Dream Job

By Tony Hozeny

 

Alison was bored with her family-friendly job as a staff attorney for the Department of Natural Resources. Now that our two kids, Keith and Madison, were in high school, she wanted a new challenge and more money.

I made a good living at a job I loved, selling Lexus, Jaguar and BMW automobiles, so we could take a risk. She landed a job at the Lyman-O’Connor Law Firm.

We’d expected an increase in her workload, but not like this, always late for dinner, always working weekends. I awoke one night around 2 and heard her banging away on her laptop. As I rubbed her shoulders, I said, “You know, the kids really miss spending time with you, and I do, too. And a lot of the time you seem tense and preoccupied. Are you sure you want this?”

“The work is just fascinating, Aaron. I love it, and my mentor says I’m doing a great job.” She turned and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m still really just learning. The hours will level off. You’ll see.”

“Seems like an awfully heavy workload for someone in training.”

She shrugged. “That’s how they do things, I guess.”

Sean, her boss, the managing partner, was holding his annual spring party on the second Saturday in May. Alison usually didn’t like parties or any large gatherings, but this was clearly a big deal to her. “Not everyone gets invited to this party,” she said. “It’s a good sign that my hard work is paying off.”

She checked my closet, made a face, and ordered from Amazon gray gabardine pants and a black Merino sweater. She got a haircut and tint, a pedicure and manicure, and a swirly, red, vee-neck dress, and then she modeled her new look for me.

“I’ll bet I’ve got the hottest wife at the party.”

“I wish. Now just mingle and don’t drink too much.”

“You know I won’t---mingle, I mean.”

She slapped my arm teasingly. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

“Going to the boss’s party is work, Alison.”

“Well, yeah,” she said brightly, “But it’ll be fun anyway. And when we get home you can tell me what you thought of everybody, and I’ll fill you in on who’s doing well and who’s not.”

“Couldn’t we just make fun of everyone, like we used to?”

“Aaron. These are nice people, I promise.”

“They’re always the easiest to make fun of.”

Sean lived in a red brick Federalist on a hill overlooking the entire Coventry Arms subdivision. A man-made brook wound under the intentionally crooked streets.

 

One contractor had done all the landscaping, so each lot had the same mixture of blue spruce and birch trees and arbor vitae bushes.

By the time we arrived, several junior Lexus, BMW and Mercedes Benz automobiles were parked in front of Sean’s house and along his circular driveway. The garage door was open: a black Mercedes AMG-SL roadster and a silver Lexus LX 600 SUV. Only the top of the line for Sean.

“Come in, come in,” said a brittle, gleaming blonde of about 50. “I’m Sean’s wife Karen. You must be Alison. I’ve heard so much about you.” She hugged Alison vigorously. Karen’s smile was all small, sharp, brilliantly white teeth, and while I was staring at her teeth or commenting on her lovely home, Alison slipped past her to the living room.

She let out a joyous shriek and hugged a blonde woman who wore a navy blouse and short white skirt. “This is Heather, Aaron,” she said.

“I’ve heard only good things about you,” Heather said. She and Alison exchanged knowing looks.

“Likewise,” I lied. Alison had never mentioned Heather.

“Come on over, you guys,” said a tall, horse-faced woman, pulling Alison toward her. She and Heather joined an animated conversation with horse-face and two other women.

“Mingle, Aaron,” Alison mouthed. I headed for the great room. Sean brushed past. I’d met him once at the office. I said hello, but he didn’t hear me.

He was striding along quickly on his short legs as if on the way to do great things, a stocky, bullet-headed, 50-year-old with one diamond stud in his ear, gold Hawaiian shirt hanging over white trousers. He hugged Alison hard and then let go. “How about another round, ladies?” He boomed. “Your wish is my command---for a change.”

The five women laughed immediately, sounding like tinkling Christmas ornaments. Sean bustled away. I cruised the hors d’oeuvres: Boiled shrimp. Crackers and brie. Roast beef and dinner rolls. Tiny spinach quiches. Meatballs in sweet and sour sauce.

I grabbed a Beck’s beer and drifted through conversations. My Kaylie won the stride piano competition, and she gets straight As. I do some of my best legal work out on the golf course. No question. Don’t you mean in the club bar afterward? Yeah, that, too. She’s like, we’re not having an affair, we’re just friends, and I’m like, but you were kissing him in the parking lot.

On my fourth revolution, Sean summoned Karen to the piano. She said she had to take care of the guests. “That’s why the caterers are here, dear,” he boomed, “now play.” So, she did. He told all his lawyers and their spouses to gather around the piano and sing along with Big 10 fight songs. He’d thoughtfully made copies of the words for everyone.

Alison, Heather, and a preppie young man I took to be Heather’s husband moved in close to the piano. With my embarrassing frog voice, I thought it best to remain on the periphery. Sean slipped in between and threw his arms around Alison and Heather, pulling them in tight.

Heather relaxed and let him pull her in, away from her husband. Alison stiffened a little, but she too yielded. I thought about taking Sean aside for a conversation about respecting boundaries.

I saw a gangly guy with thinning white hair and a white beard easing along the outside wall toward the patio door---Chuck Stearns. I’d sold him a BMW 7 series sedan last year and a 5 series a few years back.

There was a pleasant chill in the air. Chuck and I shook hands and sat down in the wicker chairs near the covered swimming pool. He reached into the cooler and handed me a Grolsch beer. I asked how he liked the car. He gave me a thumb’s up. We talked about the Milwaukee Bucks’ recent offensive struggles. Then he said, “I have to be at this party, Aaron. What did you do to deserve this?”

“I’m Alison Shea’s husband.”

“Oh. She’s a nice person. Her office is right next to mine.”

“She sure works a lot of hours.”

He picked up a shrimp and popped it into his mouth. “Well, Sean pushes all of us, me, too, he’s really demanding, but I brought my own clients with me when I joined the firm, so he knows I could leave; I could take my business with me. But you come in new, like Alison did, yeah, long hours.”

He laughed without humor, his grey eyes flashing. “You know, here I am sitting on Sean’s patio, drinking his expensive beer, eating his carefully selected hors d’oeuvres and yeah, a lot of times, Sean’s an asshole, but coming in with him really jacked up my income, so I put up with his controlling bullshit.”

“Makes sense.”

He took a long pull on his beer. “So, Alison seems happy here?”

It seemed an odd question. “She calls it her dream job. She comes home just bubbling, has dinner, can’t wait to open her laptop and work a few more hours.”

“Good.” He glanced at the yard, then at the patio door. “We should probably go inside. Sean might think I sneaked way from his little party.”

“Wait a minute, Chuck. I get the feeling you know something.”

“It’s just a rumor.”

I waited.

“All right, damnit, this is the kind of shit Sean always pulls, letting rumors fester, keeping everyone off balance, especially the person who most needs to know, a lot of times there’s no inkling---Alison’s not going to make it, Aaron. Sean’s planning to fire her.”

“For what?”

He shook his head “The rumor is, yeah, she bills a lot of hours. but her work’s not done quickly enough, partly because she makes too many mistakes, and her mentor has to keep doing intensive reviews and requiring additional drafts. She should be independent by now.”

Now she came to the patio door, waving us in.

“Hey, Chuck, how are you doing? Did my husband try to sell you a car?”

“No. For once, he controlled himself.” We laughed together. When he’d stepped inside, I whispered, “Alison, let’s get out of here. We have to talk.”

“Not now. Come on, it’s time to eat. Oh, I’m having such a good time.” She took my hand and led me to the dining room, favoring everyone she saw with a luminous smile.

 

Tony Hozeny from US is the author of the novels Driving Wheel and My House Is Dark and numerous short stories. He has an MA from the Johns Hopkins Writing Seminars and taught creative writing at four colleges. Over the past three years, he has placed 17 stories in literary magazines. Three of the stories have been anthologized. His story "Sparks" was published in the Shishir 2023 issue of ActiveMuse.