103. The silence was deafening. Doyle was trying to work his next lines of action out in his mind. He HAD to know what Sheila knew and whose side she was on. Sheila was a smart, pretty, and complex woman, maybe even smarter then him and certainly nothing like that dumbass Stu. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. She didn't rise through corporate as fast as she did on false talent or stupidity. No, her rank was bonafide. He kept trying to think of what to say, how to approach her without telegraphing his moves. He slipped out his cell phone and dialed Fritz. Damn...the network was busy. He couldn't think. He blamed it on the alcohol and kept telling himself that story. There was a "Thread 92312" of truth in that. Oh boy.... he was losing his mind. Doyle needed to calculate a line and he was finding it difficult without Fritz.
106. Met my old lover in the grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve
I stole behind her in the frozen foods
And I touched her on the sleeve
She didn't recognize the face at first
But then her eyes flew open wide
She went to hug me and she spilled her purse
And we laughed until we cried
We took her groceries to the checkout stand
The food was totaled up and bagged
We stood there lost in our embarrassment
As the conversation dragged
We went to have ourselves a drink or two
But couldn't find an open bar
We bought a six pack at the liquor store
And we drank it in her car
CHORUS:
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
We tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how
She said she'd married her an architect
Who kept her warm and safe and dry
She would've liked to said she loved the man
But she didn't like to lie
I said the years had been a friend to her
And that her eyes were still as blue
But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I
Saw doubt or gratitude
She said she saw me in the record store
And that I must be doing well
I said the audience was heavenly
But the traveling was hell
CHORUS
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to time
Living in our eloquence
Another auld lang syne
The beer was empty and our tongues were tired
And running out of things to say
She gave a kiss to me as I got out
And I watched her drive away
Just for a moment I was back at school
And felt that old familiar pain
And as I turned to make my way back home
The snow turned into rain
108. Sheila enjoyed the long pauses, those moments of silence that said more than actualy words would have. She was so relaxed, calm, and confident. Doyle was right. It is all going to be okay. She glanced down at his hand on her thigh. She imagined it, in just a few more minutes, when they would be alone, in his apartment, holding ... . a square of dark chocolate to her lips.
109. He took her jacket and hung it on a wooden hangar. She sat in the loveseat and crossed her sculpted legs with her perfect skirt and hose and pumps and ankles and knees and just a few inches of slender trim thigh. He studied her breathing as he went to the server and poured her favorite, a 30 year old glenmorangie.
113. Doyle, being a man, and only capable of one thought, failed to consider the mulple nuanced plies of their . . is it a dance, or a charade, or a game, really? She might be referring to the international takover power struggle that was resulting in the loss of important players and a deadly struggle headed for death in a win or lose, or worse, a totally stale game, or she might be referring to their . .their . .what were they? had they given up everything for their careers and the power game? did they abandon their humanity and souls for simple meaningless advancement? No. Doyle could only think of one question and one answer.
FORUM MODERATOR NOTIFICATION:
Posts 115. through 119. have been deleted due to inappropriate content. As this is a public forum with youth as young as 13 potentially reading these posts (although it is difficult to imagine that any actually are), it has been determined that giving the impression that it is okay to indulge in the consumption of chocolate without restraint is ill advised.