CHAPTER 17—MANOEUVRE #3
Toast of New York. She smoothed on the lipstick, the thin film of mauve moistening her lips. Would this make her the toast of Edmonton? Jasper Avenue? She’d bought the lipstick because of the name, buckling to faint hope. She examined herself in her bathroom mirror. The rash had almost cleared up, and under-eye concealer made the red dots less noticeable. Freshly washed and combed hair framed her face. She smiled. Lipstick lined her front teeth. She wiped it away and blotted her lips. She made a face in the mirror and left.
Teddy’s glowed with welcome. She entered the restaurant, the smell of bacon grease and French fries warming the air. Gordon sat at a booth on the upper level. He wore a fleece pullover with a “Jasper National Park” logo. Suzanne waved at him and kept waving until she stood at the booth. She felt high at the sight of her secret crush. Something about him seemed trustworthy.
“I’m here!” she beamed.
He smiled.
She slid onto the bench across from him. She looked at his hands, wide, big, masculine.
“So.”
“So,” he said.
She forgot the reason they were there. It now seemed like pretense.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“No. About ten minutes. Didn’t you say you lived across the street?”
“Yeah. I had to, uh—”
“Come on, you just wanted to be fashionably late, like at the ABS meetings!”
She smiled at his teasing. Ostensibly, they were there to discuss a strategy for dealing with John and Jason and the phasing out of their jobs. Her job. She hadn’t phoned Marika back. Marika had called again, leaving another message saying they needed to hear from her urgently. Terror and quivering sickness had stopped her from returning the call. She knew she was done. The writing job she’d cursed for three years now abruptly and heartlessly gone, without pity for her weak and sensitive soul.
Suzanne looked around for a waiter. “Wanna beer?”
“No thanks. You were quite the handful the other night.”
“I was? When?”
“At the Open House. How much did you have to drink, anyway?”
Suzanne rubbed her eyes and then stopped, remembering she had mascara on. “Oh, that.”
“I used to drink that way when I was camping. Fell in a fire once. I don’t do that any more.”
“Do what?”
“Get drunk. Or drink, for that matter.”
Suzanne eyed him. Was he some kind of reformer?
“Yeah, I don’t know. Guess I overdid it. Hope no one is pissed at me.”
“Marika could have killed you. I think people thought you were playing a character, until they realized that you were actually drunk.”
“Did I do anything?”
“You don’t remember pretending you were interviewing people for This Day in Alberta?”
“Yeesh.”
“I covered for you—told people it was your fortieth birthday. A milestone.”
“Oh, it might be a milestone, all right.”
“Then you just disappeared. At around five or so. You scared Pauline.”
“Did I look drunk?”
“You were still on your feet. Then.”
A waiter came by to take their orders.
“Brady’s out to destroy us, you know,” she said, changing the subject. “Try the Reuben, it’s great. It sits in your gut for days soaking up transgressions.”
“So it’s Brady who’s out to destroy us,” he said, smiling a bit.
Gordon radiated health. What kind of a human being didn’t drink? Odd.
“Yes,” she said. “You know it and I know it. We would be remiss if we allowed Brady and his ilk to annihilate educational public television in Alberta, if not the country. What’s next, the CBC? No. No, I say!” She slammed her fist on the table.
Gordon laughed. “Come on.”
Suzanne grinned at her own theatrics. “Okay, but. But. But what I proposed to Pauline is that we write awful membership scripts, full of nonsense, to discredit Jason. I guarantee he doesn’t know fact from fiction.”
“Ah. A conspiracy. I like it. What did she say?”
“She’s on board.”
“What about Leslie?”
“She said she’d talk to him. Look, we’re all going to be sacked anyway after this. And one of us staying on is probably a lie. Let’s get Lawrence his old job back.”
Gordon smiled again. “You’re serious.”
“Absolutely. We have nothing to lose.”
“Why does any of this matter to you so much?”
Suzanne looked out the window for inspiration, but caught her reflection instead. “I have to care about something.”
Gordon leaned back and clasped his hands on top of his head. “Well. I think these guys are pompous fools. And I am going to start up my bike store—”
“Bike store?”
“—and I do like and respect Lawrence and Frank.” He looked back at Suzanne and grinned. “Yeah, why not?”
Their food arrived. Suzanne raised her Reuben in a toast. “To the defeat of the infidel.”
Gordon smiled. “To the defeat of the infidel.” Their sandwiches touched. “I helped you, in case you’re wondering. It was me. I understand.”
She salted her sandwich. “Helped me? When did I need help?”
“The other night. At the bus shelter.”
She squeezed her sandwich, her fingertips making an imprint in the bread. “So, Ryan seems like a nice kid.”
Gordon glanced over her head. “Hey. Is that Jason? Over there, by the door?”
She whipped around. A head of blond streaks and a low brow acknowledged them. He smiled and sauntered toward their table. He wore a tan cashmere coat.
“Pretend you don’t see him,” she said.
“Hi, Jason.”
Jason smiled and shook hands with Gordon, then pumped Suzanne’s hand. “Mind if I join you?”
“Truthfully, we were having a quiet—”
“Sure. Have a seat,” said Gordon.
Suzanne sulked, the tantalizing possibilities of the evening yanked away by a miscreant.
Jason slid in beside her. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Are you two an item? What happened to the kid at the mall?”
“What kid at the mall?” asked Gordon.
“NOTHING,” said Suzanne.
Jason caught the waiter’s attention. “Do you have a wine list?”
The waiter stifled a laugh and indicated the menu card behind the ketchup. Jason looked over the offerings and ordered a beer. “So, what’s happening?”
“What’s happening?” said Suzanne.
“Yeah. What’s happening? What does one do in Edmonton? Where are the hip spots in town? Is this one? Maybe with the types who think this place is so uncool it’s cool.”
Under the table, Suzanne kicked Gordon.
“I bring my son here sometimes. He’s seven,” said Gordon.
Jason drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you mind if I sit next to you, Gordon? I want to be able to see what’s going on. I’m just facing you and a brick wall right now.”
Jason swivelled over to Gordon’s side of the booth. Suzanne made no attempt to disguise her sour expression. Jason’s beer arrived.
“So Suzanne, you’re from Toronto, right?”
“God, no.”
“I thought you were.”
“I lived in Toronto. I was never from Toronto.”
“I’m from Toronto,” Jason said. “Canada hates Toronto. Know why? People are ignorant. And jealous. What a stupid national pastime.”
“Why are you in Edmonton?” asked Gordon.
“Good one!” said Jason, raising his glass.
“Yeah, why are you in Edmonton?” said Suzanne.
“I go where the opportunity is. John hand-picked me.”
“Like some kind of vegetable,” Suzanne muttered.
“I like Canada. I learn something every time I go somewhere.” Jason gulped his beer. “I like ABS. Nice little place. I could learn a lot. What are you guys drinking? Let me buy you both a drink.” Jason pulled a bill from his wallet and put it on the table. Gathering his gloves, he smiled. “Look, guys, I appreciate the writing you do for the membership campaigns. I really do. I can handle it from here on in, don’t worry. If this really is your last campaign working at ABS, let’s make it a great one. Where did you say the hip clubs were?”
“Try Whyte Avenue,” said Gordon.
“I’ll find them, don’t worry. See you, guys.”
He left. Gordon looked at Suzanne. “Did the guy we’re giving the brush-off to just give us the brush-off?”
“I used to see it happen all the time,” said Suzanne. “Why’d you let him sit down?”
“Just being polite. What were we talking about, before?”
“His imminent demise.” She fingered the fiver Jason left. “Idiot. This isn’t enough to buy drinks.”
“I’m just glad I saw the front of the back I’m going to stab.”
She slouched and looked over at the bar. Two men laughed with the bartender. An Oilers game swirled on TV. At the booth across from Suzanne and Gordon, a young couple lingered over coffee. She watched them smile shyly at each other. She wanted to ask Gordon about Ryan, about Ryan’s mom. Her emotion stuck on Jason. She ran her tongue over her teeth.
“Marika phoned me,” Suzanne blurted. “She wants me to phone her back. Gord. I’m worried. I think I’m being fired. The Open House and all.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Why else would she phone? Why her and not Frank?”
He dabbed some fries in ketchup. “Frank’s pretty absent these days. I didn’t see him once at Open House. Look. If you’re fired, feel good that we’re all toast. I’m sorry, Suzanne. I really am. And I’m sorry you got so drunk.”
She gazed at him sadly. She could open up to him. He could be her Open House. Maybe he could love her.
“Why did you leave Toronto?” he asked.
She sighed. “You really want to know?”
“Try me.”
She had a sip of beer and squinted at his intelligent eyes. “Okay. All right.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I worked in master control at a TV station once. You know what master control is?”
He nodded. “Sure. Broadcast operations.”
“Yeah. I faked my way into the job. So I’m on the midnight shift, because I can’t deal with the daytime any more. One night I shut it off. All of it. I sat at the controls and faded everything to black. All the images—the cars, laughing people, toilet bowel cleaners, hair shampoos, fast food—gone. Disappeared. No broadcast. Security came for me. I waited for them. I just wanted peace. For everything to be still. Call it a protest.”
Gordon leaned back and looked at her. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Like I said, at this point, what have we got to lose? What have I got to lose?”