Christmas Consort

The Reason in Kitten Heels

Kylie was ready for work with a pencil skirt, loose tunic blouse, and kitten heels when Silas found her reading in the study. He came to the door and did not enter until she looked up.

"Is it five already?" She noted the page in her book and walked over toward him. He did not answer. "Silas? Is it time to go?"

"Kylie. You are...beautiful."

To hear his words sent a trill of pleasure through her limb to limb. The outfit was pretty, made her feel elegant. Beautiful though? Me? Her mom or dad gave out the exaggerated compliments in her family. From a man the word made her want to fly. She grinned and did a turn. "This old thing? Why I've had it laying around for simply ages, at least since last week." She felt a bit as if she was heading out on a first date rather than to work.

"Well, you are too lovely for Cody Tannenbom. We can run a little late though and give you time to change." He walked toward her room.

"No, Silas. I bought this for my meeting with my new boss."

He frowned at her hair when he placed her coat over her shoulders. He frowned at her heels as he gave her his arm to go down the front steps. He frowned at her legs as he closed the car door behind her. He kept frowning as they pulled onto the road not far from the scene of her car accident. And Kylie couldn't help herself. She smiled and smiled.

"So, Mr. Tannenbom is what, a womanizer?"

"Absolutely." Silas gripped the steering wheel abusively.

"What else?"

"Cody Tannenbom is a misogynistic, tyrannical hedonist with more money than sense. He's richer than Creosus and thinks he can buy everything and everyone he wants, and he has not one compassionate bone in his body."

"Wow. Tell me how you really feel?"

"I feel like I would help find you alternate employment except for one small benefit working in his office affords."

"What's that?"

Silas pulled the car onto the gravel lot of one Drover'ss Barbeque Joint. "His main office is open at night."

Kylie went in first because she didn't want to explain Silas's presence. His idea of waiting in the car until closer to dinner time had him ambling in all of fifteen minutes after Kylie. That was his limit for leaving her alone in a place like Drover's with a man like Tannenbom.

Silas set himself up at the bar where, unlike the human patrons, he could see through the two-way mirror into the main office. Stacks of file boxes crowded Kylie and Tannenbom together in the room. Turned out Kylie was asked to start her work that very night as she was arriving a day late and so much needed be done before New Year's. Silas figured her boss only wanted as many opportunities as possible to eye her backside in the fitted skirt. Never mind the fact that Tannenbom took over the family businesses only to discover taxes had not been handled properly in the past.

Silas concentrated on the office so much that he neglected how crowded the joint grew. He was on his fourth whiskey by then, and the press of humanity, or more accurately the press of all the pumping blood, drove him out to the patio. What he remembered to bring were his cigars which he only needed when attempting to drown out the smells that so easily enticed him. Smoking was another trick he picked up from Jackson Ridley.

It crossed his mind to wonder what Kylie thought of smoking. He could do with a cigar every now and then with her in the house. Then he reminded himself the situation was highly temporary. She won't be around very much longer. For the first time since he moved out from under Ridley's protection, he wished the man would not come visit sooner as opposed to later.

Another smoker came out and lit up, and Silas did something he had never done before. He struck up a conversation with a random human.

"How old do you think I am?"

The guy glanced around to see if there was somebody else around who could possible field this question.

"I just came out here to smoke, man. I don't want no trouble."

Silas nodded his head. "Of course. I understand." Though he didn't really understand at all. The guy didn't want trouble. Who did? When did trouble ever give someone the choice? He thought about that a minute and revised. There were definitely folks who courted trouble, like Lara, and those who actually sought it out. He turned back to Mr. No Trouble.

"Let me ask you something else then, hopefully it won't be as troublesome. Let's say there's this young woman about 22 years old. How old would a guy be who was too old to be courtin' her."

This time his new buddy screwed up his eyebrows, giving the matter due consideration. Or so it appeared. The fella was finishing his cigarette and leaned over to crush it out before returning inside.

"Here's what I've got to say about that..." the man paused as if he had forgotten what he was about to say.

Silas noticed how much the guy's breath smelled like areas near the men's toilets.

"Here's what I think. I say stay out of trouble so you can stay out of court. Straight up."

The man held a fist out toward Silas whose turn it was now to look around for someone to address the fist in his face. Finally he shook it. An awkward hand shake but that seemed to wrap things up and the conversation was over. Silas wondered how far behind the times his self-enforced isolation left him. The crowd thinned out as he contemplated how young and vibrant Kylie was compared to his decrepit self. Dissatisfaction unsettled him. He wanted to be more and was pretty sure the reason wore kitten heels.