Aces and Knaves

in."
    "Excellent. Get an expense form from John on your way out. We'll cover your expenses plus an extra thousand for your time. Incidentally, you and John should have a lot in common."
    He had said that before. Arrow looked as if she was about to say something. I stared her into silence. I got up, formally shook her hand and said, "It's been nice working with you."
    She looked surprised and said, "I'll drive you home."
    I turned to my father and said, "Dad, if you'll let me borrow your car I'll bring it back at the time you specify and take you home. That way, Arrow won't have to waste her time driving me."
    The argument about not wasting Arrow's time appealed to him. Of course my time didn't matter. He said, "Be back here at six. I want to get to bed early tonight."
    "May I borrow your keys?" I asked Arrow. "I'll transfer my suitcase to my father's car and return the keys to John."
    She took them out of her handbag and handed them to me, reluctantly, I thought. As I turned to leave the cubicle I spotted the picture of me with my two younger sisters, sitting on my father's credenza. We were laughing at something.
    I walked around the corner to John's desk. He was eating one of those big sloppy cheeseburgers that's supposed to get all over you before you can call yourself a man—or woman—but he had set up a network of paper napkins to catch the drips. My mouth watered and reminded me that it was after 1 p.m. and I hadn't eaten lunch yet.
    "Ah, the prodigal son returns," John said when he saw me.
    "I need an expense form," I said, hoping to keep our conversation short.
    He wiped his fingers, fastidiously, pulled a form out of a drawer of his desk and handed it to me, saying, "I'm on an email list of hot young bods who want to get together. If you'd like to join I can give you the info."
    "Maybe some other time. Is there a telephone I can use?"
    He pointed to a phone in an empty cubicle. It was too close to him. If he heard me making a date with a woman it might damage his self-image. I didn't want to be responsible for that.
    I remembered a pay phone we had passed on our way in from the parking lot. Sometimes Esther, my friend at the Emerge organization, ate a late lunch. If traffic wasn't bad, I could make it to her office in about 30 minutes.
    "Thanks," I said. "I've decided I don't need the phone."
    "Then I'll see you around if you don't turn square."
    "I'll be back in two minutes to return Arrow's keys." I held them up.
    "Ah, Arrow," John sighed. "She's so scrumptious that sometimes I wish I were straight."

    Chapter 8 ESTHER
    The one-story Emerge building wasn't large, but it was conspicuous because of its orange color. Parking is at a premium in Santa Monica, but one of the metered spots in front was open so I pulled in there.
    I put a quarter in the slot, even though I only expected to be five minutes, because the risk of getting a ticket costing a hundred times that much wasn't worth it. Not that I hadn't taken the risk in the past. I had been cured because I had received a $25 ticket at a meter near the Trader Joe's Market in Redondo Beach after years of saying "It won't happen to me."
    I went inside and said hi to the young man at the desk, a former client. He was now well dressed, well groomed and articulate. Several of the current clients were using the telephones provided to aid them in job searches. There were both men and women; on any day they represented a cross-section of the many ethnic groups that have found their way to Southern California.
    The dress of the clients ranged from hip to homeless, with most nearer the lower end of the scale, and I had once helped a client who carried a duffle bag and a strong aroma with him. The bag probably contained all his possessions, in spite of the fact that clients were supposed to have at least a shelter to stay at and not be on the streets.
    I walked on to the computer area, which was my specialty. I'm sure I inherited my computer aptitude from my father, although I would never tell him that. I recognized one of the clients who was working on a resume because I had helped him the previous week, a man by the name of Pat Wong.
    I went over to him and said, "Hi, Pat, is the computer behaving itself today?"
    "Hi, Karl, everything is fine. Take a look at what I've done."
    He picked up a copy of his resume from the laser printer, which was shared by several computers, and handed it to me. I glanced over it. It was well laid out, using Microsoft Word. Pat had