Interesting Times
Interesting Times copyright 2013 comidacomida
Paul needed time to clear his head and try to stop the world from spinning. Death had never touched Paul so close to home... it had always been a friend of a friend, or some acquaintance's grandparent. Everything seemed to pass in a blur as time rolled by. It felt wrong to the young man that the world kept turning and life continued on when such a big piece of it was suddenly and irrevocably gone.
Mary, the human resource director for AHB called him on the second day he was out to offer her condolences and let him know about the company's policies regarding grieving time. Although he had expected to use personal leave for the days he spent off work he found out that he was entitled to three days of paid leave. She finished the call by imparting the knowledge that Mr. Burke fully expected Paul to use them all.
Tanner managed to take the first day off with him. The Dog was attentive and concerned, handling the affairs around the house quietly and competently while Paul spent the majority of his time sleeping in late followed by going to bed early; he ate at some point in the evening when Tanner gave him something. The young man often looked to the Dog and he was always there, just within reach. The human had no idea what it would have been like without having his boyfriend so close, but he was grateful in a way he couldn't possibly explain.
Somehow, things were just a little easier the next day, which was good because Tanner had to return to his classes. Paul spent many of his awake hours simply staring at the wall. Sometimes he screamed. He often cried. On one or two occasions he had almost managed to convince himself that it was all a dream and that he'd wake up eventually... but the next morning he awoke and nothing had changed. The third day was much of the same, but, on the fourth day, Paul somehow managed to force himself into action and, he had to admit, the return to a schedule actually seemed to make a positive difference.
At the office everyone carefully tip-toe around the issue, avoiding any direct reference to why Paul had been gone. There were a few exceptions, of course, and they made things easier and more difficult at the same time. The first was a condolence card left at his desk; he had almost burst into tears and had to make a beeline for the bathroom to regain his composure. Once he managed to get himself under control he sat down at his desk and read it.
The card itself had the usual expected verbiage, but everyone who signed added their own short message-- including the number of a good psychologist if Paul needed someone to talk to... courtesy of Miranda. The whole team had contributed to the card, some more than others, but the one that caught Paul's attention the most was the message from Ray which read simply, "Come and see me when you have a minute."
With so much work to catch up on, Paul didn't have a chance to follow up with Ray until that afternoon. When he did get to the Dog's office, the Retriever didn't say a word... he merely stood up, crossed the room, and gave Paul a hug. Ray had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what to say and do. The young man returned the hug, even crying into the Dog's shoulder, but the Retriever didn't stop him or push him away... Paul was touched more than anything by the fact that his own shoulder was wet where Ray's head lay.
The next several days led to a slow improvement in Paul's focus and his recovery. He'd heard people say before that time healed all wounds, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would ever get over losing his father. What he DID come to understand by the start of the following Monday was that he would at least figure out how to keep going... like he would if he had lost an arm; part of him was gone, and it would take time to learn how to function again without it. As it turned out, the week's distractions would go a long way toward "helping".
It was a Wednesday, Paul's fifth day back at work. Usually on Wednesdays the office started with team meetings. During those meetings it was not unusual for Candy to bring in doughnuts or muffins of some kind, Miranda and Ben would get into no less than two verbal arguments, and at least one of the team leads from the other projects would try to help Paul get his team under control. Most of the time they even succeeded.
That morning, however, was different. It was two entire hours before he was due into work, which meant that he'd been out of bed at five o clock and was actually just leaving the door as Tanner was getting up for his internship work. Eizenzahn had arrived back in town Tuesday night and had requested that an AHB representative meet him at a nearby business at six the morning. Unsurprisingly, it was Paul who was assigned to the project... something about Mr. Aimes trusting him to make the company look good-- after all, he seemed to have a way with Dogs.
The destination wasn't that much of a surprise to Paul; despite the fact that he couldn't quite get the GPS to work, the address also included "Eastside Gym", so he had an idea what he was getting into. What the young man DIDN'T understand was why Eizenzahn would bother meeting a random gymn when AHB had gone to such trouble obtaining their own work out room. That question continued to occupy Paul's mind until he entered the building, and that's when everything started to make sense.
Although Eastside Gym had all of the expected workout machines, treadmills, and weights, one thing it had that the AHB workout room didn't have was a boxing ring. Paul caught sight of Eizenzahn seated on a folding metal chair off to the side of the ring where two light-weight, muscular-looking dogs were squaring off, trading casual blows with one another while the older doberman half-watched, spreading his attention evenly between the sparring and a magazine he was reading. It seemed strange to see Eizenzahn out of his usual three piece suit-- the Mein Hund executive was wearing a simple, wine red polo shirt and a pair of gray cargo shorts.
The doberman looked up as he approached, "Ah! Paul! So good to see you." Eizenzahn's smile was both formal and personal, but his expression took on a somber air to it as he stood, holding out a paw, "I am so sorry to hear of your father's passing." Paul took the offered paw and the executive clasped his hand with the other one as well, "While I appreciate your dedication to your employer, if you need more time to--"
"No." the word came out a little harsher than the human had intended, and he quickly added, "I think I'd do better just focusing on work..." he glanced around the gym, wincing as the doberman in the ring connected a solid blow to his opponent's midsection. The Poodle grunted, but recovered quickly and countered with a hook to the side of the Dobie's head. The two separated, and continued circling. Although both Dogs were probably about Paul's own weight, he had no doubt that either would be able to wipe the floor with him... they LOOKED like fighters.
"Are you a fan of boxing, Paul?" Eizenzahn inquired, pulling the young man's attention back to him. The executive was seated once again, motioning to the chair beside to him.
Paul sat down obediently, "Not really... most of the sports I like don't involve people getting beat up."
His response elicited a laugh from the older doberman, "Well, fortunately Mein Hund's sports wear is not just for boxers."
"Ah..." Paul nodded thoughtfully, unable to stop himself, "So it's for Dobermans... and Poodles... and Mastiffs, and Bulldogs, and--"
"That isn't precisely what I meant." Eizenzahn clarified.
The next one was also out of Paul's mouth before he could censor it, "Well... I suppose if you offer boxers you'll need to have briefs too." The doberman looked at him, confused. "Never mind." the young man sighed, realizing that he had just managed to embarrass himself even more; perhaps things WERE getting back to normal.
"I was hoping that AHB would be able to assist Mein Hund with a widely cast net." Eizenzahn continued, thankfully not making an issue of Paul's unrestrained humor, "We are looking for a marketing of joint television, newspaper, billboard, radio, and internet advertisements in preparation of our official brand launch this fall."
"This fall?" Paul inquired, pausing as the Poodle let out a deep-throated grunt and delivered a powerful uppercut, taking the Dobie off the ground and launching him into his back. The human had no idea how the black-furred dog managed to get back up to his feet, but, moments later, their match continued.
"Yes." Eizenzahn answered simply, "The prior year of advertisement has raised the public's interest and our corporate website here in the United States has seen increased traffic as a result. We are receiving thousands of inquiries by email daily, and that number is growing consistently."
"That's..." Paul nodded in thought, "good."
The older Doberman laughed wholeheartedly at that, "Paul, I truly hope that you never change your straight-forward approach to business meetings." The human wasn't sure whether he should have been pleased with the compliment or embarrassed by it; in the end he was a little of both, but he didn't let it stop him.
"So... why are we meeting at the gym?" it was a straight-forward question, and it had been on his mind ever since arriving.
"This was the first opportunity my son had to work out since arriving last night, and he wished to make the most of it." Eizenzahn motioned casually with a faint flick of his head toward the boxing ring, and that was the first time that Paul took note of the family resemblance. The younger dobie had a built similar to the Mein Hund exec. They each had the same shaped eyes with the same eye color. Eizenzahn's son shook his sparring partner's offered paw, the two of them obviously done for the morning; based on the fact that neither was beaten into a bloody pulp, Paul guessed that it was probably a "friendly" match.
Due to the repeat exposure to Dogs over the course of the year-and-many months, Paul realized that the Dobie was probably somewhere in his early twenties. The doberman approached, unwrapping the cloth bandages that he wore on his paws, "Ist das der Mensch, Vater?" he addressed Eizenzahn before grabbing a towel out of the air that was thrown to him by his light-furred sparring partner.
"Ja, Bert." the exec stood and rested a paw on Paul's shoulder, "Das ist Paul Miller."
"Hallo." Paul acknowledged the younger Dog, trying out the phrase he had tried so hard to remember, "Ich sprecky kein Deutch."
The sweaty doberman began laughing immediately, and held out a paw, "This is fine, Paul Miller... I speak English."
"Oh." the human paused, accepting the offered paw, which proceeded to shake his hand tightly in a vice-like grip, "Then... uh..." he managed to retrieve his hand and rubbed it, "hi... uh... Eizenzahn's son."
"Nie Erobert." the young Dobie responded, "Just call me Bert."
Paul was at a loss for topics of discussion, which meant that his mouth offered filler where his brain had none,"Are you a boxer, Bert?"
"No, he is a Doberman." Eizenzahn gave Paul a pat on the shoulder, having made the comment so casually that the human took several moments to realize he'd actually been 'Paul-ed' by the executive.
"No." Bert replied for himself, "I do know a little about boxing... what we call Faustkamph..." the Dog sat down and began wiping the fur around his head and neck, "Vater," he glanced to Eizenzahn, "darf ich duschen bevor wir gehen?"
"Yes." the exec nodded, "But, out of respect, please use English around Mr. Miller." Eizenzahn FINALLY removed his paw from Paul's shoulder after giving it a final pat, "He learns quickly, but I don't expect him to have a working understanding of Deutsch any time soon."
"I will be back soon." Bert acknowledged. He passed Paul, giving the human a light tap to his shoulder with a fist; it hurt, "My father has told me much about you... I look forward to working with you, Paul Miller."
"Uh..." the young man wasn't exactly sure what to say, "Thank you?" Bert nodded simply and headed off toward the back of the gym where the male and female figures were posted clearly next to two separate doors leading off to tiled hallways.
Eizenzahn sat back down and motioned for Paul to do the same, "I assume you did not notice that Bert--"
"Was wearing Mein Hund shorts and shoes?" the human questioned before the exec could finish.
"I am glad you have an eye for detail, Mr. Miller." the Doberman offered a faint smile, then glanced to the second Dog who had been boxing, and had not yet left. The Poodle stood in a casual stance, towel wrapped around his neck with a paw gripping either end of it; in all, though relaxed, his posture still seemed intimidating.
At the executive's glance, the poodle approached and tossed the towel into a nearby basket, settling in with his legs spread shoulder width, paws on his hips. The MH logo on the waistband of his shorts was easily noticeable, as was the matching one on each of his sneakers, "Another model?" Paul asked after noticing logo on the poodle's clothing.
"Your eye for detail is lacking in some respects, apparently." Eizenzahn added, his reserved smile turning into a full-blown smirk.
Paul looked back to the Poodle, who maintained a combat-ready, grave expression, "So... he's a Mein Hund employee, right?" the human didn't stand up, but continued to look the Poodle over, "Is he going to be at a photo shoot?"
The Poodle's intense gaze softened somewhat and a good humored smile slowly spread across the dog's muzzle. For some reason he suddenly started looking a little more familiar with the change in expression, "Bonjour, Monsieur Miller." the Dog stated in a smooth, tenor voice. It was at the higher range of pitch, but still decidedly male... unlike the other times he'd heard it, usually in falsetto.
Paul, who had just stood-up, froze, "Pascal?!?"
"Oui, mon ami." the Poodle confirmed, moving to place a paw on either of the human's shoulders. Pascal then kissed his left cheek, then right cheek. It was far different than what he'd come to expect from Eizenzahn's assistant... in fact, just about everything involving Pascal looked as though it had made a complete transition, "I take it zee look iz unesspected?" and the Dog took a step back, spreading his arms to let Paul take in the sight of his surprisingly sculpted, wiry musculature, usually well-hidden behind pink.
"It's just... uh..." the human rubbed the back of his head as he realized he was blushing profusely, "I got used to seeing you... uh... differently." the words didn't come out nearly as eloquently as he had hoped and he felt his face burn all the hotter for it. The embarrassment around Pascal was nothing new, however, and he recovered quickly.
"Many people are, Paul." Eizenzahn smirked, obviously enjoying seeing the human caught off guard by the realization. The Doberman stood and gave Pascal a firm pat on the shoulder as he looked to Paul, "It surprises them when they learn that my assistant took part in boxing tournaments back in his college days."
"Pascal?" Paul questioned dumbly, "...boxed?"
"And still do, mon ami." the Poodle commented, pulling the cloth bandages from his paws. He then glanced to Eizenzahn, "Je vais-" and paused before starting again, "I am going to zee showarr before we leave." he smiled, offering a wink to Paul before he walked off toward the men's locker room. The young man stared after him in amazement; Pascal didn't have any hint of the feminine walk or mannerisms that the human had come to identify as distinctly his. Eizenzahn obviously didn't miss the young man's confusion.
"I can tell that you were surprised." the Doberman offered aside casually, both watching Pascal disappear into the locker room.
"It was probably pretty obvious." Paul admitted quietly, waiting until the door closed before he turned to face Eizenzahn, "So... if the whole dress thing isn't a full-on lifestyle choice why does--"
"Why would you say it is not?" the Doberman interjected.
"well... I mean... he wasn't just--"
"Did you see that my son wears a chain around his neck?" Eizenzahn interrupted Paul for the second time in as many sentences.
"I guess I hadn't, really." Paul shrugged, "Is Bert a Burb Dog?"
"No." the Doberman replied patiently, "He is not."
"Then why would you bring up the--"
"To see your response to it." Eizenzahn smiled, "And your answer also went a long way in explaining your surprise to Pascal boxing, and having clothing other than a pink business suit and jewelery."
The logic of the comment left Paul's head spinning, "How are the two even related?" he asked, "I mean, there's a pretty big difference between wearing a collar and--"
"Perception, Mr. Miller." Eizenzahn clarified, "In the end, it is all a matter of perception, and in a social sense, it remains a stumbling block for you."
"All because I didn't recognize Pascal dressed like a guy?" the human questioned, feeling slightly indignant at the arbitrary test.
"No, Paul... that was a symptom of your lack of social perception, not the issue in and of itself." the Doberman explained, "As was your assessment that my son might be a Burb Dog because he wears a chain around his neck."
"You mentioned it, not me." the human pointed out.
"Ah... but why you THOUGHT I mentioned it says volumes." Eizenzahn picked up a duffel bag that had been laying beside the chair where he had sat.
Paul tried to catch on to what the Doberman was getting at, but he was mostly lost... lost and a little agitated, "So... this is about psychoanalysis or something?"
"It is about Understanding, Paul." Eizenzahn countered calmly, resting a paw on the young man's shoulder again, "A deeper level of it, and a much broader level at the same time." he motioned to the front door of the gym and started walking, the human following, "It is about people as a whole; Dogs and Humans, we are very much the same, including the many different ways we look at the world."
"So what am I supposed to be perceiving?" Paul asked, coming to a stop at the gym's double-doors once the Doberman had halted.
The Doberman laughed, "No one thing specific... it's about getting to know your own way of connecting with the world and hopefully helping you know yourself."
In the end, Paul couldn't help himself, "I keep telling Tanner that you should write a self-help book... now I'm SURE of it."
"Speaking of Tanner," Eizenzahn began, causing the hairs on the back of the human's neck to stand up in premonition of something horrible, "I would very much like to take the two of you to dinner some night soon."
Paul, in all honesty, couldn't figure out exactly how to handle the invitation. On one hand, he really was both amazed and humbled by the offer but, on the other hand, he really REALLY didn't want to mix his personal and business life. In the end, he settled for a very non-committal answer, "Thank you. We'll have to find a good time to consider it."
Sadly, his plan did not have the desired result, "Wonderful. Shall we plan on Friday night this week?"
"I--"
"Of course... you'll want make certain your Dog's schedule is clear." Eizenzahn acknowledged, looking past Paul to wave at Bert, who was steadily approaching the two of them.
"Was hat er gesagt?" the younger Doberman called as he made his way across the gym.
"Was du denkst?" Eizenzahn responded, then added, "English please, Nie Erobert."
"Probably nothing." Bert answered simply; the comment made absolutely no sense in the strange context, but it elicited a chuckle from Eizenzahn. The younger Dobie looked to Paul, "I suppose I will see you soon at dinner." and he passed by the two of them and walked out the gym's double doors.
"What was that about?" Paul questioned quizzically.
"It may not seem like it, Paul, but you and Burt have a lot in common." the exec offered, holding a paw up in greeting to Pascal, who was just exiting the lockers across the gym. The Poodle was wearing a crisp pair of tan slacks, a light gray, pin-striped button up shirt, and a cream-colored vest, left unbuttoned. If the attire seemed out-of-place on the Dog then the burgundy wing-tipped shoes seemed almost comically abnormal compared to the high-heels that Paul had become so used to seeing Pascal wear. "Just like you and Pascal." the Doberman added.
The first comparison caught Paul's interest, but the second one threw him for a complete loop, "Huh?"
"Bonjour, Paul." Pascal greeted the human, holding out a paw. Paul accepted it, and surprised himself at being surprised by how strong and firm the handshake was; he had no idea why he had expected the limp wrist wiggle he had received before-- the Dog in front of him was not some prissy poodle. "I assume you are not so used to zee professional look, ne pas?"
"It..." Paul paused, "uh... suits you. Very... um..." he fought his brain for the right word, "tres chique?" The Poodle's deep-chested chuckle was the exact opposite of what the human was used to. Pascal's demeanor was a far cry from anything he'd experienced from him before, which was unfortunate because he wasn't used to having his mind blown and day flipped upside down before 8 am. Little did he know that the morning's chaos was only just beginning.
* * * * * *
Despite the morning's detour to the gym, Paul still managed to arrive at the AHB Marketing office before the work day started... he was, in fact, almost twenty minutes early. Eizenzahn had parted ways, announcing that he and Pascal would meet up with Paul at the office. The young man, however didn't catch sight of the rented sedan he had watched the drive off with or, more accurately, the one which Pascal drove and in which the two Dobermans were chauffeured.
Paul usually made it a point to try and arrive at least five minutes before he was expected to show because, if nothing else it gave him time to settle in and get his day started. He sat down at his desk with a reserved smile and let his computer boot up while he adjusted the height of the arm rests on his chair. With the better part of a half hour, the young man felt the cool breeze of freedom helping him set sail toward a more relaxed day.
That calming trade wind, however lasted for all of fifteen minutes, at which point the early morning silence was shattered. Paul heard a cacophnoy of phone lines ringing off the hook from across the way in the media relations department along with all three lines at the front desk phones adding to the noise. Paul typed in his employee password into the keyboard and kept his head low, hoping that whatever it was had nothing to do with him. Luck, as it turned out, was not exactly on his side.
"Paul!" came a call from Miranda, "Mr. Aimes needs to see you! Now!"
"Geez-o-pete!" the young man grumbled, quickly getting up from his desk. Only once his head was above cubicle height did he realize that the anyone and everyone that was in the office was making their way down the hall in that exact same direction, except for Miranda, who stood at the entrance to the hallway, motioning for him.
"Cripes almighty, what's going on?" Paul asked, looking at the human traffic jam.
"Did you REALLY just say 'Cripes almighty'?" Miranda asked, raising an eyebrow, "Seriously, Dakota?"
"It's an expression." he countered.
"Try 'oh damn!' or 'ofuk' or 'wuhthahell?'." she offered, "It'll make you sound less like you're from Ohio."
"I'm not from Oh--"
"Paul!" the shout could not have come from anyone other than Chris Aimes, and the people in the hallway parted like the Red Sea, revealing one of AHB's owners standing in the hallway, "Well?" he inquired.
"Right here, sir!" Paul responded, moving quickly through the crowd to join the executive, and both entered into Mr. Aimes' office. It felt a little disconcerting taking a seat at the man's desk; the last time Paul had sat there was in response to-- his thought processes ground to a halt as he looked at the big screen tv on the wall and a news report playing without sound.
Mr. Aimes sat down behind his desk after situating Paul, and he flipped off the mute, "--has finally come forward to shed some light on a story that went cold months ago." Paul didn't usually watch the channel five news and he couldn't place the female voice, but he assumed it was probably an anchorwoman. "We go to Carla Henry at the Oaks at Devonshire." and the screen changed.
A semi-attractive woman who he guessed was probably in her late thirties stood in front of a building that looked like a cross between a hotel and a hospital. Once the camera zoomed in on her, she began speaking, "Thank you, Diana." she acknowledged, "Many of our watchers have sent emails and letters into the station asking for an update on the report we ran some time back regarding reverse discrimination in the workplace."
"What is--" Paul began, but Mr. Aimes held up a hand, silencing him.
The camera zoomed further in on the reporter woman as she continued, "It seems that interest in a specific portion of our report focused on the social phenomenon of Dog/Human relationships. In response to these questions, Channel 5 managed to follow up on one case involving a man who asked that his name and identity be kept confidential... who we referred to only as John."
It didn't take much for Paul to put two and two together. Despite how much he prayed for it to be otherwise, he wasn't at all surprised when the station re-ran a clip he'd hoped would never surface again. The screen switched to the clip involving a figure covered in shadow, features hidden by the lack of light.
The caption on the screen said JOHN with quotations, "Are you suggesting that your termination from AHB Marketing was due to racial discrimination?" the interviewer inquired.
"Hell yea." the response came courtesy of an electronically altered voice, "The whole situation was completely screwed up... this one guy and me, we were like hermanos... and he goes and does a bunch of stuff behind my back and when I confront him for it the Dogs there jump me and I'M the one getting fired. All this wouldn't'a happened if he weren't Leasher. AHB is practically run by the Perros and Paul Miller has a road to the top just because he's good with em."
Mr. Aimes began to fiddle with some papers on his desk but Paul's eyes were fixed on the television while the camera returned to the reporter, "Despite constant 'no comment' remarks from AHB Marketing and a refusal from Paul Miller for an interview, Channel 5 has finally managed to track down an inside source. That source lives here," she motioned behind her to the building, "The Oaks at Devonshire Retirement Community."
The camera changed again, this time showing the interior of a small apartment, accompanied by the reporter's voice-over, "Mr. Abner Hatter has lived at The Oaks for almost a year. According to him, he moved to this retirement community apartment complex after having witnessed something that may shed light on the accusations."
Paul couldn't shake the feeling that the man's name seemed somehow familiar, but he wasn't kept wondering; his blood turned ice-cold when he recognized the face that next appeared on the television, "Yea..." Mr. Hatter announced, "He used to visit a Dog all the time... I lived next to the Dog, and that guy was over at all hours." The screen then went back to Diane, who was seated at the news room desk.
"Carla, many of our viewers at home are likely to question the validity of an eye witness account from Mr. Hatter due to any number of reasons, not the least of which being how long it has taken him to step forward, but also whether, as a resident of a care facility, he has the cognitive ability to identify someone after so much time has passed."
The screen returned to Carla standing outside of the nursing home. She nodded, "The front desk was unable to clarify if that was the case with Mr. Hatter, citing health care privacy laws... but his story was partially collaborated by his daughter, who joined us part way through the interview. Unfortunately our time with Mr. Hatter was cut short by his daughter, but you can see it in its entirety on our website and, as always, we encourage our viewers to come up with their own conclusions."
The view returned to the news room, "Thank you, Carla." Diana nodded, then turned to the man seated beside her, "Well.. that certainly does bring up quite a few questions about--" but the screen went dark as Mr. Aimes turned the television off.
"Mister Miller?" the exec inquired, setting the remote control down.
"Yes, sir?"
"I do not need to know specifics..." the man began, leading Paul to the realization that he wouldn't like what question came next, "... do you have someone you're going to bring to the office party this fall?"
Paul didn't know much about HR, but he realized that Mr. Aimes was coming as close to the line as he could without crossing it, "That depends on when the party is, sir... and whether or not I have plans... or what I--"
"Thank you, Paul." Mr. Aimes cut him off, "I assume you're aware that your email box is filling up quickly?"
The young man slumped in his chair, "I can imagine." and he let out a breath, "Do you want me to spend the day responding to--"
"No, Mr. Miller." the owner cut him off, "The Mein Hund contract requires your attention and I want you to focus on that."
A huge wave of relief washed over the young man when he realized he would be spared a repeat of the event from earlier in the year and he let out a deep breath, "Yes, sir."
"I think we're done this morning." the executive stated.
He stood up and had just made it to the door when Mr. Aimes spoke up again, "And Paul?"
"Yes, Mr. Aimes?" the young man's grip tightened around the doorknob, barely able to guess at what would come next.
"Tell everyone to get back to work please." the man replied, attention returning to the paperwork on his desk. Paul wasn't exactly sure what the executive meant but the sudden flurry of motion from the hallway outside the door made him realize quite quickly that Chris Aimes had a strong understanding that there were plenty of people listening in on their conversation. The hallway was empty by the time the young man had the door open.
Paul was more than willing to head back to his desk to continue working, but was surprised to see that he had visitors. For once, it was a pleasant surprise since Tanner and Total-Chaos were not the usually kind of stressful addition to his day he was used to. Tanner was seated at Paul's computer while TeeSee was leaning over his shoulder, talking quietly as he motioned to several things on the screen.
"Morning, Mr. Miller." the Husky greeted him, straightening up from his leaned-over position to step out of Paul's cubicle and shake his hand, "We'll be done with your computer in a few minutes."
"Oh... okay." Paul didn't have to fight to smile; between his boyfriend and the friendly Husky, feeling at ease came easily, "So... should I come back or--"
"Nope!" Tanner interjected, "All done!"
"Great!" the human tried to offer the same enthusiasm as the German Shepherd, and added, in the same, high-energy tone, "What are you done with?"
"We were installing a new email client on your machine." TeeSee answered, moving back to the cubicle to pick up his cardboard box, "All set!"
"Um..." Paul paused, "It took me weeks to learn the old one... why do I need a new one?" he questioned.
"Mr. Burke had his secretary put in a work order to upgrade your mail client." the tech-support Husky offered.
"My what?" the human asked.
"He wanted to have a program that would support rules."
"Rules?"
"Your new email service can use a filter to move everything from non-AHB email addresses into a separate file." the Husky cocked his head to the side, "Do you get a lot of outside emails, Mr. Miller?"
"I... uh..." he paused, "...sometimes... why?"
"Because now you can deal with those separately from the ones you get in-office." TeeSee wagged pleasantly.
Paul assumed it was his blank stare that encouraged Tanner to translate, "It means emails from people in the office will get to you but any emails people outside AHB send aren't going to clog up your inbox." and the Shepherd quickly added, "But it'll work the same as the old program you're used to."
"Oh... that's good." the human nodded. Both sets of Dog eyes were on him at that moment, and Paul felt a sense of unease begin to fill the cubicle. He honestly had no idea if either of the Dogs had seen or heard anything about the news report. The young man would talk to Tanner about it that evening, but he'd already had to go through the uncomfortable discussion with TeeSee once before and he really wasn't interested in a repeat performance. Thankfully, he didn't have to have one.
"Hey, Dakota." Ray's head poked into his cubicle, "Can I get your help for a minute with something?"
"Oh, uh, sure, Ray!" Paul hoped he didn't sound to eager to escape the rapidly degenerating situation. He glanced back to the other two Dogs, "Thanks again, guys! See you later, Tanner!" and he quickly followed the Retriever out into the walkway between cubicles. They were several rows down before the human spoke up, "What did you need?"
"I needed to see you a little less high-strung." Ray smirked, his tail wagging a little faster than in counterpoint to his gait.
"Thank god for friends like you." Paul announced, and Ray's tail went even faster.
As it turned out, Ray DID have a use for Paul as the two headed into the project room. The rest of Paul's team was already assembled and he was blessed with the good fortunate of not being asked a single question from anyone about the news report. Despite what would obviously be increased attention from the media, Paul was happy that it seemed like old news to his coworkers, and he left it at that.
The day continued to pass, moving along at a steady pace despite the chaos of the morning. Eizenzahn appeared along with his son, both dressed in the exec's trademark three piece business suit and the two Dobermans spent the day touring the facility. Pascal arrive a short time later, dressed once again in his brain-numbingly bubble gum pink business wear. The Poodle entered with the usual swish, greeting everyone in his gregarious falsetto as if he had never been anything other than the fabulous transvestite everyone knew him to be.
Although the three foreign Dogs joined Paul and his production team for lunch, they otherwise left the young man completely alone, which was surprisingly less of a relief than he had first suspected; it made him wonder if they were up to something. Despite the unknown variable, Paul continued to focus on the project.
It was five o clock before anyone knew it, and only then did the events of the morning start to filter back to Paul. Several employees who clocked out at 4:30 started to send messages back to him about a few different reporters and a tv van or two parked out front. Ray was quick enough to offer to get Paul's car for him, but the young man declined, explaining that he wanted to stay late anyway. He was on his own for another hour before there was a quiet knock at the project room door.
The human looked up just as Tanner poked his head inside, "Hey... TeeSee and I are just about to head out."
"Okay." Paul acknowledged, "I'm just finishing up here... probably another half hour or so." he added.
"This doesn't have anything to do with the reporters, does it?" the German Shepherd questioned, "TeeSee got asked by one of the guys outside if he knew you."
"I just have a lot of work to--" he paused as he met the Dog's inquisitive gaze, "Yea.. a little, I guess." he admitted.
"Well, if you want I can tell em to get lost." Tanner offered, "Or, I don't know... call the police or something?" he shrugged.
"I don't think Mr. Aimes minds having them here." Paul sighed, "I'm just gonna wait em out in here while longer."
"Well, if they're not gone by seven gimme a call and I'll come pick you up." the Dog volunteered, "You shouldn't be afraid to go outside."
"Why not?" the human countered, offering a small smile, "This IS California, isn't it? I SHOULD be scared to go outside... there might be a drive by shooting or something and then I'd just be another statistic."
"Something tells me you're more worried about cameras shooting you than guns." Tanner countered, offering an encouraging smile.
"One out of every seven people who get their five minutes of fame hope nobody recognizes them a year later." Paul replied, "See? That's a statistic."
"You just made that up." the Dog stuck his tongue out at him.
"Seventy nine percent of all statistics are made up on the--" Paul ducked down to avoid the white board eraser his boyfriend tossed his way.
"Don't stay too late." Tanner reiterated, "I mean it."
"I won't." the young man smiled, "I promise."
Tanner headed out, but he left Paul with the smile. While the human had first worried what it would be like having his boyfriend working in the same building, the experience turned out to be surprisingly positive. Seeing Tanner each day, even from across the room or just during lunch had made an immeasurable improvement for his mood... especially once he realized that nobody had any interest at all in their relationship-- mostly because neither of them had any reason to broadcast it in the office.
Paul continued with his upbeat attitude, even starting to whistle as he blocked off different quadrants of a demo page. It had taken him several days to get spacing down, even with Miranda's and Ben's help, but he was just starting to get to a point where he figured he could handle it. He chuckled as he considered that; his entire life felt like it was getting to that point-- perhaps it WAS possible that he'd actually be able to handle it... so long as he didn't have to deal with any more surprises.
"Hello?" a soft, demure voice called from the hallway. Paul didn't recognize whoever had spoken but, whoever she was, he could tell that she didn't feel relaxed in calling out. Setting down his ruler, the young man walked out into the entryway to meet her.
The speaker turned out to be a Rough Collie. Since the reception room had its lights on at all hours it was not difficult to get a good look at the Dog; she had one blue and one hazel eye, both of which were focused on him. Her fur was feathered, and the light reddish-gold and white coloring had a healthy, well-kept sheen to it; she obviously cared about her personal appearance. "Hello, sir." she noted, her paws wringing together in front of her in obvious shyness.
"Hi." he answered, "Can I help you?"
"Si, thank you." It took a moment for Paul to recognize the strong accent with which she spoke, but the 'si' drove it home. "I am looking for someone."
"Well... we're closing tonight, so almost everyone went home already." he responded, moving over to the receptionist's desk to look for a pad of message paper, "I can take a message if you want... what was your name?" He picked up a pen and looked back to her.
"Oh..." she offered a sheepish smile, "I am Angel-de-la-Mañana."
"Ang-hail?" Paul questioned, writing it down phonetically.
"It--" the collie paused, "I mean..." she was obviously flustered, "In English is Anyel."
"An-yell?" Paul repeated, lining the name out and trying again.
"No... no..." she shook her head, "Is hard to say... is like the city... Los Angeles."
"Los An-hail-" he paused, "Oh! Los Angeles!" and it sunk in, "Your name is Angel!"
"Si." she smiled, her ears blushing fiercely, "Angel-de-la-Mañana..." the collie clarified, "but I am called Angel."
"Oh." he wrote the name out as best he could, "I'm--" he fiddled with the pad and pen, and offered her a hand, "I'm Paul... Paul Miller."
The collie paused, her ears going up and her eyes going wide. She accepted his hand with a paw daintily, "You are... THAT Paul Miller?" she murmured, and then rambled off, "Qué suerte gracias a dios."
"I... uh... don't speak Spanish." he responded.
"I think you can help me... I hope." she noted, still holding his hand, adding a second paw to it as she continued to shake it.
"That isn't what I--" he began.
"I am looking for Mateo Vargas." Angel stated.
"Mateo?" Paul was taken aback.
"Si..." she nodded, finally letting go of his hand, ears dropping slightly in embarrassment "he is my boyfriend."
The young man was struck dumb, "He's... your boyfriend?"
"Well..." she lowered her gaze, her already quiet voice softening further, "...he was."
The night suddenly got THAT much more complicated.