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intheheartTitle: Cowls
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: The long-suffering minion obeys his overlord in all things, except probably this.
Date: February 2008
Notes: More Jake and Gail as a mood-lightener.
At seven AM on a rainy Saturday morning in February, in a office in downtown New York populated entirely by people who were avoiding real work, Jake Foster had his feet up on his cubicle desk and was doing the New York Times crossword when the phone rang.
He glanced at the Caller ID before he picked it up, saw his boss's home phone number, and grinned. How had he known this call was going to come? He grabbed the phone, still puzzling over eleven across. "Hi, ma'am," he said. "What's a five-letter word for hoods for monks?"
"What?" Ms. Hirschfeld asked, and then, "Jake, there is just no way I'm coming in today."
"Somehow I had guessed that," Jake said, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could keep working. "I'll tell people you've got a cold. Would you like me to cover the budget meetings?"
"God, no," she said, and he grinned again. "Pick someone you don't like and make them do it. Whoever's crossed your authority lately."
Jake tapped his pencil against the Times, thinking. "Well. Erica has yet to grasp the concept of coming in on time. Maybe a bout of note-taking will help her memory a bit."
"I doubt it," Ms. Hirschfeld said wryly, "but you're welcome to try. Apropos of nothing, Jake, what the hell are you doing there? I specifically told you that you didn't have to come in today."
He grinned a third time. "I'm crazy, remember? I like being here. Besides, it's not like I have anything else lined up, lacking a social life as I do." Four letters, jumbled or confused state, ending with k? What the hell was that?
"Crying shame," she said. "You need to get yourself a girlfriend, Jacob. Or a boyfriend. Whichever you would prefer."
Jake frowned at the paper. Three letters, meaning a long time, that was always 'eon,' which gave him an 'o' in the mystery word-- blank blank ok. That was not helpful. "Girlfriend, ma'am," he said absently, filling it in. "I'm straight. Also not looking."
"Like I said, crying shame. I'd set you up with one of my kids if I could."
That made him sit up. "Summer's a bit young. And I doubt I'm Ivy's type," he said, as dryly as he could.
"No," Ms. Hirschfeld agreed, in a tone too bland to be sincere. "She prefers blondes."
"I will keep that in mind."
"Seriously, Jake." She actually did sound serious this time, so Jake paid attention. "I'm worried about you. You're too self-reliant for your own good."
He frowned, this time at nothing in particular. "Are you saying that self-reliance is a bad thing?"
"It is when it leads to isolation," Ms. Hirschfeld said. "You're a good kid. I'd hate to see you end up lonely."
"I'm not lonely," Jake said, and then wondered if that was a lie. "I've got friends. Aaron and Ivy, for starters." And Olivia. But he wasn't going to think about Olivia now.
"Mm-hmm." That was Ms. Hirschfeld's 'not convinced' voice. "If you say so."
"I do say so," Jake said, just as the door opened and the elusive Erica edged in, her eyes huge and full of apologies. He glanced at the clock-- twenty minutes late, which was better than usual. "Gotta hang up, ma'am."
"Yes, go, go," she said. "I'm going back to bed. Try not to destroy the world while I'm away."
Jake tossed the crossword onto his desk, abandoning the mystery word, and motioned Erica in, still talking. "I shall endeavor to do nothing of the sort."
"That's my favorite minion," Ms. Hirschfeld said. "Find yourself a girlfriend while you're at it. Not Erica."
He choked, and hid it as well as he could. For God's sake, Erica was right there, and giving him a very confused look. "Do you do this to your kids, too?"
"Of course," she said, calmly. "What sort of mother would I be if I didn't hideously embarrass them in public on occasion?"
"A beloved one?"
"Hang up, Jacob," she said. "Cowls."
Jake, who'd been about to do just that, paused. "What?"
"Cowls," Ms. Hirschfeld said. "Five letters, hoods for monks. You asked."
"Oh!" He grabbed the crossword again and wrote it down. "Yup, that's it. Thanks."
"See you Monday," she said, and hung up.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: The long-suffering minion obeys his overlord in all things, except probably this.
Date: February 2008
Notes: More Jake and Gail as a mood-lightener.
At seven AM on a rainy Saturday morning in February, in a office in downtown New York populated entirely by people who were avoiding real work, Jake Foster had his feet up on his cubicle desk and was doing the New York Times crossword when the phone rang.
He glanced at the Caller ID before he picked it up, saw his boss's home phone number, and grinned. How had he known this call was going to come? He grabbed the phone, still puzzling over eleven across. "Hi, ma'am," he said. "What's a five-letter word for hoods for monks?"
"What?" Ms. Hirschfeld asked, and then, "Jake, there is just no way I'm coming in today."
"Somehow I had guessed that," Jake said, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could keep working. "I'll tell people you've got a cold. Would you like me to cover the budget meetings?"
"God, no," she said, and he grinned again. "Pick someone you don't like and make them do it. Whoever's crossed your authority lately."
Jake tapped his pencil against the Times, thinking. "Well. Erica has yet to grasp the concept of coming in on time. Maybe a bout of note-taking will help her memory a bit."
"I doubt it," Ms. Hirschfeld said wryly, "but you're welcome to try. Apropos of nothing, Jake, what the hell are you doing there? I specifically told you that you didn't have to come in today."
He grinned a third time. "I'm crazy, remember? I like being here. Besides, it's not like I have anything else lined up, lacking a social life as I do." Four letters, jumbled or confused state, ending with k? What the hell was that?
"Crying shame," she said. "You need to get yourself a girlfriend, Jacob. Or a boyfriend. Whichever you would prefer."
Jake frowned at the paper. Three letters, meaning a long time, that was always 'eon,' which gave him an 'o' in the mystery word-- blank blank ok. That was not helpful. "Girlfriend, ma'am," he said absently, filling it in. "I'm straight. Also not looking."
"Like I said, crying shame. I'd set you up with one of my kids if I could."
That made him sit up. "Summer's a bit young. And I doubt I'm Ivy's type," he said, as dryly as he could.
"No," Ms. Hirschfeld agreed, in a tone too bland to be sincere. "She prefers blondes."
"I will keep that in mind."
"Seriously, Jake." She actually did sound serious this time, so Jake paid attention. "I'm worried about you. You're too self-reliant for your own good."
He frowned, this time at nothing in particular. "Are you saying that self-reliance is a bad thing?"
"It is when it leads to isolation," Ms. Hirschfeld said. "You're a good kid. I'd hate to see you end up lonely."
"I'm not lonely," Jake said, and then wondered if that was a lie. "I've got friends. Aaron and Ivy, for starters." And Olivia. But he wasn't going to think about Olivia now.
"Mm-hmm." That was Ms. Hirschfeld's 'not convinced' voice. "If you say so."
"I do say so," Jake said, just as the door opened and the elusive Erica edged in, her eyes huge and full of apologies. He glanced at the clock-- twenty minutes late, which was better than usual. "Gotta hang up, ma'am."
"Yes, go, go," she said. "I'm going back to bed. Try not to destroy the world while I'm away."
Jake tossed the crossword onto his desk, abandoning the mystery word, and motioned Erica in, still talking. "I shall endeavor to do nothing of the sort."
"That's my favorite minion," Ms. Hirschfeld said. "Find yourself a girlfriend while you're at it. Not Erica."
He choked, and hid it as well as he could. For God's sake, Erica was right there, and giving him a very confused look. "Do you do this to your kids, too?"
"Of course," she said, calmly. "What sort of mother would I be if I didn't hideously embarrass them in public on occasion?"
"A beloved one?"
"Hang up, Jacob," she said. "Cowls."
Jake, who'd been about to do just that, paused. "What?"
"Cowls," Ms. Hirschfeld said. "Five letters, hoods for monks. You asked."
"Oh!" He grabbed the crossword again and wrote it down. "Yup, that's it. Thanks."
"See you Monday," she said, and hung up.
