I glance at the clock on my computer screen. 9:17. Megs must be tucking Jillian into bed. They spent at least two hours doing homework after Jilly-bean's bath.

During that time, I've been scouring the web for the missing pic of the ape and his pet dog. I can't find it anywhere. I found similar photos that I considered printing but it just wouldn't be the same. 

I hear Megan exiting Jillian's room and descending the steps. I pause for a moment, then slip out of my office to pursue her. The sound of running water steers me into the kitchen. Megs makes an evasive maneuver when I enter the room but I'm not letting her past.

"Get out of my way," she says through gritted teeth. Still no eye contact.

"She spoke to me! Thank you, Jesus!"

She struggles to push past. I wrap my arms around her in a bear hug, her back to my chest.

"Yell at me. Curse at me. I don't care. But please stop ignoring me," I plead.

She's not engaging.

"I'm sorry. You must be tired of hearing me apologize all the time but I'm a deeply flawed man who makes a lot of mistakes. A lot of mistakes. I can admit that."

"I can't believe you did that." She shakes her head.

"Again. I'm sorry. I should have discussed it with you. I was wrong. But it may turn out to be a lucky mistake."

No response.

"I don't want people spying on us or creeping around our house and our family any more than you do."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"Brenna and I are meeting with Carl tomorrow. She's already sent him a warning. I think it shook him up. She can be scary."

"And this is supposed to be news to me?"

She turns to face me. A slight smile finds its way across her lips.

"That idiot, Bernie, left his laptop in our yard. His work laptop. There's a ton of incriminating stuff on there."

"So tomorrow it's over?"

I nod. I revel in the hug that I've been needing.

"What did she say about me?" Megs asks.

"She asked about Jilly-bean."

"Oh." I feel her body deflate. We stand in the kitchen, my wife in my arms.

I whisper, "Do you think Jillian's gonna be disappointed that we're not getting divorced?"

"She'll get over it."

"I don't know. That double birthday/double Christmas thing sounds pretty good."

"At least Amanda's dad didn't buy her a pony."

"Yet."

"I think Jillian would happily settle for a dog."

                                                                              #######

6:15. The alarm goes off. I've been awake for at least 30 minutes just waiting. And thinking.

6:40. I'm out of the shower and shaving at the sink. The face in the mirror looks happier, dare I say hopeful? With a towel, I wipe away the shaving gel remnants from my cheeks, chin, and neck then open a prescription bottle and swallow a mental health pill. Maybe these are helping. 

7:05. I select a necktie.

By 7:15, I'm dressed and staring at the toaster. I catch the toast when it jumps from its slot and I apply a thin coat of butter.

7:20. I kiss my pretty wife on her soft cheek.

"Good luck," she says and gives me a peck on the lips.

"Bye, Dad," Jilly-bean waves, shouldering her bookbag.

                                                                                 #######

It's 9:14 when Brenna and I enter the lobby of Dunning and Brannigan. We could have easily arrived punctually for the 9 o'clock meeting with time to spare but Brenna insisted on making them wait, so we walked slowly around the block a few times.

Confidently, I approach Wren's desk. 

"Hey, Wren. I'm here with Ms. McSorley. For our meeting with Carl."

She smiles politely. "Have a seat, Mr. Robiski. Mr. Dunning will be with you shortly."

"It's me. Phil."

Audra peeks over the top of her cubicle as I join Brenna in the waiting area. Rhonda scurries into the restroom.

Brenna sips from her stainless steel water bottle then leans in and whispers, "I do the talking. Unless I ask you a question. These people are not your friends. Remember that."

I nod.

"Stop smiling."

"I didn't know I was smiling."

"Stop smiling."

"Okay."

Brenna checks her phone then says, "Oh, my God. Jillian has just been kidnapped."

"What?!"

"You'll never see her again."

"Why are you saying that?"

"That's the face I want. Not the smiling face."

"For God's sake, Brenna."

Wren comes out from behind her desk. 

"Mr. Dunning is ready for you, Phil and guest," she says. She offers a polite smile then takes off down the hallway. 

Brenna gives me a WTF look. I shrug.

                                                                                   #######

9:21. We enter the conference room where we find Wren waiting.

"Can I get anyone a drink? Water? Coffee? Soda?" she asks.

"I brought my own," Brenna answers.

"I'll have a water."

Wren breezes out of the room. A moment later, Carl tromps through the door, a mug of coffee in his hand. He revs up the fake laugh, chuckling when he extends his hand.

"Ms. McSorley, so nice to meet you."

Brenna shakes his hand. No smile.

"Phil, you're looking good."

"Thanks, Carl. You, too." I'm being diplomatic. Carl looks heavier than he did the last time I saw him. Apparently, he hasn't surrendered to a larger shirt size. He's got a muffin top of neck skin overflowing his collar.

"How's the fam?" He grins.

Brenna clears her throat loudly as she drops into her chair. 

I stop smiling.

She pulls out the chair beside her and gestures to me with her fierce eyes. I take the hint and sit down.

"Everybody's good," I respond quietly.

"That's what we like to hear."

Brenna slips her eyeglasses onto her face, then draws her laptop out of her shoulder bag and fires it up.

Wren zips into the room and hands me a bottle of water. With a flourish, she places a plate of cookies on the table.

"Don't mind if I do," says Carl with a grin, reaching for a cookie. "Oatmeal raisin. Health food." He guffaws.

"Don't smile. Don't smile," I say to myself.

Brenna remains stone-faced while searching for a document on her computer.

Wren addresses Brenna. "The guest wifi password is--"

"That won't be necessary," Brenna replies, eyes on her computer screen.

"I see," says Wren. In three long strides, she's through the door and into the hallway.

Carl gulps his coffee. When he comes up for air he says, "I was confused by the letter you sent, Ms. McSorley."

"Confused?"

"You made mention of harassment of my friend, Phil. Maybe you aren't aware that Phil wasn't fired. He quit. I tried to talk him out of it. In fact, I offered him a position at a higher salary. You remember that, don't you, Phil?"

She kicks me in the ankle before I can respond and takes the reins. "So, let's talk about your employee, Bernie Peefarmer."

"Peefommer," I correct her.

"Ex-employee," Carl replies. "I had to let Bernie go two weeks ago. I don't want to crawl too far in the weeds into personal deets but let's just say there were some issues with erratic behavior."

"Two weeks ago?" Brenna nearly stares a hole in Carl's forehead. "You're certain."

"Yes, yes, very unfortunate." He chomps his cookie, averting his eyes.

I sigh. "Less than two weeks ago we sat in this very conference room."

"We?" He examines his cookie thoughtfully.

"Yes. You, me, and Bernie. You told him to show me an intimidation video."

"I don't even know what that is."

"A bunch of testimonials from people, including some current employees of Dunning and Brannigan, doing a character assassination on me."

"I don't recall that," Carl scratches his nose.

Brenna leans forward.

"Three things, Mr. Dunning. One, it's a simple matter to verify employment records. If you're lying or attempting to falsify employment dates, you've broken several state and federal employment laws. Two, if you're trying to convince Mr. Robiski and me that Mr. Beefarmer--"

"Peefommer," I correct her.

"Went rogue and acted on his own behalf when he followed and surveilled Mr. Robiski, you'll need to explain why he was using a company laptop, a company phone, and driving a vehicle rented with a company credit card during the commission of those illegal acts."

Carl drops his cookie.

"And three, intimidation and harassment constitute retaliation under Whistleblower law. If found guilty, you face lawsuits, damages, and possibly criminal prosecution. And I would think that once word gets out, you and your staff may as well place an ad on Craigslist for a trained bicycle-riding bear and join the circus. Turn out the lights on Dunning and Brannigan. Fini."

Carl brushes oatmeal cookie crumbs from his tie.

"Phil," Carl wears a nervous smile. "Let's unhitch the wagon and water the horses. Like I said, I believe there's been a terrible misunderstanding."

"Is there something about what I just said that requires clarification?" Brenna growls.

"No," Carl squeaks.

"Then we understand each other. Let's go, Phil."

When Carl pushes back from the table, one of the wheels on his chair runs over his cookie.

"Phil," he says quietly, his eyes shifting from me to Brenna. "Can't you turn down the temperature?"

"I said let's go," Brenna hisses.