Redundant

Lillian Patton zipped up her skirt and checked her appearance in the hanging mirror, catching her companion's lustful expression in its reflection.

"Don't you think this is overkill, Percy? He'll' be ruined." She turned, thumbing her blouse snuggly into the waistband then folding her arms loosely and leaning her rump against the dresser.

"What's with this sudden concern? You seemed quite agreeable when the idea first came up."

"I know but he is my husband and we've had a number of years together . . ."

"Not all to your liking from what I've gathered." Percy Rudman put his drink down and sat up. "This way we guarantee a divorce that will give you everything without long, dragged out court cases. Humphrey will knot him up tight as a drum."

"He won't be hurt." She templed her fingers to her lips.

Percy stood up laughing. "No but he'll think he got a hell of a workout."

Lillian frowned and gathered her coat and purse from the chair beside the door. "I still think there must be a-- a better way."

"He'll be fine. Your husband's a smart guy but we just can't afford to have him working for me after you divorce him."

The frown deepened then faded and her shoulders slumped just a little, pausing while he held the door. "Promise me he won't be hurt."

"Lil, I promise he won't be hurt physically, as for his emotions . . . well anybody would feel hurt about getting handed a divorce."

"I meant when you . . . retire him . . . you know, say nice things."

"That too." He blinked and nodded reassuringly.

She hesitated uncertainly, managing a tepid smile.

Percy closed the door behind her then picked up his drink glass and drained the contents. Say nice things! Christ! He checked around the room, grabbed his jacket and the key card and paused until he was sure Lillian was out of the hotel. Finally things were revving up to a point of actual progress; his investment in Blue Shoals Resort was about to pay dividends . . . big time.

********

Mathew Patton wished now he had closed the blinds on his window. He could feel all eyes on him from the office bullpen as he put the last of his personal items in the company supplied carton. The concern and uncertainty expressed was not exclusively for him; it painted possibly bleak futures for them as well.

"Is uh, that all, Mr. Patton?"

"Yep, that's it, Jerry." He hoisted the carton and stopped in the doorway for one final look at his work home for the last eleven years.

"I'm really sorry, sir. I have to see you right off the property . . ."

"I know. No stopping. No goodbyes. Just get my ass out of Percy Rudman's domain."

"It's not me--" The aging security guard spread his hands defensively as a mass of wrinkles collected on his forehead.

"I know that, Jerry. Don't sweat it. Nobody's blaming you."

"I just think it's kinda rotten, you bin here so long and all."

"Past my best before date. Can you grab the door please?"

As if in deference, the sun dipped behind a cloud when they reached the parking lot.

"Keys are in my pocket and will you get the trunk for me?"

Mathew dropped the carton in the trunk and closed the lid. There was a few seconds when the two men just looked at one another, then an awkward handshake, some forgettable comments and Mathew drove off the property for the last time.

*****

Lillian Patton replaced the phone and stared out at the street through the sheer curtains. Percy had let her know that Mathew had been given the news and was gone. Oh dear? She thought, as she watched the black sedan turn into the driveway and jerk to a stop. She had to get control of herself and remember the plan.

The trunk lid popped and Matthew crawled out of the driver's seat, slammed the door and walked around to the back, lifting out his carton and closing the lid with his elbow. The front door opened in time to allow him to enter without a pause and Lillian closed it after him, taking a deep breath.

"What's all this?"

"The sum total of eleven years, three weeks and two days at Rudman's, my dear."

"What do you mean? You don't mean--"

"Yep, I was fired, Lillian. I no longer have a job." He set the carton over on the dining room table and came back, flopping into a chair.

The word stunned her. There had been no mention of firing when she met with Percy. It was going to be a sad but necessary downsizing with a proper acknowledgement of his years of service.

"Mathew, what are you saying . . . fired? What did Per-- Mr. Rudman say?"

"You're fired."

"But why?"

"Redundant, dear. You are married to a fifty-seven year old redundant office manager."

Lillian paced around, pulling at her necklace strands nervously. He was supposed to be in a resigned mood, not angry, what was Percy thinking? "What are you going to do?"

"Well since it just happened I haven't given it much thought. Right now I want a drink."

He stood and went to the kitchen for his favourite bottle of J&B, finding it nearly empty with no replacement.

"Where the hell did all my scotch go?"

"Do you really think that is what you should be worrying about right now?" The plan, she had to stick to her part of the plan. Her thoughts collided in a confused jumble. "What about the house? The vacation property? My-- our friends? This is not a good situation, Mathew."

Sow seeds of dissatisfaction, the lawyer Humphrey had advised.

"You think? Right now I'd like a minute to think about what just happened to me, Lil?" Mathew poured the dregs into a kitchen glass and drank it all in one gulp.

He stared at the empty glass a moment then set it in the sink. "Okay, Lillian. Here's what I guess you want me to worry about. My severance will amount to about forty-four thousand. With the little we have in the bank that should last us about two years with care. I lose my health plan-- our health plan and the company pension stops dead. So whatever my half amounts to in there will be paid out as the insurers see fit when the time comes. I could cash it out at a loss but I'm not going to. So, there we are."

She said nothing; just looked at him as he started out of the room, pausing and turning back. "Oh, and the government old age security and pension plan. That's the total income we have to look forward to."

"We had investments." Her voice trailed off. Sound more indignant, she scolded herself.

"Yes we did and you insisted we convert them to that vacation villa we won't even be able to fly to that totals more than all this other stuff combined."

"Didn't you keep anything?"

That's better. Sound angry.

"Who the hell did you think I was, Lillian? Look around you. I made a little over a hundred grand gross and it's represented everywhere you look here. The car, this ridiculously-sized house, a pool for show, all the clothes, jewellery, your endless bloody entertaining and social--" He grabbed his carton, waved a dismissing hand and left the room.

*****

Mathew dumped the carton contents on the bed and began shucking his clothes. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his suit jacket carelessly on a chair followed by his pants. Won't need that outfit anymore, he thought angrily. A golf shirt and a pair of casual pants were chosen as replacements and he sat on the bed to pull his shoes back on.

The carton contents took his attention and he scattered them around wondering why he'd even bothered taking them. A brass medal with the words 'One free encounter Molly's Delight' engraved around the edge. The memory gave him a smile and he tossed it back on the bed.

"Already been screwed once today, thanks."

The rest of the stuff went back in the box and under the bed. In the backyard below the bedroom window he watched the pool man skim something from the surface then lay the pole down and light a cigarette.

"There's where you can save some money, Lillian," he said aloud. "Get rid of Ricardo Montalbán out there and skim the damn thing yourself. Better still, drain it."

Frustration overwhelmed him and he grabbed his windbreaker and headed downstairs.

"Where are you going?" Lillian followed him to the door.

"I dunno, just out. I'll be back later."

"Shouldn't we talk? We have to make plans . . ."

"Lil, I just want to think by myself, alone, you know. It's nothing about you."

"Well I have things to say too." The tone wore on Mathew and he chose to nod, smile sadly and leave without further comment.

He drove on automatic casting through his mind for financial life jackets, knowing he would eventually wind up at his favourite hotel bar. At his age, Mathew had no illusions about finding work in his field and he had no other skills that might be exploited. Visions of wiping dirty tables in a seedy diner flashed briefly.

The one source of money he knew could make a huge difference was the villa for which Lillian had expended every ounce of pleading. It would also be the most contentious item to part with. They could discuss it later when he got home . . . there was time . . . now.