a breath, "but at the same time, wanting to be trusted isn't a bad thing if you're worthy of trust."
"I wasn't trying to lie to you or anything, Ray, it's just that--"
"Sometimes there are parts of us that we just need to keep to ourselves." Ray interjected, lowering his head slightly as he gazed at a point far off in the corner, "There are some things we need to figure out for ourselves before we can discuss them with someone else."
Paul paused, one hand flat on the table, the other still holding the napkin under his nose. He sat quietly, observing the strange weariness that seemed to take hold of the retriever across from him. "Ray?" he finally asked.
"I'm sorry, Paul..." the Dog shook his head slightly, "I guess I haven't been the best friend I could be either." he looked up at Paul once more, "I've been acting more like snarling and yapping teenage pup and not like the adult Dog I am... I shouldn't have gone off like I did back then."
"And I shouldn't have pushed you so much to talk about yourself when I wasn't willing to reciprocate." Paul answered.
Ray chuckled softly, "Wow... pulling out the big words now, are we, Paul?"
"Vocabulary is one of the few perks I have to show for the tens of thousands of dollars my mom and dad spent on the college education." Paul hazarded a faint smile, and, glancing to the retriever, was relieved to see it was mirrored.
"I've missed our chats." Ray admitted out of the blue.
"Me too." Paul offered, "I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel not trusted, Ray." he explained, "It's just--"
"Sometimes there are parts of us that we want to keep to ourselves." Ray repeated his earlier statement.
"Yea..." Paul chuckled, "I guess we already covered that."
The Dog smiled, and reached out his free paw to grab Paul's hand where it sat on the table, "Listen, Paul... out of everyone in this office, you know more about me than anyone else does..."
Paul slowly lowered his chin so he could look at Ray, setting his napkin aside, "Out of everyone in the office, you know more about me than anyone else too." he offered a hesitant smile, "Even if you found out through shady means."
"You little smart-ass." Ray chuckled, his tail strumming a beat against the side of his chair, "I hope I'll get to see you around sometime." his tail slowed, and the smile left his muzzle.
"Why? Of course we will... we work together." Paul commented.
Ray sighed, and motioned to the door leading out into the cubicles. Paul turned and looked to where Ray pointed. Mateo had a box in hand and was emptying his desk. It took a moment for Paul to realize just what was happening, and then he gasped, "He got fired..." Paul whimpered, "Mateo got fired..."
"Well... yea." Ray nodded, "Fighting does kind of give off the wrong kind of signals for someone who wants to keep their job. I can imagine that calling a Dog a... well... the "F" word probably doesn't help your chances either."
"No! But... Mateo... he's a good worker, Ray!" Paul insisted.
Ray chuckled and patted Paul's hand, "He beats the living daylights out of you and you're still defending him... you're a loyal friend, but you'd make a horrible domestic violence counselor, Paul... and no... what he did was wrong, even in the best of circumstances..." the Dog sighed, "And they'll probably call me in next."
"You? Why? You didn't do anything wrong!" Paul complained.
"I don't think anybody missed the fight." Ray commented, "He might have started it, and even provoked me, but what I did wasn't exactly professional either. Don't worry though... you have enough witnesses that everybody will know that you didn't even lift a finger... very professional, Paul... you did good, kid."
"But this is wrong!" Paul objected, "You were just helping me."
"I think knocking that little bastard flat on his tailless ass wasn't exactly 'helping you'... I think it was catering to a more violent side of revenge for him running his mouth off." Ray explained, removing the ice pack and examining his paw.
"No... it's not fair." Paul explained.
"Life isn't always fair, Paul." Ray responded, and offered a comforting smile, "But it's okay... when you're a big Dog you learn to live with the consequences of your actions."
"Ray..." Miranda peeked into the cafeteria, "Mr. Aimes is looking for you."
Ray nodded, and gave Paul's hand a light squeeze before disengaging, "It's been real, Paul. Take care of the team." and, with that, Ray exited the cafeteria.
Paul crossed his arms in front of himself and lowered his head down onto them.
"Looks like your nose stopped bleeding." Miranda offered, taking Ray's vacated seat.
"Yea." Paul answered noncommittally.
"So..." Miranda began, and paused. Paul didn't feel like providing her the opening to continue, but, true to form, she took one anyway, "What happened, exactly?"
Paul sighed, not sure if he had the emotional energy to explain, but, as he sat back in his chair, letting the severity of the situation settle into him, he found that he did. Paul relayed the entire event to her from his point of view, explaining his confusion, and that he didn't know why Mateo was angry at first, then revealed why it was Mateo had attacked him, and he professed his innocence to Miranda and that he had nothing to do with the name change.
"Well DUH." Miranda rolled her eyes, "You don't have a single spotlight-hogging bone in your body." she smirked, "You'd never get ANY credit unless someone gave it to you." Paul did not fail to notice the mirthful gleam in Miranda's eye.
"You mean..." he paused, and her smile widened, "YOU took Mateo's name off of the credits?!?" Paul stood up.
"And put the credit where it belonged. Obviously." she explained, "I'm one of... what... FIVE people that have the ability and, since you don't know how, that lowers the number to four. Ben is too obsessed with perfection and Candy is... well... excuse the pun, but she's too sweet." she leaned back in her chair, "You're welcome."
"I'm.... you... he..." Paul false-started several times, taking a step back.
"You can say 'thank you' any time, Dakota." she winked.
"Thank you?!?!" he demanded.
"You're welcome." she stood up, "And you deserve it too." she explained, "YOU'RE the one who picked the lay-out anyway... all he had to do was measure and cut... that's hardly worth credit." she winked again, and sauntered her way out of the cafeteria.
"My god..." Paul whispered to himself, "I'm living out a real life Fatal Attraction." He didn't have long to consider the repercussions, as Jonas, one of the interns peeked into the cafeteria.
"Hey... Paul... Mr Aimes and Mr Eizenzahn are looking for you."
Paul swallowed a knot in his throat. Ray's words of encouragement about him escaping trouble rolled around in his head, but they didn't help in the least.
* * * * * *
Unlike the rest of the day, the meeting with Mr Aimes went far better than Paul had expected. Eizenzahn was there as well, but the Doberman stood by impassively and let the other two talk without him interrupting. In the end, Mr Aimes only wanted Paul's observation of the events, specifically relating to the altercation between Ray and Mateo. Once Mr Aimes told Paul he was free to go, however, Paul finally asked what was on his mind.
"Did Mateo get fired?"
Mr Aimes crossed his hands on his desk and gave Paul a level stare, "Mr Miller, I am not at liberty to discuss HR decisions. what I CAN say is that Mr Vargas is no longer employed by AHB."
Paul nodded and looked down at his own hands, the right one stained by remnants of his own blood, "And... is Ray no longer working here?"
"We'll be making due without him for two weeks... he is on administrative leave." Mr Aimes explained, "But he is still being considered for an upcoming contract I'd like your team to focus on." The realization of the comment struck Paul immediately: Ray wasn't fired!
"Is there anything else, Mr Miller?" Mr Aimes questioned flatly.
"No... that's everything, Sir... thank you." Paul nodded, and quickly got to his feet.
"Oh... and Mr Miller?" Mr Aimes spoke up.
"Sir?"
"Until this issue is sorted out I am going to have you on administrative leave as well, without pay." Mr Aimes explained. Eizenzahn cleared his throat, "With pay, I mean." Mr Aimes quickly corrected himself.
Still stunned, Paul gave a quick parting 'bye' to Mr Aimes and left the office, a spring in his step for the first time that day.
Walking out into the cubicles, Paul was just in time to see Ray grabbing his camera case. The retriever looked up as Paul approached, and the young man did not miss the obvious wag in Ray's tail. "You're still going to be working here." Paul smiled.
"So I am." Ray responded, leaning forward to touch his nose to Paul's, "Guess I WILL see you around, Dakota." and the retriever made his way out.
Paul closed his eyes, smiling to himself. He leaned his head back, basking in the warming feeling as he realized ~He called me Dakota.~