“I am never loyal to a company,” Shenar emphasized the word “never” with a post pronunciation beat. “I am always...” she paused again, “loyal to my work.”
Her eyes shown. Her manner was relaxed. Her voice was low and unruffled. He noted her odd, unsettling attractiveness. He’d had trouble looking away from her to scan her résumé.
“You look like you might be a little older than me,” she announced. He didn’t take it personally, even though he knew they were the same age. She smiled at him.
He realized he’d been staring at her.
“You’re probably part of the transition generation,” she continued, “the ones who’ve held jobs for companies who promised security. I didn’t work for any of those companies. The only company I ever worked for that still exists is a temporary personnel company.”
They both laughed. Frank was charmed by her, and liked her work as well. Hell of a portfolio, he thought. He recognized some of her material. Her presentations covered a diverse spectrum.
When she’d walked in he’d thought to himself, gypsy. Her choice of colors complimented the dark office—both uncharacteristic for Phoenix. She’s not a native, he decided. She was dressed for a professional interview in what barely passed as a suit. Everything matched, at least. He noticed she wore boots, black boots with thick, platform soles and cuffs that disappeared somewhere above the hem of her curiously layered and stitched skirt. She had four piercings in one ear, three in the other. Each hole held a different earring. They were all elegant. All contained gems, except the delicate gold filigree, the only one that dangled, and the gold rose. They followed a pattern, as though she’d written a story with jewels down her lobes this morning.
“You’re right,” Frank agreed. “But I’ve always owned my own companies.”
Shenar grinned and teased, “Companies, you say? How many would that be?”
“All together or right now?”
“Touché!” Shenar laughed and swayed.
“So, you aren’t loyal to companies. Does that mean you’d sell a company’s secrets?” Frank tried to cultivate a bantering attitude, but he was curious to see how she would respond to a challenge.
“I’d have to sell them to another company, and I’m not loyal to companies, so who would you suggest I sell them to?”
Interesting, thought Frank. He studied her mannerisms. She didn’t seem to be afraid of saying the wrong thing.
“How about money? Are you loyal to money?”
“Sometimes. I can tell you, if I felt strongly that a secret needed to be revealed, I’d do it for free. I’d even do it if it cost me. But, you,” she hesitated, regarding him for a moment, “I’d tell you,” she emphasized the “you”, “before I did anything.”
Frank hoped her thumbnail reckoning of his integrity was justified. If he hired her, that is. He couldn’t think of this situation ever arising between him and any of the people he employed on any of his projects. He knew most of them would probably consider protecting him a favor to a friend, regardless of the stakes, and would gladly perform. Not this woman. If she thought he was wrong, she’d protect what she thought was the truth. He liked that.
“I take it you have no problem with the subject matter.”
“You mean sex,” she responded. She’s not flinching, Frank noted. Good.
Frank dropped his hand into his lap. He furtively touched the tip of himself through fine wool, then raised his hand to the table.
“Yes. How do you feel about working on a sexual project?” He wondered if she was going to turn cute or cocky or lurid.
“I think this project is more than a good idea, I think it’s necessary. Sexual therapy is an expensive proposition, right now, and having to involve a stranger, even if it is a professional, probably holds a lot of people back. Interactive computer therapy seems like the ideal financial and emotional solution. I’m only just beginning to imagine how this might be done, but I think it has innumerable applications, and since someone is willing to put up the money to finance development, well, I’m ready to explore the possibilities.”
She’s direct. Unembarrassed. Now, the final test. “Because we’re pioneers in this, not only will we be relying on research from face to face therapeutic programs, but I’m expecting my colleagues in this project...”
Shenar leaned forward and interrupted, “Oh, I like that! I like ‘colleagues’!” She drew quotation marks in the air as she emphasized the word. “Good attitude! I’m sorry, please,” she waved her hand to excuse herself and retreated back into the chair, “continue.”
Frank smiled. He couldn’t help himself.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He bowed his head, still smiling, hoping his gesture appeared sincere, not mocking. “As I was saying, we’re going to have to think very deeply and very personally about sex in our own lives, how we might apply what we know to what we wish to accomplish on this project. This will mean some...”
Shenar waved her hand again, “I know what you mean. Some very intimate conversations with people we’ve just met. And, considering the culture we live in,” another hand wave and a nod of her head toward the window, “the culture we were all raised in, well, the chemistry among these collegues of yours will be unpredictable. My feeling is that we’re entering new territory, and unpredictability will be on our side.”
You’re hired, Frank wanted to say. Instead, he leaned back, crossed his left leg over his right and folded his hands in his lap. “I see you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
Shenar leaned toward him. “Oh, yes.” She laid both hands on the table as though she were going to rise, but remained seated, erect, bending at the hips, enthusiastic. “Connie’s description of the job intrigued me. I have more than a passing interest in erotica, which is what the Internet consists of now, in terms of sexual material. One of my former boyfriends was a collector of classical erotica, so I have a wider exposure than people who use erotica as a tool. I started writing my own erotica because I wasn’t satisfied with what I was finding. It made me realize just how much sexual self-therapy takes place on a pornographic level, inside,” she tapped her abdomen, around where her navel might be. “I have my own pet theory about the power of guided auto-pornography to treat people, sexually. I have something else unique to contribute, as well.”
Frank grinned. He liked this woman. He liked this conversation. He was willing to take her at her word, but propriety dictated that he continue the examination. “What, exactly, is that?”
Shenar grinned back. “I’ve never had bad sex.”
He felt his smile fade. Her grin, he realized, is not testing him. She’s serious. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He only knew, now, that he wanted her on this project. Anyone who could make a statement like that, with such self-possession...Frank lowered his eyes to the desk. He sat forward. He was surprised that she remained where she was, not adjusting her posture to maintain the initial gap between them. He placed his hands on the table, inches from hers, then met her gaze. “You’re right. That is unique. I think I’d like your input.” His mind was a blank. He couldn’t even imagine how she’d achieved the status she claimed, but he believed her.
He stared hard at her, pondering how to proceed.
She gallantly took up the slack. “So, what kind of timeline do you forsee?”
Frank relaxed and settled into his chair, hoping he hadn’t audibly sighed, although he was beginning to feel that it wouldn’t matter to him if she gained the upper hand. Somehow, neither of them seemed to be struggling for place.
She pulled a small, worn notebook out of her purse and leafed through the pages, searching for a clean sheet. It looked as though she filled it on the run. She wants details, he realized.
“This project was conceived pretty quickly, and we’re still not sure about all the technology we’ll have available. We know what the client wants, and we’re working with their director. He’s wonderful with virtual. I don’t know if you’ll like him, personally, but you’ll love his technique. I’d say we’ll probably be in production a year, although there’s a lot of groundwork that’s usually done at this stage that we still need to do. As I said, this is new territory, so the usual assumptions aren’t applicable.”
“What’s wrong with him, personally?” She pinned Frank with her eyes, large, dark and unusually dilated; he couldn’t tell, or didn’t care, what color they were.
“He’s, ah, let’s see. Rough. He’s very bright. But he’s rough. With people.”
“Rough.” That’s all she said, for longer than a moment. “I can deal with conflict. Depends on the personality, though, whether I’d want to. And the issue.” She stopped.
Frank waited for her to continue. Finally, he decided to pick up the conversation, but she bested him mid-inspiration, “I’d like to meet him before I sign anything. You have a prepared contract, right?”
“That’s right.” He’d never had anyone want to meet a possible co-worker before deciding to join the project. Just lucky, he guessed. It made sense. Especially with Bob. Plenty of people he knew in the industry could have benefited from checking Bob out, first. He wondered if she would prove to be difficult, herself.
Frank rifled through his desk and passed a copy of AniMate’s standard contract across the table. He always expected changes and additions. He worried about subcontractors who signed without revisions.
Shenar took the contract and scanned the first page. “Your rights clause is unusual. You’re buying first rights to my material, as though you consider this an anthology.”
“The area of computer publication is a minefield, right now, legally. Making sure our artists retain rights to their work seems like the only way to negotiate. We also like to assign primary responsibility for a sequence to one person, to guarantee a smooth flow. The principal artists can draw on in-house or contracted talent and manage a crew as they see fit. Just keep an eye on the budget.”
Shenar sat tall in her chair, as though she was preparing to rise, reached her arm more than halfway across Frank’s desk, and placed her hand, firmly, palm down, fingers spread, over a large knothole curling on the polished surface. “Thank you, by the way, for treating us like that.” She looked grateful. “Well, I definitely like the terms, and the money sounds good. And, I can afford to commit an indefinite amount of time to the project. My guess is that if you’re pleased with someone’s work, you keep them in mind for other projects.”
Frank grinned.
Shenar blushed. Frank took pleasure in the intimate personal revelations she dropped throughout the interview. They shimmered through him, just underneath his skin, just like the frequency of her voice was. This one in particular, a hint of modesty about her abilities, stole his attention. He knew she knew she was good. Good letters are easy to fake, but good work isn’t. She’d come armed with both. He knew some of her references. Her work was often inspired. Her attention to detail was phenomenal. Her flexibility between mediums was just what he was looking for; she’d obviously worked around. He needed someone who could develop new technology and learn developed technology that no one had ever operated. Finally, her interest in the project was not prurient. He appreciated the possibility of working with someone who wasn’t always on the verge of a smirk.
Shenar stood and offered her hand. Frank rose to meet her. “Well. I’ll take the contract home and look it over, and the material on the project. I may have some concerns, as I go through the stuff.” When she was standing, he noticed, she talked with her hands, with trained ease, like a dancer. “Can I call you?”
“Of course. Yes.” He scribbled two phone numbers on the back of a business card. “The first one’s home.”
“It’s not yours.” Shenar was reading the front of the card.
“Ah, what? Oh. No. I don’t have business cards. It belongs to someone I work with in Seattle.”
“No business cards, huh?” She eyed him with amusement. “Curious.”
Frank was flattered by her attention. “I’m never sure what to call myself, and Tomás always has spares.”
“Tomás. His card says just Tomás. Sounds pretentious.”
Frank noticed himself taking offense at the hasty judgment. He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing himself to look away from her. “He’s my brother.”
When he looked up she was staring at him, mouth agape, blushing deeper. His heart softened.
Shenar giggled, then burst out laughing, “You know what, my best friend is pretentious, too!”
Frank was caught off guard. Tomás wasn’t pretentious, he insisted silently, and he was more than a best friend.
“But, you know what, my best friend’s also a liar,” Shenar continued, lowering and measuring her voice. “I’ll bet Tomás isn’t a liar.”
“No.” Frank was sure, now, he wanted to work with her.
“I didn’t think so.” Shenar smiled apologetically and turned to leave.
“Do you mind me asking how many other offers you’re looking at?” This is business, Frank reminded himself. I’d better find out where I stand.
Shenar pivoted and looked directly at him. “None.” She turned before he reacted and left the office.
He’d hire her. If she was willing, he corrected, savoring the image of her graceful, loping stride as she left his office. Maybe that’s why he wanted her. She didn’t seem to have made up her mind about wanting him, to work with him.
| Text & Graphics © 1999 by Gail Rae Hudson | Background by
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