Leashers and Burb Dogs
Of Leashers and Burb Dogs copyright 2014 comidacomida
Angel turned out to be a rather open and expressive Collie. She readily volunteered information about her prior relationship with Mateo-- as Paul discovered they had been college sweethearts, but things went sour when the human/Dog culture clash resulted in hurt feelings. The whole situation felt like a fun-house mirror reflection of Paul's own trial-by-fire in his relationship with Tanner. Unfortunately for Mateo and Angel, things ended up roasting over the coals... all because of those three little words.
The entire conversation, including the very few questions Paul had to ask, lasted far longer than it felt, and the young man didn't realize the time until he received a text from Tanner. Excusing himself and glancing to his phone, he was astounded to see that was nearly seven. His boyfriend's message was short and to the point: EVERYTHING OK?
"Dios mio..." Angel murmured, glancing to her own phone, "el tiempo..." she smiled faintly, brushing the floppy tips of her ears back, "I'm so, so sorry, Meester Miller... I didn't mean to take up so much of your time." Flustered, she gathered up her things, including several tissues she'd been using to blot at her eyes throughout the conversation.
Despite the awkwardness of having to 'exchange pleasantries' with Mateo's ex-girlfriend, Paul had to admit that the feeling he got at being confided in was an amazing change of pace; for once HE wasn't the one who had to find someone to talk to. "It's alright, Angel... Mateo and I worked together for awhile, but he never told me anything about his life in college."
"And I know almost not'ing of his life after, or of his yob here." the Collie offered a bitter-sweet smile, "Together we know him better than most." It seemed to be an odd sentiment, but Paul didn't have a chance to reflect on it as she made her way toward the front doors. Something about the simple, approachable, vulnerable feminine side of the Dog brought out the chivalry that had been taught to him from an early age, and he followed her to the exit, opening the doors.
"I hope you find what you're looking for." the young man offered amicably.
Angel paused at the doorway, "Do you think you might see Mateo again, Señor?"
"Um..." the human paused at the Spanish title, "You can just call me Paul."
The Collie tittered at that, covering the end of her muzzle in an almost theatrical lady-like way, "Do not evar change... Paul." and she leaned forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Unfortunately, at that very moment, the human realized that the reporters were still outside the building... and the night's shadows suddenly came alive with dozens of mini explosions as camera flashes bloomed all around the parking lot.
While Angel, blushing and flustered chose the most direct route off to the side of the building, Paul had no choice but to retreat back inside. A good number of reporters followed after the Collie, but the majority remained right where they were, cameras still creating a painfully bright display of chaotic flashes. The 'fireworks' gave his eyes the work-out his heart was already feeling, and he felt sick to his stomach. "That did NOT just happen..." he murmured quietly to himself Pulling his phone back out he sighed, "This is MY life... of COURSE it did." he said aloud.
The paparazzi were apparently content to stay outside all night, if need be, but at least the human realized he would be safe as long as he remained in the building; they had been repeatedly denied entry, and they seemed content to wait him out. Looking to his phone again, he responded to Tanner's text: REPORTERS STILL HERE
Paul slowly took his coat back off and returned toward his cubicle. He heard the sounds of the janitorial crew going about their business and, for a moment, he wondered if there was a chance he could sneak out with them. The young man glanced down when his cell registered another text from Tanner: I KNOW. YOU'RE ON TV. Paul sighed; of course their coverage of the three ring circus that was his life would be broadcasted. A moment later his phone went off with another text from his boyfriend: WHO'S THE CUTE BITCH?
Groaning, Paul was almost tempted to throw his cell away. In the end, he provided a simple reply: I'LL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT IF I GET HOME
Tanner's response came quickly enough: YOU MEAN -WHEN-
Paul typed a return message as he sat down at his desk: GOD I HOPE SO
Tanner's next text offered: I CAN COME PICK YOU UP
Paul was in the process of typing a reply when another text came in... but it wasn't from Tanner. The young man was stunned at the message; WHAT THE FUCK PAUL?!?! WHO THE HELL IS -SHE-? Groaning, the young man realized there was absolutely no response he could provide that would satisfy Miranda. He wasn't sure if the office turned off the air flow at night, but it was suddenly getting a lot harder to breathe.
"Everything alright, Mister Miller?" the voice was one Paul didn't recognize, but whoever offered the greeting obviously knew him. Peering around the cubicle wall, the young man was surprised to see an aging Dog standing in the aisle between workspaces. Paul had never recalled seeing him before, which was strange because the office was small enough that there was no such thing as a stranger at AHB Marketing.
The brown furred Airedale Terrier was dressed in casual khakis and wore a salmon-colored dress shirt beneath a burgundy sweater-vest; a dark colored bow tie finished off the ensemble. Between the tie, a pair of wire-framed glasses, and the graying, feathery fur on his muzzle, the Dog had a venerable look to him. The terrier held a cup of coffee in his left paw, the other stuck casually in the pocket of his pants.
"Can...." Paul paused, slowly standing up, "I... help you?" he made a mental note to rethink his life in California if the Dog turned out to be Miranda's stepfather. In the end, he wasn't... but the surprise was that much greater.
"I was actually more worried about you." the Terrier pulled his paw out of his pocket and extended it to the human politely, "Walter Howe."
It took a few seconds for Paul to realize the significance of the name. If the level of comfort the Dog appeared to exude was any indication, then it made sense that he wasn't a stranger to the company... and the only person the young man had yet to meet was "The silent partner?" he spoke aloud. He slowly clasped the Dog's paw in his hand.
The Terrier gave an easy smile in response, and provided him a firm shake "I prefer the term 'back seat driver'... but yes, I suppose you could call it that too."
"W-what are you doing... here?" part way through the question, Paul realized just how stupid that inquiry was for an employee to ask of one of the business' owners, but he was already committed to making a fool of himself so there was no reason to stop speaking... and it all came out. Beyond the point of feeling stupid, he simply placed his hand on his forehead and let out a deep sigh, "I mean--"
"Chris tells me you've been doing some great work on the Mein Hund contract." the Dog offered casually, taking a sip of his coffee, apparently quite willing to overlook Paul's awkward
comments.
"I... uh... guess so..." the young man tried to clear the tightness from his throat, "yea."
"It's also pretty obvious that you're having some minor issues with the press." Mr. Howe acknowledged, one ear flicking toward the front door as he took another careful sip from his
steaming mug.
"You could say that." Paul acknowledged, wondering in the back of his mind just how much more stressful his night could possibly be able to get.
Mr. Howe lowered his coffee, licking a few errant drops from the end of his muzzle where the fur gave the impression of a moustache, "Take a walk with me, Paul." the Terrier invited; that one request answered Paul's question: a lot more stressful.
* * * * * *
Their 'walk' in actuality, turned out to be a stroll down the executive hallway and right into the never-opened door that led to Mr. Howe's private office. Paul had, on occasion, wondered what the room would look like if he were ever to visit it. In his imagination he'd considered everything from the corporate elite corner office from some 1980s Wall Street movie all the way to the posh, over-expensive, simply illustrated hang-out of Scrooge McDuck. In the end, however, Mr. Howe's office was neither of those things, and, quite frankly, left Paul completely surprised with its contents.
Rather than an example of austere corporate elitism or a gaudy, overdone homage to excessive luxury, the office looked, by all accounts, to be little more than a cozy reading room; there wasn't even a formal desk. Mr. Howe walked right in as if he owned the place (Paul rolled his eyes at his own thought processes-- of COURSE he owned the place) and took a seat in one of two thickly cushioned reading chairs. setting his mug of coffee down on an end table to his right, the Terrier glanced to the young man who still lingered in the doorway. "There's more than one chair, Mr. Miller." the Dog motioned to the unoccupied seat.
"Uh... yes.. yes sir." Paul was almost tempted to remove his shoes before stepping onto the plush carpet of Mr. Howe's office, but resisted the urge and instead moved obediently to the empty chair. He settled in, finding out that it was as comfortable as it had first appeared. Mr. Howe sat silently beside him for a minute or two, sipping coffee occasionally and providing time for the human to get more comfortable. Paul had to admit that the office felt more like something he'd see in a cozy winter cabin than what he'd find in a place of business. Glancing over toward his host, the young man was taken aback to see the Dog's eyes on him.
The Terrier's smile was encouragingly good-humored, "You may be at work, Paul, but you're not on the clock."
"Sorry, Mr. Howe."
The Dog let out a grunt as he stood up, and made his way to a book case against the far wall, "No need to be so formal... just call me Walt."
"Okay... uh... Walt." Paul watched as the Dog opened a wooden panel and revealed a collection of alcohols, his boss' tail wagging in a casually-friendly manner.
"Considering all the press outside, would it be too presumptuous of me to assume that you could do with a drink?" the Dog set two tumblers on a tray and glanced back toward him, holding up what looked like a decanter of amber liquid with a quirked brow, setting three ice cubes into each glass.
"I... uh... no thanks." Paul replied, "I have to drive home."
The Terrier chuckled in response, and obligingly returned one of the glasses to its place before filling the other one third full. Walter returned to his chair with the tumbler in his paw and sat back down, placing the alcohol next to his coffee, "I was in New York when that news report aired the first time, Paul." the Dog leveled a gaze at the young man, "I'm sorry that it wasn't handled as well as it could have been."
"Oh... um..." the human alternated between crossing his hands in his lap and holding onto the arms of the chair, uncomfortable at the sudden reference to his social woes, "I'm still not sure how it all happened." He began rubbing his fingers across the texture of the fine upholstery, then moved his palms to his knees.
"People say and do weird things when they're angry..." Walter's gaze gained a far-off look for a moment, as if the Dog were thinking of something other than what they had been discussing mere moments before, but he recovered quickly, gaze focusing in once again, "Either way, dealing with the press isn't for most people, and, based on your 'working late' tonight, and the interesting little run-in I saw in the parking lot--"
"I'm not a Leasher." Paul quickly insisted, interjecting before the Terrier could finish his sentence.
Both of the Dog's ears raised slightly, though the expression on his muzzle was unreadable. "And you're apparently VERY eager to announce that." the tone came across as something of a mix between chiding, good-humored, and... Paul wasn't sure what that other part was... displeased?
"Well... I mean... not that there's anything WRONG with being a Leasher, I guess..." Paul watched Walter's ears lower slowly, "it's just... I'm...." the Terrier's eyebrow lowered as well, "not... one." and the Dog's expression was much more distinctly displeased. That thought both confused and scared him.
Walter cleared his throat, "Paul..." and his expression became neutral again, "Mr. Aimes and Mr. Burke both think relatively highly of you... that's evident based on the position you've been assigned as well as the discussions I've had with each of them, in the past, and even in the last few days..." he picked up the tumbler and took a sip of his beverage, "...but both of them seem to think that you lack a degree of confidence."
"It's... I, uh..." the young man stumbled over what he was going to say. In the end, the Terrier continued on as if he hadn't said a thing.
"I think part of it is that you're in a completely different culture here than what you were familiar with back in Missouri..."
"I'm.. uh... not from Misso--"
"But also, because you haven't had a chance to show everything you're made of just yet." the Dog continued, unabated. "Chris--" he paused, then restarted, "Mr. Aimes made a bad call in having you address those emails when all of this first started."
"The--" Paul was ready to begin discussing the email comment before the totality of what the Terrier said had sunk in, "Is that why Mr. Aimes had I.T. separate them from my work folder this time?" the young man questioned.
"No, Paul." Mr. Howe stated, "I asked to have them separated."
"But..." the human paused again, "I thought Mr. Aimes said that the emails--"
"I flew in this morning... he and I had a discussion about what happened LAST TIME you were mentioned in the media..." the Terrier glanced down at the drink in his glass as he slowly swirled it around, "...and I didn't appreciate how he handled it."
Paul wasn't sure of what to say, "Oh... it's... it's okay, Mr. Howe, I--"
"It's NOT okay, Paul." the Dog set his glass down and turned to regard the young man, "He was taking advantage of your lack of confidence and willingness to do what you're told." Walt slowly stood up, setting his glass back on the end table, "Chris knows business, and he knows advertising, but when it comes to Human Resources he tends to think of people as Resources first, and their humanity second."
"I... I didn't really, uh... mind." the words didn't come out as convincingly as Paul had tried to make them sound. The Terrier simply stared, his dark brown eyes gazing out from behind the wire rims of his glasses; he was not convinced. In the end, the human had to look away, "I mean... I didn't... I don't..." despite the pleasant temperature in the room, Paul found himself sweating under the scrutiny of the company's chief owner.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Paul... there's no reason to be defensive." the Dog sat back down in his chair, picking up his mug of coffee, "We failed you... and I figured that now is as good a time as any to let you to know that Mr. Aimes is no longer with AHB."
There was a long pause before Paul was able to process what the Dog had said. When everything finally clicked, the first question that came to his mind was the one that ended up exiting his mouth, "He's an owner... how can he not be part of it?"
"He's not an owner anymore." the Dog finished off the rest of his coffee with one quick swig, "I bought him out this morning and he's moved on."
An icy grip clutched Paul's heart as he digested those words, "I... didn't get him in trouble... did I?"
The Terrier laughed at the question, "No, Paul... Chris did a fine job of alienating half of the employees here and, if anything, what you were subjected to was just a symptom of a larger issue. After he and I had a frank talk this afternoon it was pretty clear that he was ready to move on and I gave him an easy out."
Paul nodded numbly at that, and a strange, empty silence filled the room between the two of them. The young man passed the time by gazing across at the wall-sized book shelf that filled the opposite side of the office, and the open compartment in it that housed a fine collection of alcohol. Despite how hard he tried, the human couldn't get past one simple thing that the Dog had commented on, "Um... Mr. Howe... uh... Walt?" he finally spoke up.
"Hmm?" the Terrier acknowledged, setting his empty coffee mug down and turning to regard Paul, seemingly interested in what he was going to ask.
"Humans and Dogs both work here..." Paul hesitated, hoping he would be able to reign himself in before the question escaped.
"That's right." Walter nodded.
Paul surrendered to the internal struggle, "So... when you say 'Human Resources'..."
"Turn of phrase." the Dog announced. Those simple three words immediately diffused what was rapidly growing into an inescapable point-of-no-return for Paul.
The human let out a deep breath, thankful that the Terrier had somehow managed to temporarily fix whatever humor imbalance was building within him. "Right..." Paul nodded, "Right..." and let out another breath, "Strange that they call it the same thing for Humans and Dogs, isn't it?" he inquired, then immediately realized that he'd lost the battle; the thought had escaped him regardless.
Walter, apparently, took the question at face value and shrugged, "Business may always be changing, but some of the norms don't." he switched back to his hard drink, "Back when I got into the newspaper business I was the first Dog to do something other than manning the presses... and I can tell you from experience the few times I had to, that was NOT a pleasant job... no... not in the least."
Paul knew very little about what went into printing, but he was willing to take the Terrier's word for it, "How did you end up getting a job with a newspaper if Dogs weren't usually hired for that line of work?"
"My father owned the company." Walter shrugged, swirling his drink around in his glass, "He always said that the written word was king."
"Your father?" Paul asked, pausing at that as he considered what Walter had said earlier, "So... how did HE get into the newspaper business if HE was a--"
"My adopted father." the Terrier clarified, "He was human."
"You were adopted by a human?" the young man questioned, raising his eyebrows, as he looked to the Dog, "That can happen?"
"Doesn't happen too often, but yes, it can." Walter raised his glass in a toast, and took a sip, "I'm living proof of that."
"Wow..." the human murmured, "That's...." he paused, "uh..." it took a moment for him to find the right word, "...cool."
"Yea..." the Terrier chuckled, "That's 'cool'."
There was a silence between the two for several more moments before Paul's curiosity posed a question he felt compelled to ask, "So... your name..."
"I took the last name of my adopted family." the Terrier attested.
"I meant your first name." the youg man clarified, "Walt... what's it short for?"
"Walter." the Terrier responded, smirking faintly as he finished off his drink and stood up, "I figured that was fairly obvious." his tail's controlled wag matched the tempo of his gait as he made his way across the room to return his tumbler to the book shelf.
"I mean..." the human paused, not exactly sure how to phrase the question.
"You're wondering if 'Walter' is a human-equivalent for anything." Mr. Howe offered, closing the cabinet again, "No... it isn't. Walter was the name my human family gave me." he cleared his throat, "Generally when the plan is to put a pup up for adoption, Dogs don't usually provide names, and when they do, they tend to be hurtful, sorrowful, or a combination of both... so Walter is what my family's called me since I was adopted."
"That must have been really weird growing up." Paul offered a hesitant smile as the Terrier made his way back to the char and took his seat.
"It didn't seem so at the time..." Walter announced, one ear falling as he regained that far-off gaze once more, "but, then again, that's because my adopted family tried so hard to make it all work."
"Like getting you a job at the newspaper." the human offered.
"Exactly like that." the Terrier nodded. "It was a pretty big paper in the 50's and 60's...but it isn't around anymore."
"Oh..." the young man cleared his throat, not exactly sure what to say about what he was told, "I'm sorry."
The Dog chuckled, "I'm not..." he flashed a grin at Paul, "Sold it in the eighties, so it didn't fail on my dime." He glanced across to the human, "Ended up purchasing it at half the cost, kept everyone employed, and even managed to get a huge tax credit by reinventing the entire media company."
"Media company?" the young man questioned, "So... what did you make it into after you bought it back?
"I turned it into a magazine company... first of several different diversified holdings over the years." Walter grunted as he stood back up, flexing his back, which popped once, "From there I bought a struggling New York TV station in the late 80s and turned it into a network... coast-hopped in the 90s and got involved with a few deals from Seattle to San Jose..." he headed for the door leading back into the hallway.
"Business on both coasts? That must have kept you running." Paul pondered.
"I always figured I could take on more." the Terrier chuckled, "Had a few small holdings in Chicago for awhile, but sold those off after the dot-com fiasco. Two divorces and several dozen health concerns later and now I focus mostly on the East Coast... but I still have a few smaller projects here in California..." he held the door open, and that's when Paul realized that it was an unspoken indication that they were done in Walter's office.
"Like AHB." the young man proposed, heading out into the hall.
Mr. Howe followed after him, closing the door behind himself, "This place was mostly a favor to Grant..." the Dog paused when he saw Paul's confused face, "Mr. Burke." he offered a casual smile, "He's been a business partner of mine for quite a few years now."
"Oh." the young man nodded, "I didn't have any idea that this place was connected to so--" he paused as he felt his phone vibrate.
Walter's ears went up, "You can get that if you want... I won't be offended." and the Terrier smirked, "I should probably check in myself." and he pulled out his own cell. Paul froze when he saw the modified logo on the back, which read iDog.
"Grandkids." Walter announced without missing a beat, "Very creative grandkids." and he began punching in a number, "Good chatting with you, Paul... I'm sure I'll see more of you tomorrow."
"T-tomorrow?" Paul questioned, "What's happening tomo--" but, with the Dog already heading off down the hall, and his own phone still ringing, he simply didn't have the focus to put forth in pursuing the question. He hit the talk button, "Hello?"
Having forgotten to check the caller ID, he was surprised by who spoke up, "Hey, Paul... it's Michelle."
"Michelle?" the young man was taken aback; out of everyone that could have called, Ray's girlfriend was the last person he expected to hear from, "Uh... hi."
"Ray mentioned that he was worried about how you were handling everything... he checked in with Tanner earlier, and we heard that you were still at work."
"I..." Paul glanced around the empty hallway, and began walking back toward the entryway, "Yea... it's kinda a circus outside and I was hoping things would calm down a little before I left." he glanced to the parking lot as he passed by and saw that, sadly, the media was still exactly where it had been. "...but it doesn't look like it will."
"Well, just sit tight..." she noted encouragingly, "We came up with a plan and the three of us are on our way." the phone call disconnected. Paul didn't exactly know what to expect, but, if luck was on his side for a change, hopefully the media wouldn't either. As it turned out, for once, good fortune prevailed.
* * * * * *
The 'three of us' turned out to be Michelle, Ray, and Tanner. They brought two cars; Michelle drove herself while Ray brought Tanner. When Paul provided his boyfriend with a spare key to his car, he never realized just how useful that would end up being. With all eyes on the office, Tanner was able to sneak over to Paul's car, start it up, and drive off-- he even hit the horn a few times on his way out of the parking lot; Paul was unable to remember the last time he saw a max exodus of media move so quickly.
Once the distraction was dealt with, Ray stayed by the street keeping an eye out while Michelle drove right up to the main doors and picked Paul up. The young man gave a quick farewell wave to Mr. Howe, who courteously locked up after him. Michelle was kind enough to let him calm down a little before she started bombarding him with questions. Thankfully, her first was pretty straight forward, "So... how was your day?" she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, smirking.
"Other than the whole paparazzi thing?" he inquired, glancing to Ray's car, which circled around once in the parking lot before following after them, "Well... I met the son of our largest client, learned that some Poodles have the capacity to surprise me on many levels... and I met the silent partner of AHB for the first time." Paul let out a deep breath, "Pretty boring, otherwise... thanks for asking."
"Wow." she glanced his way for just a moment, then turned onto the highway, and eased into traffic. "Sounds like you've had enough excitement to last you all week... Maybe you should call in tomorrow."
"Can't." the young man shrugged, "Mr Howe-- the silent partner I was talking about? Well... he was pretty specific about saying that he'd see me tomorrow, so I'm thinking it wouldn't be a good idea to duck out."
"Well, if you want I'm sure Ray would be willing to stop by and pick you up in the morning in case the reporters are on the look out for your car." she offered, "I'll ask him when--" but her comment was cut short when her phone rang. It took Paul a moment to recognize the song. He glanced to Michelle, then her phone, "I know that song..."
Michelle nodded with a smirk, "Uncle Kracker, Smile." she stated.
The phone continued ringing for a few moments as Michelle navigated a lane change, "You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breath, shine like gold, buzz like a bee. Just the thought of you--"
She picked her cell up off the seat and hit the talk button, "Hey, Hon." Paul didn't need to hear Ray's response to know it was him. "Yea... I think he's doing fine." she glanced toward him and gave a smile, "Not hyperventilating, no." She nodded in thought as a response to whatever Ray was saying, then, once he'd apparently said his fill added, "Tanner didn't seem to think their condo had--" but she fell quiet, then paused, "Oh..." she glanced toward Paul.
The young man didn't like the sound of that 'oh'. "What?" he asked.
"Tanner got a call a minute ago from Casey." Michelle announced, "He just got back into town and said your place is crawling with reporters."
Paul's heart skipped a beat at the news, "You mean, Casey got home and--"
"And the press jumped him." she nodded.
"Outside our condo?"
Michelle nodded anew, and Paul could just barely hear Ray's voice from her cell, but couldn't make out what he was saying. Thankfully, Michelle repeated it for him, "We're meeting up with Tanner just off of 23rd... I guess Casey got a place set up for you two tonight so don't have to deal with the heat."
"Uh... okay." Paul really didn't care for the sudden chaos injected into the night, especially considering he had work the following day, but contending with the paparazzi at work AND home was an even less enjoyable prospect, so he shrugged his shoulders, sat back in the seat, and decided to go with the flow.
"No... I don't think that'd be a good idea." she announced into the cell, then glanced toward Paul, "Ray's inviting the two of you out to dinner... considering how hot of a topic you are right now for the local news, I told him--"
"Not a good idea... yea." Paul nodded, turning to gaze out the window with a sigh; the media was definitely worse than last time, and Michelle was right.
"Sure, Ray..." she continued talking, "so I'll get Dakota over to Tanner and then meet you by 8:30?" she paused, giving the Dog time to reply, "Okay... see you soon..." For a moment, Paul almost expected the generic 'love you' comment, but Michelle's "You're my good boy." snapped him out of autopilot and he remembered just who it was on the other side of the phone. She hung up, and set the cell beside her on the seat.
"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that." Paul offered.
Her empathy was spot on as she laughed, "Well, Dogs don't really do the 'I love you' thing, and Ray IS my 'good boy', so it makes sense."
"I know..." the young man smiled at the woman's casual response, "I just wish I knew how to make it all feel as natural as you do."
Michelle's smile slowly faded as Paul looked at her, and she spared a glance at him before switching lanes; their exit was coming up, "It's not a skill to develop, Dakota... it's a way of seeing things." and she slowed, turning into the curve that would bring them back down to street level, "I think part of it might be that Ray is my boyfriend and my Burb Dog, so that's an established part of the relationship..."
Paul chuckled helplessly, "You even make THAT sound simple."
"It IS that simple, Dakota." she replied, "In your case it's like everyone's trying to push this thought into your head that you HAVE to be a Leasher in order to have a relationship with a Dog... and that ISN'T true."
"I just wish everyone else saw it the same way we do." he offered a meek smile, "Then maybe I wouldn't have so much trouble with the--" the discussion was interrupted when Paul's cell went off, making him jump.
"We have a few blocks to go." Michelle offered, "Go ahead and get it if you need to... might be Tanner."
For the second time that night, Paul picked up the call without checking the caller ID, "Hello?" he asked.
"Good evening. Is this Mr. Paul Miller?" the inquiry on the other side of the phone IMMEDIATELY made Paul regretting that important step, "This is Zachary Carpenter... I work as a Production Assistant at Walter Media Group and I--" at which point Paul ended the call. A sudden chill ran up the back of his spine and he glanced at his cell.
"Everything alright?" Michelle asked of the young man.
"I--" Paul began, but the phone interrupted him. Not willing to make the same mistake three times in one night, the young man looked at the caller ID, which identified 'Walter Media Group' with a New York area code. "Just a sec." he announced, and, despite all the warning sirens going off in his head, he accepted the call.
The voice that started in immediately was decidedly deeper than the calm, friendly one that had first spoken to him, "Alright, ya fucktard... anyone ever tell ya that it's fuckin' rude to hang
up on people?"
Paul was immediately taken aback, "Excuse me?"
The growling voice didn't even pause, "If that's an apology you're doin a real shitty job of it..." then there was a moment's delay, "Wait... this IS Paul Miller, right?" the voice wasn't directed into the phone, but it was loud enough that Paul could hear it clearly.
"Listen..." Paul began, "What exactly is this about?"
The person on the other line apparently wasn't even listening to him. "It is? Good." the speaker confirmed with someone else, then returned to him, "So, just 'cause you're in the middle of your fifteen minutes of fame you think you can treat people like trash? Well, 'your highness', lemme tell you--" the newest set of insults and accusations was cut short, and the voice returned to being directed elsewhere, "Hey! I'm on the-- oh come on, he--"
A new voice came on the line, likewise distant, "No, JD... I'll handle it from here." it was neither the first, respectful voice, nor the loud, brash one. "You've made your point, JD... drop it... DROP IT." a few moments later, whatever drama was going on at the other end of the line finished, and Paul was once again addressed, "Mr. Miller... hello... please don't hang up just yet."
The young man really didn't know how to respond to everything he'd just heard, so he was off guard by the earnest request, "Um... okay?"
"Thank you." the speaker on the other line noted, "My name's Jason Campbell... and I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes."
Paul sighed, wondering how long it would take for the press to get the idea, "It's all a big mistake, and I don't want to talk to the media."
"And I can respect that." Jason replied, "Thank you for your time." the response completely threw him for a loop.
"Wait--" Paul's own response surprised him too... and, as the two started the discussion fresh, the surprises kept coming.
Jason turned out to be completely different than what he'd expected from someone who worked for a media company. During the call Jason answered just as many of Paul's questions as he'd asked of Paul. Jason admitted to being a Leasher, and that the show he hosted on television and radio involved human and Dog interactions. Paul also discovered that Jason worked for-- of all surprises, one of the media companies that Walter Howe owned. Of course, Paul SHOULD have put two-and-two together considering the name of the station: Walter Media Group.
The call, incidentally, was by special request of Mr. Howe. The Terrier had called Jason the moment Paul had left AHB for the night, and had asked for him to check in on Paul. Rather than approach the discussion from a talk-show host point of view, Jason had actually felt more like a therapist than anything else. He was attentive and understanding, he didn't attest or accuse or insinuate... he listened, and more than anything, felt supportive of Paul and even apologetic over what he was going through.
At the end of the conversation, Jason mentioned that he was going to be in California for a convention in 'a few weeks'. He offered to meet up so they could continue their conversation, to which Paul surprised himself by accepting. The call ended with a surprisingly frank announcement, "Paul... I know you don't know me well enough yet to take this at face value, but, in general, the media tends to play an endurance game... unless they find some other story to chase they'll run you down until you eventually give in and SOMEONE gets the exclusive."
"If that's trying to make me feel better, it isn't." Paul announced.
"I know, Paul," Jason acknowledged, "and I wish I had something better to offer you, but I told you at the beginning that I'm an honest guy, and I wanted to be honest with you."
"So, basically either I hope a plane crashes or there's some big earthquake, or I'm stuck getting mobbed." he stated flatly.
Paul could hear Jason's smile at the comment, "That IS one way to look at it, I guess, but really it's more--"
The gruff voice from the call's earlier insults spoke up "Just tell him to let YOU interview him, Jay, JEEZUS..."
"Sorry... that's JD, my Dog." Jason announced.
A reply was shouted in a good-humored tone from somewhere off-phone, "I'm not your Dog... you're my Human!"
"He's not really much for phone etiquette." Jason added.
Despite having numerous doubts of the decision, Paul couldn't help but voice his thought aloud, "...maybe he's right." then paused, quickly adding, "...about the interview ... not... the... other... uh... thing."
Jason laughed, "I figured."
* * * * * *
The results of the call were on Paul's mind all night. True to his word, Casey had found a nice, out-of-the-way motel. When Tanner went into the office to pay they found out that the Dalmatian had already covered that too, leaving the two of them with nothing else to do but settle in and relax... as if such a thing were possible. Paul went in for a shower while Tanner went across the street to grab dinner from a local eatery.
It HAD been a long day, up early and out of the office late, and all Paul really wanted to do was sleep... but he still couldn't get the phone call out of his head... and not just because Mr. Campbell had promised that the entirety of their conversation would be 'off the record'. It seemed so far from what reality should have been, Paul repeatedly thought he had to have dreamed up the whole day... yet every time he went to pinch himself he realized that it was truly his life.
The strange interaction he'd had with JD (who, according to Jason really WAS a nice guy), the realization that Mr. Howe had tapped a resource like Jason Campbell (who, according to Google, was a pretty big deal) to aid him... even the way all of his friends had pulled together to help him evade the media. The evening was sobering and, despite all the chaos, he couldn't help but be filled with 'warm fuzzies'. He got filled even more when Tanner joined him in the shower... though that 'full' was in a much more literal sense.
Once they were no longer tied, and after they had a chance to get cleaned up (again), Paul snuggled up to the German Shepherd on the room's single queen sized bed, and they shared dinner. As the two polished off the last of the fries, the human finally felt as though he'd managed to make enough sense of the thoughts tumbling around in his mind to voice them. That's when he made the decision to talk with Tanner about the phone call and his media-related discussion with Jason Campbell.
He decided to start slowly, "So... Tanner?" the young man asked, laying against his lover.
"Mmm?" the Dog inquired, resting his muzzle atop Paul's head as the two embraced.
"What do YOU think about... all of this?" the human inquired.
"Well..." Tanner noted, turning slightly so he could gaze at Paul instead of the top of his head, "you're safe, and you've calmed down, so it's all good." he touched his nose to the young man's forehead lovingly.
"No... I mean..." Paul slowly disengaged, sitting up on the bed next to Tanner, who was still laying down with his back propped up on the headboard, "the whole outrunning the media and hiding out in a motel like some kind of criminal."
The Shepherd shrugged, "If that's what it takes to help you then sign me up." he grinned.
"I'm being serious." the human sighed.
Tanner reached out and took hold of Paul's chin with a paw, "So am I." and he leaned forward to press the soft, velvety fur of his muzzle to the human's lips. "I know this whole situation is hell on you, and I'll do ANYTHING I can to make it easier."
A faint smile escaped Paul at that, and he returned to laying with his head atop Tanner's chest, "I'm just worried about how YOU'RE taking it... I don't want you to catch any flack for all of this... y'know?"
The Dog chuckled softly, "Flack from who? All my friends know about us, and it's not like my family could care less at this point anyway." He hoisted Paul up a little higher on his body and gave the human a warm embrace, "And, even if they did, I have you, so that's all that really matters anyway."
Paul accepted the hug, but didn't return it. "I'm thinking about talking with the media."
If the human had expected the announcement to disturb the Dog, he was mistaken, "Okay." Tanner acknowledged.
"You're... fine with that?" Paul asked, leaning into his boyfriend's arms.
"If that's what you want to do, I'll stand by you." the Dog confirmed, "You just tell them as much or as little as you feel you have to, and don't worry about me-- whatever you need to do; I'm there for you, Paul."
"Thanks." the human smiled into his lover's chest, finally returning the hug.
Paul simply flowed along the aura of tranquility for several breaths until Tanner finally spoke up, "What made you think about changing your mind?" and the Dog slowly released his hold on the young man.
"One of them got through on my phone." Paul admitted, "And... he... well... wasn't what I expected from the media in general."
"So you're thinking of letting him get the scoop?" Tanner inquired, ears up.
"Still thinking about it... yea." the human nodded.
"What about him seemed so different?" the Dog cocked his head to the side.
Paul shrugged, "Well... he's from New York, so it didn't feel as threatening... and he's not a reporter, so I guess there wasn't that urgency of being shouted at and having camera flashes going off... he said if we DID meet we could do like lunch or something... or even just a phone interview if I felt better about it."
"Sounds a lot nicer than those guys camping out in front of the office." Tanner acknowledged, returning his muzzle to the top of Paul's head as the two settled down, "Did you do any research on this 'New York' guy?"
Paul nodded against the Dog's chin, "Yea... he's the host of a talk show on the TV and radio... pretty famous too in some circles... Jason Campbell." The human paused when he felt a shift in Tanner's relaxed posture, "You know him?"
Instead of answering, Tanner simply reached for the night stand and snagged his cell from its position next to the alarm clock. "You could say that." With one thumb he switched over to his contacts list and held it up for Paul to see.
"JD and Jason." the human read, "How could you know--"
Tanner's tail thwapped the mattress several times, "You remember the story I told you about when I--"
"You mean--?"
"Yep."
Paul paused, "...oh."