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"You're full of shit! Where did you get this from? Yeah, small towns... everyone knows when rover decides to take a dump. Look... OK ... Yes, I really do appreciate knowing. But I need something real, proof. Can you fax me a copy of the court docket? Do it to my personal fax here in my office... and keep your mouth shut about this." As if he will, thought George.
George Gundray dropped the phone to the hook, rested his elbow on the desk and dropped his forehead into the open palm. "Sam," he mumbled. "I just can't believe... Sam, and he takes care of Mercy Children's Hospital..."
* * * *
"Hello Sam, Please sit down."
"Yes, Mr. Gundray." Sam looked around again at this office. It seemed rather out of context with the big bullish man at the desk. Maybe the modern look was to recapture the old man's youth. All swoops of fiberglass and plastic. Not a square thing here except the picture frame holding Mr. Gundray's wife. "May I ask what this is about?"
"Sam, we've lost a few accounts and I just can't keep you on right now. I have to move Tom here from California. He's senior."
Sam blinked. "And you don't have anything I can do?"
"Sam, You're good. I will try to get more accounts and then we can talk. Meanwhile I just can't do anything. If you need a recommendation..."
Sam breathed a sigh then smiled lightly. "Sure... and Mr. Gundray? It's been a real pleasure working with you," he said as he rose and extended his hand.
"Here too, Sam. Best of luck to you."
* * * * * *
"Rum and coke," Sam said to the apron-clad gal standing next to the booth with a pad and pencil. "Twist of lime also please."
"Just that? something to eat?"
"Maybe later."
Sam rubbed his chin. He hadn't shaved since yesterday when he got the news from Mr. Gundray. $80,000 a year gone... now what, he thought. Another job? He'd been lucky to get this one. Not often one falls into a job, company car and all the frills as a college drop-out. And it all happened just by answering an ad in the paper. He hadn't told Sherry... Just couldn't, she had enough to handle now. The July hearing had come and gone and the state asked for a postponement since one of the witnesses couldn't be there. Judge Marcus wasn't happy but he had to grant it. The next hearing was in October. Five months, five miserable months since the kids were taken.
Sherry was sneaking into the bottle more all the time. She begged Sam not to go to the one hour visits each week. "Torture," she said, "They're just torture. We can't talk to them anymore because we're too wound up in trying to get them back and all they want to talk about is their new family. I just want to cry every time they talk about them. Dammit, I know it's not their fault but I hate them... that new 'family.' I despise listening to how wonderful they are. Sam, even if we get them back, it'll never be the same again. We've lost something that can never come back." Sam felt it too. He knew she was right.
Sam stared at the Rum and Coke that had somehow just appeared. Guess I 'll just have to tell Sherry... about the job. He stared at nothing, uncaring about the tears which were gliding down his cheeks. Thank God he thought, that he had taken a booth in the back where no one would see him making a fool of himself.
* * * * *
"You take that back Tommy! Take it back or I'll beat you up!"
"I won't. It's the truth. I was sick with a headache in the next room in the nurses office. I heard. Your dad's a pervert... a stinking pervert."
Tim lunged into Tommy with fists flying. As they wrestled on the ground. Tim grabbed Tommy's arm and twisted. He heard a funny cracking sound and Tommy started to scream. Mr. Jenkins, the principle, came out running and grabbed Tim.
"You get to my office right now! Sit there and wait!"
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