Love factually, p.1
Love, Factually, page 1
Love, Factually
by Zig Zag Claybourne
Copyright © 2023, Clarence Young.
Published in the United States of America by Obsidian Sky Books, Detroit, MI
Cover Design by Jesse Hayes, Anansi Hayes Media; Interior Design inspired by Jesse Hayes
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Taquito Life
Marlena
Vinn
Everybody
Babs
Festivities
Conversations
Sunday in the Diner, Dousing Sunbeam
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Taquito Life
There was nothing pleasant about weekly Zoom meetings. Vinn supposed that was a fact even Republicans wouldn’t alterna-fact away. Less pleasant: afterwork meetings. Mandatory afterwork meetings. Which cut into taquito time. And there were few things better than taquito time with Babs. Even though she was technically supervisory, Babs gave not one whit about adhering to roles over having a good time. Off the clock, life might as well have been an orgy. Her workplace holiday parties were legendary (and there were a lot because Babs threw love at as many holidays as she could Google). Provided alcohol didn’t free up anyone’s inner asshole, more spirits flew than in an entire horror movie.
Babs formally ended Thursday’s particular meeting but, as was company policy, left the session open an extra couple minutes for lost souls who felt the need to circle back.
Or for the awkward goodbyes.
Vinn, Babs’s admin, stretched back in his chair. It was so ergonomic it could have done his job for him. When it came to certain office requisitions, Babs also dngaf. Babs was the honey badger of PeerStar Public Relations. Her one rule: get shit done, reap the rewards.
Vinn loved Babs.
“’Night, everybody,” Vinn told his screen, watching squares of business-casual faces wink off; watching the candid glances off to the side that said people had lives outside of Zoom meetings. People had children goofing for attention, dogs wondering wtf was up, cats giving the finger, those tiny moments that revealed what was more important to square-people than having to come up with ways to spin some celebrity’s ass from speaking from said celebrity’s mouth. “Public relations” was a honking misnomer since it had absolutely nothing to do with the public, but Shut Your Dumb Ass Next Time didn’t fit well on business cards meant to entice potential clients.
PR was basically therapy for kindergartners: “Johnny, don’t pee in the indoor hotel fountain, there are bathrooms.” “Brittni, was telling a fan you’d punch her in the taint backwards the absolute best use of the autograph line?”
Granted, not every case was a celebrity being an idiot...just the big money ones.
P-Star had plenty of those.
The leather on Vinn’s chair barely whispered as he leaned into it. His explosive afro positively melded with a headrest worthy of first-class flights.
The goodbyes were sweetly awkward, but Vinn also liked looking to see what people might be peeping to see on his end. It wasn’t as if his work surroundings blared personality, but everybody else didn’t necessarily know that. Videoconferencing being acceptable voyeurism, Vinn noticed one guy in particular tended to glance downward left whenever Vinn spoke. Not constantly, nothing weird, but enough. Outside of Vinn’s thumb-sized model of the robot from Lost in Space standing next to the printer beside him, the workspace was a standard, comfortable, zero-flair affair. Vinn had dubbed that guy (Douglas Penmin) the Cyclops, because for some reason Vinn had always thought cyclopsesses had great vision.
The Cyclops, along with several other squares, dutifully muttered goodbye, but Vinn, looking for it without making it appear he was looking for it, caught that glance downward then quickly back up just before Dougclops blanked out. Out of respect for Babs, Vinn never exited before she’d disconnected the meeting on her end, but the instant the THIS CALL HAS ENDED pop-up appeared seconds later, Vinn knew it was time to get happy.
He cut his own video and audio. Maybe it was just his imagination...but Dougclops had seemed extra looky.
Babs, all sixty-four years’ worth of sunned freckles, crepey skin, and wispy blond hairs of her, whirled out of her office, arm in one coat sleeve and other arm arrowing for the other. Babs was one of those people who some might say “used to be beautiful” while admitting she was still damn hot, especially with that wide mouth that sometimes smiled like rays through a cloud, and square jawline that could pick you up and dust you off in one stride.
“Taquitos,” was all she needed to say. Vinn hopped up and whipped into his coat.
By the time Vinn asked, “You have that meeting with Bethany?” the table had already gone through three bowls of dipping sauce and six plates of taquitos. The math was off but the table was happy.
“Yeah. She’s heading back home. Some small town upstate.”
“Three Black folks in it,” said Marlena, Black, gorgeous, and as supervisory as Babs, but over corporate PR, which was basically the Mount Doom of PR. All both loved and feared Marlena.
“One vaguely Southeast Asian,” said Lon Bohai.
“Winter streets clearer than hell’s,” said Vinn.
“Probably a winter festival every weekend,” said Babs.
They held their drinks aloft. “Fuck upstate,” they said as one.
Clink.
“Having said all that,” said Marlena, “we’ll now have to go upstate for some dumbass reason.”
“We should do that,” said Babs. Babs was great for keeping spontaneity robust. “Next weekend, taquito night goes upstate for the weekend.”
Inevitable hemming and hedging began.
“Teambuilding exercise,” Babs riffed. “We’ve got a couple weeks before Christmas. Management’ll believe this is inconvenient enough to be real. Come on, everything on the company dime.”
The inevitable oh hell yesses followed.
“Find out where Bethany’ll be,” said Marlena. “We show up there. Freak the entire 267 population the hell out.”
Another tray of taquitos appeared. Veintidós had the best taquitos as they had the only unlimited taquitos night of any restaurant around. A Thursday (Friday Eve) Zoom meeting couldn’t dim taquito awesomeness, ‘tho it tried.
‘Tho it unscheduled mandatory meeting damn well tried.
But the office had already been forgotten. Upper management dropping that dumb meeting on Babs’s lap had been forgotten. As Vinn took a sip of top-tier Sangria, the Cyclops flashed to mind. Brown-eyed Cyclops. Pale as shit, but that’s what getting outside was for. Nice eye wrinkles as noted by the Cyclops speaking up whenever he needed to. The best thing about Zoom was the automatic closeup on whoever was talking. Vinn loved picking out details on people he’d probably never see in real life.
“Addendum,” Marlena added. “Next time they decide to throw a useless division-wide meeting on Friday Eve, tell ‘em to kiss everything up to and including your ass.”
“You get that, Vinn?” said Babs.
“Every word,” said Vinn.
Babs, raising her glass to him, said, “Best admin.”
“Ever,” Vinn finished. He was paid to be thorough.
“So we agreed?” That was Lon. “Clitoris Falls, next weekend? I’m free.”
“If the weather’s not bad,” said Marlena. “I wouldn’t mind a holiday festival. Clitoris Falls praises the clitoris every year.”
“Praises be,” said Babs, saluting Marlena with her glass.
“Praise that they found it,” said Lon. Lon’s ex-wife had shown him the wheres, hows, and whys years ago. He considered himself a vizier.
“Preverts, the lot of you,” said Babs.
“You mispronounced loving and kind,” Vinn noted. His smartwatch vibrated. Nine o’clock. Taquito Nite was great because it wasn’t drawn out. It was a chance to unwind. Fridays and Mondays were generally hell at a PR firm. Thursday evening deserved a nice quiet before the storm vibe. But a good administrative assistant with a great ergonomic chair knew when to slow things down, draw the drapes, and snuff candles, and it was the law of gatherings that the first person to hit the restroom after a couple hours of boozing, eating, and laughing signaled the end of the festivities.
Especially if that person announced the bathroom run with specifics rather than the placeholder “I’ll be right back.”
Vinn pushed out from his chair. “I’m gonna hit the restroom.”
Even though the roads weren’t too bad they passed three different women spun out on the shoulder, each being helped by tall guys.
Clitoris Falls looked precisely like every holiday romance movie since Plymouth Rock. The air: playfully biting. The mom-and-pop shop-lined main avenue: definitely mob fronts. A digital economy wouldn’t permit otherwise. It hadn’t snowed enough to warrant shoveling, but it was still winter. Only an idiot would show up without proper footwear. Fortunately, the gang of four milling outside Sadie’s Pasties didn’t have an idiot in the bunch.
They admitted it was fun seeing bootprints in snow that wasn’t gray before it hit the ground.
From a few shops down came a familiar voice. “Babs?” It was Bethany. She trotted to them. “You guys? What?” She stomped fabulous high heels. “God, my feet are freezing.”
“Well, yeah,” said Vinn.
“You change your hair?” said Babs.
“No, a little, just...what are you guys doing here?”
“Mandatory retreat, but I
“No fucking way,” said Vinn.
“You mentioned this place had nice B&Bs, so...” said Babs. “But...you don’t see us, you don’t hear us, we’re not even here. This conversation, you’re high on cocaine right now. The whole street’s looking at you.” She flashed the best Babs smile. “It’s totally embarrassing.”
Bethany leaned in. “They don’t say fucking so much here in Charity Pine.”
“Too busy pledging allegiance,” Lon said. “Never seen so many flags in my life.” Nobody travel outside the group had practically been psychically shared throughout their minds fifteen minutes from leaving the B&B.
Bethany’s hair twists caught the sun just so. “I would love to hang with you but, y’know, the farm, my dad...they kinda need me.”
“No, no, you do you,” said Babs.
“But we can get lunch at least once, right?” said Bethany.
“Definitely. Just point out the best place.”
“Oh god, I haven’t been here since college.”
Vinn’s confusion painted his face. “But it’s, like, a 2-hour drive...”
“Listen,” said Babs, “call me when you get a minute, we’ll pick someplace. Me and the group are gonna wander a bit before we maximize skillsets and strengthen priorities.”
Vinn, being the best admin ever, added the company name to make the final expense account officially legit. “Peer-Star will end the year with the tightest teams it’s ever had.”
“Can you imagine the promotions?” Bethany positively beamed. She turned to leave, saying “Bye” while trying to take a sip of her carryout coffee. The group moved to leave as well, but immediately stopped when Bethany blurted “Oh my god I’m so sorry!” after bouncing off a sunbeam of a guy wearing a quarter of her drink on his construction jacket. Sandy tousled hair, sandy face scruff, silver blue eyes. Vinn noticed all of it. He’d even seen the guy moving toward them at a good clip, but the sidewalk was wide enough for him to easily pass.
Which meant dude had intentionally decided not to go around them.
Privilege was about to get its ass kicked in Charity Pine.
“The hell, man?” Vinn said, squaring his narrow shoulders and planting his feet in case Sunbeam immediately escalated.
“No, it’s my fault,” said Bethany, dabbing at the guy’s scarf with her napkins.
“No,” said Sunbeam. “I should have—”
Paid attention to where the hell you were walking, thought Vinn, Lon, Babs, and Marlena.
“—Beth?” Sunbeam one-eightied. “Beth April?”
“Yes, I’m—guys, I’m OK, seriously, I’ll catch up to you. Enjoy what you were doing.”
“Later,” said Babs. Vinn stood down, the group moved off. They caught, “Sanders?” from Bethany but had already forgotten about her and him seeing as a customer had exited Sadie’s Pasties. The aroma of heaven’s own bakery grabbed noses and yanked.
Inside Sadie’s Pasties, eating a fritter like of course he’d be there eating a fritter: Cyclops. He stood to the side of the register, munching his piece of heaven and comfortably speaking with the bright-eyed, ponytailed, “METAL IS LIFE” t-shirt wearing woman efficiently shuffling orders towards the register, a woman who looked undeniably familial.
Sweet fuck, thought Vinn, thinking Charity Pine could allow him that one.
Babs was already moving the Cyclops’s way. “Douglas? What??”
Then the guy did something that took away Sunbeam’s sunbeam status and wore it all his own. The Cyclops’s entire face became a huge, genuine, delighted smile.
“What’re you doing here?” Babs finished.
Douglas laid a hand under the air as if displaying the METAL IS LIFE woman looking suddenly confused behind the counter. “My sister. Jennifer. Jennifer,” he fumbled out, “my work friends. Team. Um, people?”
“People,” Babs nodded.
“They are people,” Jennifer agreed, and gave Lon a solid wink.
“Team building exercise,” Babs answered Douglas.
“Oh,” he said with a glance at Marlena. Even though he was primarily a remote worker, he was part of Marlena’s division.
“Last minute thing,” Marlena covered. “Total bullshit. I wasn’t gonna bother anyone on my team.”
“I’m sure you’ll hear about it on the next Zoom meeting,” said Vinn.
“Oh hell.” Douglas quickly wrapped his fritter in its wax paper and laid it on the counter. “We’re meeting in meatspace for the first time and I’m stuffing my face instead of properly introducing.” But what did you say to somebody you periodically scoped out on video? Was Great Zoom moderating a compliment?
“Sugar on your nose,” Vinn pointed out, “so fritter must be good. I don’t fault anybody a good fritter.”
Douglas brusquely brushed his nose then wiped his hand on a thigh before offering quick handshakes to Babs and Vinn, both of whom he didn’t directly worth with, and quick nods to Marlena and Lon, whom he definitely worked with. “Douglas Penmin. My sister, Jennifer Penmin.” He opened his hands wide. “And Charity Pine!”
“Y’know,” said Vinn, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your last name, seeing as you work at a PR firm...”
“The absolute most minor of the universe’s quirks,” said Douglas.
“But cool as hell!” said Vinn.
“It is, isn’t it! Hey, pastries on the house.”
“Sadie won’t mind?” said Vinn.
“Sadie won’t mind,” said Douglas.
Somehow Sadie heard from somewhere in the unseen kitchen. “As long as you’re paying!”
Marlena stepped up and pointed a finger under that de-sugared nose. “How is it we did not know you were connected to small town bakery action? We’d have had more in-office meetings if I’d known you could provide incentives.”
Douglas laughed.
“I’m not laughing,” said Marlena. She was not. Marlena enjoyed good food like most enjoyed great art.
Somehow they’d all managed to get in line during this conversation. Douglas moved easily with them, as though he’d been part of the group from the start. After three other customers had been helped, Jennifer took their orders, winked at the cashier to clue her in to the freebies, and smiled at her brother in that way that said he’d done good, which made Babs, Lon, Marlena, and Vinn smile at him.
Lon hoped he’d see that wink again.
“The odds that two of our crew are from Charity Pine,” said Babs.
“Who else?” said Douglas.
“Bethany April. From food accounts.”
“She’s from here?”
“You didn’t know?”
Douglas shrugged.
“You’re roughly the same age,” Babs noted.
“Probably hung in different circles,” said Douglas.
“How many circles could a small place have?” said Vinn.
“You’d be surprised, Diagram.” Wait, what? said Douglas’s brain.
Lon was immediately about to give Vinn shit.
Douglas recovered super quick. “It’s a knickname of respect. Circles? Intersection where someone gets shit done and done right. You.”
That shut everybody up. Seemed to Vinn, quieted the entire bakery. Seemed to Vinn, everybody else had blipped out for a moment. Just him and Cyclops in that place that smelled like home for even the homeless. Vinn Johnson, frizzy ‘froed nerd, El DeBarge lookalike...had a cool nickname.
Not only that, but Vinn suspected the name had come from—rather than was merely used by—this soft, kind-eyed guy desperately in need of Spock’s goatee to work on that perpetual baby face but otherwise looked like someone for whom half hour kisses were merely a start.
Then the moment popped.
“So: Vinn Diagram,” said Douglas, then grimaced with eyes wide, hoping everything was OK.
“Me, I love it,” said Babs.
“VD,” Marlena whispered Babs’s way.
“Maybe not,” said Babs. “Diagram is good.”
“Diagram is good,” said Vinn.
“Listen, if y’all want the two-dollar tour of the town?” said Douglas.
“Better option:” Marlena countered, “you join us. Never let it be said the team neglects a player.”
“I’ve got some Christmas stuff to do with the family later, but sure. How long are you here?”
