Aces and Knaves

prepared a functional resume, not showing dates of employment, because, like many of the clients, he had a big gap in his employment record. His gap was five years; he had been in prison, convicted of dealing drugs.
    "Looks good," I said, handing it back. "That ought to get you in the door."
    "It already has, thanks to your help, and Ted who helped me write it. I have an interview tomorrow."
    "Congratulations! And good luck."
    "Thanks."
    Pat wanted to be an airport shuttle driver. I wondered whether a company would take a chance on him since the job involved handling money and required dependability. I hoped so.
    I went on back to the area where Esther hung out. I said hello to her three female staff members as I walked through, and poked my head into her office. She was on the phone, as usual, but she smiled and waved me in. I sat down on an extra chair and looked at the pictures of her four-year-old son, Emilio. She shared custody of him with her former husband. There were also several drawings by him on her corkboard. The rest of the office showed the clutter of a creative mind.
    Esther hung up the phone and stood up. I also stood and we hugged briefly.
    She said, "I'm glad you came. It gives me an excuse to get away from the office for a while and I'm famished."
    She gave some instructions to her staff and then we walked back through the building and out the front door.
    When she saw the Mercedes she said, "You know, Karl, for someone with no visible means of support, you sure drive fancy cars. If I didn't know better I'd suspect you were a car thief."
    "I didn't want to tell you before," I said, opening the door for her. "I was afraid it would prejudice you against me."
    ***
    The small cafe near Wilshire Boulevard served tasty sandwiches, some with natural ingredients, whatever that means. They must be good because they were expensive.
    I paid for our lunches. Esther was always willing to pay her share, and even mine, but I felt guilty taking her money because she was providing half the support for a son and I had no dependents and few expenses.
    We sat outside at a small metal table, protected from the Los Angeles weather by transparent glass shields. The breeze was usually cool near the beach but the Santa Ana winds had warmed up the air to the point where we would have been comfortable out in the open, even with our thin California blood.
    Esther wore a long skirt, with a slit up the side that revealed flashes of her shapely legs as she moved. When she was concentrating on something she had a habit of playing with her skirt, sometimes pulling it up above her knees, which was more enticing than if she'd been wearing a mini.
    Her long hair was auburn, not uncommon for someone of Hispanic origin, as I'd discovered, and she even had some freckles. Her smile would melt asbestos.
    I sipped iced tea and watched her expressive face while we waited for our sandwiches.
    She caught me looking at her and said, "Why so quiet today, Karl? Your job is to amuse me and keep my mind off work."
    "Sorry," I said. "But allow me one question. Is everything falling into place for the big event Saturday?"
    The annual fundraiser was expected to bring in several hundred thousand dollars. The planning for it fell on the shoulders of Esther and her staff.
    "It's a circus. If I'm not good company it's because I was up until six this morning writing descriptions for the silent auction. The computer was giving me fits."
    "Did you get any sleep at all?"
    "I went home and caught a couple of hours before I came back in."
    It seemed that everybody had gotten less sleep than I had. I said, "And I thought I had problems. You should have called me to help with the computer." Of course I had been in San Francisco.
    "Next time I will. Tell me about your problems."
    "I won't bore you with them. All I want is unconditional love right now."
    "I'll give you an unconditional hickey if you don't tell me. You know everything about me and I know nothing about you."
    The hickey sounded good, but I could tell from the sound of her voice and the fire in her eyes that I had better start talking. I hadn't told her who my father was because I wanted to distance myself from him. Emerge was my project. My father had his foundation and if he liked an organization he might donate thousands of dollars to it. Then he would be made a member of its Golden Circle and be invited to sit at a front table for fundraisers, etc. etc. If he found out about Emerge he could with