The Keeping(121)

A sound from Aldrich’s office caught her attention. He must have finished whatever it was he’d been doing. Mel straightened in her chair and bit her lip before impulsively folding the report and shoving it into the inside pocket of her jacket. The pages crinkled slightly as she leaned back in the chair, trying to appear casual. She’d play it cool; feel Aldrich out as to his client’s intentions with regards to Ryne and then she’d hand over the information...maybe.

The door to Aldrich’s office swung open. Mel rose to her feet and gave the lawyer a tentative smile. “Good morning, Mr. Aldrich. I got your message and came over as you requested.”

What might have been a smile, passed over the man’s lips as he greeted her with his usual arrogance and lack of manners. “Of course you came; what other option did you have?”

Feeling it was a rhetorical question, Mel didn’t answer, instead entering the lawyer’s inner sanctum and sitting down in a low slung chair in front of his desk; it forced her to look up at him, somehow increasing his intimidation factor. She remembered the room from last time, when she’d interviewed for the job; leather, wood, what was probably a beautiful view, if one wasn’t so over-powered by the occupant of the office. She was sweating again. Had the fever returned or did the lawyer just make her that nervous? Surreptitiously, she wiped her hands on her pant legs and waited for Aldrich to speak.

Unfortunately, he didn’t. The annoying man just sat there, casually leaning back in his leather chair, fingers steepled, staring at her blandly. His eyebrows raised in the faintest hint of inquiry. Mel licked her lips and wondered what he was waiting for. She shifted nervously and refolded her hands, met his gaze then looked away. Why didn’t he say something? Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she broke the silence between them.

“Well, I’m back.” She winced. What an idiotic comment. He could see she was back. She was sitting right in front of him!

“So you are. A stellar comment, Ms. Greene. I can only hope that your observations on Mr. Taylor are equally...profound.”

“Well, about that...”

Aldrich sat up straighter. “You do, of course have a report for me.”

She could feel the pages poking her in the ribs, each jab like a prod to her conscience, reminding her that their existence was her fault. For whatever reason, Ryne didn’t want people knowing much about him, and by creating the report she was going expressly against his wishes. “Um...”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering what exactly Mr. Greyson was going to do with the report?”

The lawyer’s eyebrows shot up. He was obviously unused to being questioned. “That is really none of your business. Mr. Greyson did not hire you to delve into his personal motivation.”

“It’s just that Ryne—Mr. Taylor—was reluctant to share much about himself. He likes his privacy.”

“Artists, authors, movie stars... A certain amount of celebrity is part of their job description. Some degree of privacy must be sacrificed if they wish the public to buy into their product. I’m sure Mr. Taylor knew this when he began his career. Now he must ‘suck it up’ as I believe you young people are fond of saying.”

“I know celebrities have to—”

“Ms. Greene. I do not have the time, or the inclination, to debate the issue. Kindly hand over the report and let's be done with it. I have other appointments today.”

“No...”

“No?”

“No. I...I want to think about this some more.”

“You do have a report, don’t you?”

“Yes! Of course! It’s just—”

“If you’ve been paid to write a report, Ms. Greene, then you have a legal obligation to hand over said report. If you chose not to, you may not like the steps I will be forced to take in order to gain ownership for my client.” Aldrich stood up and rounded the desk. His tone was no longer that of a bland and boring lawyer, nor was his face impassive. A nastiness was had crept into it, making Mel feel nervous and bringing with it a wave of nausea. Her head started to spin and her skin prickled all over.

Swallowing hard, she stood and backed around behind the chair she’d been sitting in, gripping its back to keep her balance. The papers in her pocket seemed to crinkle with betraying loudness as she moved and she instinctively clutched her hand over them. Aldrich seemed to zero in on the gesture and stalked closer, his eyes narrowed and his tone threatening.

“You will hand over those papers or live to regret it, Ms. Greene. The power wielded by Greyson Inc. is not something you should take lightly.”