Charitable Getting: Chapter Eight
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originalsam_backupETA 10/1/10: This is a FIRST DRAFT of Charitable Getting. Please see this post for the index to the second and most current draft.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cee had been at work for about two minutes on Monday before the serenity of her morning was shattered.
"Oh my god!" she said, staring at her computer.
"What?" Ian asked, as he emerged from the kitchen.
"Did you read Non Prophet this weekend?"
"What's he say?" Ian sipped his coffee, seating himself and switching his monitor on.
"It's not what he says, it's more how he says it," Cee said. "Or -- something like that. The reporter Jess talked to was right. She has to be. Listen to this: while working on an upcoming event, I was privileged to spend a little while speaking with Elaine Schmidt, the founder of a major charity..."
"I'm sure she goes to more than one event in a week," Ian said.
"ARE YOU READING THIS?" Sarah yelled down the hall.
"Just getting to it now," Ian called back. "Hang on, I'll bring it up too."
Cee was so thrown by the reference to Nations In Need, hard on the heels of Jess's revelation that a reporter thought Sparks was Non Prophet, that she had to go back and start reading the post over again. She kept hitting that sentence, the one about meeting with Ms. Schmidt for an event, and stopping dead.
"It's not conclusive," Sarah said, coming down the hall with a printout in her hands, "but it's pretty damning all the same."
"It's not like he's running a blog called I'm A Chainsaw Murderer," Ian pointed out. "Damning is relative."
"Oh my god did you see it?" Roxy asked, as she and Jess hurried through the door from the elevator lobby.
"We're reading it now," Ian replied, with what Cee thought was unnecessary annoyance.
"So what do you think? It's Sparks, right? It has to be. Is this cool, or is it lame? I can't decide," Jess said, as she shed her coat and scarf and hat.
"Cool," Cee decided. "Only lame if people find out he's Non Prophet."
"I'm not convinced it's him," Ian announced, still reading the post. "I stand by my earlier assessment of 'not sparkly enough'."
"I sent the text to Creative," Sarah said, tapping something out on her phone. "Do we want to tell Erin?"
"Why wouldn't we tell Erin?" Ian asked, alarmed.
"What aren't we telling me?" Erin added, as she emerged from the elevator lobby. Cee winced.
"Sparks is Non Prophet," Sarah said.
"He might be," Ian corrected. Sarah glared, and Ian hunched low in his chair.
"He can't be. The post went up on Saturday morning. We were having brunch. I'd have seen him being a genius on his computer if we were having brunch," Erin said. Everyone wilted a little, but then Sarah perked up.
"You were having brunch with Sparks?" she asked.
"Business brunch. Strategies for the new year. Waffles and hard boiled eggs," Erin replied.
"He could have it set up to go off on a timer or something," Jess ventured. Roxy snorted.
"Look, it could have been any one of us," Ian said, as Anna and Zoe walked in. "Sparks talked to her, but so did Naomi, and Hanna and I did as well. I'm sure Erin did during the setup."
"Oooh, are we already on whether Sparks is Non Prophet?" Zoe asked. Cee laughed.
"Do you want me to set up a Facebook poll?" she said.
"Sarah," Naomi called, walking down the hallway with a binder in her hands, "Can you come look this over? I need a second pair of -- oh my god," she said to Anna, as she looked up.
"What?" Anna asked, turning to look behind her. "Is there something in my hair?"
"Your pashmina," Naomi said, pointing to a brightly-colored, silky-looking swath of fabric around Anna's neck.
"Oh, my scarf? You like it? Trent gave it to me," Anna said. "It's Hur-mees."
Cee hid her grin as Naomi sputtered.
"Hermès," Naomi corrected, pronouncing it with the proper er-may accent.
"Is that good?" Anna asked.
"Silk, hand-woven, and custom-studded with semiprecious stones...it's a few thousand dollars worth of good," Naomi told her. "You're wearing the start of your future child's college fund around your neck."
Anna looked down in alarm. "Does this mean I have to breed with him?"
"In some cultures, yes," Sarah told her.
"Only if your father gave him twenty goats," Ian added.
"I thought you were dumping him," Jess said.
"I changed my mind," Anna declared, but Cee noticed she gave Ian an odd sidelong look. "We're all adults here, right?"
"Well, most of us are," said a new voice, and Sparks breezed in through the door, pulling his gloves off with his teeth. "Good morning, conspirators. Beware of Brutus, take heed of Cassius, come not near Casca, have an eye to Cinna, trust not Trebonius: mark well Metellus Cimber!" he finished, disappearing into his office.
"The hell was that?" Anna asked. Cee turned to her computer and googled "metellus cimber".
"Julius Caesar," Jess replied.
"You're guessing because he mentioned Brutus," Naomi said.
"Good guess though," Cee announced. "It's a warning to Caesar to beware his assassins."
"That sounds like an admission of guilt to me," Zoe said, crossing her arms.
"Caesar wasn't actually guilty of anything," Ian told her, shuffling papers on his desk. "He was just a little too popular. This is all very Cautionary Fable at the moment. Everybody scram, you're cluttering up my lobby."
"Ian, you want to go have a smoke with me?" Anna asked, as everyone else wandered off. Cee knew Ian didn't smoke, or at least thought he didn't; then again, neither did John.
"Uh. Yes, all right," Ian said, standing up. "Cee, you'll keep an eye on the desk?"
"Sure," Cee said.
"ARTEMIDORUS!" Sparks called, and Cee glanced back at the e-text of Julius Caesar. Artemidorus was the deliverer of the message that Caesar never got, warning him of his imminent demise.
"YES, BOSS?" she called back. Sparks, inside his office, burst into uproarious laughter.
***
"Okay," Anna said, when they stepped out into the little covered smoking area behind the building. "One -- "
"One, please, let me have a cigarette," Ian said. Anna blinked. "I know, whatever, I don't smoke, but this is stressing me out."
"Stressing you out?" she said, offering him the pack. He took one out and accepted the lighter from her, then looked down at his arm, sighed, and offered her the lighter back. She flicked it and let him lean forward to light the tip. "One, thousands of dollars for a scarf is messed up," she continued. "I already dipped part of the fringe in egg this morning."
"I agree," Ian exhaled smoke through his nose. "And you're smoking in it. Those things probably have to be washed in the tears of virgins or something."
"Two, Trent offered me a job."
"Wow," Ian said. He tapped ash off the end of the cigarette. "Wow."
"Hey, no, not wow! OHNOES! Not wow!" Anna said. "I'm doing this spywoman thing for you, or for Sparks via your messed up relationship with authority or something. Get your reactions right."
"Well, what did you say?"
"I said I needed time to think it over, and I wanted until after the new year," she said.
"Did he offer you a raise?"
"He doesn't know what I make."
"Perks, I bet," Ian said slyly. Anna smacked him. "Hey, watch the coat, it's leather!"
"He wants to put me in charge of the re-branding," she said, more soberly. "He wants me to do their new logo and lead a think-tank on a new name."
"Look, you know he's a creep," Ian said. "And you know Sparks wouldn't fuck around like that. If they re-brand they're going to lose money."
"I'm not actually considering it, dork," Anna replied. "I'm just keeping you up to speed."
Ian looked at her over the red tip of the cigarette. "Mmhm."
They finished in silence, but as they were turning to go in Ian put one hand on Anna's arm.
"Hey, my relationship with authority aside, we all have issues," he said. "Is this whole Sparks might be Non Prophet thing going to mess you up with him? Because I am absolutely positive it's not him. Erin has an alibi for him, even."
"No," she said. "I don't care. I mean I care, but I don't care."
Ian followed her through the revolving door and back inside. "For a writer, sometimes you're a little lacking in the coherence department."
"I'm an impressionist," she replied.
***
"Roxy!"
Jess's pained yelp echoed down the hall to the tech desk, where Roxy was busily engaged in bug-testing Nations In Need's website. So far she'd found eighteen, and it was only mid-morning.
"Yes?" Roxy called, putting her head up over the edge of her cubicle. Jess's head was likewise raised.
"I think we've been invaded by pervs," Jess said. "Help me."
Roxy looked around but, seeing no perverts other than the usual, she walked down to Jess's cube and leaned over her shoulder at the desk.
"It's the SELF site," Jess said, calling up the front page of one of their more flaky but respectable clients. S.E.L.F.; Smart, Ethical, Loyal, Fun. Kids raising money to save the spotted owl and making vows of ethical vegetarianism. Like PETA, Roxy always thought, only sane.
"I was checking the stats since it went live and the messageboard has been getting a lot of links off some site called Furttage.com," Jess continued. "Which is about animals and...well, sex."
"Animals and sex?" Roxy asked, hearing her voice rise a little. "Like bestiality?"
"Oh! No, no!" Jess looked distressed. "It's the people who like to dress up in animal costumes. Furries?"
Roxy sighed with relief.
"They're usually harmless," she said. "Are they posting on the messageboards?"
"Just about how much they love animals," Jess said. "Not, y'know. Love animals."
"How much wood would a woodchuck -- don't finish that," Roxy said hastily, as Sparks ran past on his way to see the Creative team. "Okay, well, it's probably not going to be a problem, just let them have their fun. If it turns weird or skeevy, though..."
She leaned over Jess's shoulder and began working the keyboard, accessing the messageboard's options and installing a little macro-client for tracing IPs -- unique numbers associated with screen names that would link them to an internet service, or sometimes even a physical address. The more sophisticated members of the Furry Invasion Squad would probably end up under the radar, but she could at least snag a few. If there was trouble, she could go to the site directly and tell them to knock it off before she Named And Shamed. Outing someone online was bad form, but making sure nobody was talking dirty to kids just because they wanted to be vegetarians was higher on her priority list.
She paused, briefly, as IPs began showing up in the database linked to her desktop, and names began showing up next to the IPs. Some of them looked vaguely familiar.
"I'm...gonna go back and look at this on my machine," she said, closing out a few windows. "Keep an eye on the messageboard but if they behave themselves I say let them alone."
"Thanks, Roxy," Jess said, setting the board to track all comments and mail them to her. Roxy hurried back to her own cubicle and opened the database again. She stared hard at the familiar-looking names coming up associated with the usernames on the messageboard.
She frowned and picked up the phone. "Sarah, the guy who set up the annual gift for S.E.L.F. and the save-the-rabbits deal, what's his name?"
She heard paper shuffling, then the click of a keyboard. "Clint Eldridge."
"He lives out in Oak Park, right?"
"Yeah. Why, was he just arrested on national television or something?"
"No -- I'll get back to you," Roxy said.
"Uh-huh. I'm pulling the file now. If you need it, it'll be on my desk," Sarah said, and hung up the phone.
Clint Eldridge gave thousands of dollars to animal welfare causes each year, and was a lead fundraiser for some sister organization of SELF that SparkVISION didn't administer. He ran a successful software company in the downtown loop and had five or six dogs. He was also, apparently, known as OtterEyes74 on the SELF messageboards, and Otterized on Furttage.com, where he showed off photos of himself in an otter costume.
Roxy decided to put that piece of information away as irrelevant. After all, he was a generous man and a good fundraiser. If she didn't have to think about his sex life, then she shouldn't be butting in where she wasn't wanted.
It did, however, give her an idea.
You didn't have to know much about the internet to get on it. Most people were automatically connected, all the time, at work, and anyone with Non Prophet's output would have to have a home connection as well. Just because he was well-known didn't mean he knew the first thing about internet security, beyond not telling anyone what his real name was.
Roxy sat down to compose a cunning trap. She would answer the question of Non's identity for certain or, if she couldn't answer it, she would at least rule out anyone at SparkVISION.
***
NON PROPHET
www.nonprophetblog.nfp
PROTECTING FLUFFY STARVING OWL PUPPIES SINCE 2007
Date: 12/21/09
Subject: This is just to announce...
...that I have conquered the grocery store on my lunch hour.
LET THERE BE PIZZA BITES FOR DINNER.
(What? Not everything I say can be deep, or I'd be surrounded by people going "Wow" all the time.)
No sea kittens will be harmed in the making of my pizza.
24 Comments
Juniper 200
12/21/09 at 1:52pm
FIRST
Hija Paloma
12/21/09 at 1:52pm
FIRST
Hija Paloma
12/21/09 at 1:53pm
SHIT, SECOND ACTUALLY
BlueJeans
12/21/09 at 1:56pm
Look, would it be out of line for me to say 'Wow'?
NON P.
12/21/09 at 2:04pm
Well, not to stand in the way of my adoring fans or anything, but you could say "Ooh!" instead.
Copper Badge
12/21/09 at 2:02pm
Did you slay the fearsome checkout-lady?
NON P.
12/21/09 at 2:05pm
I didn't want to be all "I'm a homicidal maniac!" in a public post. I prefer to generalize that I vanquished all opponents in my path and appeased the fearsome cashier (dude) with many dollars.
Gmail Diva
12/21/09 at 2:15pm
Hey Non, OT but: have you seen this vid?
www.SparkVISION.nfp/tropes2.htm
SparkVISION is hosting it, so I guess it's on the level?
NON P.
12/21/09 at 2:45pm
It's a clever piece of propaganda but it's old news -- they put that up last year and it went viral, they must just be rearranging their site code. Log on more often, Gmail Diva! Great nickname though.
***
The first thing Erin heard from the rest of the team, on Tuesday morning, was Ian's maniacal cackling.
Ian didn't cackle often, but when he did it was usually worth witnessing. She found him, having abandoned his desk completely, standing at the Creative pod with his arms resting on the edge of John's cubicle.
"I told you I'd find you!" he said, pointing at John with his good hand.
"You've found squat, you're bluffing," John replied.
Ian held up the paper. "These gritty fantasy nightmares show themselves predominantly in his appropriation of the genre for his own dark ends," he read aloud. "The author is to genre fiction what Jack Kerouac or Chuck Palahniuk were for the literary novel: a force for super-realism, an explorer of guts and derider of glory."
"Explorer of guts!" Anna shrieked, laughing. "IT'S AN EXPEDITION."
"What's that from?" Erin asked, as Jess, Hanna, and the interns put their heads over the edge of their pod to listen.
"It's from a review," Ian told her gleefully, "of John's new anthology of short stories he doesn't want anyone to know about."
"Oh my god, seriously?" Erin asked John, who blushed red. "You published an actual real book?"
"Self-published," John insisted.
"It's selling well though, isn't it?" Ian asked. "If you got a review in SciFi Quarterly."
"What are you doing reading SciFi Quarterly?" John retorted.
"Uh, science fiction fan," Ian said, totally unashamed. "It's not like I have a subscription or anything -- "
"YOU TOTALLY HAVE A SUBSCRIPTION," Anna announced. "Shaaaaaame, Ian. Shame."
" -- but I was researching what kind of writing you might do -- " Ian doggedly continued.
"There's nothing shameful about being a SciFi fan," Zoe said. "I am. I'm out and proud about it. I even liked Firefly."
"That's because it had your name in it," John said.
"Ian wears goblin ears to conventions!" Anna told her.
" -- and it seemed like a place to st -- now you're just making shit up," Ian said to her.
"Prove it," Anna replied.
"You can't prove a negative. Anyway, I'm buying a copy of your book, John," Ian said. "It looks awesome."
"Ian, what's the URL?" Roxy called.
"You're going to see a bump in sales!" Zoe said happily to John.
"Are we all finally on the same page about John's writing now?" Sarah asked, and Erin turned to her with a frown. "What, you think I didn't figure it out ages ago?"
"You should have told us!" Erin said.
"I was saving it in case I needed blackmail ammo."
"See?" Anna said.
"I prefer horror, myself, but to each their own," Sarah added.
"Apparently John's stuff is pretty horrifying at times," Ian said. "Someone said there was an unnecessary amount of puke in it."
"What's the actual necessary amount of puke?" Anna asked.
"Puke in a fantasy anthology?" Erin said to John, raising an eyebrow.
"You heard him. I appropriate the genre," John said.
"For your own dark ends," Erin teased.
"SWORDS, SANDALS, AND PUKE," Anna shouted.
"Hey, man, I read one of his stories," one of the interns called. "It was cool, it was all about what happens to a dragon after you slay it. Like, putrefaction and shit."
"Sarah, what's the scariest horror thing you can think of?" Erin asked, trying to redirect the conversation from putrefaction, and only realizing as she said it that the redirection might be worse.
Sarah smiled at her. "We're the people in charge of the most successful not-for-profit consulting organization in the Midwest," she announced.
Silence fell.
"Jesus," Zoe said.
"I need more coffee," Anna muttered, changing the filter on her one-cup desk machine.
"Erin, can you come take a look at something?" Roxy called, and Erin left the rest of them to their horrified contemplation while she joined Roxy in her cubicle.
"So, I may have done something underhanded," Roxy said, as an opening.
"Underhanded?" Erin asked. "Like, legally?"
"No, just kind of sneaky. I sort of...linked Non Prophet to a webpage where I had an IP trace set up."
Erin gave her a blank look.
"IP addresses show a person's location, where they're connecting to the internet from," Roxy said patiently.
"Okay...so now you know his IP address?"
"More than that," Roxy said. "We had the code bork yesterday so I couldn't check the tracker all day, but I remembered this morning and -- well, I posted at 2:15 and he replied by 2:19, and only three people hit the link in that time period."
"So it's one of these...numbers?"
"Yup. This one," Roxy said, pointing to the first one, "is from the UK, so it's out, unless he's lying about living in Chicago, which I don't think he is. "This second one is from Lombard, so I guess it's a possibility, but I think it's the big eco-farm they have out there, the one that does the tours."
"Oh! They make really good cheese," Erin said.
"Yes they do. And that leaves this one as our likely suspect," Roxy said, pointing to the third number. "Wanna guess what's so special about it?"
"Uh. No?" Erin ventured.
"It's the IP for this building's internet service," Roxy said. "We pay the building to provide internet for us, right? And the company they use is the same provider half the businesses in the city use, but this building has a range of IP addresses assigned to each leased office section. Whoever he is, he's using our building's internet. Can't nail it down to which cluster range yet, but -- "
Erin stared at her, and for a split second she had a very cinematic moment before she burst out laughing.
"Oh my god!" she snickered. "The call is coming from inside the house!"
Roxy scowled at her. "It's serious! That means Non Prophet works in our building, which means it might actually be Sparks."
"IAN," Erin yelled down the hallway.
"YES?"
"HOW MANY PEOPLE WORK IN THIS BUILDING?"
"THIRTY-FIVE HUNDRED," Ian called, without missing a beat.
"So it's either Sparks, or one of thirty-five-hundred other people, I guess," Roxy sighed. "I suppose we could try looking at timestamps. Who's in the office when he posts. Maybe I can trap him again from his home internet."
"Well, don't do it on Christmas, that's just sad," Erin said, patting her shoulder. "Come on, don't you have a slideshow to put together for this afternoon's party?"
"I suppose," Roxy grumbled, looking annoyed. "Fine. I'll wait until the holidays are over. But I will find him!" she said, raising a clenched fist defiantly.
Erin nodded, backed away slowly, and fled back to her office.
***
Raison, on the northern border of the downtown loop, was an upscale Fusion restaurant with a French twist, and its relationship to SparkVISION was a strange one. Normally, the staff would turn their noses up at Raison's pretentious menu -- at least, those who could have afforded its prices.
It had, however, proved to be the most capable and reliable caterer with the best room-rental prices, and they had a criminally good rate deal that Sparks had once charmed out of the manager and ruthlessly held them to ever since. It was close, just across the Michigan Avenue Bridge, and thus it got almost all of SparkVISION's event business. In gratitude, once a year, it let them hold their holiday party there free of charge as long as they brought their own eats.
Seeing as it was lunch, and as it was SparkVISION, Cee never went overboard on fancy food. She'd simply gone to the store and bought good chunks of cheese and a few loaves of bread, plus cold cuts, a few jars of condiments, veggies and dip, chips, and a dozen bottles of assorted sodas. For dessert, Erin was bringing her specialty, a sort of frosted bar-cookie that only Cee and Sarah knew came from a west-side bakery and not Erin's own kitchen.
Cee was just finishing laying it all out when Zeke, Ian's roommate, arrived with a large amp under each arm and a lightweight sound board slung on his back. Roxy rushed over to take one of the amps and help him set them down, then followed him back out to his truck, where the rest of the karaoke equipment was. Ian walked in from the truck with a binder tucked under one arm and a tip jar in his good hand.
"Just saw Zoe's husband and kidlet pulling up," he said, depositing both on the table next to Zeke's sound board. "Lock down anything shiny near ground level. Also there's some ridiculously hot woman with Naomi."
Cee snickered as Zeke looked up sharply. "You didn't tell me there would be ridiculously hot women here."
"I'm pretty sure your chances aren't good," Ian told him.
"I BRING BEER," boomed a new voice, and Mark walked into the room with two cubes of Goose Island Ale, followed by Sarah.
"Show-off," Cee told him.
"Well, you know what they say about having and flaunting," Mark replied. Cee looked around hopefully for Sparks; Mark and Sparks in a room together was always hilarious. Instead, she caught sight of Jess and her interns through the window, carrying what looked suspiciously like boughs of holly. For halls, the decking of, perhaps.
Then she heard Erin shriek, and looked up to see her welcoming newcomers with hugs and a huge smile. She recognized the managing directors of Little Miracle Network and Back Alley Theater, the first two clients SparkVISION had ever managed to land. She used to worry that having clients at the company party would put people on edge, but they were more like family. Mr. Bolivar and his partner Mr. Clark never batted an eye at Sparks's antics; Ms. Jackson-Smith and her husband were a little more reserved, but apparently having weathered eight years with SparkVISION they weren't going to budge anytime soon.
"Do you think Ian and his hot roommate are dating?" Jess asked, as the interns began to precariously perch holly on all available flat surfaces.
"You'd be amazed how often we hear that," Ian said from behind her, making Jess jump. "Just roommates," he added. "Zeke's last girlfriend moved to a commune in Montana when he dumped her. The one before that is still stalking him. They always seem sane the first time I meet them."
"Well, you live with him and you're not crazy," John said.
"Yes, but I'm not sleeping with him," Ian replied.
The next thing Cee saw, over Ian's shoulder, suddenly struck horror into her heart: Sparks was behind his clients, and he was holding the gong.
When he struck it, everyone in the room jumped. Apparently Sparks had worked this out with Zeke as a clue, beforehand, because suddenly Walking in a Winter Wonderland fired up over the amps.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Sparks said, setting down the gong and opening a bottle of the beer Mark had provided. "We have survived another year. Nobody died, nobody got arrested, and we only broke one bone."
"Three," Ian called.
"You're a medical mystery," Sparks called back. "Anyway. I'd like to welcome everyone to the holiday party. We have all kinds of food fixings, karaoke starts in about half an hour, we're opening our Secret Politically Correct Not Santa gifts at two, and the restaurant kicks us out at four, so get your karaoke requests in early. Also, I need a partner for Baby It's Cold Outside. I sing the Esther Williams part."
"John'll do it," Anna shouted. "He loves to sing!"
"You and me, John," Sparks said gravely, over the laughter.
***
Anna was in the middle of serenading everyone with Santa Baby when Zoe saw Bolo come running across the floor. She and Charles both dove for him at the same time, but Charles was quicker; he got hold of their offspring's shoulders and held him at arm's length.
"You are shiny," he said. "Are you sticky?"
"Yes," Bolo laughed.
"And why are you sticky?"
"CANDY," Bolo hollered, in a very good imitation of most of SparkVISION's down-the-hall communication.
"Wash," Charles told him. "Wash now. Do not -- don't touch anything!" he called, chasing after Bolo as the kid squirmed free.
"Sometimes I want one," Roxy told Zoe, watching Charles pursue Bolo. "Other times I remember it only takes three weeks to housetrain a dog."
"Kids shed less," Zoe replied, laughing.
"Two words: college tuition."
Anna finished at the microphone and put it up; Zeke got up and introduced "Our next set, Cee and John singing a holiday duet; John will be singing as The Pogues, with Cee as Kirsty MacColl, and I think we're all hoping Cee will dominate."
Cee turned red, and John looked startled; if Zoe had to guess, she'd pinpoint Sarah as the one who turned in their names without telling them.
"This is really good beer," Erin announced, seating herself in a chair next to Roxy. "Hey, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Do you think we should set up John and Cee?" Erin asked. "I think he has a crush on her."
Roxy glanced at Zoe.
"Yes," Zoe said with a straight face. "Absolutely. I think we should."
Onstage, John and Cee were flustered but apparently determined to go forward; across the room, Zoe could see Ian slipping quietly into his coat and hat to ditch the party and meet the plant delivery that Sarah had set up for the Great Office Feng Shui. Roxy jumped as her blackberry buzzed an incoming-message alert, and she looked down at it in consternation.
"What's up?" Zoe asked.
"Oh, it's -- huh," Roxy said, frowning at her screen. "I emailed Non Prophet."
"Really?" Zoe asked.
"Yeah, and I sent him a link."
"Hear back?" Erin asked, as John and Cee launched into an incongruous cover of Fairytale Of New York.
"Well..." Roxy glanced at her, then sighed. "Yeah. I sent him a link, I was hoping he'd check it from home. I'm trying to trap his IP. But I guess it can't be one of us, if he just checked it."
"Unless he was checking it on a cellphone," Zoe pointed out. Roxy frowned and tapped a few keys.
"Still makes it kind of unlikely," Roxy said, after a minute. "Who's going to be using their phone to check their email at a Christmas party?"
"You did," Zoe pointed out.
"Seen sparks with his cellphone lately?" Erin grinned. "Be careful, Roxy. If it's one of us, you've just spilled the beans."
"I'm pretty sure he's really a guy," Roxy said. "Besides, maybe if he knows, he'll just come out. He has to know we can keep secrets."
"Have you met us?" Erin asked.
"But we could keep that secret," Roxy said meaningfully.
"Oh," Erin said. "Oh, yes, of course. WE DEFINITELY COULD," she said loudly. Sparks shushed her, clearly enjoying John and Cee's duet thoroughly.
"But it's not one of you guys, is it? You'd tell me, right?" Roxy asked. Zoe exchanged a look with Erin, hopefully interpreting her look correctly, and then shook her head at Roxy.
"Definitely not me," she said.
"Not me either!" Erin agreed. "It's not you, right?"
Roxy looked affronted. "This is a lot of fuss just to cover my tracks, if it is me."
"Okay, so, we've established it's not one of us," Zoe summarized.
"Unless it is," Erin said.
"Maybe we should have had this conversation pre-beer," Roxy mused. Onstage, John and Cee finished singing and took a bow to uproarious, slightly tipsy applause.
"All right!" Sparks said, taking the stage before Zeke could get up to introduce anyone else. "It's Secret Not Santa time!"
"Where's Ian?" John asked loudly. "I got him a thing."
"He's back at the office, setting up Sparks' gift," Erin replied. "Which is actually from me, but Ian said he'd help out. He's got your present too, Jess."
"Oh, yay!" Jess beamed. "Okay, I got Naomi, can I give her -- what the hell?" she asked, picking up the gaily wrapped package marked FOR: Naomi.
"What's wrong with it?" Sparks asked casually. Everyone immediately looked at him with deep suspicion.
"It has...sticks...stuck in the ribbon..." Jess frowned and fiddled with the ribbon. "Ohhh."
"SPARKLERS!" Sparks announced. "I put them on every present. Don't light them inside!"
***
The SparkVISION staff and spouses made quite a gay little party as they marched back through the snow to their offices, sparklers glittering and popping in the light snowfall.
Anna had a gigantic bag of fortune cookies, apparently a personal request she'd made aloud in the presence of Cee, who had scented candles from Hanna ("How romantic! For...when I'm...reading...and that kind of thing!") in her pocket. Roxy's Tintin book-cover poster was tucked tight against her to protect it, John was wearing a Team Jacob shirt from Roxy stretched tight over his coat, Bolo had already stolen the new dragon miniatures Sarah had given Zoe, and Naomi was wearing Jess's hand-knitted scarf proudly. Sarah was carrying the fancy imported microbrew Sparks had given her, and Sparks himself was practically dancing with anticipation to find out what was waiting for him back at the office.
They all piled into two elevators after discarding their sparklers at the door. When they poured out on the nineteenth floor, Ian was waiting for them in front of the entry doors, holding a slim folder under one arm and cradling a plant in the other. He offered the folder to Erin, who cleared her throat.
"This certificate," she announced, "is a signed testimonial by Sarah that the office has officially been arranged for the best possible flow of positive Chi. We've added a few plants and moved of the chairs in accordance with the ancient practice of feng shui to ensure success and positive energy in the new -- oh my God, he's crying."
Sparks wiped his eyes, scowling. "I am not! It's just...so sweet. Thank you! Nobody's ever given me positive Chi before."
"And this is for Jess," Ian added, presenting her with the plant. "It's a peace lily. For those days when you really want to kill someone."
"Which means this is for you," John said, tossing Ian a bundle. "I'm shit at wrapping things, sorry."
Ian unrolled the orange shirt, which had large block text reading TRUST ME, I'M A DOCTOR.
"Look, Ian and me match," Hanna announced, holding up the slightly less orange and much prettier blouse Naomi had given her. Ian's nose twitched.
"I smell coffee," he announced.
"Mine," Erin said defensively, clutching the small, expensive box of coffee to her chest.
"Come on, one pot," Ian said. "Shot-glass coffee tasting."
"No! Mine, to take home and hoard. Sarah doesn't have to share her beer!"
"Sarah got beer?" Ian asked interestedly.
"And you didn't, so I'm taking it home," Sarah said.
"I'm going to go hang my poster up in my cube," Roxy announced.
"And then go back to the Hunt For Red Non Prophet!" Erin laughed. Roxy elbowed her. "What?"
"Ixnay on the eekretsay."
"Is that Commie charities?" Ian asked. "Actually, technically, most charities are communist in aim if not ideal..."
"Roxy's trying to trap Non Prophet," Sarah said. Roxy glared at her. "What? The secret was out, kiddo. If he's one of us, he knows by now."
"One of us?" Sparks rolled his eyes. "If he's one of us, I'm clearly not giving him enough work to do. Okay, kids, I'm going to water all my new plants, soak up some Chi, and then I'm going home. I suggest you all do the same. We're in tomorrow morning to wrap up, but expect to leave work by noon. Everybody clear?"
"Yes, boss," they chorused, smiling.
"HOLY CRAP!" he yelled from his office. "YOU GOT ME FENG SHUI GOLDFISH!"
"You put goldfish in his office?" Cee asked. "I'm going to have to feed them, huh."
"They were on sale," Sarah shrugged.
***
Chapter Nine
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cee had been at work for about two minutes on Monday before the serenity of her morning was shattered.
"Oh my god!" she said, staring at her computer.
"What?" Ian asked, as he emerged from the kitchen.
"Did you read Non Prophet this weekend?"
"What's he say?" Ian sipped his coffee, seating himself and switching his monitor on.
"It's not what he says, it's more how he says it," Cee said. "Or -- something like that. The reporter Jess talked to was right. She has to be. Listen to this: while working on an upcoming event, I was privileged to spend a little while speaking with Elaine Schmidt, the founder of a major charity..."
"I'm sure she goes to more than one event in a week," Ian said.
"ARE YOU READING THIS?" Sarah yelled down the hall.
"Just getting to it now," Ian called back. "Hang on, I'll bring it up too."
Cee was so thrown by the reference to Nations In Need, hard on the heels of Jess's revelation that a reporter thought Sparks was Non Prophet, that she had to go back and start reading the post over again. She kept hitting that sentence, the one about meeting with Ms. Schmidt for an event, and stopping dead.
"It's not conclusive," Sarah said, coming down the hall with a printout in her hands, "but it's pretty damning all the same."
"It's not like he's running a blog called I'm A Chainsaw Murderer," Ian pointed out. "Damning is relative."
"Oh my god did you see it?" Roxy asked, as she and Jess hurried through the door from the elevator lobby.
"We're reading it now," Ian replied, with what Cee thought was unnecessary annoyance.
"So what do you think? It's Sparks, right? It has to be. Is this cool, or is it lame? I can't decide," Jess said, as she shed her coat and scarf and hat.
"Cool," Cee decided. "Only lame if people find out he's Non Prophet."
"I'm not convinced it's him," Ian announced, still reading the post. "I stand by my earlier assessment of 'not sparkly enough'."
"I sent the text to Creative," Sarah said, tapping something out on her phone. "Do we want to tell Erin?"
"Why wouldn't we tell Erin?" Ian asked, alarmed.
"What aren't we telling me?" Erin added, as she emerged from the elevator lobby. Cee winced.
"Sparks is Non Prophet," Sarah said.
"He might be," Ian corrected. Sarah glared, and Ian hunched low in his chair.
"He can't be. The post went up on Saturday morning. We were having brunch. I'd have seen him being a genius on his computer if we were having brunch," Erin said. Everyone wilted a little, but then Sarah perked up.
"You were having brunch with Sparks?" she asked.
"Business brunch. Strategies for the new year. Waffles and hard boiled eggs," Erin replied.
"He could have it set up to go off on a timer or something," Jess ventured. Roxy snorted.
"Look, it could have been any one of us," Ian said, as Anna and Zoe walked in. "Sparks talked to her, but so did Naomi, and Hanna and I did as well. I'm sure Erin did during the setup."
"Oooh, are we already on whether Sparks is Non Prophet?" Zoe asked. Cee laughed.
"Do you want me to set up a Facebook poll?" she said.
"Sarah," Naomi called, walking down the hallway with a binder in her hands, "Can you come look this over? I need a second pair of -- oh my god," she said to Anna, as she looked up.
"What?" Anna asked, turning to look behind her. "Is there something in my hair?"
"Your pashmina," Naomi said, pointing to a brightly-colored, silky-looking swath of fabric around Anna's neck.
"Oh, my scarf? You like it? Trent gave it to me," Anna said. "It's Hur-mees."
Cee hid her grin as Naomi sputtered.
"Hermès," Naomi corrected, pronouncing it with the proper er-may accent.
"Is that good?" Anna asked.
"Silk, hand-woven, and custom-studded with semiprecious stones...it's a few thousand dollars worth of good," Naomi told her. "You're wearing the start of your future child's college fund around your neck."
Anna looked down in alarm. "Does this mean I have to breed with him?"
"In some cultures, yes," Sarah told her.
"Only if your father gave him twenty goats," Ian added.
"I thought you were dumping him," Jess said.
"I changed my mind," Anna declared, but Cee noticed she gave Ian an odd sidelong look. "We're all adults here, right?"
"Well, most of us are," said a new voice, and Sparks breezed in through the door, pulling his gloves off with his teeth. "Good morning, conspirators. Beware of Brutus, take heed of Cassius, come not near Casca, have an eye to Cinna, trust not Trebonius: mark well Metellus Cimber!" he finished, disappearing into his office.
"The hell was that?" Anna asked. Cee turned to her computer and googled "metellus cimber".
"Julius Caesar," Jess replied.
"You're guessing because he mentioned Brutus," Naomi said.
"Good guess though," Cee announced. "It's a warning to Caesar to beware his assassins."
"That sounds like an admission of guilt to me," Zoe said, crossing her arms.
"Caesar wasn't actually guilty of anything," Ian told her, shuffling papers on his desk. "He was just a little too popular. This is all very Cautionary Fable at the moment. Everybody scram, you're cluttering up my lobby."
"Ian, you want to go have a smoke with me?" Anna asked, as everyone else wandered off. Cee knew Ian didn't smoke, or at least thought he didn't; then again, neither did John.
"Uh. Yes, all right," Ian said, standing up. "Cee, you'll keep an eye on the desk?"
"Sure," Cee said.
"ARTEMIDORUS!" Sparks called, and Cee glanced back at the e-text of Julius Caesar. Artemidorus was the deliverer of the message that Caesar never got, warning him of his imminent demise.
"YES, BOSS?" she called back. Sparks, inside his office, burst into uproarious laughter.
***
"Okay," Anna said, when they stepped out into the little covered smoking area behind the building. "One -- "
"One, please, let me have a cigarette," Ian said. Anna blinked. "I know, whatever, I don't smoke, but this is stressing me out."
"Stressing you out?" she said, offering him the pack. He took one out and accepted the lighter from her, then looked down at his arm, sighed, and offered her the lighter back. She flicked it and let him lean forward to light the tip. "One, thousands of dollars for a scarf is messed up," she continued. "I already dipped part of the fringe in egg this morning."
"I agree," Ian exhaled smoke through his nose. "And you're smoking in it. Those things probably have to be washed in the tears of virgins or something."
"Two, Trent offered me a job."
"Wow," Ian said. He tapped ash off the end of the cigarette. "Wow."
"Hey, no, not wow! OHNOES! Not wow!" Anna said. "I'm doing this spywoman thing for you, or for Sparks via your messed up relationship with authority or something. Get your reactions right."
"Well, what did you say?"
"I said I needed time to think it over, and I wanted until after the new year," she said.
"Did he offer you a raise?"
"He doesn't know what I make."
"Perks, I bet," Ian said slyly. Anna smacked him. "Hey, watch the coat, it's leather!"
"He wants to put me in charge of the re-branding," she said, more soberly. "He wants me to do their new logo and lead a think-tank on a new name."
"Look, you know he's a creep," Ian said. "And you know Sparks wouldn't fuck around like that. If they re-brand they're going to lose money."
"I'm not actually considering it, dork," Anna replied. "I'm just keeping you up to speed."
Ian looked at her over the red tip of the cigarette. "Mmhm."
They finished in silence, but as they were turning to go in Ian put one hand on Anna's arm.
"Hey, my relationship with authority aside, we all have issues," he said. "Is this whole Sparks might be Non Prophet thing going to mess you up with him? Because I am absolutely positive it's not him. Erin has an alibi for him, even."
"No," she said. "I don't care. I mean I care, but I don't care."
Ian followed her through the revolving door and back inside. "For a writer, sometimes you're a little lacking in the coherence department."
"I'm an impressionist," she replied.
***
"Roxy!"
Jess's pained yelp echoed down the hall to the tech desk, where Roxy was busily engaged in bug-testing Nations In Need's website. So far she'd found eighteen, and it was only mid-morning.
"Yes?" Roxy called, putting her head up over the edge of her cubicle. Jess's head was likewise raised.
"I think we've been invaded by pervs," Jess said. "Help me."
Roxy looked around but, seeing no perverts other than the usual, she walked down to Jess's cube and leaned over her shoulder at the desk.
"It's the SELF site," Jess said, calling up the front page of one of their more flaky but respectable clients. S.E.L.F.; Smart, Ethical, Loyal, Fun. Kids raising money to save the spotted owl and making vows of ethical vegetarianism. Like PETA, Roxy always thought, only sane.
"I was checking the stats since it went live and the messageboard has been getting a lot of links off some site called Furttage.com," Jess continued. "Which is about animals and...well, sex."
"Animals and sex?" Roxy asked, hearing her voice rise a little. "Like bestiality?"
"Oh! No, no!" Jess looked distressed. "It's the people who like to dress up in animal costumes. Furries?"
Roxy sighed with relief.
"They're usually harmless," she said. "Are they posting on the messageboards?"
"Just about how much they love animals," Jess said. "Not, y'know. Love animals."
"How much wood would a woodchuck -- don't finish that," Roxy said hastily, as Sparks ran past on his way to see the Creative team. "Okay, well, it's probably not going to be a problem, just let them have their fun. If it turns weird or skeevy, though..."
She leaned over Jess's shoulder and began working the keyboard, accessing the messageboard's options and installing a little macro-client for tracing IPs -- unique numbers associated with screen names that would link them to an internet service, or sometimes even a physical address. The more sophisticated members of the Furry Invasion Squad would probably end up under the radar, but she could at least snag a few. If there was trouble, she could go to the site directly and tell them to knock it off before she Named And Shamed. Outing someone online was bad form, but making sure nobody was talking dirty to kids just because they wanted to be vegetarians was higher on her priority list.
She paused, briefly, as IPs began showing up in the database linked to her desktop, and names began showing up next to the IPs. Some of them looked vaguely familiar.
"I'm...gonna go back and look at this on my machine," she said, closing out a few windows. "Keep an eye on the messageboard but if they behave themselves I say let them alone."
"Thanks, Roxy," Jess said, setting the board to track all comments and mail them to her. Roxy hurried back to her own cubicle and opened the database again. She stared hard at the familiar-looking names coming up associated with the usernames on the messageboard.
She frowned and picked up the phone. "Sarah, the guy who set up the annual gift for S.E.L.F. and the save-the-rabbits deal, what's his name?"
She heard paper shuffling, then the click of a keyboard. "Clint Eldridge."
"He lives out in Oak Park, right?"
"Yeah. Why, was he just arrested on national television or something?"
"No -- I'll get back to you," Roxy said.
"Uh-huh. I'm pulling the file now. If you need it, it'll be on my desk," Sarah said, and hung up the phone.
Clint Eldridge gave thousands of dollars to animal welfare causes each year, and was a lead fundraiser for some sister organization of SELF that SparkVISION didn't administer. He ran a successful software company in the downtown loop and had five or six dogs. He was also, apparently, known as OtterEyes74 on the SELF messageboards, and Otterized on Furttage.com, where he showed off photos of himself in an otter costume.
Roxy decided to put that piece of information away as irrelevant. After all, he was a generous man and a good fundraiser. If she didn't have to think about his sex life, then she shouldn't be butting in where she wasn't wanted.
It did, however, give her an idea.
You didn't have to know much about the internet to get on it. Most people were automatically connected, all the time, at work, and anyone with Non Prophet's output would have to have a home connection as well. Just because he was well-known didn't mean he knew the first thing about internet security, beyond not telling anyone what his real name was.
Roxy sat down to compose a cunning trap. She would answer the question of Non's identity for certain or, if she couldn't answer it, she would at least rule out anyone at SparkVISION.
***
NON PROPHET
www.nonprophetblog.nfp
PROTECTING FLUFFY STARVING OWL PUPPIES SINCE 2007
Date: 12/21/09
Subject: This is just to announce...
...that I have conquered the grocery store on my lunch hour.
LET THERE BE PIZZA BITES FOR DINNER.
(What? Not everything I say can be deep, or I'd be surrounded by people going "Wow" all the time.)
No sea kittens will be harmed in the making of my pizza.
24 Comments
Juniper 200
12/21/09 at 1:52pm
FIRST
Hija Paloma
12/21/09 at 1:52pm
FIRST
Hija Paloma
12/21/09 at 1:53pm
SHIT, SECOND ACTUALLY
BlueJeans
12/21/09 at 1:56pm
Look, would it be out of line for me to say 'Wow'?
NON P.
12/21/09 at 2:04pm
Well, not to stand in the way of my adoring fans or anything, but you could say "Ooh!" instead.
Copper Badge
12/21/09 at 2:02pm
Did you slay the fearsome checkout-lady?
NON P.
12/21/09 at 2:05pm
I didn't want to be all "I'm a homicidal maniac!" in a public post. I prefer to generalize that I vanquished all opponents in my path and appeased the fearsome cashier (dude) with many dollars.
Gmail Diva
12/21/09 at 2:15pm
Hey Non, OT but: have you seen this vid?
www.SparkVISION.nfp/tropes2.htm
SparkVISION is hosting it, so I guess it's on the level?
NON P.
12/21/09 at 2:45pm
It's a clever piece of propaganda but it's old news -- they put that up last year and it went viral, they must just be rearranging their site code. Log on more often, Gmail Diva! Great nickname though.
***
The first thing Erin heard from the rest of the team, on Tuesday morning, was Ian's maniacal cackling.
Ian didn't cackle often, but when he did it was usually worth witnessing. She found him, having abandoned his desk completely, standing at the Creative pod with his arms resting on the edge of John's cubicle.
"I told you I'd find you!" he said, pointing at John with his good hand.
"You've found squat, you're bluffing," John replied.
Ian held up the paper. "These gritty fantasy nightmares show themselves predominantly in his appropriation of the genre for his own dark ends," he read aloud. "The author is to genre fiction what Jack Kerouac or Chuck Palahniuk were for the literary novel: a force for super-realism, an explorer of guts and derider of glory."
"Explorer of guts!" Anna shrieked, laughing. "IT'S AN EXPEDITION."
"What's that from?" Erin asked, as Jess, Hanna, and the interns put their heads over the edge of their pod to listen.
"It's from a review," Ian told her gleefully, "of John's new anthology of short stories he doesn't want anyone to know about."
"Oh my god, seriously?" Erin asked John, who blushed red. "You published an actual real book?"
"Self-published," John insisted.
"It's selling well though, isn't it?" Ian asked. "If you got a review in SciFi Quarterly."
"What are you doing reading SciFi Quarterly?" John retorted.
"Uh, science fiction fan," Ian said, totally unashamed. "It's not like I have a subscription or anything -- "
"YOU TOTALLY HAVE A SUBSCRIPTION," Anna announced. "Shaaaaaame, Ian. Shame."
" -- but I was researching what kind of writing you might do -- " Ian doggedly continued.
"There's nothing shameful about being a SciFi fan," Zoe said. "I am. I'm out and proud about it. I even liked Firefly."
"That's because it had your name in it," John said.
"Ian wears goblin ears to conventions!" Anna told her.
" -- and it seemed like a place to st -- now you're just making shit up," Ian said to her.
"Prove it," Anna replied.
"You can't prove a negative. Anyway, I'm buying a copy of your book, John," Ian said. "It looks awesome."
"Ian, what's the URL?" Roxy called.
"You're going to see a bump in sales!" Zoe said happily to John.
"Are we all finally on the same page about John's writing now?" Sarah asked, and Erin turned to her with a frown. "What, you think I didn't figure it out ages ago?"
"You should have told us!" Erin said.
"I was saving it in case I needed blackmail ammo."
"See?" Anna said.
"I prefer horror, myself, but to each their own," Sarah added.
"Apparently John's stuff is pretty horrifying at times," Ian said. "Someone said there was an unnecessary amount of puke in it."
"What's the actual necessary amount of puke?" Anna asked.
"Puke in a fantasy anthology?" Erin said to John, raising an eyebrow.
"You heard him. I appropriate the genre," John said.
"For your own dark ends," Erin teased.
"SWORDS, SANDALS, AND PUKE," Anna shouted.
"Hey, man, I read one of his stories," one of the interns called. "It was cool, it was all about what happens to a dragon after you slay it. Like, putrefaction and shit."
"Sarah, what's the scariest horror thing you can think of?" Erin asked, trying to redirect the conversation from putrefaction, and only realizing as she said it that the redirection might be worse.
Sarah smiled at her. "We're the people in charge of the most successful not-for-profit consulting organization in the Midwest," she announced.
Silence fell.
"Jesus," Zoe said.
"I need more coffee," Anna muttered, changing the filter on her one-cup desk machine.
"Erin, can you come take a look at something?" Roxy called, and Erin left the rest of them to their horrified contemplation while she joined Roxy in her cubicle.
"So, I may have done something underhanded," Roxy said, as an opening.
"Underhanded?" Erin asked. "Like, legally?"
"No, just kind of sneaky. I sort of...linked Non Prophet to a webpage where I had an IP trace set up."
Erin gave her a blank look.
"IP addresses show a person's location, where they're connecting to the internet from," Roxy said patiently.
"Okay...so now you know his IP address?"
"More than that," Roxy said. "We had the code bork yesterday so I couldn't check the tracker all day, but I remembered this morning and -- well, I posted at 2:15 and he replied by 2:19, and only three people hit the link in that time period."
"So it's one of these...numbers?"
"Yup. This one," Roxy said, pointing to the first one, "is from the UK, so it's out, unless he's lying about living in Chicago, which I don't think he is. "This second one is from Lombard, so I guess it's a possibility, but I think it's the big eco-farm they have out there, the one that does the tours."
"Oh! They make really good cheese," Erin said.
"Yes they do. And that leaves this one as our likely suspect," Roxy said, pointing to the third number. "Wanna guess what's so special about it?"
"Uh. No?" Erin ventured.
"It's the IP for this building's internet service," Roxy said. "We pay the building to provide internet for us, right? And the company they use is the same provider half the businesses in the city use, but this building has a range of IP addresses assigned to each leased office section. Whoever he is, he's using our building's internet. Can't nail it down to which cluster range yet, but -- "
Erin stared at her, and for a split second she had a very cinematic moment before she burst out laughing.
"Oh my god!" she snickered. "The call is coming from inside the house!"
Roxy scowled at her. "It's serious! That means Non Prophet works in our building, which means it might actually be Sparks."
"IAN," Erin yelled down the hallway.
"YES?"
"HOW MANY PEOPLE WORK IN THIS BUILDING?"
"THIRTY-FIVE HUNDRED," Ian called, without missing a beat.
"So it's either Sparks, or one of thirty-five-hundred other people, I guess," Roxy sighed. "I suppose we could try looking at timestamps. Who's in the office when he posts. Maybe I can trap him again from his home internet."
"Well, don't do it on Christmas, that's just sad," Erin said, patting her shoulder. "Come on, don't you have a slideshow to put together for this afternoon's party?"
"I suppose," Roxy grumbled, looking annoyed. "Fine. I'll wait until the holidays are over. But I will find him!" she said, raising a clenched fist defiantly.
Erin nodded, backed away slowly, and fled back to her office.
***
Raison, on the northern border of the downtown loop, was an upscale Fusion restaurant with a French twist, and its relationship to SparkVISION was a strange one. Normally, the staff would turn their noses up at Raison's pretentious menu -- at least, those who could have afforded its prices.
It had, however, proved to be the most capable and reliable caterer with the best room-rental prices, and they had a criminally good rate deal that Sparks had once charmed out of the manager and ruthlessly held them to ever since. It was close, just across the Michigan Avenue Bridge, and thus it got almost all of SparkVISION's event business. In gratitude, once a year, it let them hold their holiday party there free of charge as long as they brought their own eats.
Seeing as it was lunch, and as it was SparkVISION, Cee never went overboard on fancy food. She'd simply gone to the store and bought good chunks of cheese and a few loaves of bread, plus cold cuts, a few jars of condiments, veggies and dip, chips, and a dozen bottles of assorted sodas. For dessert, Erin was bringing her specialty, a sort of frosted bar-cookie that only Cee and Sarah knew came from a west-side bakery and not Erin's own kitchen.
Cee was just finishing laying it all out when Zeke, Ian's roommate, arrived with a large amp under each arm and a lightweight sound board slung on his back. Roxy rushed over to take one of the amps and help him set them down, then followed him back out to his truck, where the rest of the karaoke equipment was. Ian walked in from the truck with a binder tucked under one arm and a tip jar in his good hand.
"Just saw Zoe's husband and kidlet pulling up," he said, depositing both on the table next to Zeke's sound board. "Lock down anything shiny near ground level. Also there's some ridiculously hot woman with Naomi."
Cee snickered as Zeke looked up sharply. "You didn't tell me there would be ridiculously hot women here."
"I'm pretty sure your chances aren't good," Ian told him.
"I BRING BEER," boomed a new voice, and Mark walked into the room with two cubes of Goose Island Ale, followed by Sarah.
"Show-off," Cee told him.
"Well, you know what they say about having and flaunting," Mark replied. Cee looked around hopefully for Sparks; Mark and Sparks in a room together was always hilarious. Instead, she caught sight of Jess and her interns through the window, carrying what looked suspiciously like boughs of holly. For halls, the decking of, perhaps.
Then she heard Erin shriek, and looked up to see her welcoming newcomers with hugs and a huge smile. She recognized the managing directors of Little Miracle Network and Back Alley Theater, the first two clients SparkVISION had ever managed to land. She used to worry that having clients at the company party would put people on edge, but they were more like family. Mr. Bolivar and his partner Mr. Clark never batted an eye at Sparks's antics; Ms. Jackson-Smith and her husband were a little more reserved, but apparently having weathered eight years with SparkVISION they weren't going to budge anytime soon.
"Do you think Ian and his hot roommate are dating?" Jess asked, as the interns began to precariously perch holly on all available flat surfaces.
"You'd be amazed how often we hear that," Ian said from behind her, making Jess jump. "Just roommates," he added. "Zeke's last girlfriend moved to a commune in Montana when he dumped her. The one before that is still stalking him. They always seem sane the first time I meet them."
"Well, you live with him and you're not crazy," John said.
"Yes, but I'm not sleeping with him," Ian replied.
The next thing Cee saw, over Ian's shoulder, suddenly struck horror into her heart: Sparks was behind his clients, and he was holding the gong.
When he struck it, everyone in the room jumped. Apparently Sparks had worked this out with Zeke as a clue, beforehand, because suddenly Walking in a Winter Wonderland fired up over the amps.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Sparks said, setting down the gong and opening a bottle of the beer Mark had provided. "We have survived another year. Nobody died, nobody got arrested, and we only broke one bone."
"Three," Ian called.
"You're a medical mystery," Sparks called back. "Anyway. I'd like to welcome everyone to the holiday party. We have all kinds of food fixings, karaoke starts in about half an hour, we're opening our Secret Politically Correct Not Santa gifts at two, and the restaurant kicks us out at four, so get your karaoke requests in early. Also, I need a partner for Baby It's Cold Outside. I sing the Esther Williams part."
"John'll do it," Anna shouted. "He loves to sing!"
"You and me, John," Sparks said gravely, over the laughter.
***
Anna was in the middle of serenading everyone with Santa Baby when Zoe saw Bolo come running across the floor. She and Charles both dove for him at the same time, but Charles was quicker; he got hold of their offspring's shoulders and held him at arm's length.
"You are shiny," he said. "Are you sticky?"
"Yes," Bolo laughed.
"And why are you sticky?"
"CANDY," Bolo hollered, in a very good imitation of most of SparkVISION's down-the-hall communication.
"Wash," Charles told him. "Wash now. Do not -- don't touch anything!" he called, chasing after Bolo as the kid squirmed free.
"Sometimes I want one," Roxy told Zoe, watching Charles pursue Bolo. "Other times I remember it only takes three weeks to housetrain a dog."
"Kids shed less," Zoe replied, laughing.
"Two words: college tuition."
Anna finished at the microphone and put it up; Zeke got up and introduced "Our next set, Cee and John singing a holiday duet; John will be singing as The Pogues, with Cee as Kirsty MacColl, and I think we're all hoping Cee will dominate."
Cee turned red, and John looked startled; if Zoe had to guess, she'd pinpoint Sarah as the one who turned in their names without telling them.
"This is really good beer," Erin announced, seating herself in a chair next to Roxy. "Hey, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Do you think we should set up John and Cee?" Erin asked. "I think he has a crush on her."
Roxy glanced at Zoe.
"Yes," Zoe said with a straight face. "Absolutely. I think we should."
Onstage, John and Cee were flustered but apparently determined to go forward; across the room, Zoe could see Ian slipping quietly into his coat and hat to ditch the party and meet the plant delivery that Sarah had set up for the Great Office Feng Shui. Roxy jumped as her blackberry buzzed an incoming-message alert, and she looked down at it in consternation.
"What's up?" Zoe asked.
"Oh, it's -- huh," Roxy said, frowning at her screen. "I emailed Non Prophet."
"Really?" Zoe asked.
"Yeah, and I sent him a link."
"Hear back?" Erin asked, as John and Cee launched into an incongruous cover of Fairytale Of New York.
"Well..." Roxy glanced at her, then sighed. "Yeah. I sent him a link, I was hoping he'd check it from home. I'm trying to trap his IP. But I guess it can't be one of us, if he just checked it."
"Unless he was checking it on a cellphone," Zoe pointed out. Roxy frowned and tapped a few keys.
"Still makes it kind of unlikely," Roxy said, after a minute. "Who's going to be using their phone to check their email at a Christmas party?"
"You did," Zoe pointed out.
"Seen sparks with his cellphone lately?" Erin grinned. "Be careful, Roxy. If it's one of us, you've just spilled the beans."
"I'm pretty sure he's really a guy," Roxy said. "Besides, maybe if he knows, he'll just come out. He has to know we can keep secrets."
"Have you met us?" Erin asked.
"But we could keep that secret," Roxy said meaningfully.
"Oh," Erin said. "Oh, yes, of course. WE DEFINITELY COULD," she said loudly. Sparks shushed her, clearly enjoying John and Cee's duet thoroughly.
"But it's not one of you guys, is it? You'd tell me, right?" Roxy asked. Zoe exchanged a look with Erin, hopefully interpreting her look correctly, and then shook her head at Roxy.
"Definitely not me," she said.
"Not me either!" Erin agreed. "It's not you, right?"
Roxy looked affronted. "This is a lot of fuss just to cover my tracks, if it is me."
"Okay, so, we've established it's not one of us," Zoe summarized.
"Unless it is," Erin said.
"Maybe we should have had this conversation pre-beer," Roxy mused. Onstage, John and Cee finished singing and took a bow to uproarious, slightly tipsy applause.
"All right!" Sparks said, taking the stage before Zeke could get up to introduce anyone else. "It's Secret Not Santa time!"
"Where's Ian?" John asked loudly. "I got him a thing."
"He's back at the office, setting up Sparks' gift," Erin replied. "Which is actually from me, but Ian said he'd help out. He's got your present too, Jess."
"Oh, yay!" Jess beamed. "Okay, I got Naomi, can I give her -- what the hell?" she asked, picking up the gaily wrapped package marked FOR: Naomi.
"What's wrong with it?" Sparks asked casually. Everyone immediately looked at him with deep suspicion.
"It has...sticks...stuck in the ribbon..." Jess frowned and fiddled with the ribbon. "Ohhh."
"SPARKLERS!" Sparks announced. "I put them on every present. Don't light them inside!"
***
The SparkVISION staff and spouses made quite a gay little party as they marched back through the snow to their offices, sparklers glittering and popping in the light snowfall.
Anna had a gigantic bag of fortune cookies, apparently a personal request she'd made aloud in the presence of Cee, who had scented candles from Hanna ("How romantic! For...when I'm...reading...and that kind of thing!") in her pocket. Roxy's Tintin book-cover poster was tucked tight against her to protect it, John was wearing a Team Jacob shirt from Roxy stretched tight over his coat, Bolo had already stolen the new dragon miniatures Sarah had given Zoe, and Naomi was wearing Jess's hand-knitted scarf proudly. Sarah was carrying the fancy imported microbrew Sparks had given her, and Sparks himself was practically dancing with anticipation to find out what was waiting for him back at the office.
They all piled into two elevators after discarding their sparklers at the door. When they poured out on the nineteenth floor, Ian was waiting for them in front of the entry doors, holding a slim folder under one arm and cradling a plant in the other. He offered the folder to Erin, who cleared her throat.
"This certificate," she announced, "is a signed testimonial by Sarah that the office has officially been arranged for the best possible flow of positive Chi. We've added a few plants and moved of the chairs in accordance with the ancient practice of feng shui to ensure success and positive energy in the new -- oh my God, he's crying."
Sparks wiped his eyes, scowling. "I am not! It's just...so sweet. Thank you! Nobody's ever given me positive Chi before."
"And this is for Jess," Ian added, presenting her with the plant. "It's a peace lily. For those days when you really want to kill someone."
"Which means this is for you," John said, tossing Ian a bundle. "I'm shit at wrapping things, sorry."
Ian unrolled the orange shirt, which had large block text reading TRUST ME, I'M A DOCTOR.
"Look, Ian and me match," Hanna announced, holding up the slightly less orange and much prettier blouse Naomi had given her. Ian's nose twitched.
"I smell coffee," he announced.
"Mine," Erin said defensively, clutching the small, expensive box of coffee to her chest.
"Come on, one pot," Ian said. "Shot-glass coffee tasting."
"No! Mine, to take home and hoard. Sarah doesn't have to share her beer!"
"Sarah got beer?" Ian asked interestedly.
"And you didn't, so I'm taking it home," Sarah said.
"I'm going to go hang my poster up in my cube," Roxy announced.
"And then go back to the Hunt For Red Non Prophet!" Erin laughed. Roxy elbowed her. "What?"
"Ixnay on the eekretsay."
"Is that Commie charities?" Ian asked. "Actually, technically, most charities are communist in aim if not ideal..."
"Roxy's trying to trap Non Prophet," Sarah said. Roxy glared at her. "What? The secret was out, kiddo. If he's one of us, he knows by now."
"One of us?" Sparks rolled his eyes. "If he's one of us, I'm clearly not giving him enough work to do. Okay, kids, I'm going to water all my new plants, soak up some Chi, and then I'm going home. I suggest you all do the same. We're in tomorrow morning to wrap up, but expect to leave work by noon. Everybody clear?"
"Yes, boss," they chorused, smiling.
"HOLY CRAP!" he yelled from his office. "YOU GOT ME FENG SHUI GOLDFISH!"
"You put goldfish in his office?" Cee asked. "I'm going to have to feed them, huh."
"They were on sale," Sarah shrugged.
***
Chapter Nine
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