It's You
It's You
copyright 2009
comidacomida
"HEY, MILLER!" the shout finally broke through Paul's haze of self-reflection. He glanced across the office to Mateo, one of several uptight graphic designers who, despite keeping him waist deep in unreasonable deadlines, was one of a few co-workers he new well enough to consider a friend.
"What's up?" Paul asked, glancing up at Mateo as he drew closer.
"You tell me, amigo... you don't got nada, and you've been sitting here for hours." Mateo motioned to the blank computer screen staring Paul in the face. His coworker had a knack for using an occasional Spanish word in casual conversation. Paul found it a little annoying at first but, after several months, he began to think of it as an endearing personality quirk; he'd even managed to learn a few words in Spanish because of it.
Paul shrugged with a sigh, "Not sure... my head's just not in the game today." leaning back in his chair. His coworker was handsome, in an exotic, Latin way, not that Paul would ever say anything. Having grown up in a predominantly white, protestant, salt-of-the-earth small town in the mid-west, Paul often focused on things that were different than where he had come from. The idea started making him think of Tanner again, and he fought to push them from his mind.
Mateo had grown up in San Diego. His parents immigrated from Mexico before he was born, which made Mateo a natural born citizen of the United States, but the man occasionally made him suffer from culture shock. Paul didn't mind it at all and considered it just another flavor in the cultural melting pot of southern California. Some of the others in the office, however, did not. He figured that was why Mateo hung around him so much.
"So..." Mateo leaned on the desk next to him with a conspiratory grin, "who is she?"
"Who?" Paul asked, confused as he glanced to his coworker.
"The senorita on your mind, my man? It's obvious from your far off look and ignoring me calling to ya three times that you're busy thinking about a fine piece of tail you probably met last night. Did you go to her place, or bring her home to yours?" Mateo grinned.
"Piece of tail?" the metaphor didn't sit well with Paul as he slowly started to realize what Mateo was getting at, "Three times? You called me three times?" he changed the subject as quickly as possible. He didn't discuss his personal life at work, and no one knew about his homosexuality, let alone know that he had been seeing a dog.
"Yea. Tres veses." Mateo confirmed, holding up three fingers, "Figured when that didn't work, your last name might. Paul Miller..." he chuckled, "Could your name be any more common?"
"I could be Joe Smith, or John Doe, or Michael Brown..." Paul said flatly. Mateo was usually really good for a distraction, but he didn't really like the idea of casual conversation while his mind was full of unpleasant thoughts; if he couldn't focus on the discussion he knew he'd make some stupid comment, and a stupid comment could make his working life as difficult as his personal one.
"Yea, yea, bro... so... back to this senorita..."
"Mateo... did you have something work related to talk to me about?" Paul could have slapped himself in the face for the aggravated tone he used. He hadn't meant to snap at his coworker. One more thing to chalk up to talking before he thought, he realized.
"Relax, amigo... you don't kiss and tell, I get'cha." Mateo stood up off the desk, raising his hands up in front of himself, palms facing Paul in supplication, "Didn't mean to get you riled up or anything... just saw you sitting there looking 'not busy', and thought you should know that the exec from 'Mein Hund' is coming in today."
Paul bolted up in his chair. The German company 'Mein Hund' was the firm's largest prospective client. Paul had started his job at AHB Marketing a few months after it had first opened its doors. Having been at his job for only two months, he was one of the newest employees, but since that time they had been growing steadily. 'Mein Hund', however, was the first international company that had accepted a bid from them; Paul had made it his job to do research on them and he was surprised by what he had found.
'Mein Hund' is a German company that creates unique clothing, equipment, and products for pets and pet owners. Everything from silly-looking Christmas tree sweaters for humans and matching ones for their cats to innovative hands-free leash systems that allowed a dog owner to clip a leash onto a belt at their hip so they could keep their hands free while walking a dog. There were even a number of questionable products that the company marketed in Germany that made much of Europe recoil in surprise.
Most recently, 'Mein Hund' made plans to expand into the U.S. market. Paul's research suggested that they were shopping around for a capable marketing firm that wasn't afraid of being on the cutting edge of advertising and wouldn't object to pushing the envelope. The fact that one of their executives was actually visiting AHB Marketing meant that they were seriously considering using the firm, and that was a big deal.
"Still with me, Paul?" Mateo asked, staring at Paul, who suddenly realized he had begun zoning out again.
"Yea, I'm sure... but... why ABH?" Paul questioned.
"Because we rock, amigo, duh!" Mateo laughed, and slapped him on the shoulder, "Why else?"
"Because most of the larger firms are too worried about their established images to do the kind of shock advertising 'Mein Hund' has planned for the American public. That's why." a deep baritone answered Mateo's question from the other side of a cubicle.
"Oh, come on, Ray... are you TRYING to rain on the party?" Mateo asked, "If we get this contract then we'll be in the big time."
Fifteen-Until-Nine, more commonly known around the office as 'Ray' came into view with his camera case draped over his shoulder. Ray was one of the older members of the staff. His slightly graying muzzle gave him something of a refined look, but he remained spry enough to avoid looking too much like an old dog. Although Ray usually had an upbeat attitude and vitality, the golden retriever looked bedraggled, tired, and drained.
His usually attentive brown eyes had a glazed look to them and, as he leaned against the office wall, he let out a wide yawn, "We already have the contract." the dog stated.
"Then why aren't we celebrating?!?" Mateo let out a muted shout, mindful of the workplace noise, but obviously quite ready to get louder.
"Because the people they're making us work with are dicks." the retriever answered, setting his camera case down on Paul's desk before letting out another yawn, "I had to be in here at 5:30 to start a test shoot with the model they chose for the shoot, and he's a fucking amateur who acts like he rules the roost."
"That bad, huh?" Mateo asked, "Makes me glad I only have to deal with layout and print."
"Yea, well, if we get into the big time, I guess this'll be business as usual." Ray let out a dejected snort, "Hey... watch my gear for a minute, I need go to rust a hydrant." and the dog headed for the hall leading to the bathroom. Paul watched him go.
"That means he's going to use the bathroom." Mateo noted.
"I figured that, thanks." Paul answered. He turned to regard his coworker, "Do you really think he meant what he said?"
"No... there's no way Ray would have gotten here before 6." Mateo retorted.
"I mean about the corporate angle." Paul noted, quickly working to realign his thoughts; Mateo's comment was the kind of playful banter that made him think of Tanner, and he really didn't need that kind of distraction at work.
"I wouldn't doubt it. The bigger the corp, the bigger the egos." Mateo shrugged. Paul realized that Mateo would know, having come to AHB Marketing from one of the larger firms. Mateo had said many times that he liked the personal atmosphere and enjoyed working with the smaller firm because it was so much less cut-throat. He could already see a glint of concern in his coworker's eyes.
"So..." Paul began, "Why is it he goes by Ray?" he inquired, hoping to get Mateo's mind off of the worrisome topic.
"Ray? Oh... well, because Fifteen-Until-Nine is too much to say, and he probably didn't want to go around being called 'Fifteen'. Work around dogs long enough and you'll learn to stop asking why. Hell... at Broker and Cox I worked with a beagle who went by 'Ken' and refused to give his real name to anyone. Someone from HR told me one day what it was." Mateo's grin was so wide it revealed his teeth.
"I can feel a punchline coming." Paul commented flatly.
"Do you know what his name was?" Mateo's grin didn't even falter.
"No... but you're probably going to tell me." Paul sighed.
"Broken-Condom."
"That's horrible, Mateo." Paul rolled his eyes.
"But completely true." his coworker laughed.
"No it isn't... it's an urban legend." Ray commented.
"Damn it, Ray!" Mateo spoke up, "How do you keep sneaking up like that?"
"Will you leave the poor kid alone?" Ray noted, holding a paper cup of coffee in one paw, "He won't know when to believe you if you keep feeding him these lines." the retriever fiddled with the cup, "Anyway, I'm going back to the shoot... apparently they want three more full rolls of their 'face of Mein Hund'. They'll end up with a bloody face if this keeps up."
"Keep up the good fight, Ray... and remember: your camera is not a weapon, and costs more than your pride." Mateo chided him.
"Bite me." the dog noted, heading off down the hall.
"Anyway, back to work for me." Mateo spoke up, then paused, looking to the camera on the desk, "Well, looks like he'll be back pretty quick."
"Sounds like the day I'm having... I'm surprised I remembered to put on pants this morning." Paul noted.
"Oh... so NOW you feel like talking about your date last night?"
"Bite me." Paul repeated Ray's earlier statement.
"Fine... go get the camera to Ray. You look like you could use the walk, and you might even get a chuckle or two from looking at whatever pretty-boy twink they chose for a male model. Watching those guys prance about like the lead hen in a hen house always makes ME laugh."
"I think I'll just go make sure he doesn't try to strangle anyone with his camera strap." Paul noted, standing up and grabbing the camera. Truth be told, he really didn't want to have anything to do with the photo shoot, but he realized that any further discussion with Mateo would only push the wrong buttons, and he didn't have the patience for it.
Paul let out a deep breath as he exited the office and headed down the hall. He paused at the vending machine just outside the staff lounge and began looking over the drink selection. He never really was much for coffee, and quickly passed the hot-drink dispenser. Looking over sodas, he lamented the lack of Big Red-- he hadn't found it anywhere on the west coast. In the end, he settled for a Mountain Dew; the caffeine would hopefully help get him moving.
"Good morning." the voice caught him by surprise just as he was about to take a swig of his drink. The voice was self assured, powerful, and had a very strong European accent. Lowering the can and slowly turning around, Paul stood face to face with a very imposing Doberman in a decidedly high profile corporate power suit.
"Uh... hi." Paul answered back. He saw the Doberman's nose work, and even heard the not-so-subtle sound of the dog's sniffing.
"You are a photographer for the shoot?" the Doberman inquired simply, the words coming easily and without any hesitation, leaving Paul to believe that the dog was quite fluent in English despite his German accent.
"Um... no." Paul noted, realizing the camera was still hanging on his shoulder, "I'm just... a... well... my name is Paul." he offered his hand, "and you are?"
"Alric Eisenzahn." the doberman replied, clasping Paul's hand in his paw. The name made Paul freeze in place.
"A... Alric... Eisen... zahn?" Paul stammered. He knew that name.
"You know of me?" the dobie's muzzle perked into what was quite obviously a self-assured smirk.
Paul nodded, his hand going slack in the doberman's grip,"Marketing Director of 'Mein Hund'."
The doberman's smirk turned into a smile, "I did not realize your organization was already so familiar with 'Mein Hund'. I am impressed, Paul."
"Uh... Guten Morgen... um... Herr Eisenzahn." Paul offered with a stammer.
"English is fine, Paul." Alric offered, finally releasing his hand, "Unless you speak German fluently." the Doberman winked, obviously guessing that he didn't.
"Oh... um... sorry." Paul offered, face going red.
"You are going to the photo shoot?" the dog inquired, stepping up next to him.
Paul nodded, taking a moment to find his voice, and stepping back a pace, the Doberman's proximity making him uncomfortable, "Yes... the photographer forgot his camera in the office." he gave the item a little heft, as if proving he had a right to go there.
"Have you ever used a camera before, Paul?" Alric questioned.
"Well... yea... not professionally though." he answered.
"Walk with me." noted the dog, putting an arm around Paul's shoulders, practically pulling him down the hall toward the photo shoot.
"Um... okay." was all Paul could answer.
"I would like you to work with our model." Alric noted as the two turned the corner.
"But, Ray--"
"Fifteen-Until-Nine is not the kind of photographer we need. Although I am certain he is very good, he does not mesh well with our project."
"He's not getting along well with your model." Paul translated the corporate speak.
"Just so." Alric confirmed, "But I think you will do well."
"Even though I'm not a photographer? Why?" Paul questioned.
"Because I can tell you get along well with dogs." the Doberman answered matter-of-factly.
"I do? How can you tell?" Paul asked, completely confused.
"You did not shower this morning-- I can smell him on you."
Paul had nothing to say in response to that, feeling all the blood in his face drain away in surprise, shock, and fear. The dumbfounded look that was most likely plastered on him seemed to amuse Alric, who came to a stop, the faint quirk of a smile at the corner of one muzzle.
"I..." Paul managed to stammer.
"Have a dog as a boyfriend." Alric noted.
"Had, I think." Paul relented, the confusing rush of emotions starting to overwhelm him. He hadn't thought to consider them at all at work, let alone speak of them, but the Doberman had managed to worm his way into Paul's personal life. Paul covered his face as he narrowly avoided a sob.
A paw rested on his shoulder, "Come. We'll attend the shoot later. Right now, you need a break."
"It's... too early for lunch." Paul inhaled deeply, removing his hand from his face as he tried to recover his composure.
"I will have my assistant tell your boss that I require your services." he pulled out a blackbery and began typing away with one paw, the other one not leaving Paul's shoulder, "What is a good place to eat?"
"Um... there's a place down the street." Paul answered, slowly setting the camera down. Although the young man wanted nothing more than to run and hide, he realized no gracious way to do so while Alric Eisenzahn had such a firm hold on him, both physically and figuratively.
* * * * *
Charlie's Cafe was a nice enough place, if a bit spendy. Paul made it a point to visit the restaurant for special occasions, or, at the very least, for social gatherings involving his coworkers. He usually considered the cafe a calming, relaxing place; Alric made it significantly less so. He didn't often consider it a meeting place with corporate clients, especially not ones interested in his personal life.
"Now..." the Doberman began, taking a seat at the booth once the waiter had shown them to their table, "tell me about your experiences in professional photography." Alric balled his paws together, elbows on the table, and rested his muzzle atop them, staring at Paul intently.
The question broke through the millions of thoughts flying around inside Paul's head and made him focus on the Doberman. "Professional Photography?"
"Yes," Alric noted patiently, "we are discussing work related topics, which IS why I called you away from your office. I am also happy to talk with you about your relationship issues, but you do not come across as a very open human, so I presumed that it would be more polite to avoid the issue until you were ready to bring it up."
"Even though you brought it up just now." Paul offered before he could keep the words from escaping.
The Doberman's muzzle quirked as Alric observed him, bemused, "I am also very direct."
"So I can tell." Paul noted, pausing for a moment as he forced himself to remember that the dog across from him was probably the single most important client his employer had ever had, "I had a journalism class in high school, and took a non-credit photography class my first year in college." he answered after his pause.
"So you are familiar with a camera and lightning, and have an eye for detail." the dog offered.
"The first two, yes, but I don't do so well with details." Paul noted, squirming in his seat. He was thankful when the waiter came by to provide them with water; it gave him a moment of respite from what suddenly felt like a job interview. Paul began to wonder if a discussion on his personal life would have been less stressful.
"Oh, a third place setting, if you please." the Doberman said before the waiter left. With a nod, the man headed back to the kitchen.
"Third?" Paul inquired.
"My assistant will be joining us-- we usually have lunch together; it gives us time to compare notes." the dog said, matter of factly, glancing after the waiter.
"Not exactly a lunch break, doing business work during lunch." Paul offered, aiming for a slightly more casual conversation.
"I like to know my employees." Alric noted, his astute gaze returning to Paul. The young man felt immediately uncomfortable once again, "I take it you believe... how does that saying go... 'familiarity breeds contempt'?"
"Uh... no." Paul found himself squirming in his seat again.
"Then you are a man who likes to keep his business life separate from his personal one." the Doberman offered.
"Yea. Something like that." Paul swallowed the lump in his throat. There was something about the marketing director that Paul found threatening, though he realized without any hesitation that Alric was not making any attempt to threaten him. It might have been because Paul had never met a corporate executive, or because Alric had that imposing 'Doberman look'.
"Do I frighten you?" the dog inquired, as if reading Paul's mind. One of the dog's eyebrows raised as he observed Paul.
"Well... it's more... the situation." Paul stammered.
Alric's laugh was full-bodied, and something entirely unique. It came out as several quick, powerful 'ha's, each separated by a pause for a fraction of a second. It was not what Paul would have considered a contagious laugh, but it was genuine, and something about it managed to make the executive seem a little less imposing... a little more real.
"What?" Paul couldn't help but ask, though he came to wish that he hadn't.
"I can see what he must see in you." the dog noted. Paul didn't have to ask what 'he' the exec was referring to.
"Listen, Mr. Eisenzahn... I appreciate lunch, but I really think--" Paul started to get up.
"Sit." The straight-forward nature of the command broke through whatever Paul had been about to say along with any personal inclination to leave. He returned to his seat.
"Why did you sit just now?" Alric questioned, burning gaze more than enough to hold Paul in his seat.
"Because... you... um... told me to." Paul fidgeted.
"You do not have a mind of your own?" the dog questioned.
"Well... I do... but..." Paul scratched his arm, "I'd get fired if I made you angry." he felt embarrassed, frustrated, and more than a little scared.
"Social expectations." the executive noted.
"What?"
"Social expectations." Alric noted matter-of-factly, "You are having so much trouble because of what and how you think people think."
"What people think, in that case, can cost me my job." Paul stated.
"I was not referring to whether you stay or go... I am referring to the trouble you're having with your boyfriend."
"Who said I'm having-- what does that have to do with--" Paul felt is face flush and his heartbeat increase. His eyes started stinging as they got moist, "How did we start talking about Tanner?"
"Ah... Tanner. That's a handsome name. Is it his given name, or one he's chosen to use with humans, or both?" the simple, relaxed, casual tone of Alric's voice confused Paul all the more. It was far from the cold, neutral tone with which the exec had made his earlier statements.
"His dad named him Tan Paw... Tanner is the one he generally uses." Paul slouched in his seat, letting out a sigh as he worked to keep his tears from showing, "I really screwed things up with him."
"And why's that?" inquired Alric, his voice smooth, and mellow, almost like a psychologist. Paul would have laughed, comparing it to something like Freud, though he really couldn't bring himself to make the connection... not when he felt like crap.
"I told him I loved him, and he didn't say anything in return." a tear escaped, rolling down his cheek despite his wishes. Paul hung his head, "And then I yelled at him."
"Do you know that Alric is a name I use only for business?" the Doberman inquired, his voice still calming and relaxed. Although the statement was completely off topic from the discussion, Paul welcomed the interruption-- he hated having the urge to talk about his problems.
"What's your given name?" Paul asked, wiping his cheek dry.
"Eizenzahn." Alric replied, "It means Iron Tooth in English."
"Oh..." Paul paused, looking up at him, "I just thought it was a family name, or something."
"It is not." the dog noted, "I was named for a condition with which I was born." he traced a line across the left side of his muzzle, "I had no bones up here."
"Oh... I'm sorry." Paul stammered.
"You had no control over it, Paul. There is no need to apologize."
"Er... well... it looks okay now." the young man quickly attempted to move the conversation along, the dog's comment blowing right past his reflexive social comment.
"When I was a pup, I went through many surgeries. During that time, I wore a metal prosthetic. My parents named me thus because my first tooth was metal."
"Oh..." Paul noted, "I didn't know if dogs in Germany had different naming guidelines than dogs here do."
"To my knowledge, we don't... but you never would have been able to figure that out unless you asked, or unless I told you." the exec noted.
"True." Paul nodded, wondering at the strange pause after Alric's comment.
Their discussion was interrupted by a white-furred poodle who arrived at their table. Alric smiled, and scooted over in his seat, permitting the new dog an opportunity to sit. The two of them touched muzzles, which made Paul blush; something about the greeting always made him feel funny, but, in a way, it also seemed almost endearing. The tongue-licking, however, was a little new, and it made Paul even more squeamish.
The poodle was dressed in a pink business suit that looked like it was something a female lawyer from a comedic court show might wear: short skirt that was too short, power shoulder pads, and a push-up bra that was meant to accentuate, though all it really did was show that there wasn't a whole lot to present. The poodle's claws had a light layer of polish on them, accentuated by large, golden bracelets on both paws.
Paul was shaken from his appraisal of her when he realized that the muzzle-touch was not exactly a run-of-the-mill greeting... not when they had their tongues down one another's throat. "ahem..." Paul coughed politely.
"Ah, yes, Paul... this is Pascal, my assistant." Alric noted, placing a paw on the poodle's.
"Bonjour." the poodle offered in a bubbly, high-pitched tone. Paul would have equated it to a mix between a California valley-girl and a French whore. The mix was probably due to the accent... and the display he had just observed.
"Um... hi." Paul offered in return. There was very little about Alric that didn't make him uncomfortable; his assistant was definitely included. There was something about her. For yet another time that day, he spoke up before he could shut his mouth, "I haven't ever met anyone named Pascal... I always thought it was a boy's name."
"Not if you have ze 'e' at ze end, Monsieur." the dainty poodle noted with a giggle, "Pascal iz both for 'he' and 'she'... but for 'she', it has ze 'e'." the accompanying smile, despite the poodle's over-the-top look, was still pleasantly flattering.
"Oh." Paul noted, rubbing the back of his head as he worked his way through dealing with two different accents. The waiter, thankfully, kept with his impeccable timing and, once again, saved Paul from more unpleasant conversation. The three ordered quickly, or, rather, he and Alric ordered, and the exec placed an order for his assistant.
"So... are you two... a... um... couple?" Paul asked.
"A couple of what, Monsieur?" the poodle asked vacuously.
"He wants to know if you are my amoureaux." Alric noted, using a French word Paul guessed had something having to do with love-- he had seen enough Pepe LePeu cartoons as a child to know the word 'love' in French. Pascal giggled and the muzzle-touching continued anew. Paul had a feeling he had his answer; he was, however, wrong.
"I am a married man, Paul. Pascal is just my assistant." the exec noted simply.
"Oh..." Paul's face turned deep red, "I just thought--"
"Zat we reenact World War 2?" Pascal inquired, running a paw under the table to who-knew-where. Based on the way Alric's ears raised at the action, Paul had a number of ideas just where the poodle's paw was, "Well... to be honest, zere are many nights when he has me surrender more than once." the poodle grinned at the Doberman, "He is quite ze fan of ze blitzkreig."
"Shock and awe, as they say here in America." Alric grinned.
"But... you said you were married." Paul stumbled, "and... you sleep with your asssitant?"
"My Tilly is a wonderful woman. She has given me three children, and I love her dearly." Alric noted matter-of-factly, "What does that have to do with my assistant?"
"Well..." Paul blurted, so surprised by the comment that he had trouble finding the right words, "I would have thought that being married means that you don't sleep with another woman, to start."
The two dogs across the table from him looked to one another, and both started chuckling. Paul felt his face blush, both from them laughing, but also from embarrassment. "What?" he asked as they turned to regard him again.
"You are such a cute boy." Pascal giggled reaching across the table to pat him on the hand.
"Pascal is not a woman, Paul." Alric noted simply, as if commenting on the weather.
The rest of the lunch went much better than the first awkward ten or fifteen minutes. Paul would have liked to have thought that he didn't make a complete jackass of himself but, as always, he realized that he must have. Alric was entirely gracious during the whole 'ordeal', a trait that Paul began to admire very much.
Pascal remained with them for about a half an hour, doing very little talking, but being apparently very good at listening. He did occasionally make a comment or two, his French accent and soft, bubbly voice became much more pleasant as the meal went along and Paul came to realize that most of his vacuous inanity was a show. Just before leaving, however, Pascal said something rather significant.
Standing up from the table, the poodle moved around to crouch down next to where Paul sat. "Listen to me... you do a lot of thinking with this..." he placed a manicured paw on Paul's chest, soft voice taking on an air of seriousness, "That can be a good thing... but you need to know that a lot of a relationship is patience, mon ami... and that takes a little of this too." and he ruffled his hair.
Once Pascal was a good distance away, Alric leaned forward and spoke up, "I told Pascal a little about the problem with your friend." and the exec winked, "I think once he met you he saw the same thing I did."
"And what's that?" Paul asked, smoothing his hair back into its correct shape. For some reason, Alric's comments didn't bother him as much just then.
"That you act before you think." Alric noted, setting down his fork. For the first time during their whole lunch, Paul realized that neither the Doberman nor the poodle had any trouble whatsoever with their eating utensils. He also looked to Pascal's vacant spot and noticed a straw sticking up out of the cup. He blushed when he considered the implications.
"What do you mean?" Paul spoke up, working to get his mind back onto the conversation.
"At every point, you were surprised today, yes? And yet, you took everything at face value. I am proud of you, Paul... not many humans are as open minded and as willing to understand as you." the Doberman smiled genuinely, and Paul couldn't help but feel a little warmth at that. He didn't know why, but it felt good to have the dog's approval.
"But..." Alric added, and the good feelings disappeared with the single conjunction.
"But?" Paul asked.
"But you are understanding in all the wrong ways."
"There's a wrong way to understand?" the young man asked, feeling confused again for what must have been the fiftieth time during the day.
"You have no attachment to me... I explain my name, and you asked questions and received answers. I introduced you to Pascal, and, after some very humorous expressions going across your face, you managed to understand. Of course, if I were a betting dog, I feel that you still do not accept the answer."
"Well, it doesn't make sense having a wife and taking a lover, even if your lover is a 'he'." Paul spoke slowly, not exactly how to phrase his comment.
"Again, another difference in culture, I'm sure. I do not know how the humans of Deutschland feel about such things, but for dogs, it is the norm. I am certain my wife has interests in other females.... she has, in fact, brought one home. THAT was an interesting evening." Alric chuckled to himself.
"So... she knows about Pascal?"
"Of course. She is my wife, and I love her very much. I would not keep secrets from her." Alric set a credit card down on the table as the waiter offered the check. The conversation halted until the waiter had moved on.
"So... she approves?" Paul asked after the pause.
"Well... she thinks he is entirely too girly, but, once they began comparing the best way to accentuate their eyes, it all turned out very well. Dogs do not wear eyeliner, you see-- it upsets the fur." Paul laughed at what he figured was a joke from the Doberman, and Alric smiled in response, "It is good to hear you laugh, Paul... you should do it more often."
Paul let out a sigh in response, "Yea... well... maybe I do. But it isn't always easy when you have foot-in-mouth disease like I do."
"That is an expression, I assume." Alric noted. Paul looked at the Doberman, who continued to watch him with the powerful gaze. Strangely, it didn't seem as imposing as it had been at the start of lunch.
"Oh... right... sorry. You speak English so well sometimes it's hard to remember that you don't know all of the expressions and stuff. It means... well... that I speak before I think, like you said before."
"Speaking before you think can cause trouble, yes... but I think the problem is that you ACT before you think, Paul." the Doberman accepted the card back from the waiter and scrawled a signature on the receipt. He stood, motioning to the door to the restaurant. Paul got to his feet and followed. "Actions speak louder than words-- that is another expression I've heard. When you act and don't think you are practically shouting."
"And I end up acting as foolish as it makes me feel." Paul nodded, sticking his hands into his pocket.
"I will not argue that." Alric said simply. "You are a little older than my eldest son. He started college this year, and you remind me of him very much in that you are both very headstrong, but often act without thinking."
"You have a son in college?!?" Paul blurted, completely taken by surprise, "But... you don't look old."
Alric laughed, walking along the sidewalk with him as they traveled toward the office, "And, you do it again."
"Do what aga--?" Paul paused, "Oh... this is where you say 'how old do I look?' and I say, 'I guess I don't know because I don't know how to tell the difference.', right?"
"You are making progress." Alric affirmed simply.
"Well... I do know that most dogs start getting gray around the muzzle... and you don't have any gray." Paul defended his assessment.
"One of the owners of your firm is older than I am, and he doesn't have gray hair." the dog countered.
"Yea... that's because he--" Paul froze. The corner of Alric's lips curled in a smirk.
"Because he...?" Alric encouraged Paul onward.
"Do they make fur dye?" Paul inquired, feeling another blush coming along.
"Yes, Paul... yes they do. WE do, in fact."
"Oh..." the young man blushed, "I didn't know that 'Mein Hund' was so diversified."
"I'm sure you will have plenty of time to study." Alric held the door open for him as the two reentered the office, "Now... let's see about that photo shoot."
Paul walked down the hall alongside the Doberman, his mind mulling over their lunch, their conversation, and the very strange experience of being exposed to all of the 'culture'. He stopped outside the door to the studio, and turned to regard the exec.
"You had a reason for lunch today, didn't you?" Paul asked, looking at the Doberman.
"Of course. I wanted to see if you would be a good addition to the advertising team." Alric noted "Shouldn't that have been obvious?"
"And the personal questions?" Paul inquired, giving him an appraising look. There was something about the dog that kept him thinking there was more to it.
"You have a lot of promise, Paul... you just need to learn when to think and when to speak."
"Or act." Paul added.
"Very much so." the Doberman chuckled, "But there is one more question you haven't bothered asking."
"Like what?" the young man asked. No matter what, Alric seemed to keep one step ahead of him, and he never new what was coming next."
"Your boyfriend... you can continue being mad at him without knowing why, or you can ask that important question."
"you mean, why didn't he acknowledge it back?" Paul asked.
"Yes... that's the one." Alric smiled warmly, touching his nose to Paul's before taking a step back. The expression created a happy/fuzzy feeling in Paul's stomach.
"So... what's the answer?" Paul asked once he managed to regain his composure.
The smile turned into a knowing grin, "I could give you the answer, Paul... but, honestly, now that you have the right QUESTION, I think you should ask the right PERSON." and, with that, the exec headed back down the hallway, waving, "Now get into the studio-- we're wasting money every minute we keep the staff waiting."
"What's that supposed to--" Paul began saying, but Alric was already beyond talking range, having simply left him to his own thoughts. "Tanner..." he answered his own question. Squaring his jaw, Paul inhaled through his teeth and reached for the doorknob, then jumped when it opened in front of him.
Ray came storming out of the room, causing Paul to leap to the side to get out of the way.
"TOMORROW TRY BEING ON TIME, FIVE-TILL!" came a snide shout from the studio.
"Good luck, kid... you're dealing with a grade-A ass." and Ray tossed the camera into the air, "I'm getting to old for this shit." Paul stumbled, grabbing for it as it came down in front of him.
"Uh... hi, Ray." Paul offered hesitantly. The retriever just continued walking down the hall, spouting profanities. Swallowing his hesitation, Paul entered the studio.
A large number of people were mulling about, looking like a football team at half-time. Based on the expressions everyone wore, it looked like the team was loosing. A collection of the interns were mulling over the set, a backdrop of what appeared to be a city apartment overlooking a balcony.
The model was just loud enough, berating the entire team to be audible over the loud discussion, and he had a lot to say, "No, damn it! No more make-up! They're SPOTS! They're SUPPOSED TO stand out! What is the fucking straw for? Is that some sort of joke? Will you just stop? It's fine! If you keep fiddling with me I'm going to charge you!"
~God...~ Paul thought to himself, ~He's going to eat me alive.~ Fumbling with the camera, Paul almost started to wonder where the film went in before he realized it was digital, ~I'm screwed.~
"Alright... photographer's changed. Everyone get back to your places; we're running behind." shouted one of the shoot managers.
Paul moved to the camera stand and snapped it into place. He cleared his throat as he checks the equipment while the aides cleared the way. A spotted back met his view, and he felt himself blush when he realized the dalmatian model was completely naked, or, at least, it looked that way, except for a bright red collar with the 'Mein Hund' logo embroidered into it.
"Okay... um..." Paul cleared his throat again, stabling his voice, "I want you to look over your shoulder towards the camera... maybe, with a surprised look like someone just walked in on you when you just came out of the shower." It was a silly suggestion, but Paul's mind wasn't about to come up with anything better.
"What kind of stupid suggestion is tha--?" the dalmatian turned around, and the two locked gazes. There was never a better expression of surprise caught on digital media as Paul's hand reflectively clenched, snapping the photo... of Casey.
They spoke in unison, "You?"