3. Reed

3

REED

“BLUE HORSES” – REED WALKER

T he next morning, I wake up to the sound of Mason banging away with someone. It doesn’t sound like the girl he was with last night. But what do I know? Maybe she sounds different when she’s between the sheets.

It’s a special kind of torture to have to listen to that when my woman is two-thousand miles away in California.

I have a melody in my head, though. So I grab my guitar from the stand and play it.

I work out the song on my morning walk to work, and when I arrive, I boot up my computer and google this concert festival Dunn has been bugging me about. But then I have to stop to write down the lyrics.

Blue Horses:

Blue horses in my dreams

Ridin’ high in the clouds, wild and free

Blue horses, what do they mean?

Kiss me darlin’, you belong with me

“Writing songs over there?”

I quickly shut my notebook when Jay walks into our cubicle. “Yeah, actually.”

He laughs. “You’re one of a kind, Reedy.” He sips his coffee and looks at my computer screen over my shoulder. “Trying to go to a concert this weekend?”

“Nah, it’s silly,” I say, X-ing out of the box.

“Why?”

“It’s in Lexington, Kentucky. Plus it’s mostly country music. Not really sure it’s my thing.”

“What is your thing? Music wise, I mean?”

“I like folk music. 90s and 2000s punk. I dabble in hip hop. Classic rock. Oldies. I just don’t like country, but they’ve got some great acts, and my friend is trying to get me to go.”

“Did you know the Grand Ole Opry was a copycat of something called the Chicago Barn Dance, back in the nineteen-twenties?”

“You’re lying. No way that’s true.”

He shakes his head. “Look it up.”

I do, and Jay’s right.

“See? Chicago’s a country city. Educate yourself. And stop negating an entire genre because of a label.”

Just then one of my bosses, Hal, approaches our cube.

“What’s happening, guys? I love in-office days. I can smell the in-person synergy happening.”

“We have the best synergy of the entire building in this cube. Right, Reedy?” Jay winks at me. “It’s basically a big, sweaty synergy orgy all day long.”

“Ey…right.”

I love it when Jay makes Hal feel awkward. Hal will never fire Jay since he’s a top performer.

Hal continues, “So, just wanted to make sure you all knew, junior employees are coming in tomorrow as well. The work-from-home era is over.” He lifts a grin, as if this is good news.

“Fridays?” I question. “Really? Thought Wednesdays and Thursdays were it.”

“Didn’t you see the memo?” Hal’s face settles into a frown. “We’re implementing Pizza Fridays, Reedy.’”

I have the urge to throw up in my mouth. I’m fine with Jay calling me Reedy, but something about Hal saying it annoys me.

“Where’s the pizza coming from?” Jay asks.

“Dominos, of course.” Hal says this with a smile, like that’s the best pizza in this city.

“Gross. Thank God I’m a senior account manager.” Jay winks at me. “Enjoy your pizza tomorrow, man.”

“I, uh, you know, though, I have something going on tomorrow…”

“Something going on? It’s a work day.” Hal frowns. “All junior employees will be coming into the office now. We’ll be moving back to five days a week soon. Just like the good old days.”

“Uh, yeah, but I’m going out to the suburbs. My buddy is coming in from, uh, out of town, and I was gonna work…” From the burbs . I trail off, realizing I’m losing this battle.

Hal shakes his head and strokes his beard, taking a sip of his coffee. “Look, Reedy, we all have things going on on Fridays. I get it. You’ve got a life. But we’re in the middle of our come-back-to-the-office initiative. If you were blowing your number out of the water, like Jay here, I would say yeah, just stay home! But you’re a junior account manager. You don’t even have your own book of business yet. And you’ve got to put in your time.”

I nod. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t have a number. It’s dependent on all the field account managers here, who I support. But I’ve been running tons of deals for them. Actually, I’ve crushed my personal quota and?—”

“I know. I know you have. Look, when I was your age, old sport, I was in the office five days per week, no complaints. And we’d come in on Saturdays, too!”

“Did that actually make you more efficient?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Look, Reed, this is an initiative that comes from the very top. We’re bringing in pizza. Hey, we’re all a big cyber family here, in this boat together. Thanks, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jay snickers as Hal leaves. “What do you have going on tomorrow?” he asks.

“My buddy Charlie Dunn is coming in from out of town.”

“Charlie? I think you’ve mentioned him before. The West Point grad?”

“Yeah. And when he’s here, we usually get a little rowdy. I really don’t want to have to come in tomorrow.”

“Ah, a little drinking time with your high school buddies, eh? So you guys getting shithammered or what?”

“When he’s in town? Always. And he’s the one trying to get me to go to Railfest in Lexington. He says he’s really into this one artist.”

“Which one?”

“Ahh, hang on.”

I pull up my phone and check Dunn’s message. “Guy’s name is Zach Bryan.”

Jay starts choking on his coffee. “Zach Bryan? Holy shit, he’s playing there? You should go. You should fucking go! He’s a legend in the making.”

I shrug. “Eh, I don’t like country. Not a big country guy.”

Jay frowns. “Look, I get it. In the north we don’t relate the same way to the jubilation of sweet tea and every song being about Nashville. But you need to go to that show.”

“Why?”

“ American Heartbreak was the best album of the year.”

I’m looking at Zach Bryan’s discography, and I correct him. “That wasn’t this year.”

“Look, it’s the best album forever. I like his new stuff, but there’s nothing like the classics.” Jay scans something on his phone. “Okay, I’m looking at the list of musicians for that festival, and looks like the Red Lemons playing, too. They’re from Chicago. They’re more punk or whatever the fuck you probably like.”

“They’re punk folk. Like an American version of Flogging Molly or something. And I do want to go, in a way. But you heard Hal. We have to come to the office tomorrow.”

I look down at a new message from Dunn.

Dunn: Railfest Railfest Railfest les go tomorrow les go bitch

Reed: Wish I could

Dunn: You can and you will

Reed: Can’t

Dunn: I believe the Bears will win a Super Bowl some time again in our lifetimes, and I believe in you, Walker

I put my phone away and try not to check it while I put my head down and work.

Quote requests to customers.

Variance checks.

Put out fires.

Excel sheet nonsense.

Close the deals.

We have a company-wide Zoom call that afternoon, and Jay pings me on the company chat even though we’re sitting back to back.

Jay: Holy shit dude, nice revenue numbers, just looked them up. Did you close all those deals?

Reed: Yeah, I did. Thanks

Jay: Dude I did the math, and looks you had 74% of Lennie’s total revenue??

Reed: I did.

Jay: Nice.

The Vice President drones on. I get the feeling he likes the sound of his own voice. “We’ve had a light second quarter, so we all know what that means. We’ve got to make up for it now in quarter three. Stock prices…Team players…I consider you all my family…Always make the decision that’s going to help the team…”

I work as he talks, but I catch the gist of it.

“All hands on deck.”

“Let’s bring it home” for the end of the month.

Need to make sure we have everything “ buttoned up. ”

Finally we get to the awards part.

“We’d like to make some announcements,” the VP says. “The account manager of the first half year—which means, of course, that you’re getting your very own limited-edition, cyber cowboy hat and an all-expenses-paid President’s Club trip—goes to…drum roll…”

Hal grins. “Lennie Elston.”

Jay spins around in his chair and gives me a wide-eyed look that says, But you closed 74% of his deals .

I shoot him back my best I-fucking-know face.

Hal continues. “Lennie’s been an all-star performer for us this year. He ripped his quota out of the water in Q Two, at one hundred thirty-seven percent. He was even able to close the deal with Chicago Public Schools, which brought in seven hundred thousand on its own. Lennie, you are a superstar.”

“You on mute?” Jay asks, his voice low.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you bring in that entire deal?”

“Yeah. I called them last winter and made friends with the secretary, who put in the good word.”

“You researched and created the build of materials, too, didn’t you? Since our engineer left?” Jay points out. “And scheduled the follow-up?”

“Guess you could say that. And I became friends with the IT director since he always has those small requests.”

“Did Lennie do…anything…to close that deal?” He arches an accusatory eyebrow.

I shake my head. “Not a damn thing.”

On the Zoom, Hal continues. “Lennie, would you like to say anything?”

“Absolutely. Yeah, I just want to thank you, Hal, for creating such a great environment for us all to work in at this company.”

“Can you talk a little about how you brought in that deal for CPS? They weren’t even talking to us before you got involved this winter.”

“Hal, it’s just elbow grease, grit, and patience. I’m just doin’ what I do.”

He turns his fingers into guns, like he’s a real cyber-cowboy or something.

“Well, congrats. Enjoy the trip to Hawaii next fall on the company dime. And great work! Anyone else to thank?” Hal brushes his bald head like he’s actually got hair.

There’s a pause.

Okay, this is it . I’m going to be acknowledged on a company-wide call. My hard work isn’t going to be for naught. I can feel myself smiling. A name mention on a call like this could be the catalyst for a promotion.

“I’d like to thank me, for putting in the long hours on this one.” Lennie laughs.

“Oh, that’s good. I hear that!” Hal cracks up. “Take note. If everyone could crush it like Lennie, we’d be the most profitable software company in the US. So get to work! Now, moving on to one more thing…”

Jay shuts his laptop and spins around to look at me. His eyes are wide.

“Can you turn your camera off for a sec?” he asks.

“Done.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t move around while we’re on camera. That’s fucking bullshit, though. And you damn well know it.”

I sigh. “It’s kind of fucked up that I didn’t even get a thank you from Lennie.”

Just then my computer pings, and I see an email forwarded to me from Lennie: Need you to take care of this for me, would ya? Thanks, bud.

It’s a long, complicated thread with a bunch of idiots not actually addressing the root of the problem. It needs to be dug into, serial numbers of devices looked up in our system, dates and service levels cross-referenced.

I sigh. “Man, I think I’m gonna go home,” I say. “You think they’ll notice if I jet outta here a smidge early?”

“What, no happy hour tonight?” Jay asks. “It’s at North Avenue Beach. Could actually be fun.”

“I gotta get out of here, man. Especially if I’m coming into the office tomorrow.”

“Well, Hal’s gone, so you’re good.”

“Hal’s gone already?”

“Oh yeah. All of the bosses are gone. It’s July. It’s time for vacation for them.”

“But I have to keep coming into the office?” I look at the clock. It’s one thirty.

“Rules for thee, but not for me,” Jay says. “Haven’t you figured out that’s how corporate America works yet, Reedy?”

When I get back to my place, I jump in my car, which is parked out in front of my apartment, for a quick trip to the grocery store.

Miraculously, I pull back into the same spot when I get back, and I’m about to turn off the car when I hear two people moaning through my speakers. Confused, I look at the name of the track listed on my car’s Bluetooth: “Big Booty Latina Fucks”

My stomach churns. I gave up porn after high school and never looked back. My mind races as I try to figure out how this has infiltrated my speakers.

I check my phone to see if I’ve been hacked, but there’s no indication of that. I close out of all my apps, just in case, but the noise is still going. That’s when it hits me. Mason was the last one to be hooked up to my Bluetooth. I’m within range for his phone to take over the speakers automatically.

I have to laugh as I walk up the stairs to my apartment.

When I get to the living room, Mason is sitting in the same chair he always is, looking out the window, playing Fortnite or whichever game he always plays.

“Yo yo,” he says. “Back early?”

“Yeah. Just needed to get out of the office.” I walk over to the small desk I’ve set up in the corner across from Mason’s workspace, plop my laptop on the table, and open it. Leaning back in my chair, I sigh. “I was going a little insane. What are you up to, man?”

“Just work. Took my nine to ten in bed, jerked off, and I’m feeling great.”

I laugh.

“Just kidding. I didn’t jerk off. I’m doing a week, no jerk.”

I smirk. What a liar. “Right…well, I just picked up some paper towels, by the way.”

“Roger that,” Mason says into his earpiece, then takes a hit of his weed pen.

“Some days doesn’t this whole staring-at-a-computer-from-eight-to-five thing get to you?”

He doesn’t respond, and I realize he was talking to his online friends, not me.

Mason games most days during work hours, and he rarely leaves his perch by the window, overlooking our humble street in Old Town.

I put my headphones on and start cranking out the work Lennie forwarded me, clicking and typing out an email and getting into the flow.

My phone buzzes.

I look down and see a message from Mason.

I open it, confused.

Mason: Hey man, you’re typing really fucking loud. Do you realize that? I can’t concentrate with that. I have ADHD, you know. I’ve been meaning to bring this up with you for a while, but the deal when we moved in here was that you weren’t going to be working from home. So you’ve got to stop. Sorry. I messaged like four people about this to get their point of view and I’m not crazy. You’re really distracting me.

“You can’t concentrate?” I ask, spinning around in my chair, wondering why he didn’t just tell me this verbally.

“Yeah. It’s really bad when you’re doing all that typing.”

Something inside my stomach flares. Anger . “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. You type so loud. Like I said, I messaged like four of my friends to make sure they agreed and that I’m right. You can’t type like that.”

“Yeah, I read your text.” The anger stays with me. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“When we moved in here, the deal was that I get the workspace to set up my office for work from home. This isn’t an MP. It’s a YP.”

“A what? A YP?” I echo, confused by this new acronym. “Come again?”

“It’s YP. A you problem. Where you work is not my problem; it’s a you problem. You’re disturbing my workspace.”

“It’s…a me problem?” I stand.

“It’s not a debate, dude.”

I’ve never been great at confrontation. Plus, I’m stunned. Wasn’t he just playing video games anyway? Not to mention, we split the rent fifty-fifty, and he monopolizes the living space almost one-hundred percent of the time.

“All right then.”

I go into my room, shut the door, and put my computer on the desk there.

Outside, it’s a sunny day. But the only strip of natural light I have is a two by two window with a view of the bricks of the apartment building three feet away from ours.

I think about messaging Samantha and asking her what she thinks about the situation, but I decide I won’t bug her with drama. She’s been busy lately, and I don’t want to bog her down with some silly debate. Besides, she has her European friends coming in this weekend, and I know she’s excited about that.

My phone buzzes again with a text from Dunn.

Dunn: I’m thirty minutes out from my parents’ place in the suburbs. When do we start pregaming for Railfest?

Reed: lol. I can’t go, man. Sorry.

Dunn: We’ll see about that. When can you get here tonight?

I look at my emails stacking up. My boss has forwarded an email reminder, specifically to me:

FW: Monday thru Friday In-Office: Now Mandatory for All Overlay Team. Remote Era is Over

Fucking forwards.

I heave a heavy sigh. Well, if I’m going to the office tomorrow, I might as well take advantage of the fact that I ducked out early today.

Reed: I’ll head over soon

Dunn: That’s my boi